Shayla Black (4 page)

“
I hear you had a gentleman caller last eve. Gads, not a new creditor, I hope!” Edith perched her straw hat decorated with flowers and bees in flight upon her head just so.

Despite the seriousness of the topic and her headache, Maddie suppressed a rueful smile at her aunt’s peculiar garb.

“
Naughty girl! Do you laugh at my charming hat?”

Maddie searched for a diplomatic response. “Merely thinking that such adornment suits you.”

Edith primped the gray hair beneath her bonnet. “Indeed, though I’ve had it for some years, I still find it just the thing.” Her softly lined face turned serious again. “Now, you must tell us of your caller.”

Knowing the woman wouldn’t cease until she pried the truth from her, Maddie confessed, “It was Brock Taylor.”

Aunt Edith was speechless for fully thirty seconds, an unparalleled feat. “
The
Brock Taylor?
Your
Brock—”

“
The very one,” Maddie broke in before Edith could finish the distasteful thought that somehow Brock belonged to her. “He bought the remainder of Colin’s debt and says he will forgive it—if I agree to wed him.”

“
Shocking!” Edith exclaimed, though her smirk was not altogether appalled. “When is the wedding, dear?”

Incredulity swept through Maddie. “I cannot wed him. You are no stranger to my past with that beast, and now he wants me for some manner of prized mare he can parade about the
ton
. It is not to be borne.”

“
And if you refuse him...?”

Reaching for a cup, Maddie pretended interest in pouring tea. She hated confessing her situation to Edith and Vema, and despised Brock for putting her in the position of explaining why she would refuse the logical but outlandish proposal.

“
If I refuse, he’s threatened to see me in debtor’s prison, but—”

“
Scandalous!” Edith looked well and truly shocked.

“
But,” Maddie continued through gritted teeth, “I am determined to find another way to repay him. I will not endure the parson’s trap with so ruthless a cad.”

Colin had been trying enough.
Cold fish,
he had called her, along with less polite names that had shamed and incensed her. And that had been the least of his crimes.

He had married her fully aware of her past with Brock Taylor. Colin had known that she did not love him. Despite that, he had vowed he would be content in their marriage. Two terrible years had shown her otherwise. Her husband’s death had brought only guilty relief that her ordeal had ended.

Through her disastrous union, she’d learned that marrying meant a complete legal surrender of both possessions and body, even her daughter. It was too steep a price to pay to clear her debts. Wedding Brock, a man who had already proven himself without scruples, would be an unthinkable mistake. And if he were to learn the truth about Aimee...

“
Dear girl, where will you find the means to repay him? They are not within our reach. I fear you must wed him.”

Maddie absorbed her aunt’s declaration like a kick to her middle. “You’re advising me to marry the man who left me so dishonorably, after taking money from my father and making promises he had no intent to keep? His abandonment is the reason I wed the despicable Colin, if you recall.”

Edith patted her hand. “Mr. Taylor is offering marriage now. He has the funds to keep you well and the ability to keep such funds coming.”

Maddie frowned. Pragmatism from the woman who epitomized frivolity?

“
Besides,” Edith went on, “Aimee
is
his daughter.”

“
A fact he must never discover.”

God only knew how ruthless he might be then. Although he had taken money to abandon her and used it to seek fortune, Maddie feared the Brock she had encountered last night would be beyond furious that she had not told him she’d conceived, regardless of the fact that she’d had little notion where to find him. She could not give Brock additional leverage to use against her. With his financial power, he could easily convince a judge that he should have sole custody of Aimee. Courts favored the rights of fathers. She would never prevail, should he attempt to separate her from Aimee.

Panic gripped Maddie like a white-knuckled fist about her throat. Having her daughter ripped away by a rake who didn’t love the little girl would crush her. And terrify Aimee.

Maddie glanced at her aunt and found mischief sparkling in her eyes. Unease prickled along her spine.

“
No, Aunt Edith. He cannot know about Aimee. Colin and I went to great lengths to have Aimee’s official birth date recorded as a full six weeks later than actual. We wanted no hint of scandal attached to her.”

“
There is a Hindu saying,” began Vema in her soft, sing-song voice, “‘All things we desire but do not have are found when we enter that space within the heart; for there abides all desires that are true, though covered by what is false.’”

Maddie stared at the Indian woman. “You believe I secretly love this man but have convinced myself I do not?”

“
If not, why have you never shown interest in another man, even your own husband?” countered Edith.

“
Because I learned my lesson the first time.”

Edith’s expression chastised her. “Come now, you are far too young to put yourself on the shelf. Admit that you have always cared for Mr. Taylor.”

Her headache now beating with a vengeance, Maddie stood. “Both of you have gone mad. Well and truly mad. If I wanted another husband, I would certainly find a man other than Brock Taylor.”

“
Perhaps.” Edith eyed her shrewdly. “But in my long life, I’ve discovered that the more one protests, the more she desires what she denounces.”

Desire Brock? Maddie had wanted the terrible man at one time, true. After he left her five years ago, it had seemed forever before she could think of anything or anyone but him, much to Colin’s irritation.

Today, she wanted him gone. Forever.

Maddie glared at the two women, a suspicion taking root in her mind. There was one thing this duo loved even more than gossip, and she would not stand for it.

Thrusting her hands on her hips, she stared at them both. “Save your matchmaking schemes for another. I cannot and will not marry that man!”

Edith merely smiled, blue eyes deceptively innocent. “Whatever you say, my dear.”

#

Afternoon cast the brightest of spring rays through Maddie’s parlor window when she slammed her account book shut. If throwing the slim volume against the wall would have netted her different sums, she would have cheerfully succumbed to the temptation.

Weariness making her ache, she rose from her chair, stretching her neck to ease hours spent hunching over her dwindling accounts. Aimee needed new dresses, and though she was hard on her clothes, Maddie couldn’t bring herself to chastise the girl. Her daughter deserved childhood innocence, as much freedom from the cold reality of their finances as Maddie could provide.

Edith’s small stipend of fifty pounds a year from her late husband, Mr. Bickham, helped a bit. That, along with the two hundred pounds per year provided by the farmlands her father had left her in Warwickshire, barely kept them with life’s necessities.

Anxiety gripped her. Brock’s offer would solve so many problems—but create others that were both permanent and dismaying.

At a knock upon the door, Maddie called out, “Yes?”

“
Matheson, my lady,” came the servant’s crisp voice through the door. “Mr. Taylor has come to call.”

Apprehension and anger, along with something fluttery she refused to name, raced through her. How dearly she would love to instruct Matheson to send Brock away, but she must persuade him to compromise and agree to some settlement of her debts without marriage. She had to make him understand that she would not succumb to his demands.

Her headache returned. “Show him in and leave us.”

“
Very good, my lady.”

The quiet click of the door moments later unnerved her. She glanced up to find her nemesis hovering just inside the room, his sharp gaze completely focused on her.

For a heartbeat, Maddie could not breathe. The room and its tattered drapes faded away until only Brock remained. The low buzz in her ears intensified the hum of awareness swirling throughout her.

It wasn’t the clothing that made him, though the superior cut of his dark coat enhanced his air of power. Nor was it the sheen of his slightly askew mahogany hair. But those potent green eyes captured her. Held her. Made her remember his kisses, the touch of his hands, his fervent whisper of ardor as he seduced her out of her clothes and joined their bodies, giving her a rush of pleasure.

Drawing in a shaky breath, she shoved the memories aside and set her gaze over his strong Roman nose, the stark blades of his cheekbones, his square chin. His skin no longer looked berry-brown but would never be pale enough to please the
ton
. As her gaze strayed down, she remembered the warmth of his broad, muscled chest, the thrill she’d felt when he held her.

Admonishing herself, Maddie met his gaze squarely. “You gave me a week to decide my fate. Why have you come now?”

A wry smile curled his mouth upward. “I see you’re pleased by my call.”

Of course she wasn’t pleased. However, she must tread cautiously.

Gesturing to the Louis XIV sofa, Maddie seated herself on the farthest armchair, wondering how best to proceed. “Mr. Taylor, in light of our...improper past and our differing lives, I wonder if we might come to some other mutually pleasing arrangement.”

“
By the improper past, I assume you mean the fact that we were lovers. But, I confess, the differing lives part confounds me. Are you referring to our differences in social standing?”

She was, but the razor edge of his voice warned her that admitting it would incite his ire.

“
Or perhaps we could negotiate.” She dodged his question. “I could repay you over a longer period of time. As a gesture of good faith, I can give you thirty pounds now.”

Not for anything would she tell him that was nearly every penny she had left, save that necessary for food. The rest of the money would come from somewhere. Later, she would figure out where.

“
I don’t want you to call me Mr. Taylor, Maddie. Nor do I want your thirty pounds.”

“
But—”

“
Even if you repaid me the six thousand, seven hundred eighty-three pounds and twenty pence we established you owe me, and you paid it over five years at five percent interest, you would owe—” he paused, clearly calculating in his head— “one hundred twenty-eight pounds each month, give or take a pence.”

Icy shock paralyzed her. One hundred twenty-eight pounds? She would owe Brock half of her annual income every month? She, Aimee, Edith, and Vema had lived on little more than that all of last year. How would she ever produce such an enormous sum so often?

“
I can repay you over ten years.”

“
No, you couldn’t afford it even then. Keep your thirty pounds.” He cast a disparaging glance at the faded lavender morning dress she wore. “Visit your
modiste
.”

Stinging at his slur, she lashed back. “I have no intention of marrying you, so you should take my thirty pounds. It will afford you some satisfaction.”

Brock leaned back against the sofa, stretching out like the lord of the manor, complete with a confident smile and a hot stare. “Your…company is far more satisfying than you know.”

She stiffened. “I’ve no intent to satisfy you any way but monetarily, Mr. Taylor.”

“
You have six days to consider my proposal of marriage. In the interim, you must allow me a proper chance to court you.”

Court her? Brock had always been a clever boy. Who knew what charming lies the ruthless man would be capable of?

Though he’d cited business as the primary reason he wished to wed her, Maddie felt certain he had far more personal feelings about this match. The banked fire in his eyes and his carefully chosen words hinted of ulterior motives. None of it matched his angry tone when he called her Lady Wolcott. Why should he be cross about her marriage to Colin? Brock had abandoned her, not the other way around. And she’d rather slit her throat than admit that his rejection had crushed her. Worse, any discussion of their past could too easily lead them to the subject of Aimee.

Cautiously, Maddie rose. “I don’t wish to be courted. Allow me to give you my thirty pounds.”

His faintly sexual smile fell, replaced by false regret. “I’ve already given you my terms, Maddie. It’s hardly in my best interest to extend this loan, and you have nothing with which to bargain.”

She scowled, hating these games. Hating him. “You know I cannot pay you.”