Protected By The Major

‘I am sorry. I cannot be what you want me to be. I would if I could, but it is impossible. Why will you not divorce me and take another wife who can give you all you want?’

‘Because I want you,’ he said, his mouth hard with anger. ‘I was deceived in you, Madeline. I thought you a warm lovely girl who would welcome me to her bed and give me an heir.’

‘Forgive me, I have tried...’

‘Oh, yes, you try. With that look of martyrdom on your face. It is enough to make any man shrivel. Damn you, madam! You have cheated me and I shall not stand for it.’

‘I have already asked you to let me go. What more can I do?’

‘You could act like a woman instead of a damned ice queen,’ he muttered. ‘Where were you sneaking out to when I came in?’

‘I have an appointment with my dressmaker.’

His eyes narrowed in fury. ‘Go and spend more of my money then, but remember there will be a reckoning one day. You will accompany me to dine with friends this evening—and I want no more excuses, no headaches. Do you understand me, madam? I want a child and I shall come to your bed tonight without fail. Be prepared to accept me.’

‘When have I refused?’ she asked, and as he flung away in disgust she took the opportunity to move towards the door. ‘I must not keep the horses standing, sir. Please excuse me, I shall see you this evening.’

Lethbridge was a bully when angry, though he’d been kind enough in his way at the beginning of their marriage. It was her fault, Madeline knew. Her fault that his attempts to be a man in her bed had begun to fail soon after their wedding. Her husband said it was her frigidity that had made him impotent and she believed him. Yet her dislike of being touched by him was so great that she could not bring herself to accept him with smiles or sweet words. She had tried, but as soon as he touched her intimately, she froze.

If only he would divorce her and take another wife.

If only she had never married him.

Bitter tears stung her eyes as she thought of what might have been. Seeing Hal the previous evening, remembering the sweetness of his kisses before she’d sent him away, had made her see her life for what it was—an empty shell. If only she could go back to that day...if only she could have been Hal’s wife...

* * *

Hal dressed with care that evening. Lord Devenish had arranged the supper party to which both Hal and Miss Helen Carstairs were invited together with perhaps fifty others. The introduction was to be casual, for as Devenish said, if too much were made of it and Hal did not care to continue it would be an insult to the young lady.

Hal would never wish to cause a young lady distress and he believed Miss Carstairs to be no more than eighteen; the daughter of a Cit who had ambitions, for his only child was no less deserving of respect than a lady of high degree.

Two weeks had passed since the ball and Hal had begun to recover from his brief meeting with Madeline. He’d been stunned by the change in her, amazed by her beauty and reminded of the pain she’d caused. But he had his feelings under control now and was giving serious consideration to the idea of marrying for convenience.

If Miss Carstairs were an agreeable girl and not a complete antidote, he would arrange to meet her again and discover if they were suited. And he would not compare her with Madeline.

* * *

Madeline sighed as she looked at the gown her husband had asked her to wear that evening. It was a pretty shade of green, fashionable and made of the finest silk, but once again the neckline was far too low for her taste. Given her own way, she would have worn a tulle fichu with the gown to cover herself for modesty, but if she did Lethbridge would more than likely tear it away. However, she would wear a stole and cover herself a little whenever she could.

They had been invited to a supper party at Lord Devenish’s house, an evening of cards and pleasant conversation with some music. There would be no dancing this evening, but that did not disappoint her for she was seldom permitted to dance, unless Lethbridge chose to bestow the privilege on one of his friends, which seldom gave her pleasure.

She wished that she might plead a headache and stay home, for she would have rather gone to bed with a book to read, but her husband would have been furious with her again. His recent visit to her bed had once again ended in failure and at the moment he was treating her with icy indifference.

She found herself thinking once again of the man she’d loved as a young girl. It had shocked her to see Hal the other night, but since then she had looked for him in vain. If she could just speak to him, see his beloved face...explain why she had been forced to marry Lethbridge...but it was all too late.

Tears caught in her throat. Of what use was it to think of a time when she’d been happy? She was married to a cruel man and nothing could change that, as she knew too well.

Lethbridge was waiting for her in the hall when she went down, glancing impatiently at the long-case clock in the hall, as if he thought she were deliberately making him wait.

‘Can you never be on time?’ he demanded. ‘I do not wish to be late, Madeline. Come along for it does not suit me to be caught in a queue of carriages.’

She sighed, but made no reply. Since this was a small supper party by the standards of high society they were unlikely to have to queue outside the house and would possibly be some of the first to arrive. Why he was so impatient she could not know for he normally preferred to arrive later in the evening.

However, she went silently ahead of him and out to the waiting carriage. It was, she supposed, unlikely that she would meet Hal this evening for it was a small affair and she was not even sure that he was still in town.

* * *

Miss Carstairs was a pretty fresh-faced young woman with a lively mind. Having been introduced to her by his host, Hal stayed to talk to her for a few minutes, asking her how she went on in town and whether she was enjoying herself.

‘I live in Hampstead, sir,’ she told him in an unaffected manner that did her great credit, ‘but if you mean am I enjoying this supper party the answer is I think so. I am not sure why I should have been invited for I am certain most of the company is above my touch, but Papa was keen to come. I believe he has business with Lord Devenish.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Hal said. He smiled, feeling relieved that her father had said nothing to his daughter of a possible match with one of the guests. She seemed a pleasant girl and he had taken a favourable opinion of her when he moved on to greet other guests.

Hal could not flatter himself that she had been more pleased to meet him than any of the other gentlemen present and for himself there was at the moment no more than a mild appreciation of her open manner. He would need to meet her several more times before he could even consider the idea of asking her to marry him.

Unsure of his feelings on the matter, he moved forwards into a large drawing room where several ladies were seated at a table. They had cards, wine and sweet biscuits before them, but seemed more interested in talking than in actually playing cards. The serious players, usually gentlemen, would be found in the card room where several tables would be set up for their convenience.

He was about to pass through when he heard laughter and, glancing towards the table, saw that Madeline was one of the ladies seated in the group. Her beauty was dazzling and his breath caught in his throat. She looked up and saw him and for a moment he thought he saw pleasure in her eyes, but in the next instant it had gone. She inclined her head to acknowledge him, but her expression remained calm, even withdrawn.

Hal walked on towards the card room. He felt a tumble of emotions inside, torn between dismissing Madeline and making himself known to Mr Henry Carstairs with a view to courting his daughter.

It was what he should do, what the wealthy merchant had hoped for when he brought his daughter to this supper party. Yet even as he told himself that the girl would make an excellent wife, he knew he could not do it.

Miss Carstairs did not deserve to be treated so ill. If he married her when his heart was still so affected by a look from Madeline’s green eyes, he would be doing her a disservice.

If he courted Miss Carstairs he might arouse feelings in her—feelings that might be crushed if he could not love her as he ought.

It had been a stupid notion. To marry for money was wrong and he would not subject any woman to that pain.

He must find another solution to his problems and he must forget Madeline. It was time he returned to the country.

* * *

Lethbridge rose from the card table after having lost heavily to the man sitting opposite him. Two weeks had passed since Lord Devenish’s ball, where he had won nearly a thousand guineas from Rochdale, but this evening he had lost more than three times as much. It was unlike him to lose, but the situation had been forced on him for Rochdale held the bank at faro and insisted on replacing the cards every hand, which made it impossible for them to be marked. He would have left the table before he became so badly dipped had the marquis not goaded him into remaining.

‘I believe I am in debt to you for several thousand pounds,’ Lethbridge said, trying to hide his anger, as much with himself for being a fool as the other man, for faro was not his game. ‘I shall have to beg your indulgence for a few days—say next week, when I shall have the funds to repay you.’

‘No hurry,’ Rochdale said and smiled in a way that annoyed Lethbridge. Accustomed to winning large sums himself, he did not care for being a substantial loser. ‘We may come to some other arrangement. But we should play again and you may recoup your losses.’

‘I do not play if I cannot pay.’ Lethbridge scowled at the thinly veiled insult. ‘I shall sell some bonds and pay you next Thursday—and certainly I am ready to play whenever you choose. It is not my habit to lose.’

‘No, I have noticed it,’ Rochdale said, an unpleasant smirk on his face. ‘Shall we meet again on Thursday next at the club and try our luck again?’

‘Delighted,’ Lethbridge said between his teeth. ‘But I prefer whist or piquet next time.’

‘Certainly, whichever you choose, Lethbridge.’

Walking away from him, the count balled his hands at his sides. Something pricked at him, something that made him suspect that the marquis knew the reason why Lethbridge normally won most evenings at the tables.

He couldn’t know for certain. Lethbridge was so careful. No one had ever questioned his luck, because he made a point of losing now and then. Most of the gentlemen he played with were half-foxed or too careless with the money they had so much of that they could afford to lose a few hundred guineas or even a thousand on occasion. He took care never to win huge pots, just enough to maintain his way of life—and he’d been forced to cheat because he himself had been cheated, not at the tables, but in a business venture that had failed, losing him some thirty thousand pounds. The ships he’d invested in had been unworthy and had sunk in heavy seas carrying a cargo that would have doubled his investment, but like a fool he had not raised insurance and that meant he’d lost all his money rather than just a part.

His family seat was intact for the moment, though it was heavily mortgaged, but he had expensive tastes—one of which was his wife. Her beauty pleased him and he liked to see her wearing valuable jewels and costly gowns...even though she was unresponsive to his advances. Why must she be so cold to him? He glowered at his thoughts for he honestly could not understand what he’d done, not realising that his habit of coming to bed the worse for drink, his coarse manners in the bedroom and his selfish way of taking what he wanted without considering her needs had turned her from a sweet gentle child into the cold woman whose icy stare could make him incapable of performing as a man ought.

With his mistress he indulged in all the base acts that pleased and aroused him, but with Madeline he could not manage to perform the simple act that might give him an heir.

Damn the woman! He was not certain why he put up with her. It would serve her right if he gave her the divorce she wanted. He could throw her out without a penny, for he’d never given her the settlement she’d been entitled to on marriage although it was hers by right, having been left to her by an uncle. Lethbridge suspected that if she had any way of supporting herself she would leave him and that would not suit him. He liked other men to envy him and he knew that Madeline was much admired. If he gave his wife her freedom, she would no doubt marry again, and quite possibly to a man even richer than he had been before a few unwise investments had made inroads into his fortune.

No, he would not let her go like that. He would force her to accept him. He would get an heir on her somehow.

* * *

Madeline walked into her bedchamber a week after the supper party at Lord Devenish’s house. They had attended one of the most prestigious balls of the Season, but she had danced only once with her husband, after which she had been forced to sit with the matrons and watch the young unmarried girls enjoying themselves while he repaired to the card room. She enjoyed the music and the conversation of her friends, but her feet tapped and she longed to dance. However, she had not dared accept the only offer she’d received, even though the gentleman was a friend of her husband’s. She would have suffered for it had she been reckless enough to dance without his permission.

And the only man she’d wished to dance with had not been there. She’d looked for him in the crowded room, but had not seen him.

‘I wish for a word with you, madam.’

Madeline breathed deeply as her husband followed her into the room. From the harsh expression on his face, she feared that she had displeased him yet again.

‘Is something wrong, my lord? Have I displeased you?’

‘Have you?’ he asked, eyes narrowed. He reached out and grabbed her by her upper arms, his fingers digging hard into her tender flesh. ‘You look guilty, Madeline. What have you done?’

‘Nothing.’ She lifted her head proudly. ‘I am tired, sir. I should like to be allowed to retire.’

‘And what of my wishes or needs?’ he demanded, his mouth thin and spiteful as he tightened his hold. ‘Will you never do your duty as a wife ought?’

‘Forgive me, Lethbridge. Have you forgot this is my monthly cycle?’

‘It is always some excuse with you—a headache or your feminine cycle. Is there someone else?’ He moved in closer, his face dark with suspicion. ‘Is that the reason you are so cold to me? If I discover you have betrayed me...’

‘How could I when you have me watched all the time? You know it is not so, sir.’

He pinched her arm. ‘I want a son, madam. You will give me one or I shall know what to do.’

‘I am at your disposal, sir. You may do with me as you wish.’

‘Damn you,’ he muttered and let her go so abruptly that she almost stumbled. ‘I came to remind you it is Adam Miller’s wedding next week. You will wear the blue gown I bought you—and I want no long faces in front of my friends, nor will I accept a headache as an excuse for not attending.’

‘Very well,’ Madeline said, lifting her head to look at him once more. ‘May I retire now, my lord? I am really very tired.’

‘Do as you please,’ he said. ‘You are a cold cat, Madeline. I shall spend the night with my mistress. She gave me a son...why can you not be as obliging?’

‘I only wish I might have a child,’ she said with such a ring of sincerity that his skin flushed a dark red, then he turned and left without another word.

Maddie rang for her maid, standing silently as she undressed her. She held her tears back until she was alone, but then, in the silence of the night, she wept.

Her life was so hopeless and the memory of Hal and what might have been served only to make her weep more.

* * *

Emerging from her milliner’s shop into a wet morning some days later, Madeline regretted having sent her coachman on an errand. She had intended to walk home, for it was but a few streets, and she had dispensed with the man’s services, preferring to enjoy a little fresh air. Now the rain had made it uncomfortable and she stood in the shelter of the doorway, looking hopefully at the sky. It looked to be easing off and, unless she called for a hackney, she had no choice but to walk home. She took little notice of the covered chaise that had just drawn up at the kerb.

About to walk past it, she halted as someone let down the window and looked out at her.

‘May I give you a lift home, Lady Lethbridge?’

‘Sir?’ Madeline stared at the gentleman in surprise. She was not on intimate terms with the Marquis of Rochdale and the idea of sharing a carriage with him was far from appealing. She knew little of him, but had been told that he was not a man to be trusted, though she was aware that her husband played cards with him. ‘I thank you for your thoughtfulness, my lord—but I am merely going in here.’

She turned into a small shop that sold gloves and laces and spent some minutes looking through them. The marquis drove off almost immediately and after a moment the rain had stopped enough for her to venture back outside.

The rain had almost stopped now and, by walking swiftly, she was home before it could fall again. She thought no more of the marquis’s invitation or of her refusal.

Chapter Two

‘You should not wear a sleeveless gown,’ Madeline’s maid said as she brought the pale-blue silk dress that morning. ‘It will show the bruises on your arm, my lady.’

‘It is the gown my husband purchased for me to wear at the wedding of his friend’s daughter. I have a new hat to wear with it, which is most becoming,’ Madeline replied. ‘You must powder the bruises on my upper arms and my breast, and I will wear a fichu of lace in the bodice of my gown and a stole to cover my arms. Perhaps no one will notice.’

‘Perhaps,’ Sally said and frowned. ‘Why does he do these things, my lady—and when he knows you will be seen in public?’

Madeline bit her lip, blinking back the tears that hovered. She’d steadfastly refused to weep when her husband punished her for not receiving his attentions with the enthusiasm he demanded of her. He’d called her a block of ice when he’d visited her bed the previous night and his hands had gripped her arms so hard as he shook her that his fingers left dark bruises. Sometimes he hit her in other places, but was usually careful to abuse a part of her body that was not on show when she was in company.

‘You are an unfeeling wretch,’ he’d shouted at her, when he’d come to her room. ‘Damn you! I’ve given you everything you could possibly desire: carriages and horses, jewels, clothes and a house in London. What more do you want?’

Madeline had not answered him at once, because what could she say? Her silence infuriated him and he’d shaken her. She had tried to apologise, but that only made him angrier. He blamed his failure in the marriage bed on her coldness, her icy indifference to his love making, and perhaps she was to blame, for a husband was entitled to some warmth from his wife. It was not that she ever struggled or refused, but she could not be the whore he desired.

‘I want nothing you can give me,’ she answered proudly. ‘If I am not satisfactory, I pray you divorce me. Give me my freedom and take another wife.’

‘And have the whole of society laughing at me?’ His eyes narrowed and he’d grabbed her by her arms, his fingers biting deep into her tender flesh. ‘You promised me a child and you’ll do your duty, madam, or I’ll beat you until you are black and blue.’ As yet he’d done little more than pinch Madeline and shake her or throw bitter words at her, but something told her that he meant this new threat and next time he punished her it would be severe.

‘I have not repulsed you,’ Madeline said, raising her head. ‘If you want more than I can give, I am sorry. I cannot give what I do not have—and I do not love you.’

‘Who is he?’ Count Lethbridge’s eyes narrowed in fury. He was a man of five and forty, not ill favoured though harsh of expression and tongue and of a violent temper. He shook her until she went limp like a rag doll and, when he let her go, she sank in a faint to the floor. ‘Your fainting will not save you, madam. I’ve paid for your services and even a whore would smile at me when I took her.’

Coming to herself, Madeline looked up at him. ‘I have not betrayed my vows despite your unkindness to me. I do not see what more I can do to please you, sir.’

‘The reckoning is coming, madam. I shall have you even if I force you. Your coldness will not deny me next time.’

Madeline had not answered him. Sometimes she wished that he might take what he needed from her, by force if necessary. In truth, a child might have helped to fill the emptiness inside her, but though he might bluster and threaten, she knew that when he came to her again it would be useless. She would lie unresisting, her eyes closed, but after some fumbling he would curse, angry at his failure, and then start to pinch and abuse her.

If only she could bear him a son and be allowed to retire to the country, leaving him to his mistresses and the life he enjoyed in London, but until that happened he would keep her here and she must bear his unkindness.

Her only defence was to face him proudly. He had done little more than bruise her, but she knew that he no longer felt tenderness towards her and had regretted his bargain. He feared being ridiculed and would not divorce her or let her live alone, which meant there was only one way he could be free of her.

Only her death would set them both free.

Lethbridge was a brute, but she did not think him a murderer. Perhaps he hoped that she would become so unhappy that she would save him the bother and take her own life? Perhaps it would be the best way for both of them.

Madeline held back her tears. She would make herself think of something else...of the look in Hal’s eyes when he’d seen her. Just for a moment she’d thought he smiled before turning away...

‘You look so beautiful, my lady,’ Sally said, recalling her thoughts to the present. Then, touching Madeline’s arm gently, ‘Why do you not run away? Leave him and return to your family?’

‘My father would send me back,’ Madeline said sadly. ‘I am his wife and in law he could force me to return. My father would suffer if he defied him for my sake.’

Nothing had changed since their marriage. The count had not returned her father’s notes as he’d promised when she married him, but simply kept them as a threat to use against her. Her father could not offer her a refuge because if he did Lethbridge would ruin him.

Tears caught in Madeline’s throat as she allowed her maid to place the confection of lace and ribbons on her head. A glance in the mirror showed her perfectly arranged red-gold hair that hung in one long ringlet over her shoulder. Magnificent pearls hung from her lobes and she had one string of large creamy pearls about her white throat, which were fastened with a diamond clasp. On her right hand she had a ring of diamonds and emeralds and a large splendid teardrop diamond adorned the third finger of her left hand, together with the thin band of gold that marked her servitude as a wife.

For a moment she was tempted to tear off all her jewels, refuse to accompany Lethbridge to the wedding and run away. If only there were some way that she could simply disappear and never be forced to return to her unkind husband.

Giving her head a little shake, she dismissed the idea. She must honour her bargain or her father would be punished in her stead. She painted a look of cool pride on her face, for she would never allow her husband to see that she was distressed.

She was going to a wedding and she must be gay and bright so that everyone would tell Lethbridge how fortunate he was to have such a beautiful wife and then perhaps he might forget his threat to punish her.