Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

“ D id you think more on what we discussed last time?” the Earl of Easthall asked. “I would never pressure you nor Madeleine into having children but I know it would make Tessa ever so happy.”

Alexander was pulled away from his wife by the Earl, a man he was not sure about. Despite his open smile and cheerful banter, there was something persistent about Colin.

It was as though he thought Alexander’s silence was a personal challenge to break.

“I must have mentioned our plans for the nursery. I shall have the cot designed for our future baby,” the earl went on, “Her name carved into the wooden sides. I do not know if she will be a girl, of course, but I am quite positive. Tessa is one of three sisters, and I have two of my own. Then again, I do wish for a boy to pass on my earldom, yet my wife craves a daughter more than anything.”

“I am sure it will be delightful.” His answer was polite, clipped.

“In summer, I shall take her to our countryside estate, and she will love it. I shall have matching horses for her with her siblings. Heavens, see, I get ahead of myself with this planning. Tessa tells me to restrict myself but I am truly overjoyed by the thought of it all. Marriage was… unexpected. To have the possibility for children, a future with my wife?—”

Alexander tried to tune the man out until he heard marriage for the second time.

“Sorry?” he asked. “I was distracted only a moment.”

“I asked how you are finding marriage.”

Alexander tried not to flinch. When he had offered marriage to Madeleine he had not considered that it would not be a private matter.

“It has been pleasant enough.”

“I was at your wedding,” Colin reminded him. “I saw that you and Madeleine barely looked at one another. Of course, the circumstances were strange, so nobody could blame the nerves?—”

“I would never miss the opportunity to look at my wife.” The confession slipped out without him meaning to.

He stopped, biting back other words. Colin made a face, cocking his head.

He knows , Alexander thought. He knows I care more than I let on .

But how could he hold himself back from proclaiming how weak he was to admire his wife? Madeleine was so beautiful, and Lord Kinsfeld had all but tried to leave her to collect dust.

She should have been worshiped, adored every moment of the day, lavished with pleasure so strongly she could drown in it.

Alexander knew that as soon as he had set eyes on her in that darkened parlor that very first night.

“I see you, Your Grace,” Colin slowly. “I see you. And it is perfectly acceptable to care.”

“I do not?—”

Before he could finish his words, Lord Banbury and the Duke of Kingswell finally joined them, breaking off from their discussion with their hosts.

“Silverton. Lord Easthall.,” the Duke of Kingswell greeted, shaking his hand. “I have heard of your recent betting streak. It is quite a success.”

Alexander let himself get lost in the sound of the conversation for a moment or two before he grew too impatient.

His eyes swept the ballroom in search of his wife. He tried to ignore it, to let herself remain with her friend, but Tessa was alone near the wine table.

Madeleine was nowhere to be seen.

She is fine , he told himself, but she struggled so much in these scenarios. But he could not quell that protective instinct within him to find her, to have her in his sight.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, leaving their circle quickly.

Madeleine was on the balcony overlooking the Hartfords’ expansive gardens.

In the evening, glass-encased candles flickered along the driveway where carriages were parked, awaiting their patrons once again. Around the side of the garden, hedges were trimmed neatly, pristine.

The stars above her twinkled, and the moonlight set a peaceful glow throughout the night.

Madeleine inhaled a breath of cool evening air.

“Duchess of Silverton.”

The voice was only recently familiar, and Madeleine turned at the sound of Lady Rowthern’s voice.

“Lady Rowthern,” she greeted. “How… nice to see you again. You are seeking a moment to breathe, too?”

“Me? Oh, no.” The lady gave a short, almost condescending laugh. “Why would I need some fresh air? I am not the target of dreadful gossip. You, however…” She joined her at the balcony’s balustrade. “One cannot blame the ton for speculating, though, Your Grace.”

Madeleine flinched back. “You speak boldly, Lady Rowthern.”

“Do I truly?”

“Yes.”

Lady Rowthern smiled sardonically, humming. “Interesting. You have a lot of boldness about you, in fact. You must understand the ton’s curiosity. After all, I can only imagine how difficult it must be, stepping into a marriage, coming from your… complicated history.”

“Do be careful how you speak.”

“I only speak innocently,” the woman insisted. “You have married so soon after Donald died.”

Madeleine moved back, noting how the lady used her former husband’s name so freely. Her heart sped up, pulsing in her wrists.

“I am certain the speculation regarding my marriage will soon pass into obscurity.”

“Perhaps,” Lady Rowthern purred. “But your husband is frequently seen at gaming hells, Duchess. The Raven’s Den surely rings a bell.”

It did—vaguely—but Madeleine swallowed her surprise.

Is this why my husband is so private? Have I landed myself with another man who gambles?

No.

No, do not distrust your husband based on this woman’s baseless comments. She is only trying to rile you.

But Madeleine was riddled with distrust. There was so much about Alexander she had not discovered yet. His family, his business, where he disappeared to sometimes, why he had come back bleeding last week. Why his lip had curled so much at the notion of fighting, at being reduced to a thug, as he had claimed.

“You consider my words, do you not?” Lady Rowthern asked, entirely too sweet.

She gave a small laugh, and Madeleine clung onto her cool composure with all she had. Her eyes flicked to the ballroom, hoping to see a flash of Alexander.

Tessa was right—she did not need a man to bolster her. She could stand alone.

“I do not understand how you live with yourself, Your Grace.” Lady Rowthern’s words became more and more barbed. “Donald was a very generous man. Do you honor him? Have you even met with the new Lord Kinsfeld to pass on your condolences? I have spoken with him. He misses Donald greatly… ”

As Lady Rowthern spoke, Madeleine’s chest grew tighter and tighter with shame, and her eyes prickled with tears. Her grip on her composure slipped with each word, with each time the other woman used Donald’s name like it was nothing.

Because it was nothing to her.

Because Lady Rowthern loved Donald , Madeleine realized, the final puzzle piece she had been missing during her investigation of her husband’s previous disappearance slotting into place.

She loved him, and she feels as though she has truly lost the man she loved.

Exhaustion swept through her. She was tired of all these ladies with their false niceties, and hidden meanings, their remarks and sly questions.

“Lady Rowthern,” she said, “Were you in love with the late Lord Kinsfeld?”

Lady Rowthern blinked, and for a second, she looked caught. Her eyes flicked to the ballroom, as Madeleine’s had before, as if searching for the Marquess of Rowthern.

And then the answer came without an attempt at denial.

“Yes.” She exhaled, smiling, as if it gave her a great relief to say so. “Yes, I did love him. I have loved Donald for the last five years, ever since we met at a summer picnic.”

Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, with love or sadness, Madeleine didn’t know.

“We were secretive, of course, given your presence in his life, and my own husband, but he loved me. I know he did. He… Oh, he lavished me in dresses and jewels. He promised me getaways, a trip to the countryside… He always promised. He told me that he would take me to France one day.” Her brow puckered. “I… I, of course, did not get to experience such a thing, but he wanted to do it. That is all that matters to me.”

Her hands were clasped to her chest, and Madeleine felt a stab of pity for this woman, blended uncomfortably with anger. She wanted to both comfort her and shake sense into her.

Just how many women did you fool, Donald ? Did you ever have any shame ?

Madeleine’s voice was hard when she finally spoke. “There is a woman named Nellie Trent, who has a room at Parling’s Boardinghouse. When I met her, she was swanning around in one of my old dresses.” Madeleine let her words sink in, and Lady Rowthern slowly realized what she meant.

She shook her head, but Madeleine continued.

“Nellie had once been in love with him, too. He had promised her jewels, had warmed her bed—but she had turned him away when she found out that her bed was one of many.”

“You are lying,” Lady Rowthern hissed. “He always told me about you. How you were jaded and bitter. Unappreciative of his lifestyle.”

“His lifestyle?” Madeleine laughed. “He was riddled with debt, Lady Rowthern, and if you did not know that, then perhaps you should have been more concerned with his behavior, rather than gossiping about the wife he left at home. I told Nellie that I do not care who he bedded. Heavens knows there was no love between us. I did not love my husband, but I do not enjoy the defense of him. He does not deserve it.”

“No,” Lady Rowthern snarled. “ You did not deserve Donald . His generosity was wasted on you. You are wrong! There is no Nellie Trent, no other women—none, except for you, Your Grace. You were the only thing keeping Donald and me from being together.”

Her face was turning red with her anger, and her gloved hands clenched at her sides.

“Believe me, Lady Rowthern,” Madeleine said. “I have nothing to gain from lying to you.”

“More lies! You think that I will concede to your lies, that I will discard Donald easily in my mind and believe you. But I will not . I do not care for my husband, but Donald… I cared so deeply for him. You truly did not deserve him.”

She stepped forward, and Madeleine flinched again.

Before Lady Rowthern could do anything, a scuff of boots had Lady Rowthern moving back quickly.

Relief flooded Madeleine as she looked towards the sound and saw Alexander.

“Lady Rowthern, I do suggest you back away from my wife.” His threat cut through the dark evening on the balcony. “Unless you wish me to invite the Marquess of Rowthern to join us out here, and you can tell him what you have been discussing?”

The woman whirled towards Alexander, her eyes widening. “No,” she said quickly. “There is no need!”

Alexander scoffed at her. “You know, Lady Rowthern, I have half a mind to do it, regardless. Do you know why?” He stalked forward. “I do not care for faithless wretches like you. Your husband provides for you, and I understand a loveless marriage and the pains it might cause, but for you to boast in such ways about your affair…”

He shook his head.

“You are weak, Lady Rowthern. A coward. And you are foolish—likely as foolish as the late Lord Kinsfeld considered you, for surely, he treated you the same as he did his other women.”

Lady Rowthern fell utterly silent, her mouth parted in shock at how sharply Alexander spoke to her. Madeleine’s pulse spiked, her nerves rising.

“Excuse yourself from my wife’s presence immediately, Lady Rowthern.”

The woman did so, snapping into action as she bowed out of the balcony, leaving Madeleine gazing at Alexander.

He drew closer to her, cupping her face before pulling back.

“Are you all right?” he asked her, his brows furrowing in concern.

He swiped beneath her eyes, and she realized she had shed a tear or two.

“I am merely exhausted,” she admitted. “I could hold my own against Lady Rowthern, you know.”

“Oh, I know, and I heard plenty of you doing it. Now, will you allow me to remove you from this ball and take you home?”

Home.

The word was a soft fall into a cushioned bed—something she had had before but barely felt as though the word meant anything. How strange for it to mean something a little more with a man such as the Duke of Silverton.

“Yes,” she said, sighing. “Please do.”