"Madeline!" cried an anxious voice floating above her somewhere.
That was the last thing she remembered.
Chapter Seventeen
Dear Charlotte,
Do not misunderstand— you and Miss Prescott may fancy yourselves good judges of character, but men of this sort can be very deceptive. And Miss Prescott is young, exactly the kind of woman a rakehell feeds on. She could easily be misled if you do not keep a tight rein on her.
Your suspicious cousin,
Michael
A
nthony gazed about him in a panic as he cradled Madeline in his arms. Her reaction wasn't unusual, especially the first time. Some people had a ringing in the ears or spots in the vision, while others occasionally swooned. And once in a while, someone reacted very badly—
No, he wouldn't even think it. That wasn't going to happen to her!
He started to lay her on the couch, then hesitated when sounds from the party filtered in from the gallery. He didn't have the key to lock the door. No one was at this end just now, but the last thing he needed was to be discovered lurking in Stoneville's library with an insensible woman. Madeline would certainly not want to risk that herself.
As he stood there undecided, she turned into his chest and mumbled something, sending relief coursing through his veins. She was regaining consciousness. But she needed a safe place to recover. Somewhere private, where he could get to the bottom of her tale.
The back stairs to the guest bedchambers lay mere feet away. No one would be up there for hours. Not even Stoneville would think to look for her there.
Swiftly, he carried her up, his heart lurching to see her lying so pale and still in his arms. And he'd thought to use nitrous to get the truth out of her? He must have been mad. He still wanted to pummel Stoneville to a bloody pulp for doing it, mostly because another notorious effect of nitrous was to act as an aphrodisiac.
Not that Stoneville had intended to seduce her. Apparently the marquess really had been trying to determine Madeline's true aims. But that didn't assuage Anthony's anger, not when he remembered Stoneville shaking her until her—
"Anthony?" she croaked out as her eyelids fluttered open. "My head hurts."
Not surprising. Some people did suffer from headaches a short while after inhaling nitrous. "It'll pass, sweetheart," he said soothingly. "I promise."
Having reached the next floor, he charged through the first open doorway. He laid her on the bed, then went out to the hall to fetch a candle. When he returned, he closed the door, shooting the bolt to so they wouldn't be disturbed.
"What…what happened?" Her lovely amber eyes followed him as he circulated the room lighting the other candles from his.
"You fainted." He paused by the bed to look at her, then caught his breath at the sight of her displayed so deliciously on the coverlet. Her gown had fallen off one shoulder, revealing a more-than-generous swell of bosom, and her legs were parted, the satin outlining each thigh in loving detail. He'd had no idea her hair was so long and thick. It spread out beneath her like a pool of golden silk lapping at her body. The body he wanted desperately to ravage.
The body still recovering from nitrous oxide.
With a curse, he forced himself to abandon the fetching image and head for the fireplace. The fire was already set, so he had only to light a piece of tinder to ignite it. Once it was well and truly started, he returned to her side.
As he tucked a pillow under her head, she gazed up at him. "I fainted?"
"Occasionally that occurs with nitrous."
"Not to me." She looked bewildered. "I mean, when I had it once before…it had no such effect."
His blood stilled. She'd certainly never mentioned
that
. "When did you inhale nitrous? Who gave it to you?"
"My father." Sitting up on the bed, she touched her hand to her head.
"Your
father
!" He gaped at her. "How old were you?"
"Nineteen."
"What kind of father lets his daughter experiment with nitrous oxide?"
"The kind who's a physician." She shook her head as if that might untangle her muddled thoughts. "We read…Sir Humphry's book, you see."
"No, I don't see." Perhaps Stoneville's speculations about her looking for Sir Humphry hadn't been far from the mark.
He shrugged off that disturbing thought. She'd probably mentioned the chemist in the first place because she knew of him from his book. Then again, how many girls had read that 550-page tome? None, he would wager.
With a frown, she rubbed her temples. "After reading about it, I begged Papa to let me try it. Since he always encouraged my interest in science, he agreed." She lifted a still disoriented gaze. "But…but it had no effect on me. Not like tonight."
"That doesn't surprise me. Unless your father was a complete idiot, I doubt he actually gave you nitrous oxide. It can have unpredictable effects— surely no physician would risk it. He probably gave you oxygen. Or a diluted dose that wouldn't affect you much."
"That does make sense." She screwed up her brow in thought. "He did seem to give in to my begging awfully easily."
The fire now blazed high, revealing a bedchamber done up in Grecian style, in golden yellow wallpaper and dark woods with gilt dappling the furniture and fittings. The Kidderminster carpet, the chintz bed hangings and curtains all mingled black with gold, lending the room an exotic air.
For the first time since they'd left Stoneville's library with its heavier masculine furnishings, Madeline gazed about her and seemed to realize that they had changed their surroundings. She glanced to him in a panic. "Where are we?"
"Still at Stoneville's, but in a guest room. I figured it would afford us privacy while you recovered." An edge entered his voice. "While we talk."
She seemed to shrink into herself, her eyes dropping to her gown. With the nitrous wearing off, she was returning to her usual cautious self.
It didn't matter. She would give him his answers this time.
"Talk about what?" Her fingers plucked idly at the satin, a residual effect of the nitrous.
"You know what. Sir Humphry Davy."
"Why would we talk about him?" Her gaze flicked to the door, suddenly hopeful. "Is he here, too?"
Damnation. She
had
come to the party to find Sir Humphry.
Stoneville's insidious words assailed him.
She probably convinced you to bring her so she could find her lover, since she couldn't get to him otherwise.
Surely not. He couldn't believe it. Still, the man
was
known for his bluestocking lady admirers, and she
had
read his book. "Sir Humphry Davy is not here, no."
"Downstairs, I mean." She slid to the edge of the bed, looking as if she meant to rise. "At the party."
He hurried over to stay her. "It's not safe for you to stand yet."
"I feel fine," she protested, trying to push him aside.
"That doesn't mean you are. Sometimes certain effects linger."
"But I have to return to the party— "
"He isn't here, I tell you!" Jealousy gnawed at his gut. The thought of the fresh young Madeline yearning for his aging ruin of a friend sickened him. "So you won't be meeting up with your quarry after all."
The blood drained from her face. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ah, but you do." He could see it in her expression. "Don't play the fool with me, Madeline. It's much too late for that. You came here for Sir Humphry. You said so while under the influence of the gas."
"I-I don't remember that. I don't remember what I said." Sinking back onto the bed, she stared past him at the closed door. "Are you…sure he's not here?"
The plaintive request tugged at his sympathies, which only further enraged him. Had she used him to meet another man, the man she really wanted? Could her flirtations and kisses have been intended only to bring about this?
Then a more painful thought occurred to him. What if Sir Humphry had been the incompetent lover who'd seduced her the first time, thus ruining her? By God, he'd have the arse's head on a platter.
"Yes, I'm sure he's not here," he said tersely. "I overheard the other guests discussing it. He was supposed to ride with Wedgwood, but his wife told Wedgwood he was unwell. She probably put her foot down, as she often does. I'll wager you know exactly what I mean."
Her face now bore the dull gray pallor of despair. "Indeed I do. She guards him most jealously." She sighed. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have had to resort to this subterfuge in order to meet with him."
Every word stabbed like a dagger to his heart. When had he let her creep so far beneath his defenses? How could he have given her such power to hurt him?
Yet, like a child picking at a sore, he had to know all of it, the why and the how. "What had you hoped to gain by accosting him here? A renewal of his affections? Did you hope to make him feel guilty for what he'd done?"
Her gaze shot to his. "His affections! Make him feel guilty? What in heaven's name are you talking about?"
The clear surprise on her face gave him pause. "Sir Humphry and you. I'm assuming he's the lout who seduced you. The incompetent lover."
She gaped at him, then burst into laughter. "Lover! You must be daft."
This wasn't quite the reaction he'd expected. "I don't…understand."
"No, you certainly don't, if you think Sir Humphry was ever my lover." Her amusement faded. "I wish he had been. Then I wouldn't be in this predicament."
Relief swamped him. God save him, he was thinking like a jealous idiot. That's what he got for listening to an arse like Stoneville.
"So what
is
your predicament?"
The question seemed to put her on her guard. She rose from the bed, stood a bit unsteadily, then wrapped her arms about her waist. "It's complicated."
Complicated was never good. "You promised to answer my questions if I gave you your party, and I did. It's not my fault it didn't provide what you wanted."
"I know."
"I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Now you must fulfill yours."
"Yes, you're right," she said, the words so low he had to strain to hear them.
When she remained silent, he approached her warily. "Come, sweetheart, you can tell me about it." He saw the confusion on her pretty face. "No one will disturb us— Stoneville doesn't even know we're still here. And the door is locked."
"You locked the door?" Alarm laced her words.
"So you could recover in private." He started to caress her cheek, then dropped his hand before it could make a fool out of him. "Tell me why you need Sir Humphry's help."
Instead of mine. Yes, why not ask
me
for help?
Because he was a rakehell. Because she trusted him as much as a gamekeeper trusted a poacher. With his reputation, she wasn't likely to turn to him for help with anything but a wicked nitrous oxide party. "Madeline— "
"My father had a medical practice in the town where we used to live."
He nodded. "Chertsey."
She flushed. "Or thereabouts."
"
Where
exactly?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why not, damn it?"
"I just can't."
He released a frustrated sigh but allowed her that. For the moment. "Go on."
"Papa's work as a physician was enough to keep us relatively comfortable." Her voice shook. "Until he treated a woman for an abscess. Because she was in pain and he dislikes using laudanum, he used nitrous oxide. Having read Sir Humphry's book, he was aware it could be useful to dull pain."
"But something went wrong," Anthony guessed.
She nodded. "The woman died within an hour of when Papa excised the diseased flesh. There was an enquiry, as you might imagine, and they determined that Papa wasn't at fault." A sudden anger tightened her lips, flavoring her words with bitterness. "But my father's enemies didn't agree. And in their ignorance, they convinced others that he'd killed the woman. They destroyed his practice."
A chill went through him. He knew how easily people could believe nonsense in a small, provincial town. "So you moved to Richmond to start anew."
"Exactly. I got the position at Mrs. Harris's school, hoping Papa might begin his practice here." A profound sadness swept her features, making something catch in his throat. "But he was too devastated by what had happened and the ensuing gossip. For the last several months, he's done nothing but go over and over what he perceives as his mistake, drowning in guilt."
"While you," he said tightly, "try to save him."
Her startled gaze lifted to him. "And myself. I can't support us for long on a teacher's salary, and I have few prospects for marriage." Her tone turned defensive. "What am I supposed to do? Stand back and watch him wither and die?"