Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year

Chapter Three

Hallam looked at the invitation tucked into the gilt-framed mirror in the front parlour of his lodgings. He’d taken a small house in town for a time, though he was not certain what had made him decide to come up—but a chance remark from one of his friends had told him that Lethbridge and Madeline were in London for a few weeks. The invitation was to a prestigious ball and he was almost certain that Madeline and her husband would be there. Somehow, he must find a way to talk to her. Since speaking to her in the garden of Lord Ravenscar’s home, he had not been able to rest for thinking of her unhappiness.

Try as he might, Hallam had been unable to discover a solution to their problem. If it were not for her father’s debts to Lethbridge, he would have carried Maddie off with him, but he knew that she would not snatch at happiness for herself while condemning her family to ruin. Had Hallam the money, he would have paid her father’s debts, but he could not pay those his own father had left, without disposing of most of his estate. It seemed that the count had them in a cleft stick and there was no escape—but there must be! Lethbridge must have a chink in his armour. Hallam would just have to discover what it was and plan his strategy accordingly. If there were no other way, he must kill him. Yet he would prefer to get his hands on the notes Sir Matthew Morris had lost to the count and then force him to let Maddie go.

Hallam had never taken life in cold blood, and it would be his last resort, but if it was the only way...

Lethbridge was a gambler. It was possible that Hallam might contrive to win the notes from him. But would he part with them? Perhaps only if he were entirely ruined.

Somehow Hallam did not think it likely the count would gamble away his whole fortune just to please him. Yet gambling was the way to get close to him, he was sure. If Lethbridge should be at the ball, he would most likely spend much of his time in the card room. Hallam decided that he would attend. If he were fortunate, he would be able to speak to Maddie or perhaps, make an arrangement to meet in private...and if he could find the count at the tables he would find a way of making his acquaintance.

Yes, he would go to the ball that evening and discover what he could of the man who was causing Maddie so much unhappiness.

* * *

‘You look lovely, my lady,’ Sally said as she finished pinning Madeline’s fair hair into a knot of curls high on her head. One ringlet fell on to her shoulder and she wore a collar of magnificent diamonds about her throat, together with huge teardrop earbobs. Her gown was white, the bodice encrusted with tiny sparkling diamanté, which sprayed out like a stem of flowers over the skirt. Her shoes were white satin and the heels were also studded with crystals that caught the light whenever her skirt moved to reveal them.

‘You have done well,’ Madeline said and smiled at her. Sally had applied the merest touch of rouge to her cheeks after powdering her face and neck. Her bruises had faded since the wedding, because for some reason known better to himself, her husband had not come near her for the past ten days. ‘Thank you, Sally. I do not know what I should do without you.’

‘You know I would do anything for you, my lady.’ Sally would have said more, but at that moment the door from the count’s dressing room was thrown open and he entered his wife’s bedchamber. Madeline stood up and turned to face him. Inside, she was trembling, but she gave no outward sign of the fear and revulsion he aroused.

‘You look beautiful, madam,’ Lethbridge said. ‘That gown was worth its price. I am pleased you have made an effort, for I wish you to do something for me this evening.’

‘You may go, Sally.’ Madeline dismissed her maid and then looked at her husband. ‘How may I be of service, sir?’

‘I wish you to charm someone—a gentleman, a marquis. He is necessary to a scheme I have in mind. It will be of some considerable financial benefit to me if you can twist him around your little finger. I intend to ask him to dine here, but he has been evasive. If you smile on him, he will be eager to visit us.’

‘Are you asking me to encourage this gentleman to pay me compliments, to dangle after me?’ She was incredulous, for he had always been angry if she spoke more than a few words to another man.

‘To put it crudely, madam, I want you to make him mad with lust for you—if you can manage it? I find you too cold, but some men love a challenge and I’ve been told Rochdale cannot resist a woman who is not easily won.’

‘And if he should ask me to dance, or to walk outside in the air?’ She was trembling with indignation that he should ask such a thing of her but managed to hold her disgust inside.

‘Anything within reason. You will not allow him to bed you, Madeline, but if he imagines you might so much the better.’

‘I find your suggestion insulting, sir.’

‘Indeed?’ Lethbridge moved closer, a nerve flicking at his temple. ‘You know how to smile and charm, Madeline. You deceived me into believing you warm and loving before we were wed. Now I ask you to do the same to the marquis.’

Anger raged inside her as she said impulsively, ‘And if I do—what will you give me?’

His mouth tightened. ‘Do I not already give you sufficient, madam?’

‘I want nothing for myself, but I would have my father’s notes. You promised them when we married, but you reneged on your bargain. I ask for no more than my rights. My father lives in fear of you. Give me the notes and I shall do as you ask.’

He glared at her, reached for her wrist as if he would subdue her, then changed his mind. ‘Very well. Charm Rochdale into accepting an invitation to dine at our house and I will give you the notes.’

‘I do not trust you. Give them to me now and I swear I will do as you ask.’

‘You deserve that I should teach you a lesson,’ he threatened. ‘However, I need you to look at your best this evening. I will give you some of the notes now and the rest when you have finished your work.’

Madeline held out her hand. ‘Give me my father’s notes and I shall make every effort to charm this man for you.’

Lethbridge swore under his breath and went into the dressing room and through to his own chamber. Madeline could hardly believe that she had won and held her breath until he returned. He was carrying a bundle of notes, which he thrust at her.

Madeline glanced through them. Her father’s signature was scrawled on a dozen notes of sums from five hundred guineas to two thousand. Her fingers closed over them and she felt a thrill of triumph.

‘Is this all of them?’

‘Most,’ he said, clearly furious, but with a look in his eyes that told her he was lying. He held many more notes, she was certain, but she had recovered at least a part of her father’s debt. ‘You will get the rest when you’ve done as I wish.’

‘Thank you. You will not be angry if you see me dancing this evening, sir? I must make this gentleman a little jealous if you wish him to fall in love with me.’

‘Do whatever you need to bring him into my house and I shall do the rest.’

‘Very well,’ Madeline said, raising her head proudly. She had no idea why her husband was so eager to have the marquis dine with them, but she would find it a small price to pay if she could free her father from the shadow that had hung over him for so long. ‘Just one moment...’ She walked to the fireplace and cast the notes into the fire, watching with a smile as the flames consumed them. Had she left them in her drawer her husband might recover them by force or stealth. ‘I am ready now.’

Walking from the bedchamber with her husband close behind her, Madeline’s thoughts were racing. If she could but obtain the remainder of her father’s notes, she would be free. Money and jewels meant little to her. If her family were safe, she would leave her husband and go away somewhere quiet. She was not sure how she would live, but perhaps she could earn her living with her sewing needle.

* * *

Hallam saw Madeline almost as soon as he entered the ballroom. She was the centre of a small group of gentlemen, laughing as if she had not a care in the world. A picture of loveliness in white silk and lace embroidered with beads that sparkled like diamonds, she was magnificent, so far removed from the pale shadow of the girl he loved that he’d seen at Adam’s wedding that he could scarce believe his eyes. She’d wept and told him that she feared her husband’s jealousy if he saw her speaking to Hallam and yet now she was flirting with the men that clustered about her. Had she deceived him to the true nature of her life?

Just what kind of a woman was she—and could he trust anything she said?

He stood for several minutes just watching her laughing and teasing one of the men in particular—by his elaborate clothes and exquisite laces, he was a wealthy nobleman. Hallam had never met the gentleman, but his jewels flashed in the light of the candelabra and his clothes were fashioned by the best tailors, though in Hallam’s eyes his cravat was too high, his collars too wide for taste. He was one of the dandy set. Hallam’s lips curled in disgust as he saw the man carried a fan and, still worse, wore rouge on his cheeks—a fashion that had long since been discarded by most men in England. He was a man of middle years, thin with a cruel mouth, and he wore a powdered wig. Another fashion Hallam scorned as being foppish.

He preferred the clean, plain look that Mr Brummell had brought into fashion before he’d fallen so deep into debt and been forced to flee abroad, leaving an unpaid gambling debt—something no gentleman would ever do unless forced. Society had turned against Brummell, though Alvanly and some others were known to speak of him kindly and to send him money in his exile in France.

Why was Madeline looking up at that fop in such a coquettish manner? He had never seen her flirt with anyone so outrageously. As a girl she’d had shy pretty manners that had touched his heart, but now...he hardly knew her. If her husband were truly the brute she’d described to him, how dare she behave so recklessly?

A glance around the ballroom told Hallam that Lethbridge was not in the room to witness his wife flirting with the fop. Frowning, Hallam watched as she gave her hand to one of the other gentlemen and was whisked off to the dance floor. Her ardent suitor seemed annoyed—or perhaps frustrated. He had the look of a hunter intent on cornering his prey.

‘How are you, Ravenscar?’ The voice at his elbow distracted Hallam. He turned to look at the gentleman, a fellow officer who had seen service in France with him. ‘She is a beauty, isn’t she? But off limits unless you wish Lethbridge to call you out. I’ve heard he is like a dog with a bone over his wife as a rule.’

‘Good to see you, Mainwaring. Who is the wealthy fop?’ Hallam nodded in the direction of the frustrated suitor. ‘He looks dangerous.’

‘Yes, I dare say he might be. I’ve heard he is a crack shot and even more deadly with the sword. He was in France with us, though a line regiment, has some French relations, I understand. Rich, they say...some whisper he absconded with jewels, objets d’art and pictures that belonged to Napoleon in the last days of his reign. They also say his relations worked for the secret police in the time of the Terror and became rich by robbing the wretches condemned to be guillotined. Marquis of Rochdale...the third of his line, I believe.’

‘A pretty fellow, by all accounts, and old enough to be the countess’s father.’

‘Perhaps she likes them that way. Lethbridge must be twelve years her senior.’

‘She married to save her family from ruin,’ Hallam replied, stung to defend Madeline, even though he felt annoyed with her for flirting so openly—and for spinning him that tale at the wedding.

Yet she had been crying when he discovered her in the rose arbour. Something was wrong, but he could not decide what to believe.

Moving on, Hallam greeted friends and danced with a couple of ladies—wives of his particular friends—and his hostess, but most of the first part of the evening he spent watching Maddie. She danced several times, twice with the Marquis of Rochdale. He began to notice that she behaved far more demurely with her other partners, actually seeming a little reserved, but let down her guard whenever she was speaking with the marquis.

What on earth did she think she was doing? Did she not realise that to flirt so dashingly with a man like that was to play with fire? Unless, of course, she wished him to think her available. The girl he remembered would not be so fast or so foolish.

It came to Hallam in a blinding flash. She was deliberately leading Rochdale on! What on earth had got into her? Did she not know that Rochdale was dangerous? The marquis was not a man to be trifled with—surely she must sense that she was in danger of being seduced by the man?

* * *

At the supper interval he saw her seated at a table with two other ladies and a little cluster of gentlemen. He’d hoped that perhaps he might have an opportunity of speaking with her, but the men vied with each other to fetch her drinks and delicate trifles and she was never alone.

Annoyed and frustrated, he decided to take a walk in the gardens and smoke a cheroot. He’d come to the ball to speak to Madeline before deciding on a course of action, but now it seemed that perhaps she did not need rescuing from her husband. Perhaps her tears had been the result of a quarrel and meant little.

He was wasting his time here, he decided. Having finished his small cigar, he threw the butt into the flowerbeds. Walking towards the house, he had made up his mind to take his leave of his hostess when he heard a cry from behind one of the shrubs.

‘No, sir! I did not give you leave to molest me—’

‘You have been leading me on all evening, madame. Am I to understand that you did so without the intention of responding to my ardour?’

‘You go too fast, sir,’ the voice Hallam knew as Maddie’s replied. ‘A little flirtation does not mean—’ There was a little cry of alarm and the sound of a struggle. ‘No, no!’

Striding towards the scene, Hallam saw the marquis trying to force Maddie to lie back on a bench in a small summerhouse at the far edge of the lawns. His intention was all too obvious; he was bent on having his way with her. She might have brought it on herself by flirting so outrageously, but Hallam could see that she was trying to throw the fellow off and he strode towards them, grabbing the marquis by his coat collar and hauling him off her.

‘How dare you?’ the marquis spluttered as he was bodily flung away and landed on his knees. As he rose, the grass stain on his satin knee breeches was evident. ‘You will meet me for this, sir.’

‘Willingly, sir, but then all London will know that you are a damned rogue. No gentleman would try to force a lady when she says no.’

‘She was willing enough earlier,’ the marquis snapped. ‘She has been inviting me to seduce her all evening.’

‘Flirting is one thing—forceful seduction is another,’ Hallam said. ‘Will you choose swords or pistols?’

‘Neither,’ the marquis said, dusting himself off. ‘I have decided that the whore is not worth the effort. I bid you goodnight, sir.’

‘You will not so insult a lady—’ Hallam bristled, but Maddie tugged at his sleeve.

‘Let him go, Hallam. It would only cause a scandal—and it was my fault. I flirted with him and allowed him to bring me out for some air. I should have known what he would expect.’

‘Why did you do it?’ he demanded, his own anger coming to the fore now the marquis was dismissed.

‘Lethbridge promised to give me my father’s notes if I intrigued the marquis sufficiently to get him to accept a dinner invitation.’

‘Your husband told you to flirt with him?’ Hallam looked at her in disbelief. ‘Does he not know of the man’s reputation? He is a dangerous rake, Maddie.’

‘Yes, someone warned me earlier, but what could I do?’ Madeline’s hand trembled she put it to her mouth. ‘Lethbridge will not be pleased with me. I made him give me some of the notes and then I burned them—now I have failed him. Rochdale will never accept that invitation now.’

‘If you fear your husband, come away with me now,’ Hallam said. ‘I will hide you from him and find a way to make him release you from the promise you were forced to give.’

‘If only I could,’ she said and her eyelashes were wet with tears. ‘I feel so ashamed. That horrible man has been pawing me all night and now...it was all for nothing. But you must not risk your life for me. I am not worth it. I am soiled...not worth your notice.’

‘It is not your fault if the man is a rogue,’ Hallam said. ‘Do not tell Lethbridge what happened out here. He need only know that you did as he asked. It is not your fault if the marquis refuses your husband’s invitation.’

Hallam took his clean white kerchief and wiped her cheeks with it. He smiled down at her, then gave her his hand and helped her to rise.

‘Thank you. You are so kind to me and I do not deserve it.’

‘You deserve far more, but I am not sure how much I can do—other than to call Lethbridge out.’

‘If I had succeeded in getting all my father’s notes, I should have left him,’ she said. ‘He will be so angry when he realises I have not done what he asked.’

‘I will do what I can. If I could win the notes back in a card game, would you leave him?’

‘He would never stake them. Besides, he is very lucky. He wins far more than he loses.’

‘Does he, indeed? Do you think he wanted the marquis to dine at your house so that they might play cards?’