Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол Мортимер

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.

      Recalling himself to the task of making sure the guests were all on their way to the house, Hallam finally settled into the last carriage with some of the other ushers. He had by this time steeled himself for the inevitable meeting with Madeline. She would be at the reception and he would find a way of speaking to her. He wanted to know that she was well and happy and then he would forget her.

      Yes, he truly would, he vowed. If Madeline told him that she was content in her life, he would make up his mind to find a good-humoured lady who would be happy with a home and children—perhaps a widow who had memories of her own and would not expect love. If he could put the past behind him, then he would be content with a comfortable arrangement—perhaps even the lady he’d enjoyed a relationship with in Spain, though he believed her to have another lover now.

      * * *

      Hallam was here! Madeline had felt such a rush of emotion as she saw him that she had known she could not—dare not—meet him in her husband’s company. Lethbridge had demanded to know the name of the lover he imagined she had—and if she betrayed a sign of her feelings for Hallam Ravenscar, he would immediately believe that it was he.

      Oh, how she wished that it were true. Madeline would give much to be in Hallam’s arms, to be kissed and caressed with tenderness. She recalled the sweet meetings beneath the apple tree that summer when she’d first fallen in love with the handsome young man. He had been home on a visit to his uncle and swept her up in a whirlwind of romance, vowing that he would return as soon as he could to ask her father for her hand in marriage. She’d believed that everything would be wonderful when he had leave from his regiment and that she would spend her life travelling with him wherever he was sent—but then his father had lost so much money gambling, as had her own. By the time he’d been given leave again, everything had changed.

      No, she must not think of all she had lost. She must control her feelings and be careful to show nothing if they were forced to speak with Hallam at the reception.

      * * *

      By the time they arrived at the house and joined the line waiting to greet the bride and groom, Madeline was much calmer. She was able to bestow a warm smile on the bride and groom and wish them happiness and was in turn thanked for the beautiful gifts they had received. As Lethbridge had neglected to tell her what he’d considered fitting for the daughter of his old friend, she had no idea what those gifts were, but murmured something appropriate.

      Moving away from the happy couple, Madeline was offered a glass of champagne, which she accepted and sipped delicately. It was very good and she could see that a wonderful buffet was awaiting the guests, with all kinds of delicious foods. She had little appetite, but would make an effort to eat something later.

      The guests were mingling as the queue gradually wound to an end, and Madeline’s smile felt frozen on her lips as she saw Hallam enter the hall. Now people were beginning to approach the buffet and select their preferences.

      ‘Go ahead and join your friends, Madeline,’ Lethbridge said. ‘I wish to speak with someone on a matter of business.’

      He always had another reason for attending any social event. Madeline moved away; she was relieved to be dismissed from her duty. There were a few people she knew well socially, but no one she would call a particular friend. However, she had met Lucy Dawlish once or twice during a stay at Bath and went to stand beside her, glancing at the loaded table.

      ‘How nice to see you,’ Lucy said and smiled at her. ‘Jenny looks beautiful, does she not?’

      ‘Yes, lovely,’ Madeline said. ‘I believe you are particular friends?’

      ‘Yes, we are,’ Lucy said. ‘Jenny has been exceptionally good to me and I shall miss her, though Mama says we shall travel abroad next month.’

      ‘How pleasant to spend the winter away in warmer climes,’ Madeline said, a little sigh leaving her. ‘Such an array of wonderful food—how does one choose?’

      ‘I think the crab tartlets look delicious,’ Lucy said, ‘and I always love a syllabub, do you not, Lady Lethbridge?’

      ‘Oh please, call me Madeline. Yes, I am partial to a syllabub but I suppose one ought to eat something savoury first. Perhaps I will try a tartlet, though the prawn, not the crab, I think...’

      ‘May I help you to choose, Lady Lethbridge?’ A man’s voice made Madeline’s heart jerk and she turned her head sharply to look at Hallam, as Lucy Dawlish moved further down the table.

      ‘Thank you, but I think I prefer to help myself.’ She moved away from Hallam, but he followed her, looking puzzled. Madeline felt compelled to explain. ‘Please...my husband watches everything I do. You must not pay me any attention.’

      ‘How ridiculous,’ Hallam said, frowning. ‘What harm can there be in a few words exchanged at a wedding?’

      ‘Please, leave me,’ Madeline said. ‘I beg you, do not continue with this...’

      She moved away, putting tasty morsels on her plate without seeing what she was choosing. Hallam did not follow her and she found a place at a table with several other ladies, who were laughing and eating, clearly enjoying themselves. Madeline bit into a tart, but found it difficult to swallow the soft flaky pastry, which at any other time would have been delightful. What little appetite she’d had had quite vanished.

      She sat silently, listening to the conversation flow around her, and sipping her wine now and then when the toasts were made, but her throat was tight with misery and her smile felt frozen. When Hallam called everyone to attention and began his speech as the groom’s best man, she could no longer bear it and excused herself, saying that she needed a little air, then got up and walked from the room.

      She was aware that her progress was remarked and knew it was rude of her to leave during Hallam’s speech, but could not bear to stay another moment, for if she did not escape she would weep. She left the house through a side door and went out into the garden. She needed to be alone for a time, because she was so desperately unhappy. Seeing Hallam, speaking to him, had brought home her misery and she had rebuffed him more out of fear of giving into her tears than for fear of her husband. After all, what more could he do to her?

      Walking swiftly, Madeline sought out a secret arbour amongst the roses and sat down, staring unseeingly at the beauty all around her. Her eyes filled with tears, which began to spill over as she realised how very much she had lost. She ought to have been braver, to have stood up to her father’s blandishments, and refused to marry the count. Yet if she had chosen happiness for herself, her family must have faced ruin. It was all too late. Regrets would not help her now.

      She bowed her head, covering her face with her hands. How Hallam must hate her now—and she loved him still.

      * * *

      Hallam