“I’m perfectly all right, Hart. Now that you are here.”
With a sharp intake of breath, Hart kissed her again, pulling her hard against him. “Maddie, my brave love,” he murmured against her lips.
A discreet cough drew them apart as Boyle rode up, leading the other horse by the rein. “I’ll see you in Seven Oaks, milord.”
Boyle turned his horse’s head and rode away.
“He’s a good man,” Maddie said, watching him disappear at the top of the drive.
“A splendid fellow.”
Hart saddled a horse and assisted Maddie to mount. “We can hire a vehicle in Seven Oaks to take us to London. I know you are tired. We could stay at an inn for the night.”
“With no baggage? What will the innkeeper think?”
Hart laughed. “That you are a fallen woman.”
“Let’s stay the night then, Hart,” Maddie said with a grin. “I rather fancy that.”
*
At the Magistrate’srooms on the London Road, Hart, Maddie, and Boyle told Mr. Grosvenor of their kidnapping and their escape, which left two men dead. Grosvenor agreed to send a constable to the hunting lodge and write to Sir Joshua Fleming.
Hart then handed over the smuggler’s horse and left his mount in the local stables.
Boyle joined them for a meal at the old whitewashed inn, The Oak Tavern, on the high street. Then he departed to ride back to London, intending to join in the hunt for the remaining members of Buchanan’s gang still at large.
Hart engaged a bedchamber, explaining that they had no luggage because their carriage met with an accident. When it was accepted without question, they retired early.
As he shut the door, Maddie laughed. “You made us sound too respectable. Like an old married couple.”
He took her in his arms. “Well, aren’t we?
Her eyes gazed into his. “One day, if God wills it, we shall be. What memories we will have to tell our children.”
“What indeed.” He took her hand and drew Maddie over to the bed. When she sat beside him, he kept a hold of her hand. “Will you tell me what has been troubling you, my love?”
Emotion made it difficult for her to speak. “I have always feared that because of the way we began this marriage, you might…”
He looked puzzled. “Might what?”
Disarmed by his loving manner, she told him all of it. She began with the scandal sheet, which Hart merely dismissed as rubbish few read. “While in the ladies’ retiring room at the Beauchamps’ ball,” she continued, “I overheard two women speaking of Mrs. Spencer. One of them said the widow intended to become your mistress.”
“Mrs. Spencer?” Hart’s eyebrows rose. “That’s nonsense.”
Maddie felt foolish. Aware she sounded like a jealous woman, she persisted. “You and Mrs. Spender might have been lovers before we met. I am not prudish, Hart, a man like you would have lovers, it’s just that I couldn’t bear it if you continued to do so.” Her words, so long held inside, tumbled out. “Men do, I understand that, but I am not like those women who look the other way.” She glanced up at him to gauge his reaction. He was smiling and shaking his head. “I cannot live like that, Hart,” she rushed on. “I need to love and respect my husband and to know he feels the same.” She brushed back her hair, aware of how untidy she must look. “Am I being unreasonable? Because if I am, I shall retire somewhere and live alone.”
Hart laughed and put his arm around her, squeezing her tight. Then he sobered. “Maddie. I have no intention of taking a mistress.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“But because of that scandal sheet, most of society is aware our marriage was not a love match, and they expect to see us live as many of thetondo, seeking pleasure elsewhere.”
“Then we shall show them otherwise.”
“How?” she asked as hope rose in her breast.
