Chapter Fifteen − Honest Words
Clutching her hand to her chest, Madeline gritted her teeth as a sharp pain assailed her. However, deep down, she knew that it was more the pain of humiliation than physical discomfort that made her ache. Had she not just now proved how unskilled she was? Could he not see that the only thing she knew how to do was attract suitors? Attend society teas? Spend the night on the dance floor?
Over the past few weeks, Madeline had come to realise that her insistence on making the perfect match that stemmed from a deep desire to be someone.
To achieve something.
To stand out.
And yet, a part of her had always known that it would only have been a pretence.
Among the ton, few people stood out due to their own achievements. If not for scandalous gossip, it was merely one’s position in life, defined by birth, which gave one recognition. Certainly, manners and personal conduct added a personal note. However, they were only window dressings for a house built out of attributes one had no control over.
She had been born a lady, and it did not matter who she was; she would always be a lady. Her family’s reputation, fortune and influence, garnered over the centuries, added to her own position, her own worth.
None of it had been her own doing.
And deep down, Madeline had always resented that.
Deep down, she had always wanted to accomplish…something.
To be someone worthy of respect and admiration because of who she was, not because of the position she had been born into.
And now she had failed.
At a simplest task no less.
Once and for all, she had proved that she was worth very little. That she had been fortunate to have been born into a titled family because she would never have been able to achieve such a position herself.
Unlike the man she had married.
He had indeed proved his worth.
And she could not help but admire him for it.
“Let me see,” her husband whispered beside her, and Madeline sucked in a deep breath at finding him so close. Gently, he drew her hand away from her chest and inspected the cut. “It’s not deep.” Filling a cup with water, he poured it over her finger, washing away the blood. “However, one always ought to pay attention,” he said, the hint of a grin tugging on the corner of his mouth, as he pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it around her finger, “when one is handling a weapon.”
Madeline snorted, “A weapon?” She shook her head, trying to distract herself from the warmth of his skin against her own. “It’s only a small cutting knife.”
His dark eyes shifted to hers, and all humour left his face. “You would not believe what harm even such a small knife can inflict on a body.” He drew in a slow breath as his gaze held hers, their hands still touching, seemingly unable to part. “I pray that you shall never find out.”
Swallowing, Madeline searched his eyes. Memories hung over them, dark and painful, and a part of her wished he would share them with her. Not because she desperately wanted to know, but because more than anything she wanted him to see her as someone worthy to confide in.
Again, his mother’s words from her first day at Huntington House echoed in her mind. He rarely shares his burdens. Maybe he will share them with ye. Madeline had to admit that even if she had not wished for it then, she did now.
She wanted his trust.
Be in his confidence.
“You were a soldier,” she whispered, not certain how to ask, how to keep him talking. “What was it like?”
For a long moment, he remained quiet, his gaze locked on hers as though trying to determine if she truly wished to know. “It was heaven and hell,” he finally said, drawing in a slow breath as he saw confusion come to her face. “The bloodshed, the pain, the loss of lives was beyond anything I could even begin to describe.” He shrugged. “It was hell, and to this day, I wonder how I made it out.”
As he spoke his hand closed more tightly on hers, and Madeline found herself trembling with the intimate way his gaze held hers, the way his words rang true, open and honest. Never had he spoken to her like this.
No one had ever spoken to her like this.
“And heaven?” Madeline prompted, her voice a mere squeak as she fought the nerves that threatened to undo her.
“The camaraderie,” he whispered as though revealing a well-kept secret. “The honest respect, blind trust and unfailing devotion. Even in moments of pain, fear and death, you are not alone. There are people who stand with you, no matter the consequences. There is truth in these moments like in no others. You finally see what is important, understand your place in life and realise that you matter.”
Drawing in a shaky breath, Madeline swallowed as she felt a lone tear slowly rolling down her cheek. Ashamed, she lifted her hand to brush it away, but her husband stopped her.
Gently, his hand closed over hers, and his gaze traced the tiny drop as it made its way past the corner of her mouth and down to her chin. He met her gaze then, the depth in his eyes stealing the breath from her lungs, before he lifted his hand, and his thumb and index finger gently took hold of her chin.
Raising her head, he stepped closer, his gaze now burning into hers with an intensity that warmed her chilled toes. “You matter,” he whispered, responding to her silent doubts. “It is not important whether you succeed or not. All that matters is that you try.” He nodded his head for emphasis, his fingers tightening on her chin, “That you keep trying. Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up.”
Shuddering under his gaze, Madeline found herself shaken to her core. And yet, it was neither melancholy nor despair that swelled in her chest but hope instead.
Suddenly, Madeline felt empowered as though he had just handed her the tools to change her fate…with only a few simple words. Did he truly mean them? Did he truly believe that she…?
No, he would not have lied to her. He was an honourable man in the truest sense.
The words he spoke had been the truth. If nothing else, Madeline believed that.
Desperate to repay him for his kindness, to express her gratitude and show him how much his trust meant to her, Madeline opened her mouth, grasping for words…only to find them fail her. On impulse, she tugged on her arm, her hand still resting in his, and pulled herself against him, her mouth finding his, seeking to convey what she could not say.
For a moment, her husband seemed taken aback, and Madeline feared that he would reject her. However, before she could retreat in shame, he returned her kiss, his lips gently moving over hers as his hand slid up to cup her face.
There was such tenderness and care in his touch, in the way the tips of his fingers brushed over her skin, barely touching, and yet, so intimate, that Madeline felt tears gather in the corners of her eyes.
But she did not want to cry.
Not now.
Please not now.
She wanted to feel…alive…and free…and cherished…and cared for.
Did he care for her?
Did she care for him?
Unable to deny those delicate feelings of affection that had begun to blossom in her heart for the man she had never wanted to marry, Madeline allowed herself to believe that even if he did not care for her now…a day might come that he would.
And maybe that day was not too far off.
Maybe it was just around the corner.
Maybe all she needed to do was admit to her own feelings for him. But could she? Did she dare be so vulnerable?
His left arm tightened on her, pulling her closer, as his right hand slipped to the back of her neck. He opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, but then suddenly froze…and pulled back.
Staring up at him, Madeline searched his eyes, confused about the sudden distance she could sense growing ever wider between them. What had happened? Why had he broken their kiss?
“Why did you come?” he whispered, his breath warm on her skin as he continued to hold her, his voice gentle. Still, these four words felt like a bucket of cold water dumped over Madeline’s head.
Swallowing, she drew in a shaky breath. Did he not want her here? Did he want her to leave? Could he not see that she had nowhere else to go? “I…I…” Again, words failed her. After all, someone like him who had weathered the dangers of the world could never understand the misery of her own little life. Compared to his, it was nothing.
“Did you−?” He swallowed, and she could see the muscles in his jaw tense. A touch of repressed anger and a sense of urgency came to his gaze as it searched her face for an answer he feared to receive.
What had changed? Madeline wondered, confused about the direction his thoughts had travelled. What was he asking of her?
Looking down at her, her husband seemed to suddenly realise how tightly she was still wrapped in his arms for he immediately stepped back as though burnt.
Madeline’s heart began to ache as his arms fell away and she saw the doubt and regret on his face. Averting her gaze, unable to look at him, she turned back to the workbench. Her gaze fell onto the knife, its tip tinged with her blood, and a soft smile touched her face. This was how it had started, the small, seemingly insignificant incident that had brought them closer.
Or had she only imagined it?
Remembering the task Bessy had given her, Madeline once more reached for the knife, her injured finger still wrapped in her husband’s handkerchief. With a sigh, she forced her gaze away and back onto the carrots. It would not serve her to cut herself again.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her husband watching her, his face tense as though he felt at odds about what to do. Moments ticked by before he stepped toward her, his hand brushing down her arm to get her attention.
Reluctantly, Madeline turned to look at him, afraid what she would find in those dark eyes of his. Although she did detect anger as well as doubt, she also thought to see a touch of fear. What was he afraid of?
Holding her gaze, he cleared his throat. “When last we spoke,” he began, shifting on his feet, clearly uncomfortable, “before you came to Huntington House, you stated your…intention of,” he swallowed, his teeth clenching as he sought to continue, “of…” Then he stepped back, shaking his head as though having changed his mind.
Madeline frowned. When last they had spoken? When? On their wedding night? When she had−
As realisation dawned, Madeline’s eyes widened in shock, and yet, a touch of guilt assailed her heart. Was he truly asking if she had been unfaithful to him? How could he−? Still, she had to admit that she had given him every reason to doubt her. Had she not kissed Lord Townsend with every intention of becoming his…
His what?
Mistress? That had been the word that had finally brought her to her senses. And yet, she had allowed him liberties that were only reserved for a husband. Would Derek send her away if he found out? Ought she to tell him?
As she watched him retreat, Madeline knew that only the truth−as painful and inconvenient as it might be−would be able to bridge the gap that had once again opened between them.
With every intention of revealing to him the full extent of what had happened between her and Lord Townsend, Madeline approached her husband. However, the moment she opened her mouth, a loud shout rang from the front of the house cutting her off.
A look full of regret in his eyes, her husband sighed, his teeth gritting together once more before he turned and headed out into the hall and toward the front entrance.
Doing her utmost to ignore that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Madeline hurried after him. As he rushed out the front door, he called to Sean, “What’s going on? Is it the mare?”
“No,” Sean replied, his pale face barely visible in the dimming glow of the day’s last light. “It seems we have some visitors.” Pointing down the road leading up toward Huntington House, he stepped up to his brother-in-law, an amused smirk on his face. “Shall I prepare the guest bedchambers, my lord?”
A humourless chuckle escaped Madeline’s husband as he squinted his eyes to see the approaching carriage through the veil of descending darkness. “There’s a coat-of-arms on the side, but I cannot make out what…”
“The Marquess of Elmridge!” Madeline gasped, her hand unbeknownst going to her throat. Although in the first seconds upon recognising the coat-of-arms the thought of seeing her friend Elsbeth had filled her heart with joy, it was now replaced by dread. Glancing around her, Madeline once more took in the condition of Huntington House, and although her understanding of a person’s worth had undergone a significant change in the past few weeks, she could not help but wish the carriage would simply disappear.
Beside her, her husband seemed equally ill at ease, judging from the way his gaze narrowed as his eyes followed the carriage up the small slope until it pulled up in front of them. His shoulders were tense, and yet, he stood tall, a figure of authority, and Madeline remembered her own mask.
Forcing a smile onto her face, she stepped up beside her husband and raised her chin. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought to see a touch of approval in his gaze before it vanished when the coachman jumped down and opened the door.
“Madeline!” Elsbeth beamed as she stepped out of the carriage, her husband following her. “It is so good to see you. I hope you don’t mind a little surprise visit from an old friend.” Striding forward, Elsbeth wrapped Madeline in her arms and whispered, “I simply needed to see you. When last we spoke, the look in your eyes made me quite concerned.” Then she stepped back, and her watchful blue eyes once more slid over Madeline’s face. “You look well,” she finally commented with a smile.
Did she? Madeline wondered. What did Elsbeth see that Madeline herself had not noticed? After all, the moment she had just shared with her husband had only pointed out the sheer hopelessness of her situation, had it not?
“Good evening, Lord Ainsworth. It is such a pleasure to see you again.” With a charming smile, her hand resting on her husband’s arm, Elsbeth turned to Madeline’s husband. “I hope you don’t mind us staying a few days. It is always hard for old friends to be parted from one another.”
With surprise, Madeline noticed her husband’s shoulders relax and his gaze shift over her friend with a touch of appreciation, and she could not help but wonder what had brought this on. What did he see when he looked at Elsbeth? For sure, she was a delightful creature and there was no friend more loyal in all of England, and yet, the scars that tainted her beauty were often the only thing people saw when looking at her these days.
A soft smile came to Madeline’s face. She should have known that her husband would be able to see beyond such superficialities. After all, had he not seen behind her own mask as well? At least for a moment?
“You are more than welcome to stay,” her husband stated, the tone of his voice matching his words, and yet, Madeline detected a slight strain in the way he spoke. “We shall have rooms prepared for you.”
“You are too kind,” Elsbeth thanked him as her husband inclined his head.
Madeline sucked in a sharp breath at her husband’s words as she remembered the condition of the rooms upstairs. So far, Derek had been able to repair parts of the roof, which meant that Kara’s and Sean’s chamber as well as his mother’s were now mostly free of leaks. However, while her own as well as her husband’s still had a small number of pots and jugs scattered around the room, the remaining bedchambers were in even worse condition.
Panic seized her, and her mind spun with the need to do something.
“Allow me to introduce you to my brother-in-law, Mr. Sean Brewer,” her husband said, gesturing to Kara’s husband, who stepped forward with a slight tremble in his arms. After years as a valet to Tristan Turner, Viscount Elton, he knew very well that−generally speaking−the ton liked to keep their lives separate from those who served them. However, here at Huntington House, that invisible line had become blurred. Even Madeline now rarely found anything odd at sharing a table with those she would have once considered beneath her.
“My lord. My lady,” Sean intoned, a certain amount of deference in his tone as he respectfully inclined his head.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brewer,” the marquess said, his own voice no less respectful, and Madeline noticed a touch of approval in her husband’s gaze. It was no surprise that he would think highly of people who treated those he deemed worthy with the same respect they demanded for themselves. Maybe this visit would not end in a disaster after all.
Turning to Sean, Madeline acted on impulse. “Would you escort the marquess and his wife inside? I need a moment with my husband.”
Despite noticing a touch of surprise on her friend’s as well as her husband’s face, Madeline pretended not to see anything out of the ordinary. As their visitors followed Sean inside, her husband turned to her, his gaze narrowed as he searched her face, suspicion resting in his eyes. “What is on your mind?”
“Was it so obvious?” Madeline asked, her hands unable to keep still as she wound them around the handkerchief that was still wrapped around her injured finger.
Her husband shrugged. “You seemed as though you wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole,” he observed dryly, and yet, there was a touch of disappointment in his voice that made Madeline cringe as she realised that her reaction had insulted him and all he had accomplished.
Never had she thought of it like this.
“Never mind.” Turning away, Madeline made to climb the steps to the front entrance, but her husband’s hand on her arm held her back.
“Say what’s on your mind.”
Taking a deep breath, Madeline met his gaze. “I meant to ask if we could offer them my room. Next to your sister’s and mother’s, it is the one in better condition than the rest.”
His gaze widened briefly before he stepped closer. “And where would you sleep?”
Madeline swallowed, and for the first time in her life, she did not dare hold his gaze. “With you.” Although she could not say what reaction she would have expected, the silence that followed was maddening. With her gaze darting from the ground to something beyond his shoulder to her own hands, Madeline could not tell what went through his head in that moment.
“Are you so ashamed of our home,” her husband finally said, his voice laced with repressed anger, “that you would make such a sacrifice and share my room?”
As though struck, Madeline’s head snapped up, her gaze meeting his.
“My bed?” he asked, his eyes hard as he stared down at her.
Sacrifice? Madeline thought, her mind suddenly slow as she found herself at the mercy of his anger and disappointment. Again, she had insulted him. Hurt him. How could she explain that this had nothing to do with him or even the condition of his estate? How could she make him understand that although she knew it to be irrational, she could not simply ignore the demands her upbringing had placed on her? Everything around her had changed so drastically in the past few weeks that she did not know how to keep up. All Madeline knew was that she herself was unable to change at the same pace.
Time. She needed time.
“There’s no reason for you to look so terrified, my lady,” her husband stated flatly as he took a step back. “In order to spare your sensibilities, I shall sleep in the stables.”
Madeline’s eyes widened in shock. However, before she could utter another word, he strode past her and vanished into the house. Staring after him, Madeline did not know what to think.
Terrified? Had she truly looked terrified? But not of him. Not of…
My lady? He had called her my lady in a tone that sent a chill down her spine. Not since they had gotten married had he called her that. It had always been Madeline, and although she had been appalled at first, understanding it as a sign of his low upbringing, she had come to cherish it over the past few weeks, seeing it as an intimacy they could not otherwise express. She herself had been on the verge of calling him Derek.
Now, that seemed impossible.
How had this happened? Only moments ago, they had seemed so close. He had seen into her soul and understood exactly what she had needed. The way he had held her had said more than a thousand words.
Only now, everything was different. The distance between them greater than it had ever been.
With a heavy weight on her heart, Madeline headed inside.