Lady Tarley was already flouncing toward the door, so she didn't see Anthony roll his eyes. She was apparently so sure of her power that when Anthony said, "One more thing, Kitty," she gave a secretive little smile before schooling her features into a pout as she faced him.
"Any attempt to ruin
my
reputation will damage yours far more. So when they ask where you've been, tell them you were revisiting your favorite spot on the grounds. Alone. And you haven't seen me. Understood?"
Lady Tarley looked to be on the verge of an apoplectic fit. But though her lips twisted into a bitter line, she nodded before marching out the door.
Madeline shrank back to avoid being seen as Lady Tarley hurried off down the path. She dared not catch up to the countess
now
. Lady Tarley would assume that Madeline had come out here for a tête-à-tête with Anthony, and an enraged Lady Tarley wouldn't exactly go along with Mrs. Harris's scheme. Better to let the woman return and give the excuse Anthony had dictated. Perhaps no one had even noticed her departure.
She sighed. Except Mrs. Harris. She would also notice the countess's return.
Unless…Perhaps Madeline could race through the trees and come from the direction of the carriages when Lady Tarley emerged from the pavilion path. With everyone already inside, no one would see. Then Madeline could coax the woman to enter with her so that Mrs. Harris wouldn't be the wiser.
Yes, that might work. She slipped stealthily into the trees.
She might have escaped unnoticed, too, if not for looking back to make sure Anthony wasn't in pursuit. Because that's when she stumbled over a tree stump and landed with a crash in the brush.
As Anthony growled, "What the bloody devil?" she scrambled to her feet in a panic. But she wasn't quick enough. He was out the door to catch her before she'd even steadied herself. Drat it all.
"Skulking about in the woods, Madeline?" he bit out as he surveyed her hapless state. "I didn't take you for the sort."
She strove for calm while she brushed leaves and twigs from her skirts. "Mrs. Harris sent me to fetch you and Lady Tarley for the luncheon."
He frowned. "Damnation, I made sure no one saw us leave together."
"That didn't keep Mrs. Harris from noticing you were gone." When he reached up to pick leaves from her coiffure, she glared at him. "And given her suspicions about you, you can guess what conclusions she leaped to. Which were obviously well-founded, since she knew exactly where to send me to look first."
"What the devil was I supposed to do?" He threaded his fingers through his hair. "Kitty kept plaguing me to join her on a tour of her brother's new garden pavilion, so it was either get her alone to tell her where we stood or risk having her become increasingly indiscreet in her flirtations before Mrs. Harris and the girls. I did what I thought was best."
With a sniff, Madeline stalked past him. "It's no concern of mine how you act around Lady Tarley as long as it doesn't ruin my plans."
He caught her by the arm. "Where do you think you're going?"
"To make sure 'Kitty' doesn't say anything stupid."
"She won't. She'll not risk having her husband learn of her gambling indiscretions." He eyed her closely. "You should trust me in this— I don't wish to see your plans ruined either. Or your reputation. It wouldn't help
my
plans."
"Yes, I know perfectly well how
necessary
I am to your plans."
The sudden narrowing of his gaze warned her she shouldn't have revealed what she'd overheard, no matter how much his words had rankled.
"Well, well, a schemer
and
an eavesdropper," he said.
"It's hard not to overhear people when they're practically shouting. Besides, I didn't dare interrupt while Lady Tarley was dressing herself."
The brittleness in his gaze softened a fraction. "If you overheard us, you know she never removed more than her fichu. So the only reason I can think of for this burst of pique is that you're jealous."
"Of you and that hen-witted tart with her rhinoceros-sized breasts?" Her ire only increased when he smiled. "I don't care one whit what you do together."
Twisting free of his hold, she tried once more to leave, but he caught her about the waist from behind to drag her up against him. "She means nothing to me, you know," he murmured in her ear. "We shared a bed years ago when she was between husbands, but I could only bear a few nights of her inane chatter before I had to end it. I'm not interested in Lady Tarley."
"I told you, I don't care!" She tried to pry his arm from about her waist, but he was surprisingly strong.
"If you don't care, then why are you annoyed?" he drawled. "And why are you angry that I said you were necessary to my plans when you know you are?"
"If I'm so necessary," she snapped, "let me go clean up your mess!"
"My mess is already taken care of." Heedless of her struggling, he pulled her inside the pavilion. "Besides, sweetheart, it's time you and I have a little talk."
Only after he had shut the door and leaned back against it did he release her. She backed away, her hands fisting at her sides. "Talk? About what?"
His gaze pierced her. "How you heard the story of the bacchanal at Eton."
She froze. "I already told you. I read it in a newspaper."
"Impossible. No one writes about schoolboys, especially ones who are merely second sons."
"But you weren't the only one involved. Your society friends were there, too: the heir to the Marquess of Stoneville and the heir to— "
She broke off as she realized, too late, that she'd only dug the hole deeper.
"How do you know all that, damn you?" He shoved away from the door to stalk toward her. "Our fathers spent a great deal of money to keep the tale from leaking out beyond Eton."
"Apparently not enough," she quipped, frantic to assuage his suspicions as she backed away. But the distrust darkening his face knifed a chill of foreboding through her belly.
"I want to know how you heard the tale," he demanded, "and I want to know
now
."
She scrambled for some plausible lie. A brother at Eton? No, Anthony would just ask for a name, and she'd be sunk. But she could hardly tell him that she'd heard it in Telford, because then he would seek out the truth of who she was.
"Damn it," he growled as he backed her into the pillar, "where the devil did you hear about that bacchanal? How do you know so much about me? What— "
"I grew up in a town near where you lived!" she burst out, praying she could convince him it was Shrewsbury or some other place.
He blinked. "Near Chertsey?"
Chertsey, of course! His childhood home, where his estate was, lay far away from Telford. She'd even visited the town once as a child, when her father had gone there on some business, so perhaps she could pretend to know it.
"That's where you lived, isn't it?" she answered. "The townspeople gossiped about your family often, and that was one tale that made the rounds."
He searched her face, as if trying to determine her truthfulness.
With a toss of her head, she stared him down. "There, are you happy? Can I please return to the others now?"
"Not yet." His eyes darkened to an unfathomable blue as he gripped her waist to keep her from sliding away from between him and the pillar. "Your answer merely makes me wonder why this is the first I'm hearing of it. Why the bloody devil didn't you tell me from the beginning that you knew my family?"
The bottom dropped out of her bravado. Lord help her, now what?
Chapter Twelve
Dear Cousin,
I carried your suggestion one step further and invited Lord Godwin's sister to join us. That should make for an interesting day at the menagerie, if nothing else, and it will let me observe Lord Norcourt's behavior for myself.
Your friend,
Charlotte
I
want an answer," Anthony clipped out.
Every time he began to rethink his assumptions about her, something else spilled out of her mouth to give him pause. Who was she, damn it?
"Most people who meet a person they've heard of say, 'I know you— we come from the same town.' But you pretended to know nothing about me. So what is it you don't want me to know? Is it what's prompting you to push for this bloody party that any fool can see— "
"I was embarrassed!" she cried.
He stared at her. "Embarrassed over what?"
"We may come from the same town, but not remotely the same station." A pretty blush pinkened her cheeks. "My family isn't…well, they would be far beneath your contempt. I wasn't sure you knew them, but if you did…" She set her shoulders defiantly. "I didn't want you to tell Mrs. Harris about them. She thinks I come from a family of more consequence than I do."
The ring of truth to her words gave him pause. Pride was something he understood. He'd spent half his childhood shoring up the ruins of his own after his trials at the Bickhams'.
"You don't know what it's like to have everyone whispering behind your back, looking at you as if you're nothing." Her voice shook. "Mrs. Harris thinks I'm clever. She trusts me."
"And you didn't want me to ruin that."
She nodded.
Even if he hadn't remembered her words about the pain caused by idle gossip, he would have believed her explanation. He'd witnessed firsthand how she thrived upon the mutual respect between her and her employer.
Mrs. Harris
did
trust her, and with good reason— Madeline admirably shouldered her responsibilities. She seemed genuinely to care about her pupils, too. Could a woman of such character really be as devious as he'd assumed?
"It wouldn't have mattered to me who your family is," he said.
"You already thought I was a schemer who wanted your money." Dropping her gaze to his cravat, she went on haltingly. "I didn't see any point in telling you about my miserable connections."
"Well, you can tell me now."
Her gaze shot to his. "Why? So you'll have something to hold over me, something to allow you to wriggle out of your promise— "
He kissed her. He couldn't help himself. Every time she showed what she really thought of
his
character, it inflamed him. So he kissed her to shut her up.
But within seconds, the kiss exploded into intimacy. Her lips parted beneath his, allowing him to plunder and thrust, to sink his tongue into the hot silk of her mouth over and over, the way he wanted to sink into other parts of her. She had the softest mouth he'd ever tasted, scented with something citrus so that her every breath reminded him of spring.
Kissing her made him crave more. Much more. He slid his hand over her breast, molding it, thumbing the nipple through the fabric. She responded by leaning into the caress…until she came to her senses and pushed his hand away.
Tearing her mouth free, she shoved at his chest. "Anthony, I must go back."
"Not on your life." His blood pounded in his ears as he branded her neck with kisses, then tongued the hollow of her throat. "We never finished our lesson in seduction." And he still didn't have the answers he sought. Although, judging from how his cock was stirring, he might have trouble asking questions. All he wanted was to swive her silly.
"Th-there's no time for this." But her halting words told him that she wished there were. So did her quickening breath and her fingers curling into his lapels.
He would make the time. He had to touch her…fondle her…discover her secrets. "They won't be looking for us yet, and Kitty's explanations will work in our favor, trust me."
She laughed shakily. "Trust you? What kind of fool do you take me for?"
"A very desirable one," he rasped against her throat.
"Desirable because I'm necessary to your plans," she said with a trace of bitterness.
He could kick himself for having said that, no matter how true it was. It might sound to her as if he held her in contempt. Which wasn't the case. "Necessary to my sanity, more like," he muttered to himself.
When she stilled, he groaned. Damnation, he hadn't meant to reveal how thoroughly she fascinated him. But then she drew back to stare at him with wide, innocent eyes that showed she found
him
fascinating, too, and he decided that he'd say anything if it kept her looking at him like that.
"What if someone sees us here?" she whispered.
"They're going in to luncheon, remember? You said Mrs. Harris wasn't even sure where Kitty and I had gone. And if she does send someone else after us, we'd hear them coming in plenty of time. But just in case…"
He went to close the window and draw the curtains. As he walked back, her eyes grew sultry, and the sight of her lips shining a luscious red in the dim light made him crave that mouth on his chest, his belly…his cock.