Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Yes, mayhap I might find a place for myself here after all, if he allowed it. I truly had no wish to dwell in London. The thought of it frightened me, although I had to admit, it would be better than staying at Cliffwood.
“Madeleine, there is something I wish to discuss with you,” he said, his tone shifting.
I forced my attention back to the marquess, painfully aware I had been gaping at his estate like any green country girl. What must he think of me? I was a maid he had taken as forfeit in a game of cards, and yet he had treated me as if I were a duke’s daughter instead of a wastrel baron’s despised offspring.
I needed to show him the deference he deserved, to remember my place.
“Of course, my lord,” I said, bowing my head.
Over the course of our journey to Wheaton, I had allowed myself to forget the vast differences between us. The marquess was a wealthy, powerful gentleman in his own right, and yet he had not been haughty or cold. When we had been conversing, it had been easy to think of us as simply man and woman. His polite interest in me had quite battered the walls I ordinarily kept around myself.
“Madeleine.”
I waited, thinking that now would be the time he would inform me of his true intentions. I would be sent away sooner rather than later. But I had no wish to go to London, as I had told him earlier. Perhaps I might somehow persuade him to keep me here. I could be of service. I’d already proven myself with the liniment and binding of his foot, had I not?
He cleared his throat. “Would you look at me. Please?”
I glanced up instantly, our gazes meeting, that same surge of awareness I had experienced from the first moment our paths had crossed in the drawing room cutting through me. Stealing my breath.
“You know why I have brought you with me, do you not?”
I nodded. “My father offered me to you.”
“At the time Barnett had you forcibly brought into the drawing room, I had no intention of accepting.”
I swallowed hard against a rush of disappointment. It sounded as if there would be no place for me here after all.
“Of course, my lord.”
“My intention, after I saw your terror and the baron’s intolerable treatment of you, was to see you somewhere safe.”
“To your friends in London.”
“Quite.” He paused, his jaw hardening.
“Is it your foot, my lord? Are you in pain again?” I asked, thinking that perhaps he would require more liniment now.
“It is not my foot. It is the matter of making a rather delicate request of you that has me searching for words.” He puffed out a small laugh.
A new kind of warmth settled over me. Not shame but something else. Something far more dangerous.
“You wish for me to be your mistress,” I blurted.
The marquess stared at me in silence, his expression inscrutable.
Would I accept? It was far more honorable to be a maid. But the marquess was a handsome man. A fair man. A kind man. And I…
I liked him. I found him intriguing. And he seemed to think me equally interesting, if his questions during the carriage ride had been any indication. As Geraldine had told me in her practical, no-nonsense way, I would be better served by ruining myself than by remaining at my father’s home. She hadn’t been wrong when she had told me that my mother would have wanted more for me than the life of a maidservant.
“I don’t want you to be my mistress, Madeleine,” Lord Wheaton said, cutting through my wildly racing thoughts.
My stomach plummeted. How embarrassing. Why would a gentleman like the Marquess of Wheaton wish to take a maid as his mistress? What a fool I was to believe it even for a heartbeat.
“Forgive me for the conclusion, my lord,” I hastened to say, misery churning in my belly.
“I want you to be my wife,” the marquess announced.
The carriage door swung open in the next moment, which was just as well, for I found that my tongue was incapable of coherent speech.
CHAPTER 8
ALEXANDER
“Are you well, my lord?” Madeleine whispered.
“I am fine. Do not fret so,” I assured her.
The footman reappeared, handing me one of my walking sticks. I stepped from the carriage gingerly, pleased at how much better my foot felt. I turned, holding out my hand for Madeleine to assist her in stepping down. She did so, and I marveled at how tiny she was next to me. She reached to my chest, and I felt the incredible draw of wanting to wrap my arms around her, rest my chin on her dark hair, and breathe her in. While seated close in the carriage, her light scent of lilacs had been constant. I found it pleasant and thought how it suited her.