Page 61 of What A Rogue Wants
Before she could respond, she was yanked through the door, and Grey slammed it shut. With a soft click, he locked the door, and led them both away and toward the stairs. She trembled violently with shock. Her father was not guilty of murder, but he was guilty of treason. Why? Why would he do such a thing? And did it even matter? He was her father. She couldn’t let him hang if there was a chance to save him.
Grey pressed her against the damp, stone wall of the staircase. He trapped her legs between his thighs, and then he moved his arms to either side of her shoulders. His gaze searched hers. “What did he say? How can I help?”
She looked into his eyes and read yearning mixed with concern. Could she trust him? Her heart told her yes, but what if it was just because that’s what she wanted to believe? She couldn’t stake her father’s life on it. “He said he’s not guilty. He said to go home before they hang him because the truth matters little if he can’t prove it.”
Her low voice hitched on her partial lie. Warm tears filled her eyes. She didn’t hold them back, as she’d always done with her mother. She allowed them to flow down her face just as she allowed Grey to take her in his strong embrace. The knowledge that she was lying to him, that this would likely be the last time he ever held her made her tears come harder, until she was hiccupping as she cried. If she’d had any doubt she loved Grey, she was sure she did now, which made her betrayal and lies all the harder to bear.
Twenty
When the clock in the servant’s hall struck ten, the upstairs chambermaids’ voices filled the halls as they made their way toward their sleeping quarters to end another long day serving in the castle. Madelaine hovered in an alcove—well aware she was taking a great risk of raising suspicion if the wrong person saw her. She couldn’t flee for home yet. She had to see her father first, and in order to do that she needed some help.
Grey’s brother had given her some shifty looks. He didn’t seem the type to trust or take chances. Likely, someone was watching her, thanks to him. With Elizabeth gone, Madelaine didn’t have a single friend to turn to, not that she could have been able to turn to Elizabeth anyway. Her chest ached with loneliness, her throat with unshed tears. Alone again. Would she forever be the outsider, the outcast?
Madelaine clenched the material of her dress and fought back the fears that threatened to render her helpless. Father was an admitted traitor, therefore soon he would either be dead or disgraced, and soon she would be disgraced too. And a traitor to the king. The thought sent icy tingles down her spine.
Her friendship with Elizabeth had to be over for Elizabeth’s sake, just as Madelaine’s hope for a future with Grey was over. She had no choice but to help her father, but that didn’t mean she’d let Grey put his own neck in danger for her.
She rubbed the back of her hand over her tickling nose. Her stomach turned and knotted as she went over her plan once again. Where the blazes was Constance? With her flaming red hair, she should be easy to spot among the other chambermaids. Madelaine had heard enough castle gossip to know Constance would do anything for a bit of coin, so hopefully she would be so glad not to have to earn her extra money on her back that she’d ask no questions.
Madelaine pressed further into the dark shadows as the maids passed by her. Finally, a woman with red hair walked down the passageway. And alone! Finally, a blessing. Madelaine stepped from the shadows. “Constance.”
The chambermaid’s eyes narrowed and then her mouth dropped open. “Lady Madelaine, whatever are you doing below stairs?”
“Where’s your room?”
Constance pointed down the hall.
Madelaine pulled up her hood and motioned forward. “Take me there, please. I need your help.”
“My lady—”
Before the chambermaid could finish her sentence Madelaine pulled out the heavy bag of coins under her cloak. “Consider this the first installment for your troubles.” She handed the jingling pouch to the maid and watched Constance’s mouth turn up with a slight smile. “There’ll be more of this to come if you keep your silence.”
“This way,” Constance said and rushed toward her room.
Once the door was softly shut and Madelaine spared a glance for the barren room to ensure no one else was in there, she focused on Constance. “I need you to help me with something.”
Grey leaned against the cold, stone wall of the alleyway by the river Thames with his eyes shut and tried to sleep, but sleep would not come. Deep tiredness settled into his bones. The town could burn around him and he’d not be able to move a muscle, but still sleep evaded him. It wasn’t the cold or the draft off the water keeping him awake, nor was it Edward who kept annoyingly tapping his foot as he watched for Madelaine. It was worry for Madelaine.
She was settled safely in her room. He’d stayed outside her door for well over an hour listening to her soft crying. When she had fallen silent, he’d crept away. His worry wasn’t for her safety at this moment, but for her safety tomorrow, and the next day and a year from now. If her father was going to be hung, Grey would marry her to protect her from those at Court who would harm her, but he could not get past his growing fear that he would be endangering her by marrying her.
What else could he do? He could find someone else to marry her. Surely with enough gold—he shoved the thought away as he envisioned the sort of unworthy man who would marry a woman tainted by a treasonous father. Madelaine’s life could very well end up a living hell married to such a greedy bastard.
She could give her life to the Church, but somehow he didn’t think she’d willingly do that, and deep within himself he wouldn’t want her to. He was scum. No, he was greedy scum. He wanted to marry her. He loved her. There was no sense denying it. He wasn’t happy with her father’s predicament. Far from it. Grey hated it. But he couldn’t deny there was a part of him relieved that the only choice seemed marriage. And since that’s the way it was, he wished the damned guilt would go away.
But it gnawed at him. She was innocent and good and pure, and he was none of those things. She deserved better than him, but fate had dealt her a bad turn. He stood and vowed to do everything in his power to protect her always from his enemies. Protecting her started now. He’d not indulge his brother for one more minute. Madelaine was not an accomplice as Edward suggested. She would not be fleeing in the middle of the night to meet the French spy Edward believed her father must be working with. “I’m going upstairs to my warm, soft bed.” Grey bent to retrieve his satchel. “Madelaine won’t be sneaking out because she’s innocent.”
“Don’t be fooled,” Edward said.
Grey flung his satchel on his back and walked toward his brother. “You’re the fool to waste your time out here.”
Edward pointed toward the river. “Who’s the fool? Look there, brother. And never forget this moment in case you foolishly let your heart rule your head again. Our little pigeon has flown her coop, exactly as I predicted.”
Grey pushed Edward out of the way to get a good view of the river embankment where the boatman they’d employed was docked. There was no denying that a slight woman, with Madelaine’s exact build, slipped into the boat. And even if Grey wanted to deny it was her, when her brown cloak parted and revealed the same blue dress she’d been wearing earlier, the truth was undeniable. “Goddamn it.” He couldn’t say more. He watched her pay their man and the boat headed down the river and away from the castle. His mind reeled with disbelief. This was Madelaine, his sweet, innocent Madelaine. He shoved the doubts away. “There has to be an explanation.”
Edward tugged Grey toward the river where they had another boat waiting. “Oh, to be sure,” he said snidely. “The word traitor explains it all, if you ask me. Now, untie the boat,” Edward demanded as he got on.
Grey undid the rope as fast as he could and climbed aboard. The boat dipped as he stepped on and glared at Edward.
