19

 

The carriage swayed about the bend in the path. They were getting closer to Hampshire. His opportunities to seduce Madeline were becoming fewer. Clearly, she was partial to him, but something kept her distant. Was there someone else? Or worse, did this duke’s daughter think him unworthy? Had his courtship somehow proved him unworthy or ill-suited for her hand? He adjusted his cravat. Where were these insecurities arising?

Justain leaned closer, posting very close to Madeline’s tender lips. “Did I mention how beautiful you look today?” The buttercream walking gown made her jade eyes resplendent.

“You did.” She looked at the floor then held his gaze. “I think we should discuss my parents.”

He studied the lift of her chin and her succulent pouting mouth. “You don’t think I’ll measure up to your parents’ expectations?”

Her eyes opened wide. “Is that it? You didn’t measure up? Did your first love not want to risk her heart for you?”

“What does—” He hadn’t thought of Caroline in a while. Justain turned to look out the blasted window.

“I’ve a theory.” She tugged on his sleeve. “I believe all men become difficult because of a woman. Particularly, if they’ve been spurned.”

“What would you know of this? I’ve never met a more sheltered lass in all my days. Was it some wretched poet’s sonnet that has led you to this? A marble etching? Some text out of Psalms, perhaps?”

She reached for his hand again. “I’ve seen it; a mild and gentle soul turned beastly from rejection. And my father, who never raised his voice, now bellows. His marriage to my step-mother has soured him. And by your reaction, I guess I’m right.” Her soft fingers tried to weave between his.

Justain relaxed and allowed the comfort. “Well, I don’t bellow and try hard not to be beastly. Let’s abandon this talk. It’s your turn to tell a tale, something scandalous, please.”

She wound her fingers deeper into his palm. “Why wouldn’t your first love think someone so brave and charitable worthy? Providence has made you worthy.”

Why couldn’t Madeline be a normal woman? He cleared his throat. “Must you bring God into this? You don’t have to come up with another harlot tale. I’d settle for the one with the water and the wine.”

“You haven’t told me of your beliefs. You do have faith?”

“Did Devlin put you up to this?” He released a tight breath. “I believe in God and creation, but I don’t have the close relationship I should. How do I put this? I’ve enjoyed my bachelorhood, and my pew has grown cold from a lack of worship attendance. I’ve other priorities.” Justain pursed his lips. Was the wall between them religious? Is that why this slip of a girl judged him?

 

****

 

Everything made sense to Madeline. Some woman had abused Justain’s heart, and he had no relationship with God to repair it. How could she help Justain feel God’s acceptance? “Unclear priorities lead to confusion, but a sense of self-worth comes from Providence’s love.”

He pulled away and folded his arms. “Madeline, is Avington Manor a monastery? Do monks run about the lawns tolling the bells of the chapel.”

“No. But the bells of St. Mary’s do ring for births and wakes. How did you know?”

“I study architecture. I’m prepared to see the marble and gold.” Justain rubbed the base of his neck. “My choices are my choices. It’s too late to change now. Don’t indict me until you’ve tasted the spoils of living.”

“I may not have lived, as you would call it, but I have seen enough to know that spoils do not make a life complete. Knowing that Providence surrounds me with true care and compassion makes my life worthwhile even when things go horribly wrong.” She stroked the length of his sleeve. “I don’t want to invite your rancour, but as your helpmate, I need to let you know that you haven’t fallen too far to receive grace.”

He shook his head. A thick lock of sable fluttered down his crinkled forehead. “I’ve spent many years in the world, and I’ve not been a choirboy or a monk.”

She stretched and brushed the hair back into place. “But even a harlot can be redeemed if there is faith.”

Justain leaned back upon the seat and closed his eyes. “This harlot is going to take a short nap. Wake me when we reach Exeter.”

So this was his way of dealing with things. This past week, Justain’s romantic overtures had turned her bones to butter, and she’d melted in his arms more than once, but passion solved nothing. If they couldn’t find a true foundation, she would end up alone and heartbroken. Abba Father, what do I do now?

 

****

 

Noisy patrons surrounded them. Justain set his glass on the wobbly oak table.

Madeline focused on her pewter plate, not looking up at him at all.

He hadn’t done anything wrong, but a well-placed apology would dispel the tension that now existed between them. The crowded, whitewashed inn wasn’t romantic, but the rooms upstairs would do nicely. There had to be a way to salvage the evening.

He’d swept others off their feet. Why was this one difficult? Maybe he should give up and focus upon his visit with Madeline’s father, the Duke of Hampshire. She seemed concerned about it. Was there something he didn’t know?

She brushed a tendril of glorious raven hair back into place behind her tiny lobe.

Right now, it didn’t matter that Madeline was the most understanding woman he’d ever met. Or that she genuinely cared for him. How could he fix the air between them?

His wife’s graceful fingers wrapped about her teaspoon.

A wave of laughter rumbled to his left. The stateroom felt oppressive, packed to the brim with noisy travellers. He’d have to strain to hear Madeline. That is, if she said anything. Time to make amends. He sucked in a short breath. “I’m sorry if I was short with you in the carriage.”

“No, it’s I who should apologize. I’m pushy like my father.” The heart-shaped countenance didn’t appear to be surrendering to his way of thinking, but if it led to Madeline throwing her arms about his neck, he’d accept her paltry offering.

Justain cleared his throat. “You’re handling the crutch well.”

Her face lit with a smile. “I nearly fell three times. It was good that you were close by to steady me.”

“I’m used to having you in my arms. You’ll have to allow me time to accept your independence.”

She laughed. Her eyes brightened.

He pushed his plate of beefsteaks out of the way. “I know I have a difficult nature. Mayhap, it takes a woman like you to change me.”

“I don’t want to change you. I like you very well as you are.”

Sentiment. She was partial to it. A word or two of mush wouldn’t kill him. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s actually cared enough to want to help me. I’ve grown up a second son, the one that’s expendable.”

“That’s horrible.” Madeline dabbed at his cravat with a napkin. “You’ve a spot of gravy.” Her fingers trailed his throat, maybe by accident, maybe not.

His breathing quickened all the same. Justain moved her hands. If they weren’t in public, he’d nibble his way to her pulse. “Had my father known how things would turn, I’m sure things would’ve been different. No harm done.”

His dribbling of emotion seemed to work. She sighed at him but didn’t have a pitying look about her.

Someone tapped his shoulder. Winton. He hadn’t heard him approach.

“My lord,” Jonathan interrupted. His face was tight with exigency.

“Won’t this keep until later?” Justain kept his countenance smooth, not wanting to alarm Madeline.

“This needs your attention immediately.” His steward’s voice shook. Whatever the news, Jonathan Winton, his rock of Gibraltar, had broken.

“What is it?” Justain braced for the evil.

Jonathan whispered in his ear.