Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

“ Y our Grace?”

Madeline turned sharply to Owens, the head groom, who had just addressed her with a question.

What was it? What had they been discussing before she drifted off yet again into that memory of Charles Wraith atop his black stallion. This time it wasn’t just the memory; she had imagined riding alongside him on her own equally impressive horse, both of them galloping against the wind, neck and neck…

Ah, yes, now Madeline remembered. She had been discussing horses for the various participants of the house party and whether there were any special requirements.

“My sister Letitia, Lady Radcliffe, is rather a nervous rider with a tendency to frighten her mounts by shrieking at the slightest mishap,” Madeline told Owens. “She will need a steady horse while she is here.”

“Old Belinda? Or is she too slow?” suggested Owens, thoughtfully, seeming not to have noticed her drift into daydreaming. “The two young gray mares are gentle enough, but they don’t have much in the way of brains.”

“What do you think, Cecilia?” Madeline asked the young woman beside her. “You must know something of the ladies’ horses in these stables.”

The younger woman shook her head with a diffident smile.

“Not anymore, I’m afraid. Joining you on your morning ride today was the first time I’ve been out on a horse in years. I can only say that Belinda was very patient with me today.”

To Madeline’s pleasure, Cecilia had accepted her invitation to ride before breakfast that day. It had been a beautiful morning with mist rising over the fields and lake and melting in the heat of the morning sun. They had ranged across the estate at a slower pace than Madeline’s usual solo expeditions, mindful of Cecilia’s fragility whether it was mental or physical in origin.

Although she wasn’t talkative, Cecilia seemed a competent, yet somewhat out-of-practice, horsewoman, and this was good exercise. Madeline made a mental note to invite her sister-in-law out regularly on horseback. Belinda had indeed been patient during the ride.

“Yes, I think Belinda will do admirably for my sister,” Madeline said decisively to Owens. “Oh, and do keep Tempest aside for me while the guests are here. I like a vigorous horse who balks at nothing, and he suits me well. I don’t want him worn out, so please don’t offer him to anyone for hunting expeditions, even if I’m not joining.”

“Hunting expeditions?” questioned Charles, walking around the corner of the stable with a frown. “I’m dealing with all shooting and hunting expeditions for the house party, Madeline. We agreed our division of labor.”

Madeline drew a deep breath and toyed with her riding crop, keen not to row with her husband in front of Owens and Cecilia. There had been several petty arguments in recent days, all of them seemingly sparked by Charles’s perception that she was treading on his toes around preparations for the house party. In her view, she was only doing things that needed to be done.

As well as trying to refrain from outbursts of temper, Madeline also steadfastly refused to let herself be influenced by the emerald green of her husband’s eyes or the strange excitement his proximity sparked deep in her belly.

The Duke’s anger often seemed tempered by something else equally unnerving — that intense male interest that had possessed him in the library and drawn such a strong counter-response from Madeline’s very depths. Despite his stated intention to control such impulses for now, she could not easily forget the declarations he had made.

You are my wife, Madeline, and when this house party is done, I intend to leave you in no doubt of that fact….

God! She could still hear Charles’ words in her head and feel his touch on her face. Still, she kept her voice even as she spoke to him now.

“Do not worry, Your Grace. I was merely speaking to Owens about suitable horses for me and my sister. She is not a strong rider, and as guest of honor, we will want her to be well-provisioned for a mount. Won’t we?”

He was looking at her intensely although the thoughts behind his gaze were as inscrutable as she hoped her own to be.

“I see. Yes, naturally. That does make sense.”

“Good. Now, we shall leave you to discuss horses for hunting with Owens. Cecilia and I have had a long ride this morning, and we are more than ready for breakfast.”

“Another day you should come with us, brother,” said Cecilia with an unusual smile back over her shoulder. “Madeline is marvelous on horseback. You should see her…”

“I have seen her,” Charles replied. “My wife rides wonderfully.”

Madeline didn’t look back to see his face as he gave this compliment, but something in his voice sent a pleasurable shiver up her spine.

“I’ve begun working on bedroom allocation with the housekeeper, Charles. I do not know all of the guests, so we should go over it together.”

The Duke of Huntingdon looked up from his desk in the library with an expression that was almost alarmed as Madeline approached him. This was a task they had not explicitly designated in their carving up of the preparation works, but it seemed suited more to the lady of the house to lead than its master. Surely, he could not object to her taking the initiative?

“Now?” he questioned as though seeking a way out.

“If you’re engaged in something more urgent, it can wait until this afternoon, but beds and other furniture must be moved based on this plan, and the servants will need some days to get everything in place properly.”

“Very well,” Charles said in a more businesslike tone and took the pencil-annotated sheaf of paperwork from Madeline’s hands. “Yes, this looks good… Lord and Lady Martin in the old building annex? There’s no running water there, and there’s plenty of room in the main house.”

“Lord Martin is writing a book on historic stately homes. Lady Martin has heard there’s a ghost in the old Huntingdon Manor, and she wants to meet it. There will be a small bedroom available in the east wing if they change their minds.”

Charles chuckled a little at this and then moved on, his finger tracing a path through the various small boxes on each page and checking the names marked in pencil.

“Good… Yes… Letitia and Benedict in the Queen’s Room as guests of honor, of course… Lord and Lady Bentham in the Rose Garden Room… My old friend Thomas in the old nursery, yes, he doesn’t care where he sleeps…Hmmm, you’ve put Lord Oakley, and his son and daughter on the same corridor in the north wing…”

“Is that wrong? I’m afraid I don’t know Archibald Barton, Earl of Oakley, but those are all very good rooms. I assume Lord Oakley is an old friend of your family?”

“No, not at all. He’s a man with considerable experience in overseas investments, especially in Holland. I was hoping he could help me do some business in that direction. When I learned he had unmarried adult children around Cecilia’s age, I hoped they might help draw her out of her shell. What do you think about putting Lady Juliet Barton on Cecilia’s corridor?”

Madeline frowned and shook her head, even as Charles scribbled a pencil note on the relevant section of paper.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sure Lady Juliet must be a good woman if you’re willing for her to befriend your sister, but Cecilia is very much…overwhelmed by this house party already. Did you know that her maid will be sleeping in Cecilia’s dressing room for the duration?”

He shook his head, looking confused and cross.

“There’s no need for that at all,” he objected. “There’s plenty of room in the servants’ quarters too. My parents managed house parties with twice as many guests without putting maids in ladies’ rooms.”

Charles had again missed the point, and Madeline would have to spell it out for him.

“Her maid is sleeping in her dressing room because Cecilia feels overwhelmed at the idea of having so many people in the house and says it will make her feel safe to have someone she trusts at hand. So, again, I strongly advise you not to place anyone else on Cecilia’s corridor without at least consulting her first.”

“This makes no sense at all,” he said frustratedly. “She doesn’t want people around her, but then she wants her maid in her room. Why shouldn’t she want Lady Juliet Barton close at hand, too?”

“She needs people who make her feel safe,” said Madeline emphatically. “Stop trying to make sense of your poor sister and just talk to her, for God’s sake.”

Now, Charles was definitely becoming annoyed, and Madeline’s own patience was running out rapidly too.

“If Cecilia is incapable of striking up a friendship with Lady Juliet, I shall have to depend on you to handle her, Madeline. I’m certain I could negotiate a more favorable investment deal with Lord Oakley if our families were on good terms…”

“Remind me, Duke Charles,” she interrupted him, a hard edge now in her voice, “Iis this a family celebration or a business opportunity for you? I’m focusing on Letitia and Benedict, as well as the good name of Huntingdon and Cecilia’s well-being too. What’s your principal motivation, Your Grace?”

“Why should I not kill two birds with one stone?” he retorted defensively. “A successful overseas investment benefits the Huntingdon estate. Therefore, it benefits my sister, and you as my wife. I will not stand for being accused of neglecting my family simply because I must consider business interests too. I am trying to look after everyone and everything. Can’t you see that?”

“Not entirely, no,” said Madeline frankly.

She had long known that Charles could be obtuse, but she had not previously believed that he would put money before his family.

“Madeline,” said the Duke, his tone somewhere between a plea and a demand for her attention.

His hand reached out towards her as though he might touch her face again as he had that other evening in this room. The searing memory of how that touch had felt clashed sharply now with her distaste over Charles’s apparent willingness to compromise Cecilia’s well-being for his business interests. Madeline jumped back from him before he could make contact.

Scooping up the room allocation paperwork, she marched out of the library, slamming the door behind her.

“Damn it all!”

Charles Wraith slammed his fist hard on the desk as Madeline’s footsteps died away down the corridor. It became harder and harder every day to have this woman in the house with him, never mind the same room. He prided himself on his hard-won self-control, but in Madeline’s presence, he seemed to have none.

He could not keep his temper around her any more than he could control his lust or his admiration for her competence and courage. In a steady rather than reckless kind of way, she often seemed to have no fear. Whatever Madeline believed to be right and necessary, she would do. Regardless of anything or anyone else, including him…

Now, to top it all off, she had virtually accused him of hosting this house party solely out of self-interest, even in opposition to Cecilia’s health and happiness. How could she misunderstand him so badly?! It was beyond endurance.

“Can I do anything for you, Your Grace?” asked Lonsley, opening the library door, presumably summoned either by the banging on the desk, the slamming of the door, or the shouting that preceded them.

“No, all is well,” said Charles snappishly. “I will ring if I need anything further.”

When Lonsley was gone, he stood up from the chair and went to the window, picking up his train of thought once more.

It was a kind of torture to be so fascinated by such a rigid and disagreeable woman. How could a female with so little awareness of her looks, an inability to flirt, and no sexual experience ignite such intense lust?

But it was undeniable that she did. Last night he had dreamed of Madeline naked in his bed, his dream-self buried deep in her tight, luscious depths as she cried out in helpless pleasure beneath him. Like a schoolboy, he had taken himself in hand on awakening, unable otherwise to clear the fog of lust from his mind.

Was that why he had ended up arguing with his wife twice already today? Yes, on some level, he resented the desire she drew from him so unconsciously and yet so powerfully. He had not wanted to feel any of this, certainly not here and now.

And would the raging desire in him be slaked even when he finally claimed Madeline as he had vowed to do? What if it only burned hotter? And what if she conceived a child that also demanded his attention? There seemed no obvious way out of his present torment.

Giving up temporarily on the correspondence he had intended to deal with, Charles rang for his carriage and went out to call on his agent.