“Weakness?” Madeline leaned forward as far as the ropes allowed, her pulse roaring in her ears. “What kind of mother poisons her own daughter?”
’The Marchioness’ composure shattered.
“You were never easy,” she snapped, the words spilling now, unchecked. “You were unladylike. Willful. Always too much. Too loud, too soft, too hungry for things you had no right to want. You embarrassed me. You walked, you spoke, you existed as though the world owed you indulgence.”
Madeline’s breath came fast and shallow. “I was a child.”
“And a disappointment,” Rachel said without hesitation. “And then you vanished, and do you know what that did to me?” Her laugh was brittle, edged with hysteria. “Whispers. Pity. Questions. ’My daughter ran away, and suddenly everyone wondered why.”
Madeline’s vision blurred, but she forced herself to hold her mother’s gaze. “Do not pretend this is about me,” she said. “It never was. It was about my money.”
Rachel’s nose wrinkled. “Yes,” she said coolly. “And you made it impossible to collect it quietly.”
Tears stung Madeline’s eyes, despite having known the truth for a long time.
“You were meant to die,” Rachel’s eyes flashed. “That was the plan. But instead,” she continued, her voice rising, “you lived. You fled. And you took my money with you.”
A movement at the doorway caught Madeline’s attention, and dread settled heavy and cold in her stomach.
Captain Hale stood there with one shoulder braced against the doorframe. His expression unreadable, eyes trained on her with an appraising calm that made her skin crawl.
“You remember Captain Hale,” Rachel said lightly. “He has been very helpful.”
Madeline’s jaw clenched. “You paid him to hunt me like an animal.”
“Yes,” Rachel replied. “And he earned every shilling.”
Madeline’s chest tightened painfully as a familiar face rose unbidden in her mind, fierce eyes, steady hands, the memory of Wilhelm’s body solid against hers, the way he had held her as though nothing in the world could touch her while she was there. The contrast with where she was now was almost unbearable.
“You were at the ball,” Madeline said suddenly, the memory snapping into place. “I saw you.”
Rachel smiled, slow and pleased. “Very good. I wondered when you’d realize. I had to be creative. The Duke is… protective.”
“You paid the scandal sheets,” Madeline whispered.
“Of course,” Rachel said. “A whisper here, a suggestion there. It was necessary to pry you loose from him.”
“You used him,” Madeline said, fury surging hot and sharp. “You dragged him into this.”
Rachel shrugged. “He was collateral. And useful.”
Madeline’s heart twisted painfully. She thought of Wilhelm waking to her absence, of the stillness she knew so well, the fury he kept leashed only because he chose to. Desire flared unexpectedly beneath the fear, treacherous and insistent, the memory of his mouth, his hands, the way he had made her feel wanted rather than tolerated.
She straightened as much as she could. “You will not touch him.”
Rachel laughed. “You do not command me.”
“What do you want from me?” Madeline demanded, her voice hoarse.
Rachel’s gaze sharpened. “You will marry Captain Hale.”
The words landed with sickening finality.
“You will be quiet. You will be obedient. He will receive your dowry and I will be given my share. Then you will be sent away from England, where you can no longer embarrass me.”
Hale’s mouth twitched faintly, the closest thing to satisfaction he allowed himself.
Madeline shook her head, a harsh sound tearing from her chest. “I would rather die.”
