“If she did, I missed it. I was more interested in the game.”
Maddie frowned at him while he infuriatingly continued to deny all knowledge of the woman’s behavior. “At one stage, she almost climbed into your lap.”
The uncomfortable thought struck her that society expected wives to be blind to such things. Well, she would not be.
Hart shrugged. “We won because Mr. Brocklehurst was drunk, and you, by the sound of it, became distracted.”
Maddie fell silent. Was Hart so used to the way women behaved around him that he barely noticed? She doubted any man would ignore such a flagrant play for his attention. Didn’t such a disgraceful absence of good manners also bother him?
Did men care that much about manners?
When they reached her chamber door, her annoyance faded when she considered his side of the situation. It wasn’t fair to accuse him when he’d done nothing to encourage the woman. If the woman had wished to pass Hart a note, she’d had no opportunity with Maddie watching like a hawk. But what would stop Hart from returning downstairs if he wished to spend time with the lady? Maddie couldn’t bring herself to believe it, but this was exactly what she feared. Because there was no love between them, she could never be sure of his fidelity. And she hated how Mrs. Brocklehurst had turned her into something resembling a jealous, possessive woman. Was this the way their marriage would be? In which case, hell awaited them both. She knew herself to be passionate, and didn’t deny she had a temper, although it usually took a great deal more than this to provoke it. What was wrong with her? Was it only because she felt so insecure? Should she have agreed to marry him?
“Sleep well,” Hart said amiably, their disagreement forgotten.
“I shall.” She smiled at him regretfully. “Thank you for a lovely dinner.”
He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. The touch of his lips caused an unfamiliar yearning low in her stomach. When he spoke, his words were like a dash of cold water. “We both benefit from this marriage, Maddie. When we return to Pembury, you will be free of your uncle’s tyranny, and I will go to the trustees as a settled, married man.”
She withdrew her hand. “Yes, it works well for both of us,” she said dryly, and moved toward the door, then turned back. “Shall we go straight to Pembury from Scotland?”
“Would you like to spend some time in London?”
“I would love to.”
“Then we shall. I’ll send word for Montford Court to be made ready for us. I am eager to show off my lovely bride to society.”
The idea of facing thetonalso unnerved her. She felt as unprepared for that as she did for this marriage. There was sure to be talk. And if her cousin was to be believed, Hart was one of the most sought-after bachelors in London, apparently with a well-earned reputation as a rake. The women Hart would associate with would dress elegantly and be at ease with society’s customs, while Maddie knew only what she’d experienced at assemblies, and her mother’s tutoring. Right now, in her crumpled gown, she felt like a country bumpkin. An unattractive, bad-tempered bumpkin.
Hart could have his pick of brides. He might marry an heiress keen to find a titled husband, no matter how he behaved. If he married Maddie just to save her, she would be forever in his debt. That troubled her. It was hardly a good way to begin a marriage. Could she dismiss all that bothered her? Would being well-dressed give her confidence? She must find a dressmaker as soon as she arrived in the city, although she didn’t know quite how to go about it with no one to advise her. “I shall need to dress well in London,” she said, hoping he’d understand. She could feel the women’s eyes on her already, taking in every detail and talking behind their fans.
“I’ll send a footman to fetch your possessions from Wakeham,” Hart said. “You can have everything else you need made in London.”
His words drew her reluctantly back to the danger her uncle represented, although she’d tried to put him and that dreadful night out of her mind. It terrified her to think anyone would hate her so much they wanted her dead. “Should we alert him to our marriage so soon?”
Hart looked surprised. “We wish him to learn of it, do we not?”
“Yes, of course, eventually…” She rubbed goosebumps on her arms.
Hart stepped close to her. Close enough for her to study the thick dark lashes rimming his blue eyes, and a small scar at the corner of his lip. She wanted to touch it and ask him how he came by it.
His hands on her shoulders, he searched her eyes. “He won’t get close enough to hurt you again, Maddie.” His soft voice carried a warning that her uncle, should he hear it, would be wise to heed it. “He will have other things to worry him soon enough.”
Maddie wanted to lean against him, fearful for him at this moment rather than herself. “I don’t trust him. When he learns what we have done, he’ll act.”
“What could he do?”
She considered her uncle a danger to them both. “He’ll find a way.”
“He’ll be busy with his own affairs.” Hart told her what he had seen through her uncle’s window.
She hugged her arms. The memory of that man raising his knife to throw at her, intent on killing her, made her tremble.
Hart sighed. He drew her into his arms. “You’ve had to endure so much, Maddie.”
She rested her head against his chest. His strength and masculine scent made her feel better somehow. “What bad business is my uncle involved in? Do you have any idea?”
“Not yet, but I intend to find out. And when I do, you’ll have no more trouble from him.”
