“Indeed! Where did you spend your honeymoon?”
“Touring in the north,” Maddie said, the tone of her voice not inviting any further comment.
Hart thought it wise to keep silent. His bride could well take care of herself.
“How pleasant.” Vivian curtsied and hurried away down the street.
“Is Mrs. Spencer a friend of long standing?” Maddie asked him as they approached the carriage. “Do you know her husband?”
“Mm? No. She is a widow and a recent acquaintance. Here we are. Allow me to assist you.”
They settled in the carriage and the horses pulled away into the street.
“How odd,” Maddie remarked. “She seemed so much more like an old friend.”
Hart fought not to sigh. The look Vivian gave him could have set him on fire. And the road ahead seemed to be filled with potholes.
*
As the carriagetook them to Montford Court, Maddie glanced at her contemplative husband. He’d become annoyingly evasive. There must be more to his association with Mrs. Spencer. Maddie didn’t miss the proprietorial look the woman gave him. Their marriage had surprised her, but there was more to it than that. Had she expected something else from Hart? A commitment? Had she been his mistress? Maddie had no energy to give to it. The astonishing news they had learned from the solicitor overwhelmed her. Her father had left her his fortune. It brought tears to her eyes. She brushed them away with her gloved fingers before Hart saw them. Maddie didn’t want to always appear to be a watering pot. But she would honor her father’s memory and manage her inheritance wisely. She was now in control of her life. The revelation came to her like a heady rush of energy. Hart would never stand in her way in whatever she chose to do. Her avaricious uncle, who sought to destroy her happiness, could no longer have any hold over her.
She wished she could go with Hart to Pembury. She admitted she wanted to put off the day she’d appear in society, but most particularly because she feared for Hart. He could take care of himself, as he said, but her uncle was clearly a very dangerous and unscrupulous man. While Diane’s visit prevented her from leaving London, Maddie looked forward to having an experienced woman to advise her. With a new wardrobe, there was no reason to delay accepting some invitations, which arrived daily. Enough to attend at least two events each evening until the end of the Season. Would thetonwarm to her? People would naturally be curious about their hasty marriage. Might they consider an elopement romantic? Or find it a disgrace? Or even, as her uncle had, question its legality? News of their marriage was sure to be plastered over all the newspapers and gossip sheets. It was a miracle they’d avoided scrutiny thus far. Hart had told his friends at his club, but relied upon them to be discreet. He wanted her fully prepared to face the avalanche of interest their marriage would cause.
“Are you sure you’ll be back in time to escort me to my first engagement?” she asked, smiling. “Or might I have to find another gentleman?”
Hart chuckled. “We can’t have that. I promise I’ll return within a few days.” An arm around her, he drew her close. “Don’t look so threatened. You will like my friends. And they will love you.” She sank against him. For a moment, being close to him reassured her. But Mrs. Spencer slipped back into her thoughts. Maddie saw beneath the woman’s good manners that she didn’t like her. Did she look on her as a rival? Because she was once Hart’s mistress? Maddie glanced at him. Was Mrs. Spencer to become a threat to their happiness?
She moved out of Hart’s arms.
He glanced at her with a questioning look.
“I can’t allow this gown to be crumpled,” she explained. “I haven’t another yet.”
“Nothing can dim your beauty, Maddie.” Sympathetic, he took her hand in his, but she could see his mind was elsewhere.
Did he consider her beautiful? As beautiful as Mrs. Spencer?
Mrs. Spencer had roused Maddie’s fear Hart would take a mistress. And this was before they even entered society.
Chapter Eighteen
In Maddie’s bedchamber,Hart kissed her goodbye.
“I hope it all goes well.” Her eyes widened. “Your trustees must surely agree you have done all your uncle wished for.”
“One would think so.” He lifted her chin and smiled into her eyes. She was rumpled and warm from the bed, the air scented with their lovemaking, and he was reluctant to leave her.
“I hope the runner has news for you.”
Hart nodded. “Enjoy your visitors this afternoon. And give Diane my love when she arrives tomorrow.”
“I will.”
Hart kissed her briefly again and left the room, going downstairs to where his curricle awaited. The nights would be cold and lonely without Maddie, and he would stay at Pembury no longer than he had to.
He climbed into the curricle and drove from the quieter streets of Mayfair into busy Piccadilly. He hoped to reach the inn where Mr. Boyle, the Bow Street Runner stayed, before nightfall.
Some hours later, Hart pulled his horses up before the white painted inn, The Red Cockerel. Pulling off his gloves, he strode inside. “Mr. Boyle, is he here?” The innkeeper looked hopeful Hart might stop for the night, but was soon disappointed.
