Chapter Two − A Hope Dashed
After stopping at the ladies’ powder room to ensure that not a single curl had escaped her coiffure, Madeline stepped back into the dimly lit hallway. However, instead of turning left and returning to the crowded ballroom, she headed down the other side, slipping through an open door and into a small drawing room.
Would he come? She wondered as she stepped up to the tall window, gazing at the silvery moon casting a magical glow over the room as well as the gardens below. Had he understood her meaning? Or had Aunt Odelia frightened him off?
Madeline inhaled deeply, trying to steady her nerves, as she cursed her father’s sister for her meddlesome tendencies. That woman truly needed to find a charity or pastime to which she could devote her copious amounts of time she had on her hands.
Often, her aunt had argued in favour of or against one gentleman or another as she seemed to think that not Madeline but rather she knew best who would be her niece’s perfect match. However, Madeline had been steadfast in her endeavour, politely but firmly informing Aunt Odelia that she knew exactly what kind of man she was looking for.
And it had taken her a long time to find him.
But finally, she had been successful.
After all, Lord Townsend fulfilled all her expectations. Not only was he handsome and much sought after by the young−and not so young−ladies of the ton, but more importantly, he held the title of an earl, had inherited a tremendous fortune upon the death of his father and could look back on a long line of respectable ancestors, all of whom had been upstanding members of society.
Indeed, he was her perfect match.
He would give her the life she wanted.
The life she deserved.
After all, procuring his attention while sidestepping one potential scandal after another orchestrated to trap her into marriage was truly a most heroic feat.
As the only daughter of an equally well-respected earl and heiress to a large fortune, Madeline had been sought after by gentlemen ever since she could remember. In addition, she had inherited her late mother’s grace and dark beauty, which seemed to increase her appeal even more. Whenever she appeared in society, men would swarm to her side like moths to a flame. Certainly, they had their appeal as they almost tripped over one another to endear themselves to her. However, after her first season, she had soon realised the burden that came with their obsession.
Nothing was secret.
Nothing remained private.
And yet, no one saw her. Not truly.
But tonight, all that would change. Tonight, Lord Townsend would ask for her hand, and she would accept him, finally ending the chase. And soon, she would be a married woman, a countess.
Biting her lower lip, Madeline felt the corners of her mouth tug up. Would he kiss her? She wondered. For all her experience with a myriad of suitors−or maybe because of it−she had never even been kissed.
Such an action would have been much too dangerous as most men would have seen it as an acceptance of their proposal; therefore, Madeline had always taken great care to ensure that she had never ventured anywhere alone, always bringing along a chaperone.
After all, she would be the one to choose.
Not the other way around.
And now, she had chosen, eliminating the need for a chaperone.
Maybe tonight she would not only receive a marriage proposal, but also her first kiss.
As though in answer to her thoughts, she heard the faint sound of footsteps as they proceeded down the hall and then stopped just outside the room. The door she had left ajar, almost silently swung open, before slightly louder footsteps crossed the threshold.
Taking a deep breath to calm her fluttering heart, Madeline smiled, then turned to the man she would marry. “Lord Townsend, I must say you−”
As her eyes found his face, half-hidden in the nebulous shadows of the room, her heart stilled in shock and the rest of her words lodged in her throat…for the man standing in the doorway was not Lord Townsend.
“I’m afraid I must disappoint you, my lady,” the man said, his voice harsh with a touch of anger, as he ran a hand through his pitch-black hair.
Had he not spoken, Madeline would have thought him a shadow. Dressed in black from head to toe, the white of his shirt more like a reflection of the moon outside, his dark eyes lay almost hidden in the mask that covered the upper half of his face. He seemed like an apparition, a phantom, the shadow of a memory. As he approached, she found herself watching him, strangely fascinated with the smooth movements that carried him across the floor as though his feet never even touched the ground.
The moment he stepped into the glow of the moonlight, Madeline sucked in a breath for the look on his face sent chills down her back. Without a doubt, she knew that this man was dangerous, his gaze hard and focused like that of a hunter, his tall, muscular frame towering over her, forcing her to tilt up her head. In the dim light, his eyes seemed almost black, and yet, they glowed eerily as they reflected the moonlight, …
…and they held hers with a power so forceful she did not dare look away.
And then he blinked, and the spell was broken.
Swallowing, Madeline drew in a deep breath, trying to focus her thoughts. “Who are you?” she demanded, craning her neck to see behind him. “What are you doing here?” Instantly, fear crawled up her spine. “We must not be seen alone together.”
For a moment, he remained silent, his lips thinning into a hard line as his eyes narrowed, an open accusation resting in them. “You had no such scruples regarding Townsend.”
Madeline almost flinched. Had he been watching her? Where was Lord Townsend? Had he harmed him? Her thoughts ran rampant as they stared at one another, trying to determine what they saw. “Where is he?” Madeline finally demanded. If this man in front of her indeed was a lunatic, then it would not serve her to appear weak.
A snort escaped him. “Back in the ballroom, a clowder of debutantes fawning over him.”
At his words, Madeline felt her muscles tense. Of course, she was aware of her future husband’s reputation. She was not a dimwit and always had an ear out to the gossips. Hell, she was one of them. However, she knew just as well that gossip was never equal to the truth. More than once she had taken note of rumours about herself, which had been far from the truth as well. Therefore, she had always counselled herself not to base her decisions on rumours, on gossip, on the falsehoods of society.
And yet, there and then, in that moment, all her principles failed her. Never in her life had she experienced jealousy. Never had she had any reason to. Never had a man chosen another woman over her.
Never.
“You lie,” she hissed, her nostrils flaring as she stared at him, willing him to reveal his words to be a falsehood. “He would not abandon me.”
A wry grin touched his lips. “He had help.”
Frowning, Madeline took a step forward. She’d be damned if she let this stranger intimidate her! “Yours?” she pressed, daring him to reveal his own involvement.
Holding her gaze without flinching, without the slightest sign of hesitation or uncertainty, he lowered his head toward hers. “Yes,” was all he said, and the look in his eyes dared her to attack him with all the anger she felt.
Lips pressed together, Madeline inhaled deeply through her nose, seeking to steady her shaking hands. Lashing out at him would serve no one. It would only draw unwanted attention.
Above all else, she had to get rid of this man, and then see to Lord Townsend, ensure his well-being. “Leave. Now,” she hissed, jerking her chin toward the door.
He swallowed then, and for a moment, she thought he would comply. However, instead of retreating, he took another step toward her, the look in his eyes faintly softened by something resembling honest concern.
Madeline was utterly flabbergasted. Who was this man?
Then he opened his mouth, and his voice was almost gentle as he spoke. “I followed you tonight because−”
Madeline sucked in a sharp breath. “You followed me? Why?” Again, panic seized her as she remembered all those many moments gentlemen had tried to catch her alone to compromise her, to trap her into marriage, to take the choice out of her hands.
Always had she seen them coming, seen their intentions and thwarted their plans.
Often, she had prided herself on her ability to read people, to know what they thought.
Only this man was different.
She had not seen him coming.
She could not even recall laying eyes on him.
It was as though he had appeared out of thin air.
“What is going on here?”
At the sound of her aunt’s voice, Madeline jerked her head toward the door, which now stood wide open, revealing a bunch of old matrons staring in, their eyes widened in shock as they took in the scene.
Speechless, Madeline briefly closed her eyes, groaning inwardly as she knew exactly what they thought, what they thought they knew was happening, what she had done.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Madeline glanced at the man beside her, his face stoic as though nothing could surprise him, as though the consequences of their actions did not concern him in the least. Madeline, however, felt as though the hangman had just knocked out the stool from under her, her feet dangling in the air as the rope cut into her neck, closing off her lungs.
“Aunt Odelia,” she began, forcing an innocent smile onto her face as she approached the circle of women, “I assure you nothing untoward is going on here. This gentleman merely lost his way, and I…” On their faces, she could see the same disbelief she felt in her heart, knowing only too well that her words were a lie.
Her aunt’s quick eyes slid over her face, searching, wondering, before shifting to her partner in crime. Her gaze narrowed as she regarded him for a long moment. All the while, the ladies in her back whispered to one another, their eager eyes enthralled as they watched the drama unfold.
“Lady Otwell,” her aunt intoned without lifting her gaze off the stranger, “would you be so kind as to fetch my brother?”
“No,” Madeline gasped, her voice so quiet she could barely hear it herself, as she watched Lady Otwell turn on her heels without a moment’s hesitation and dart off in the direction of the ballroom. “Aunt Odelia, you cannot−”
“Save your breath, my dear,” her aunt interrupted, the look in her eyes determined. “That is for your father to decide.”
Unable to face the disapproving looks of her aunt’s little circle any longer, Madeline averted her eyes and glanced up at the tall stranger beside her. Would he not say anything? Of course, he would not. After all, this was exactly the outcome he had hoped for.
And yet, when she looked at his face, Madeline could see neither triumph nor satisfaction. Instead, the dark light in his gaze had dimmed and his eyes narrowed as his thoughts seemed to be directed inward. He inhaled slowly, and his lips thinned, but not with anger. If Madeline was not thoroughly mistaken, there was a trace of guilt in the way he clenched his jaw and straightened his shoulders as though the implications of their situation had never occurred to him before this very moment.
“What is going on?” her father’s voice cut through the hushed silence, his words echoing her aunt’s from only a few moments earlier. Then he stepped into the room, and his eyes immediately sought hers before they narrowed as he took notice of the silent man by her side.
“Father, I can explain,” Madeline began, wringing her hands, praying that her father would allow her to do so. “This is all a terrible misunderstanding.” Was it? She wondered. How on earth was she to explain something she could not even understand herself?
However, her father was unwilling to even grant her that small mercy. Shaking his head, he stepped toward her, his big, warm hands engulfing her own chilled ones. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he whispered, honest regret in his eyes as they held hers. “You’ve done it now.” His gaze shifted to the side, indicating the cluster of women behind him, listening intently. “There’s no way to contain this. You would be ruined.” Again, he shook his head. “I love you too much to allow this to happen.”
“Father,” Madeline pleaded, her eyes misting with tears as her carefully structured world began to crumble around her. “Please.”
He inhaled deeply, and his mouth tugged up into a tentative smile. “Maybe this will be good for you,” he spoke, his voice still hushed, only meant for her. “You’ve never been able to make up your mind, never given your heart to one of the many gentlemen who sought your attention, your affection. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.” He glanced at the still silent stranger, standing like a stone pillar behind her. “Maybe this will give your life a new purpose. Maybe this will make you happy.”
Closing her eyes, Madeline sank her teeth into her lower lip to keep from crying out in desperation. As her father ushered her aunt’s circle of friends out the door, stating in no uncertain terms that a wedding would follow swiftly, Madeline spun around to face the man who had ruined her life.
Shifting his gaze from the far wall, he met her eyes, his own calm and collected, and yet, she could see a storm brewing underneath. She wanted to lash out at him, strike him, rake her nails across his face, anything to shatter that calm exterior of his. She wanted him to know that he had ruined her life and that she would never forgive him.
He would be her husband, and she would hate him for it.
Hate him with a passion he had never encountered.
However, before she could say a word, her father stuck his head in, his gaze focused on the man who had not uttered a single word during all of this. “My lord, may I have a word?” he asked, his voice respectful and kind as though he held no grudge, no bitterness or animosity toward the man who had ruined his daughter’s chances in life.
Madeline inhaled a calming breath. Knowing her father, he probably did not.
But that did not mean she could not.
And she would.
If it was the last thing she did.