A Lady Betrayed (26 page)

Only on Felicity's urging did she even let their annoying neighbor in, that and the knowledge that she could not hide forever. She welcomed the matron with as much politeness as she could muster.

“Lady Weller is in,” she heard Felicity say smoothly as she ushered their neighbor into the sitting room.

It was all Maddie could do to keep a straight face. She tried to smile naturally as she motioned Mrs. Masham to a chair. The ridiculous thing was that the woman looked impressed. Maddie had not changed a whit, nor had the slightly shabby chair to which their neighbor was now applying her broad posterior.

“I am so relieved to see you quite safe,” their visitor said, sitting down primly. “I mean, the gypsies do seem to have left the area, although Mrs. Grey swears she has glimpsed a shaggy-haired stranger around their barn, but—”

“Really?” Felicity cut in, her voice sharp. “Is she sure? When was that?”

“That's what she said.” Mrs. Masham was choosing a piece of Bess's shortbread. “Just three days ago, I heard. But it was only one man, and everyone knows that the gypsies travel in packs, like wild dogs, don't y'know?”

“I suppose so,” Felicity said, but now she seemed to be looking at something over their visitor's shoulder. Perhaps it was Bess, who had just brought in the tea tray. Felicity stood and helped put the dishes on the round table.

“But one hardly feels safe in one's own home, I vow. And after that alarming episode in the church during your first attempt at a wedding ceremony. I know our poor vicar is still talking about it, poor man.”

“Yes, it was frightening. I'm afraid the man who invaded the church must be quite demented,” Maddie said. She turned to pour the steaming liquid into cups. This allowed her to hide her face as she tried to think of a way to change the subject, but as usual, Mrs. Masham was about as easy to lead as a charging bull.

“That was obvious!” The matron rolled her eyes. “Imagine threatening me! Still, no one was hurt, thank God. And I was most sorry not to witness your actual wedding ceremony, but I'm sure it was quite proper.”

Maddie thought of the vicar in his dressing gown and nightcap, but she nodded. “Just so.”

“I do feel for you, however, deprived of the support of your many friends and neighbors.” The matron gave a gusty sigh.

Since Maddie could not very well point out that she withstood that loss surprisingly well, she thought it best to remain silent.

“I do find it odd that your brand-new husband has departed the area already,” the visitor said next, raising her brows and giving her arch smile. “One hopes that the bliss of married life is all that he has hoped for?”

That was too much even from the tart-tongued gossip.

“I'm afraid he had urgent business to attend to,” Maddie said, keeping her voice level with some effort.

“It must be urgent indeed to take him away from his blushing bride,” Mrs. Masham responded, almost purring.

“Oh, it is,” Maddie told her, taking a sip of her tea and throwing all sense of propriety to the wind. “He is seeking diamond jewelry sufficient to drown me in.”

Mrs. Masham almost dropped her teacup. “Oh?” she squeaked.

“Yes,” Maddie said, unrepentant. “He is quite determined to drape me in jewels like an Indian rani. He says I am an empress in his eyes, so it will be only proper.”

“Oh, my,” Mrs. Masham said, her slightly protruding eyes open wide. She looked as if she was soaking up every word, which Maddie knew would be repeated at every house the matron had access to.

Oh, who cared, she was well into it, now. “He'll probably bring back emeralds and rubies, as well.”

“And perhaps pearls, but no jade or lapis or coral, Lady Weller does not wish anything that might be considered common,” Felicity put in helpfully.

Mrs. Masham put one hand up to the coral beads at her throat. “Oh, I see,” she said. “And I suppose you'll be departing for London, soon, to stock up on the latest fashions?”

“When it suits me,” Maddie said, her tone offhand.

“Ah, I should be going. I'm sure you have many plans to make,” their visitor said. She stood almost too quickly and swayed a moment, in her eagerness to start spreading her newly acquired stock of gossip. “And I have a few stops to make on the way home.”

“Good afternoon, then,” Maddie told her.

Felicity said good-bye, and their neighbor hurried off as Bess showed her to the front door.

“I am a terrible person,” Maddie told her friend after the sitting room door was safely closed.

Felicity laughed, but in a moment, she sobered. “I think those who know you will know better than to believe such nonsense as what she will be tattering about. But, Madeline, if the gypsies have departed—”

“Who is the man with the shaggy hair? Yes, I noticed that. Can you imagine that Mrs. Masham may have actually said something useful?” Maddie took a sip of her cooling tea. “Do you think it is the same man that you saw at your cottage before the fire?”

“I don't know, but it's an alarming coincidence.” Felicity frowned at the fire in the hearth, which was growing low. She stood up and put another log on. “Perhaps I need to find another cottage to let, so that I can move out sooner rather than later.”

“You know what Papa said about that. He likes having you here,” Maddie pointed out. “He says you're almost as good a chess player as Adrian, and very intelligent to talk to, not to mention much prettier than my husband”—she grinned at the widow—“though you may allow me to differ on that last opinion.”

Felicity looked self-conscious. “Your father is too kind. I was only trying to help him pass the time, Madeline, since Lord Weller had to depart. I didn't mean—”

“I think it's marvelous that you two get along so well, Felicity, truly. Papa would worry about you if you ended up in another lonely cottage. I certainly enjoy your company, and Adrian wants us to have more people here with us, not fewer. So please don't rush away just yet.”

“Oh, I would certainly not abandon you,” Felicity said, looking appalled at the thought. “When you have been so kind and done so much to help me! It's just, if I should bring more danger to you—”

“How on earth would you do that?” Maddie demanded.

“If”—Felicity gripped her hands together—“It's complicated to explain. When I hear from my cousin, I should know. Then I will tell you the whole story, Madeline. I never meant to deceive you, I promise you.” And with that enigmatic statement, she turned and hurried up the staircase.

Good gracious, Maddie thought. But when she sat down again, as usual, her thoughts turned to Adrian. Where was he tonight? In an inn or alone in a cold forest, stalked by his mad cousin? Oh, my darling, she thought. What strange and lonely kind of marriage is this?

She had almost forgotten that the union had ever been meant only as a convenience, as a way to save her name and her reputation. Now she had that, true enough, and a title and easy wealth to boot. She would also, if all went well, have a healthy child—a little part of Adrian to keep with her—that thought did make her heart sing. Perhaps a boy who would have his father's strong good looks, or a girl with his dark hair and fair skin? Except for the child, she would trade it all to have her husband himself back with her.

Staring into the fire as it leaped and danced, she forgot everything else and allowed the afternoon to slip away.

A week after Adrian had left, Maddie and Felicity
walked down to the village to buy some thread and see if the post office had any mail for them. The last few days had been quiet, and Maddie was hopeful that all dangers had flown. She was also hopeful that Adrian might send her a letter telling her that he was in one piece, still evading his cousin. Even a short note would make her feel so much better.

To her disappointment, the only mail addressed to their residence was a few bills for her father. Felicity, on the other hand, had a letter directed to her. The postmaster looked at her curiously, as the widow normally received very little correspondence.

“Got an admirer, have ye, Mrs. Barlow?” He gave her a leering grin.

“Lovely day, isn't it?” was her only answer.

They took their letters and swept out into the street where other shoppers moved up and down. Felicity broke the wax seal and unfolded the single sheet of paper, pausing on the pavement to scan the closely written lines of script.

“Oh, dear heaven,” she muttered. “It is as I feared, Madeline. We must get home. I must talk to your father. I regret I am going to have to leave the village.”

“Why on earth?” Maddie demanded. Then, glancing about them, she saw several nearby women, expressions inquisitive, slowing their steps to listen to this interesting bit of conversation.

“No, you're right, we cannot talk here.” She put her own mail into her shopping basket with the skeins of thread she had purchased and turned back toward home. They set a smart pace. Maddie was impatient to hear what had creased Felicity's brow and brought such a look of concern to her face.

As they left the village behind and climbed a small hill, Maddie experienced a sense of unease, as if someone was watching them. She could almost feel the pressure of eyes boring into the small of her back.

Looking toward Felicity who was a few steps in front, Maddie wondered if the other woman felt the same. “Do you—” she began, when a sudden sharp whine interrupted. The leaves in front of her ripped and a few pieces of greenery floated to the ground.

Maddie gasped, and Felicity gave a small shriek. This time, Maddie knew what the sound and the near miss meant.

“Run!” she exclaimed. She grabbed her friend's hand, and they both dashed through the copse of trees, hoping to evade the shooter's angle of vision.

Fortunately, it was only a short distance to the Applegate residence, and Maddie had played in these woods all her life. She led Felicity off the path and over the grassy knolls. They traveled a slightly longer route than necessary, but it seemed prudent to take a less obvious path.

When at last the Applegate residence came into view, it looked peaceful and quiet, a refuge in every way.

“Thank goodness,” Maddie muttered. “Surely we have lost him. I cannot believe he is still here—I thought he would have followed Adrian off. Perhaps if the mad cousin has returned, Adrian has come back to check on us?” She felt a moment of hope.

“It may not be what you think, Madeline,” Felicity told her, holding her side and panting a little from their long run.

“Let us get inside where it is safe and get some tea, and then you may tell us what you wish. I warn you, Felicity, if it has to do with moving out, however, Papa is not going to take kindly to it.”

Felicity threw her a troubled glance, but didn't try to explain just yet, and they both hurried to the front door. Maddie opened it without bothering to knock; she knew that Bess would be expecting them back and would not have the door bolted.

The front hall was empty and quiet, just as Maddie thought it would be. Her father might already be having his afternoon rest. Bess was probably in the kitchen. If they had missed lunch, Bess would have left some cold meat and bread and butter out for them, she thought. Then she heard a slight noise from the sitting room.

Her father rarely used that room; it was most often the province of the females of the family or used to entertain visitors. Had someone called?

She put her shopping basket on the hall table, glancing into the looking glass over it to make sure she was reasonably presentable. Her cheeks were pink from the brisk pace of their walk home, but she could do nothing about that, and the color would fade. She pushed a stray lock of hair back into place, then turned toward the sitting room.

“I will see about some tea,” Felicity said. “Then I will explain it all.” She turned toward the kitchen.

Maddie nodded. She walked into the room and stopped in surprise. Her father sat in his wheeled chair a little to the side of the fireplace, his expression hard to read. On the other side of the fire, standing back against the wall behind the edge of the brick hearth, stood a man.

Maddie's pulse jumped. His long hair was dark and shaggy and hung into his face, and his clothes were ragged and dusty. Beneath the mop of disheveled hair, she saw the gleam of cunning eyes. In his hand he held a gun.

“Papa!” she exclaimed.

“Be calm,” her father said, his voice even. “It may yet be well.”

The stranger lifted his gun, and Maddie held her breath, but he simply motioned her to the side. She took several steps toward her father, but paused inside the doorway. What about Felicity?

The stranger had turned back to watch the doorway again, and then it hit Maddie. This man wanted to kill Felicity! He was the one who had shot at them on the path, not the mad cousin. He had been shooting at Felicity, not at Maddie. This was the shaggy stranger who had peered at Felicity in her cabin—he must be the one who had burned down her home! But why?

She bit her lip—they could not just stand here and watch the widow be slaughtered! What on earth could they do? She looked around for something she could throw to distract him…and then what?