Protected by the Major. Anne Herries

his carriage, which Madeline had had the forethought to send back for his convenience. Conveyed to his home in a mellow mood, he did not bother with visiting his wife’s room, but drank a glass of brandy after his valet had undressed him and went to bed to smile over the evening’s play and sleep through until late the next morning.

      * * *

      Madeline was up and dressed and about to go out when her husband entered her room in his dressing robe. He looked at her from narrowed eyes.

      ‘Is your headache better, madam?’

      ‘Yes, sir, I thank you,’ she said. ‘Forgive me for leaving early. It was shockingly bad and I did not wish to disturb you.’

      ‘Just as well for I could not have left the play,’ he said. ‘My luck was in and I won several hundred guineas.’

      ‘I am sure that is very pleasing, sir.’

      ‘It pleases me,’ Lethbridge said, a slightly sour twist to his mouth. ‘As you are aware, Madeline, I have little else to please me in my life.’

      She lifted her head proudly, a nerve twitching at her temple despite all her determination to show no feeling of any kind. He was looking at her in such a way and she steeled herself for what must come next.

      ‘Madeline, must you always treat me so coldly? Is it unreasonable of me to want a child? I’ve given you so much.’

      ‘Forgive me, I cannot love you.’ She raised her head, cold and proud as a marble statue, and heard him suck in his breath.

      She tensed as he moved towards her, her body suddenly rigid as he reached out to take her in his arms. An icy coldness swept through her and she stood perfectly still as he held her crushed against him, his mouth on hers. He tried to force her mouth open with his tongue, but she could not open to him. Every nerve in her body rejected him, even though she did not say or make any attempt to repel his caress as his hand moved over her breast. She could not prevent him touching her, but neither could she respond for he had killed her young eager warmth with his cruelty and his vile treatment of her body, making the most intimate of acts a bestial ordeal rather than a pleasure.

      Lethbridge swore and flung away from her. ‘You do not refuse me, but you make it impossible for me. You are frigid, madam, an iceberg. Your father cheated me and so did you, for you told me you would obey me in all things.’

      Madeline looked at him, seeing him from a distance. She had learned long ago to shut out his cruel words and to stop herself feeling anything. She could not help herself, for the first few weeks of their marriage when he’d claimed her as his bride had shocked and distressed her so much that the only way she could cope was to lie still and think of something else as he forced himself on her. Lethbridge called her cold and perhaps she was—but she really could not bear his touch unless she closed her mind to what was happening.

      ‘I am sorry. I cannot be what you want me to be. I would if I could, but it is impossible. Why will you not divorce me and take another wife who can give you all you want?’

      ‘Because I want you,’ he said, his mouth hard with anger. ‘I was deceived in you, Madeline. I thought you a warm lovely girl who would welcome me to her bed and give me an heir.’

      ‘Forgive me, I have tried...’

      ‘Oh, yes, you try. With that look of martyrdom on your face. It is enough to make any man shrivel. Damn you, madam! You have cheated me and I shall not stand for it.’

      ‘I have already asked you to let me go. What more can I do?’

      ‘You could act like a woman instead of a damned ice queen,’ he muttered. ‘Where were you sneaking out to when I came in?’

      ‘I have an appointment with my dressmaker.’

      His eyes narrowed in fury. ‘Go and spend more of my money then, but remember there will be a reckoning one day. You will accompany me to dine with friends this evening—and I want no more excuses, no headaches. Do you understand me, madam? I want a child and I shall come to your bed tonight without fail. Be prepared to accept me.’

      ‘When have I refused?’ she asked, and as he flung away in disgust she took the opportunity to move towards the door. ‘I must not keep the horses standing, sir. Please excuse me, I shall see you this evening.’

      Lethbridge was a bully when angry, though he’d been kind enough in his way at the beginning of their marriage. It was her fault, Madeline knew. Her fault that his attempts to be a man in her bed had begun to fail soon after their wedding. Her husband said it was her frigidity that had made him impotent and she believed him. Yet her dislike of being touched by him was so great that she could not bring herself to accept him with smiles or sweet words. She had tried, but as soon as he touched her intimately, she froze.

      If only he would divorce her and take another wife.

      If only she had never married him.

      Bitter tears stung her eyes as she thought of what might have been. Seeing Hal the previous evening, remembering the sweetness of his kisses before she’d sent him away, had made her see her life for what it was—an empty shell. If only she could go back to that day...if only she could have been Hal’s wife...

      * * *

      Hal dressed with care that evening. Lord Devenish had arranged the supper party to which both Hal and Miss Helen Carstairs were invited together with perhaps fifty others. The introduction was to be casual, for as Devenish said, if too much were made of it and Hal did not care to continue it would be an insult to the young lady.

      Hal would never wish to cause a young lady distress and he believed Miss Carstairs to be no more than eighteen; the daughter of a Cit who had ambitions, for his only child was no less deserving of respect than a lady of high degree.

      Two weeks had passed since the ball and Hal had begun to recover from his brief meeting with Madeline. He’d been stunned by the change in her, amazed by her beauty and reminded of the pain she’d caused. But he had his feelings under control now and was giving serious consideration to the idea of marrying for convenience.

      If Miss Carstairs were an agreeable girl and not a complete antidote, he would arrange to meet her again and discover if they were suited. And he would not compare her with Madeline.

      * * *

      Madeline sighed as she looked at the gown her husband had asked her to wear that evening. It was a pretty shade of green, fashionable and made of the finest silk, but once again the neckline was far too low for her taste. Given her own way, she would have worn a tulle fichu with the gown to cover herself for modesty, but if she did Lethbridge would more than likely tear it away. However, she would wear a stole and cover herself a little whenever she could.

      They had been invited to a supper party at Lord Devenish’s house, an evening of cards and pleasant conversation with some music. There would be no dancing this evening, but that did not disappoint her for she was seldom permitted to dance, unless Lethbridge chose to bestow the privilege on one of his friends, which seldom gave her pleasure.

      She wished that she might plead a headache and stay home, for she would have rather gone to bed with a book to read, but her husband would have been furious with her again. His recent visit to her bed had once again ended in failure and at the moment he was treating her with icy indifference.

      She found herself thinking once again of the man she’d loved as a young girl. It had shocked her to see Hal the other night, but since then she had looked for him in vain. If she could just speak to him, see his beloved face...explain why she had been forced to marry Lethbridge...but it was all too late.

      Tears caught in her throat. Of what use was it to think of a time when she’d been happy? She was married to a cruel man and nothing could change that, as she knew too well.

      Lethbridge was waiting for her in the hall when she went down, glancing impatiently at the long-case clock in the hall, as if he thought she were deliberately making him wait.

      ‘Can you never be on time?’