Page 94 of What A Rogue Wants
The maid blinked as if a trance had been lifted. A shaky smile pulled at her lips. “I was worried for you when you never returned from seeing your father.”
The hair on the back of Madelaine’s neck stood on end. She’d never told Constance that she was going to see her father. She’d just offered money for the maid’s clothes and help and let Constance assume a lover was waiting for her. Madelaine stepped back again, but this time Constance moved forward, her lips pressing together and her hand darting down toward her boot.
Madelaine lunged past her, but Constance caught her by the arm, whirled her around, slapped a hand over her mouth and pressed the sharp point of her dagger into Madelaine’s neck. “That was a stupid slip of the tongue,” Constance said.
Madelaine didn’t dare move. The point of the blade was digging into her pulsing vein.
“Can’t say I’m sorry for it, though. If you’re alive, it means Sutton is dead, and my lord had promised to take me and my siblings away from here once you and your man were dead. Lord Sutton was nothing to look at, but he was generous and put food in my baby brother’s and sister’s bellies. I would have been a proper lady married to him.”
Madelaine scanned the path for Grey, but it was empty. Cold sweat broke out on her skin, and her stomach rolled. After everything to die here, with Grey so near yet too far to help her. Her heartbeat roared in her ears. “Goodbye, Lady Madelaine.”
The words pushed Madelaine into a frenzy. She bit down on Constance’s hand while reaching for the dagger and tugging the hilt. The blade scraped across her neck as she struggled with Constance, but with a scream of fury, she ripped the blade out of the maid’s hands and swung Constance around while pushing the dagger’s tip into the woman’s back. “If you move, I’ll plunge this dagger through your back and pierce your heart. You’ll die instantly. Understand?”
“Yes,” Constance replied, her tone stiff.
From behind Madelaine, hooves pounded down the path, and her name was a ferocious cry that filled the air. Grey was beside her before she could question Constance. He dropped down from his horse, pistol in hand and pointed at Constance’s back. He brushed Madelaine’s neck where blood trickled down. “Are you all right?”
“A small cut,” Madelaine replied, her voice steady but her legs trembling with relief that she would live another day to be Grey’s wife. “Darling?”
“Yes, dearest,” Grey replied as if it were every day the two of them stood with dagger and pistol in hand and an enemy before them.
A high keening came from Constance, her hand’s clenching at her sides.
“I’ve discovered who helped Sutton,” Madelaine said, over Constance’s loud noise.
“Indeed,” Grey replied. “I cannot believe I ever thought you a weakness to avoid.”
Madelaine flashed a loving smile at her husband. “You’ve much to learn about me, Lord Drivel.”
Epilogue
Three months later
Madelaine made her way through the sunny halls of her home, humming as she strolled. She came to stand in front of Grey’s closed study door, a smile pulling at her lips and a hand resting for a brief moment on her belly. Anticipation swelled within her, but as angry voices rose on the other side of the door, she frowned. Then, as she had been doing for years, she pressed her ear to the door.
Geraldine, the housekeeper, came around the corner with a silver tray in hand, her eyes widening when she saw Madelaine. Madelaine suppressed a giggle and held her hand toward Geraldine. “Give me the tray.”
“My lady?”
“The tray,” Madelaine said impatiently. “I’ll take it in to my husband.” It was the perfect excuse to interrupt him.
“But, my lady,” Geraldine started to protest. Madelaine patted the elderly woman. “It’s perfectly fine. He knows I have a mind of my own. He won’t hold you responsible. Now, give me the tray.”
Geraldine’s eyebrows furrowed, but she handed over the tray and with a shake of her head, and murmuring, scurried down the hall.
Madelaine opened the door and swept into the study. Grey and Gravenhurst faced each other with stormy looks. Her heart gave a little lurch. Was this about a mission? The timing would be awful, but she refused to let anything dampen her spirits. “Good afternoon, my dear.” She set the tray on the side table and went to stand by Grey.
“Lord Gravenhurst, to what do we owe this pleasure? A mission?”
Lord Gravenhurst’s gaze flicked to Grey and back to her. The man was disconcerting as always. “Not exactly,” he said, pulling at his cravat.
Madelaine frowned. She’d never seen Lord Gravenhurst uncomfortable or at a loss for words. What in the world could be the matter? Something grave surely, or a matter of the heart. “Is it a lady?”
His throat clearing and him shifting from foot to foot told her she’d hit her target, though she’d shot the arrow blindly. “I see. Anyone I know?”
The guttural throat sounds coming from Grey surprised her.
“Who is it?” she demanded.
