Jack gave the coachman the last bit of directions to his town house on Brook Street and pulled Maddie away from the window to snuggle her beside him. She immediately reached up and kissed his cheek. “I can’t wait to see your house and meet all your servants. Ridgeley, in particular, sounds wonderful.”
“Ridgeley had better toe the line. He’s the one responsible for this mess. If he hadn’t told Nick where I was, I’d never have had that run-in with Bleven.”
“Then you might never have met me,” Maddie said. “And I’d be married to Dover right now, and Blackjack would probably be dead.”
The bear again. Jack scowled. What the hell was he going to do with a four hundred pound bear?
The coach slowed, and Maddie took his hand. She always seemed to know when something was bothering him. “Everything will work out for the best,” she said.
He raised a skeptical brow. “You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” He shook his head. Little optimist. Damn, if he didn’t actually like that about her.
A liveried footman opened the carriage door, and the late afternoon light spilled inside. Jack descended first, reaching back to help Maddie climb down.
Ridgeley had come out to meet them, the old man’s blue eyes widening a fraction when he saw Maddie. It was a subtle gesture, one Jack wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t known the butler for twenty years.
Jack led Maddie up the steps to his town house, nodding to Ridgeley as he opened the door. “Welcome home, Lord Blackthorne. Lady Blackthorne,” the old butler said without even a pause.
“Ridgeley,” Jack said, nodding back, meanwhile noting that most of the rest of his staff was quickly assembling in the entryway. Not as polished as Ridgeley, they stared at Maddie with open curiosity.
She smiled at the stiff-necked butler. “Good afternoon, Ridgeley. I see you’ve heard the news of our recent marriage.” Jack saw the worry line appear between her brows. “I’m afraid we must be the latest on dit.”
“The Martingale family has always been popular in Society,” his butler replied.
She raised a brow at Jack. “So I hear.”
“I suppose introductions are in order,” Jack drawled, feeling the weight of his title pressing down on him. Amazing how little he’d felt like a marquess the last few days and how heavy the responsibility, now that he had it back.
But his main priority was keeping his new wife safe. He wanted a quiet, uneventful return. When they were settled in, he would determine the best way to approach Bleven. Until then, he intended to keep her hidden away. And as he’d be hiding with her, it might prove an enjoyable undertaking.
He began the introductions with his housekeeper, Mrs. Gardener, and moved down the line. A true earl’s daughter, Maddie smiled and greeted each servant, putting the staff at ease and quickly winning their approval. Hell, no wonder he’d liked her so much from the start. She could charm an ornery bear.
Unfortunately, she had.
Jack was introducing the second downstairs maid—why the hell did he need all these servants again?—when the pounding began on the door.
He swung round.
Damn. So much for his unobtrusive return. Ridgeley opened the door, spoke quietly with the guest, and then addressed Jack. “Lord Castleigh to see you, my lord. Are you at home?” Jack scowled. He should have known Castleigh would post men to watch for his return.
“Papa?” Maddie said, grabbing Jack’s arm. “Oh, jiminy. I hope he didn’t bring his pistol.”
“Pistol?” the housekeeper said in alarm.
“I bloody well know he’s at home,” a voice, presumably Castleigh’s, boomed from the other side of the door. “I saw the bear out front.”
“Bear?” one of the maids said, her voice rising.
A footman, close to the window, pointed outside. “That’s right. They’ve brought a huge black bear with them. It’s got fangs and claws big enough to eat the lot of us.”
Jack opened his mouth, but Maddie had already stepped in. “Oh, no, that’s just Blackjack. He’s a nice bear. He’d never eat you. He’s going to live here with us.”
“Live with a bear!”
A few of Jack’s servants were backing up, and hysteria showed on their faces.
“Calm down—” Jack began.
“My lord, are you home?” Ridgeley repeated, voice even and expression bland.
