Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол Мортимер

turned her face from him, the tears stinging her eyes, but she refused to weep or beg. He was a brute and she hated him. He had made her life intolerable and she would almost rather be dead than married to him. Yet if she took her own life, he would seek revenge from her family.

      Her throat was tight with tears, for she could discover no way of escape. All she could do was to try to block out her unhappiness...and perhaps to allow her thoughts to drift back to the time when Hallam had made love to her so sweetly beneath the apple tree.

      Yet even that memory was ruined for when Hallam kissed her, she’d known that something inside her had flinched away. How could it be that she could not welcome Hallam’s kisses when they had always been so sweet to her? Had her husband’s cruelty made it impossible for her to accept even the touch of the man she loved?

      If that were the case, there was no help for her.

       Chapter Three

      Hallam looked at the invitation tucked into the gilt-framed mirror in the front parlour of his lodgings. He’d taken a small house in town for a time, though he was not certain what had made him decide to come up—but a chance remark from one of his friends had told him that Lethbridge and Madeline were in London for a few weeks. The invitation was to a prestigious ball and he was almost certain that Madeline and her husband would be there. Somehow, he must find a way to talk to her. Since speaking to her in the garden of Lord Ravenscar’s home, he had not been able to rest for thinking of her unhappiness.

      Try as he might, Hallam had been unable to discover a solution to their problem. If it were not for her father’s debts to Lethbridge, he would have carried Maddie off with him, but he knew that she would not snatch at happiness for herself while condemning her family to ruin. Had Hallam the money, he would have paid her father’s debts, but he could not pay those his own father had left, without disposing of most of his estate. It seemed that the count had them in a cleft stick and there was no escape—but there must be! Lethbridge must have a chink in his armour. Hallam would just have to discover what it was and plan his strategy accordingly. If there were no other way, he must kill him. Yet he would prefer to get his hands on the notes Sir Matthew Morris had lost to the count and then force him to let Maddie go.

      Hallam had never taken life in cold blood, and it would be his last resort, but if it was the only way...

      Lethbridge was a gambler. It was possible that Hallam might contrive to win the notes from him. But would he part with them? Perhaps only if he were entirely ruined.

      Somehow Hallam did not think it likely the count would gamble away his whole fortune just to please him. Yet gambling was the way to get close to him, he was sure. If Lethbridge should be at the ball, he would most likely spend much of his time in the card room. Hallam decided that he would attend. If he were fortunate, he would be able to speak to Maddie or perhaps, make an arrangement to meet in private...and if he could find the count at the tables he would find a way of making his acquaintance.

      Yes, he would go to the ball that evening and discover what he could of the man who was causing Maddie so much unhappiness.

      * * *

      ‘You look lovely, my lady,’ Sally said as she finished pinning Madeline’s fair hair into a knot of curls high on her head. One ringlet fell on to her shoulder and she wore a collar of magnificent diamonds about her throat, together with huge teardrop earbobs. Her gown was white, the bodice encrusted with tiny sparkling diamanté, which sprayed out like a stem of flowers over the skirt. Her shoes were white satin and the heels were also studded with crystals that caught the light whenever her skirt moved to reveal them.

      ‘You have done well,’ Madeline said and smiled at her. Sally had applied the merest touch of rouge to her cheeks after powdering her face and neck. Her bruises had faded since the wedding, because for some reason known better to himself, her husband had not come near her for the past ten days. ‘Thank you, Sally. I do not know what I should do without you.’

      ‘You know I would do anything for you, my lady.’ Sally would have said more, but at that moment the door from the count’s dressing room was thrown open and he entered his wife’s bedchamber. Madeline stood up and turned to face him. Inside, she was trembling, but she gave no outward sign of the fear and revulsion he aroused.

      ‘You look beautiful, madam,’ Lethbridge said. ‘That gown was worth its price. I am pleased you have made an effort, for I wish you to do something for me this evening.’

      ‘You may go, Sally.’ Madeline dismissed her maid and then looked at her husband. ‘How may I be of service, sir?’

      ‘I wish you to charm someone—a gentleman, a marquis. He is necessary to a scheme I have in mind. It will be of some considerable financial benefit to me if you can twist him around your little finger. I intend to ask him to dine here, but he has been evasive. If you smile on him, he will be eager to visit us.’

      ‘Are you asking me to encourage this gentleman to pay me compliments, to dangle after me?’ She was incredulous, for he had always been angry if she spoke more than a few words to another man.

      ‘To put it crudely, madam, I want you to make him mad with lust for you—if you can manage it? I find you too cold, but some men love a challenge and I’ve been told Rochdale cannot resist a woman who is not easily won.’

      ‘And if he should ask me to dance, or to walk outside in the air?’ She was trembling with indignation that he should ask such a thing of her but managed to hold her disgust inside.

      ‘Anything within reason. You will not allow him to bed you, Madeline, but if he imagines you might so much the better.’

      ‘I find your suggestion insulting, sir.’

      ‘Indeed?’ Lethbridge moved closer, a nerve flicking at his temple. ‘You know how to smile and charm, Madeline. You deceived me into believing you warm and loving before we were wed. Now I ask you to do the same to the marquis.’

      Anger raged inside her as she said impulsively, ‘And if I do—what will you give me?’

      His mouth tightened. ‘Do I not already give you sufficient, madam?’

      ‘I want nothing for myself, but I would have my father’s notes. You promised them when we married, but you reneged on your bargain. I ask for no more than my rights. My father lives in fear of you. Give me the notes and I shall do as you ask.’

      He glared at her, reached for her wrist as if he would subdue her, then changed his mind. ‘Very well. Charm Rochdale into accepting an invitation to dine at our house and I will give you the notes.’

      ‘I do not trust you. Give them to me now and I swear I will do as you ask.’

      ‘You deserve that I should teach you a lesson,’ he threatened. ‘However, I need you to look at your best this evening. I will give you some of the notes now and the rest when you have finished your work.’

      Madeline held out her hand. ‘Give me my father’s notes and I shall make every effort to charm this man for you.’

      Lethbridge swore under his breath and went into the dressing room and through to his own chamber. Madeline could hardly believe that she had won and held her breath until he returned. He was carrying a bundle of notes, which he thrust at her.

      Madeline glanced through them. Her father’s signature was scrawled on a dozen notes of sums from five hundred guineas to two thousand. Her fingers closed over them and she felt a thrill of triumph.

      ‘Is this all of them?’

      ‘Most,’ he said, clearly furious, but with a look in his eyes that told her he was lying. He held many more notes, she was certain, but she had recovered at least a part of her father’s debt. ‘You will get the rest when you’ve done as I wish.’

      ‘Thank you. You will not be angry if you see me dancing this evening, sir? I must make this gentleman a little jealous