Protected by the Major. Anne Herries

the company is above my touch, but Papa was keen to come. I believe he has business with Lord Devenish.’

      ‘Yes, I dare say,’ Hal said. He smiled, feeling relieved that her father had said nothing to his daughter of a possible match with one of the guests. She seemed a pleasant girl and he had taken a favourable opinion of her when he moved on to greet other guests.

      Hal could not flatter himself that she had been more pleased to meet him than any of the other gentlemen present and for himself there was at the moment no more than a mild appreciation of her open manner. He would need to meet her several more times before he could even consider the idea of asking her to marry him.

      Unsure of his feelings on the matter, he moved forwards into a large drawing room where several ladies were seated at a table. They had cards, wine and sweet biscuits before them, but seemed more interested in talking than in actually playing cards. The serious players, usually gentlemen, would be found in the card room where several tables would be set up for their convenience.

      He was about to pass through when he heard laughter and, glancing towards the table, saw that Madeline was one of the ladies seated in the group. Her beauty was dazzling and his breath caught in his throat. She looked up and saw him and for a moment he thought he saw pleasure in her eyes, but in the next instant it had gone. She inclined her head to acknowledge him, but her expression remained calm, even withdrawn.

      Hal walked on towards the card room. He felt a tumble of emotions inside, torn between dismissing Madeline and making himself known to Mr Henry Carstairs with a view to courting his daughter.

      It was what he should do, what the wealthy merchant had hoped for when he brought his daughter to this supper party. Yet even as he told himself that the girl would make an excellent wife, he knew he could not do it.

      Miss Carstairs did not deserve to be treated so ill. If he married her when his heart was still so affected by a look from Madeline’s green eyes, he would be doing her a disservice.

      If he courted Miss Carstairs he might arouse feelings in her—feelings that might be crushed if he could not love her as he ought.

      It had been a stupid notion. To marry for money was wrong and he would not subject any woman to that pain.

      He must find another solution to his problems and he must forget Madeline. It was time he returned to the country.

      * * *

      Lethbridge rose from the card table after having lost heavily to the man sitting opposite him. Two weeks had passed since Lord Devenish’s ball, where he had won nearly a thousand guineas from Rochdale, but this evening he had lost more than three times as much. It was unlike him to lose, but the situation had been forced on him for Rochdale held the bank at faro and insisted on replacing the cards every hand, which made it impossible for them to be marked. He would have left the table before he became so badly dipped had the marquis not goaded him into remaining.

      ‘I believe I am in debt to you for several thousand pounds,’ Lethbridge said, trying to hide his anger, as much with himself for being a fool as the other man, for faro was not his game. ‘I shall have to beg your indulgence for a few days—say next week, when I shall have the funds to repay you.’

      ‘No hurry,’ Rochdale said and smiled in a way that annoyed Lethbridge. Accustomed to winning large sums himself, he did not care for being a substantial loser. ‘We may come to some other arrangement. But we should play again and you may recoup your losses.’

      ‘I do not play if I cannot pay.’ Lethbridge scowled at the thinly veiled insult. ‘I shall sell some bonds and pay you next Thursday—and certainly I am ready to play whenever you choose. It is not my habit to lose.’

      ‘No, I have noticed it,’ Rochdale said, an unpleasant smirk on his face. ‘Shall we meet again on Thursday next at the club and try our luck again?’

      ‘Delighted,’ Lethbridge said between his teeth. ‘But I prefer whist or piquet next time.’

      ‘Certainly, whichever you choose, Lethbridge.’

      Walking away from him, the count balled his hands at his sides. Something pricked at him, something that made him suspect that the marquis knew the reason why Lethbridge normally won most evenings at the tables.

      He couldn’t know for certain. Lethbridge was so careful. No one had ever questioned his luck, because he made a point of losing now and then. Most of the gentlemen he played with were half-foxed or too careless with the money they had so much of that they could afford to lose a few hundred guineas or even a thousand on occasion. He took care never to win huge pots, just enough to maintain his way of life—and he’d been forced to cheat because he himself had been cheated, not at the tables, but in a business venture that had failed, losing him some thirty thousand pounds. The ships he’d invested in had been unworthy and had sunk in heavy seas carrying a cargo that would have doubled his investment, but like a fool he had not raised insurance and that meant he’d lost all his money rather than just a part.

      His family seat was intact for the moment, though it was heavily mortgaged, but he had expensive tastes—one of which was his wife. Her beauty pleased him and he liked to see her wearing valuable jewels and costly gowns...even though she was unresponsive to his advances. Why must she be so cold to him? He glowered at his thoughts for he honestly could not understand what he’d done, not realising that his habit of coming to bed the worse for drink, his coarse manners in the bedroom and his selfish way of taking what he wanted without considering her needs had turned her from a sweet gentle child into the cold woman whose icy stare could make him incapable of performing as a man ought.

      With his mistress he indulged in all the base acts that pleased and aroused him, but with Madeline he could not manage to perform the simple act that might give him an heir.

      Damn the woman! He was not certain why he put up with her. It would serve her right if he gave her the divorce she wanted. He could throw her out without a penny, for he’d never given her the settlement she’d been entitled to on marriage although it was hers by right, having been left to her by an uncle. Lethbridge suspected that if she had any way of supporting herself she would leave him and that would not suit him. He liked other men to envy him and he knew that Madeline was much admired. If he gave his wife her freedom, she would no doubt marry again, and quite possibly to a man even richer than he had been before a few unwise investments had made inroads into his fortune.

      No, he would not let her go like that. He would force her to accept him. He would get an heir on her somehow.

      * * *

      Madeline walked into her bedchamber a week after the supper party at Lord Devenish’s house. They had attended one of the most prestigious balls of the Season, but she had danced only once with her husband, after which she had been forced to sit with the matrons and watch the young unmarried girls enjoying themselves while he repaired to the card room. She enjoyed the music and the conversation of her friends, but her feet tapped and she longed to dance. However, she had not dared accept the only offer she’d received, even though the gentleman was a friend of her husband’s. She would have suffered for it had she been reckless enough to dance without his permission.

      And the only man she’d wished to dance with had not been there. She’d looked for him in the crowded room, but had not seen him.

      ‘I wish for a word with you, madam.’

      Madeline breathed deeply as her husband followed her into the room. From the harsh expression on his face, she feared that she had displeased him yet again.

      ‘Is something wrong, my lord? Have I displeased you?’

      ‘Have you?’ he asked, eyes narrowed. He reached out and grabbed her by her upper arms, his fingers digging hard into her tender flesh. ‘You look guilty, Madeline. What have you done?’

      ‘Nothing.’ She lifted her head proudly. ‘I am tired, sir. I should like to be allowed to retire.’

      ‘And what of my wishes or needs?’ he demanded, his mouth thin and spiteful as he tightened his hold. ‘Will you never do your duty