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putting their bodies in contact. His thumb didn t move, just rested on her lip as if it
belonged there. "I don t think so."
Madeline s breath caught and she made an urgent move to back away, but a table
stopped her. Now he caught her face in both hands. His long fingers caressed the edges of
her ears, and his palms were hard against her jaw, and there was a light in his eyes she
couldn t read. "There s such passion in you, Madeline. Hidden, far away, deep so it can t
hurt you. I wish I could set it free."
She thought he was going to kiss her, and the thought made her tremble even
more. She didn t move away, only closed her eyes against the temptation of his beautiful
face. There was a soft, moist sensation against her eyelids, first one and then the other,
and she was abruptly free.
"You ve got a couple of nasty cuts there. Don t leave them too long."
Rattled, Madeline said only, "No, I won t. Thank you." She looked around her,
overwhelmed by the mess and the man, and breathless with both. A tiny pulsing quivered
in her throat, and she felt dazed as she looked around her, trying desperately to give the
room the attention it deserved. Almost half of the glass panes in the long room had been
shattered, though most were contained at the north end.
"What shall I do to help?" he asked.
His words served to bring her practical nature to the fore. She smoothed the apron
over her skirts. "Take the hailstones from the pots, first of all," she said as matter-of-
factly as she was able. She illustrated by scooping out a now-soggy ball of ice that filled
the cradle of her palm. "Most of these plants are delicate and won t take to this cold, so
they need to be moved to a more protected spot."
He went to work, easily and efficiently doing whatever she asked. From the
corner of her eye, Madeline watched him, aware of a dangerous and disturbing truth: she
would have let him kiss her. She had, in fact, been aching for his mouth, and for his
hands on her body. If she were honest, she still wanted it. The thought terrified her.
And yet, as she worked, her innate sensibility righted itself.
Today, the storm had stirred her up, then the carnal coupling of her stepmother
and her lover, and the destruction of the greenhouse. She was bound to be more than
usually emotional.
Yes, that was it. She d simply avoid Lord Esher better to think of him as Lord
Esher than Lucien after all, until she was herself again.
Yes.
Chapter Seven
Kiss me a thousand times and
Give me a hundred kisses more
We ll have no time to vex or grieve
But kiss and unkiss till we die.
Alexander Brome
With Lord Esher s help, Madeline managed to move most of the delicate plants to
a more protected location. She picked out shards of glass from many pots, swept messes
from the tables and onto the floor. She might have gone on all evening, except it began to
get exceedingly hard to see in the dark. At Lord Esher s insistence she left and went to
her room to change.
Her dress had been ruined, of course. A pity, especially since Juliette had just
bought it for her, but there was no help for it. She changed into a serviceable wool and
went back down to see how the rest of the guests had fared.
Dinner had been forgotten in all the excitement. The remains of the soup course
littered the table. Madeline ordered it cleaned up, and asked for trays of bread, fruit, and
cheese, wine and tea, to be taken to the salon. The cook pointed to the cold pheasant
waiting to be served, and Madeline nodded. "Might as well get some use from it."
Servants were already working to sop up the rain on the dining room floor. A few
panes of glass had been broken in the French doors along the long front wall, but
compared to the greenhouse, the damage was minor. She checked the salon, but it was
sheltered somewhat by the branches of an old, sturdy oak and had been spared. The
musicians sat idly in one corner. She set them to playing.
In short, she performed all the tasks Juliette should have been addressing, had she
not indulged in her passion in the library where anyone might have seen her. Neither
Juliette nor Jonathan were anywhere to be seen. Nor Lucien, though he had been as soiled
as Madeline, and she imagined he d gone to change as she had.
Most of the guests were badly shaken by the violent storm, and the mood in the
salon was subdued. Even so, a game of cards started in one corner, and though the
musicians played desultorily, they did provide some background music. Madeline found
it all oppressive. When Charles did not reappear, she escaped to the music room.
She d been working a long time to learn Handel s passacaglia for violin. The
wistful notes suited her mood this evening, and in the dim, moist gloaming, she began to
play. She had no true skill, no great gift for music, but it gave her heart and hope. Like
most girls she d been trained to play the clavichord and to sing. On her own she had
insisted upon violin, and though it challenged her almost beyond any ability she
possessed, she loved it.
Tonight in the somber mood, the music seemed only to add some new weight to
the restless emotion in her breast, making her feel thick and annoyed and
With an irritable sigh, she put it aside.
"Oh, please don t stop."
Madeline turned, startled by the voice that came from the gloom. The marquess
sat on one of the striped silk sofas that lined the edges of the room. "I didn t hear you
come in," she said. "How long have you been there?"
"A little while," he said, standing. He crossed the room into the small pale light of
the candles. "I came looking for you, and when I heard the music, I stopped in. You play
very well."
She smiled. "I do not, but I thank you for your gallantry nonetheless." A pin
loosened in her hair and she lifted a hand to pat it back in place. "Why were you looking
for me?"
Charles caught his hands behind his back and looked away for a moment. She felt
his sudden discomfort and it puzzled her. "Is something wrong?"
"No." His smile was apologetic. Taking her elbow, he gestured toward the
gardens beyond the windows. "Will you walk with me a little while?"
"Of course. It would be a pleasure."
"Good."
The air outside was cool and sweetly scented. "I love this smell," Madeline
commented, lifting her skirts with one hand, holding his crooked elbow with the other.
Again she noticed the calm he exuded like the bouquet in a fine wine. It soothed some of
the irritation she d felt all night. As if ridding herself of pent-up emotions, she breathed
deeply and exhaled on a sigh. "Much better," she said with a smile toward Charles. "I do
enjoy your company."
The tenderness on his face pleased her. "I m very glad. The feeling is quite
mutual."
With a gentle squeeze to his arm, she looked away again. "Shall we take the path
down the avenue? Everything else will be too wet."
"Fine." He pointed out a large broken tree limb. "You ve a good deal of work
ahead of you."
Madeline nodded, wondering how the gardens had fared.
"Where did your stepmother go? Rare of her to disappear like that."
"Rude is what it was." A vision of the coupling in the library flashed in her mind,
and she pushed it away.
"I expect she had her reasons."
"Yes, I m sure she did," Madeline commented dryly.
For a time, they walked on in silence. Darkness grew thick in the shadows and
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