12

 

The earl’s full lips brushed hers. The warm sensation lasted for a second, then disappeared. He released her and bounced to his feet then moved near the vicar.

Madeline drew a hand to her cold face. The kiss wasn’t harsh but the lightning and harps she’d imagined from a first kiss didn’t materialize. He didn’t love her. The realization felt like falling and hitting the ground. It hurt to breathe.

Aunt Tiffany brought her a piece of fruitcake. “Here, my dear,” Aunt said as she lifted a forked morsel into the air. Smothered in white bliss icing, the confection seemed rich.

She couldn’t eat. Tears threatened. Thinking she had the earl’s love made Madeline feel safe. She only possessed his name.

Aunt brushed Madeline’s cheek as if the woman knew Madeline struggled with disappointment. “I must leave you now, but cleave to our talks. You are the Countess of Devonshire.”

“Lady Glaston, let me help you to your carriage. I had it readied for you, bags and all.” Justain’s voice sounded cold as if he held bitterness against Aunt Tiffany.

Madeline put the cake down and grasped the woman’s wrist. “When will I see you again?”

Aunt turned to Lord Devonshire then back to her. “When you invite me to Devon, I’ll come. Write me. Let me know how you’re getting on.” Aunt Tiffany kissed her forehead. “Goodbye, Lady Devonshire.” She sailed to Justain and gave him a hug.

He looked startled, tweaking his thick cravat.

“Take good care of my niece. Come along, Gunter,” she called to her loyal servant. Like the whirlwind which brought the woman back into her life, Aunt Tiffany left the room, fastened to the earl’s arm.

The door banged shut.

Madeline gazed at Reverend Delveaux. He bit his lip, no doubt holding in his amusement. It wasn’t funny to be misled.

“Welcome, sister.” His voice boomed. The tall form came forward.

She willed her palm to rise. Hand, don’t shake. Show no twinges of fear.

He kissed her wrist, then stepped away. “My formal name is Gregory, but everyone calls me Devlin.”

“Thank you, Reverend Delveaux. You’re Lord— you’re Justain’s cousin?” She referred to her husband by his given name to at least sound like an equal.

The man smiled and ran his fingers through his salted sable hair. “Yes, though I’d like to think we’re as close as brothers.” He possessed broad shoulders like Justain and seemed to exude an air of strength.

In spite of things, she was the new Lady Devonshire. Justain was her husband. Madeline cleared her throat. “Please sit. Let’s become acquainted.”

“I’ll stand,” the reverend said. The man’s long frame easily made him six three or four, even taller than her husband. “You’ve vowed to love and honour Justain. Are you going to live up to that commitment?” he asked in cool tones as if he inquired about the weather.

Her cheeks now boiled. Was it possible to combust like a log in the fireplace? “I’m not sure I understand, sir.”

“My cousin is a good man.”

“So I’ve been told.” Madeline picked a petal from her bouquet and cast it in the air.

With an oval face, very like the earl’s, the reverend continued, “He deserves the support and care of a good woman.”

Support and care? Had she not been mourning the loss of the same sentiment? Something inside her awoke. Meekness brought nothing but agony and a marriage formed in deceit. “What concern is this of yours, Reverend Delveaux?”

“Call me Devlin.” He pulled out a pocket watch and adjusted the fob. “I feel a sense of obligation to Justain and now to you. I know the choices you both made aren’t easy. If I can intercede, I will.”

Madeline sat erect and smoothed the lace of her skirt. Did everyone but her know this was a marriage of convenience?

Devlin stooped. His dark trousers now blended into the carpet. He levelled his gaze to hers. “When God brings two individuals together, sometimes there are trials, but He’d never put you on the same path if you weren’t meant to walk together.”

He seemed sincere, but what did she know of any man’s character? “Does Justain intend to walk with me since he married me to secure property?”

“Actually, an inheritance, but I’m sure that you, sister, had your reasons for marrying.”

“Devlin, did you force him to announce that our wedding satisfied some sort of condition? And why declare it during the ceremony? Couldn’t you leave me any illusions about this marriage?”

He shook his head. “My cousin cannot be forced to do anything. He can be reasoned with, if the arguments are sound and rational.”

She blinked. “I do not have irrational arguments.”

“I’m not trying to insult you. I’m trying to give you insight to the man you’ve married. Justain is as stubborn as a rock in the ox’s path, but there’s no one more loyal to his friends.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She yanked the ring off and set it aside on the bench. She tugged off her perfect gloves. Madeline wanted to cast everything away.

Devlin lowered his gaze to the thick navy carpet. “You’re a woman of faith? Justain says that you are.”

“I am.” Though His will for her life grew darker every minute. How would Justain treat her since he had no love to offer? She rubbed her forehead.

He picked up the ring and suspended it in the air. “Please?”

Madeline let him put it back onto her finger.

“Cling to your faith, young woman. Justain doesn’t see how blessed he is. Perhaps, you’ll open his eyes.”

 

****

 

Justain tried to hand Lady Glaston into her carriage, but she stopped him. “Take care of my niece. She’s a remarkable young lady.”

“It’s a little late to be concerned about her welfare. You foisted her onto me.” He did little to conceal his contempt. “Show no remorse, Lady Glaston.”

She touched his arm. “Be mad at me. Hate me. Not Madeline.”

He gazed into the pale eyes. “I know that she’s as much caught in this web as I am.”

The woman stopped him from straightening his cravat. “You’re forever adjusting this thing.” Lady Glaston fluffed it. “In life, we do things that we may not always like, but it’s necessary for our stations.”

He drew her hands away. “If that helps you sleep.”

The grand dame stepped into her cream-coloured coach. She leaned out the door. “When you stop nursing your pride, you’ll see that this is best. Make Madeline happy, and I’ll be in your debt. I’m good to those I owe.”

“God speed to Cheshire, Lady Glaston.” Justain shut the door and waited for the caravan to leave. A lively public house lay next door. He’d held out there with his steward until the ceremony. Winton made sure he didn’t get intoxicated. No need to make his wedding any more of a spectacle.

Justain trudged back into the inn. He planted his foot on the first tread of the stairs leading to his wedding party. A swell of laughter floated through the open window. “Brandy, we’ll visit again tonight.” The light from the wall lanterns reflected upon his band. The ruby and onyx stones glowed. Richard last wore this band, and the old man before him. In spite of everything, Justain fulfilled the inheritance. This time he wasn’t the scourge of the family.

Only one more thing to do. Take control of his life. Justain balled his fist. He was the head of the Delveaux family. The newest Delveaux needed to submit to his authority. He started up the stairs taking the treads by twos.

Justain pushed open the door to the parlour. His cousin offered scriptures to his wife and the maid. Neither girl looked receptive. Madeline rubbed her neck as if distressed.

“My dear,” Justain said, “have you given Devlin a tongue lashing so soon? Wait for a proper visit to chastise him.”

“Thank you for your well-wishes, Devlin.” Madeline’s jade eyes seemed dourer. She was already steeped in regrets. Perfect.

“Well, I’ll take my leave.” Devlin gathered his thick cape and eased it about his shoulders. “I’m heading back up north for a missionary tour; I’ll be visiting Lancashire and then Scotland.”

“Travel safely, old boy.” Justain adjusted his cravat.

“It seems a dangerous route to go north,” Madeline said. She held out her hand to Devlin. She didn’t shrink when he kissed it.

Justain tapped the minister’s arm. “My cousin knows how to avoid danger. He doesn’t gamble like me.”

Devlin shook his head. “Madeline, you’re a welcome addition to the family. I look forward to getting to know you.” He tweaked Justain’s elbow and left the room.

“Anne, I’ll send for you when I need you. I wish to speak to my husband in private.” Madeline’s usually soft tone sounded sharp. Maybe the kitten possessed claws?

Miss Regent curtsied and traipsed away.

A good fit of anger could do his dirty work. “Did I take too long downstairs?” Justain asked.

“No.” She pulled a loose tendril of ebony behind her ear. “I was just wondering about the inheritance. Why you hadn’t mentioned it before?”

“Madeline, you’ll find you’ve married into a number of peculiar traditions.”

She looped her fingers about great-great grandmother’s necklace. “I understand tradition, but you could’ve told me.”

He chuckled. “We had to wed, and I thought the inheritance would complicate the issue.”

Madeline lowered her gaze. “Had to wed, not wanted to?”

He pivoted from her and snuffed a candle on the mantel. “Honestly, it’s none of your concern.” He turned back to watch her seethe. “My affairs are mine, alone.”

She didn’t explode, just shook her head. She smoothed her countenance. “I’m ready to start this marriage. How do we begin?”

“Begin what? I think it’s a little late for formal introductions.” Justain folded his arms. He wanted a tantrum. A spoiled maid lived in every girl of privilege, no matter how demure she seemed.

Madeline took a deep breath and released it. “Lord Devonshire, Justain, I want to know how to be a proper wife to you.”

He wiped his mouth. “We’re strangers.”

“We’re not strangers.” She kept her voice low though her grip on her bouquet tightened.

“Yes, a few stories have made us old friends.” He took a noisy intake of air. “You’re very young.”

Madeline wrapped her gloves about the stems of her flowers. “But the passion of your proposal has confused me. The inheritance must be extensive for such a performance.”

“You’re a lovely lady, Madeline.” He moved behind her. “It’s easy to drink of beauty and want to recite you poetry.” He drew his thumb down her satin sleeve. A scared little girl would emerge with prompting.

She didn’t jump or swat his hand away. Instead, Madeline sat erect and pulled his palm to her cheek. “I will be a good wife to you.”

Her skin felt so soft. He moved away. “You’re not serious.” Justain flopped onto the bench next to her. “Dr. White’s medicines sometimes have adverse effects upon people. Let me send for Miss Regent.”

“I know my own mind.” Her face flushed, glowing with determination. The poor misguided creature. “How do I prove my intentions?”

What was Madeline looking to gain?

He shook his head. “You need to rest. Miss Regent will ready you for bed. We’ll get an early start tomorrow.”

“I’m not tired.” She cleared her throat. “As a daughter of the peerage, I understand the dignity of your title. I will be an excellent partner to your station.” The matronly arch of her tones. The lift of her chin. She was serious.

“This is ridiculous. Madam wife, you shall retire to bed and forget this crazy notion.”

“You won’t order me like a disobedient youth. I’m your wife.”

“But I can, Madeline. That’s why you wear my ring.”

“We”—she softened her voice—“we need to be on common ground to make this marriage work.”

He chuckled. “Who said we’d make this marriage work?”