Protected by the Major

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.

If only she’d run away with Hal the day he’d asked her...but her loyalty to her father had prevented her from seeking happiness then, just as it did now.

Yet only her memories of Hal sustained her when her life seemed too terrible to bear.

* * *

Standing up with Adam in church, as his best man, was a pleasure and helped to dispel the dark clouds that had hung over Hal since the murder of his cousin Mark. He, Mark, Paul and Adam had come through the war with Napoleon’s France together, only for his eldest cousin Mark to be shot down in cold blood by a rogue at his own home. Between them, Adam, Paul and Hallam had caught and punished Mark’s murderer, but it had left a shadow on their lives.

Adam’s wedding was the time for them to put the sadness of the recent past behind them. Lord Ravenscar had wanted it to happen, because he said it was what Mark would have wanted.

‘My son would not wish us to mourn him for month after month, even if we do so in our hearts,’ he’d told Adam when he offered to postpone the wedding until a year had passed. ‘You must marry, Adam. Miss Jenny Hastings is a beautiful young lady and I shall be glad if you will bring her to stay with me sometimes.’

Adam had promised he would when they returned from their honeymoon. After a stay in Scotland, they were to return to Ravenscar for a time before taking a long journey to France and then on to Italy, where Paul had gone in an effort to forget the pain and grief his brother’s death had caused him. Hallam suspected that there was more to Paul’s extreme distress...a little matter of being in love with Lucy Dawlish, the girl who had been expected to marry Mark Ravenscar.

Women could be the very devil, Hallam thought, his thoughts drifting away from the ceremony after he’d done his part and supplied the rings. He watched his cousin and Jenny approach the high altar for the private blessing they would share with the vicar before going off to sign their names. His mouth hardened, as he thought of the woman that he’d been so much in love with some four years previously. Maddie had married her count, and he’d seen how well she’d settled into her new life at Devenish’s ball. How beautiful she’d looked that evening, pale and lovely like a marble statue. The young vibrant girl he had known was nowhere to be seen.

The thought caught at his throat, restricting his breathing and causing him pain somewhere in the region of his heart. What a fool he was to care what Maddie might or might not be doing! Hallam had done his best to forget her in the arms of a mistress, but after the first flush of anger had passed, he had parted company from the very obliging married lady. He believed she was now enjoying a similar arrangement with another officer. Her husband had his heirs and was apparently content to allow his wife her pleasures providing she did not interfere with his; he’d married her for the fortune she brought him.

Hallam’s mouth curled at the notion of such an arrangement, though he knew that several of his friends had married either for money or land and were seemingly content in similar marriages. It would not do for Hallam. He would not have taken up with the obliging Lady Meadows had she not made it clear she was interested in an arrangement. In truth, it had brought him only physical relief, for his heart belonged to one woman—a woman he could never have.

What had Madeline done to him that he could not be interested in any other woman? Bitterness swept through him, because he wanted neither a marriage of convenience nor the caresses of a mistress. Even in the lady’s bed, he’d known a sick longing for the woman he could never have.

His frown increased as he watched Adam and Jenny walk arm in arm from the church, the happy smiles on their faces telling of their pleasure in each other. Why could he not find a woman to love so completely that she swept the memory of Madeline from his mind? Miss Carstairs would make someone a delightful wife, but not him. He was a man haunted by the past, unable to forget the torment that had begun when Madeline broke his heart.

Could a man ever put the past behind him so completely that his heart was no longer shadowed by an old love? For him it seemed impossible. He gave himself a mental shake.

He must forget his own problems. Hallam had duties as Adam’s groomsman and he pushed the worrying thoughts away, smiling as he looked about him at the guests. He must make certain that everyone had a carriage to convey them to the house, where the reception was being held.

As they left church, Adam and Jenny were showered with rose petals and rice, the guests laughing and cheering as the happy couple ran for their carriage. Hallam stood outside the church, greeting people and overseeing the carriages as they lined up to collect their passengers. Suddenly, his breath caught as he saw a woman in a pale-blue silk gown. She wore a lace fichu at her throat and carried a fine, lacy wool stole over her arms, a long ringlet of fair hair resting on one shoulder.

Obviously the wife of a rich man, her clothes and jewels of the finest money could buy, Maddie looked beautiful but cold. A proud beauty, heartless and carved of ice. Hallam’s heart felt as if someone had thrust a dagger into it.

She had noticed him. He saw her green eyes gleam suddenly and for one moment she seemed to come to life, the colour washing into her cheeks, but in the next she had turned to the man next to her and they moved away to their carriage. He watched as she was assisted inside the splendid equipage, but she did not turn her head to glance at him, though he knew that she had seen him.

She had deliberately drawn her husband away so that she did not need to acknowledge him. Hallam felt the knife twist inside him. Had she become indifferent to him? He’d thought not when they met at the ball, but now he was unsure. She had deliberately avoided speaking to him at the supper party. He was the fool for carrying a torch—a memory that was sacred to him was less than nothing to her. She probably found it amusing.