The fleeting sadness of Grace’s face touched Madelaine. “You sound as if you speak from experience.” Grace softened and looked human, approachable, almost friendly. Maybe they could call a truce? Perhaps Grace had painful reasons for acting as she did. Before Madelaine could decide whether it would be wise or foolish to offer a ceasefire, Grace’s expression hardened. Her lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed.
“Oh, I have experience all right. And knowledge. I can’t recall how many times I’ve seen Lord Grey change tactics when the woman he’s after proves to want to be chased. He’s a regular strategist.”
Madelaine ground her teeth together. She’d not give Grace the satisfaction of a response.
“You’re his latest prey. And I imagineyou’reproving less eager to bed him than he is used to. I daresay he’s vowed he doesn’t want to seduce you. And then perhaps brushed your hand or kissed you afteryoudemanded it.”
Madelaine’s heart pounded in her ears. She swallowed and spoke. “Is this warning derived from personal experience?”
“Of course, you silly ninnyhammer. But Lord Grey wasn’t the man. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you find yourself used and ruined. If you’re lucky, your father will promptly remove you from Court and marry you to some aged friend who will die quickly and leave you a rich widow. If you’re unlucky, he’ll leave you here to rot. Come, the queen awaits us both.”
Grace swept out of the room before she could respond.
Madelaine made her way to the library, unsure of everything. Pity for Grace’s obviously hurtful past dulled Madelaine’s dislike of the woman. The pity also lent Grace’s words a ring of truth that sent Madelaine’s thoughts in a thousand directions.
Voices carried down the hall from the library. She paused, listening as the queen demanded to know what was detaining her. Maybe she shouldn’t ask permission to go to Helen’s apartments tonight. But if she didn’t see Grey and allow herself the chance to get to know him, she’d never know for certain whether he had wanted to court her or to seduce her.
She could find a lord who didn’t set her heart to pounding. But that would undoubtedly be a man who wanted the normal type of woman. She could spend the rest of her life pretending to be someone she wasn’t, in order to make that lord happy. She could never chance true love. But if she didn’t, she was afraid her heart would become impenetrable, and then what would be the value of life?
Twelve
Tired but eager to see Madelaine, Grey dressed quickly for dinner. He changed the bandage covering the deep gash Gravenhurst had accidentally given him the second night of training and then slipped on his boots. By God, he was sore from the long hours of dagger, sword, and one-on-one combat training and tracking. The endless romps through the pitch-black night searching first for objects and then people Gravenhurst had hidden had left Grey cut, bruised and stiff as a stick. If he tried to bend too far, he might break.
But it was over. He’d bested Gravenhurst in every test the man had thrown at him today. Tonight he would enjoy the reward of spending time with Madelaine, even if the mere act of sitting hurt his body. He’d forget the pain the minute he saw her brown eyes light for him and a lovely smile of greeting come to her beautiful face. One of the things that drew him to her was the way she looked at him. Not jaded or knowing as so many women of the Court he’d been with. Nor wary as the ones who’d been warned against him, or lustful as the women whose favors he’d declined to partake in for one reason or another.
Madelaine stared at him with an open, trustful gaze as if he was good and true, which made him want it to be so, even more than he’d already wished for since finding out about his father and brother.
As he shrugged into his dinner coat, the door swung open and Gravenhurst sauntered in pulling the door shut as he entered.
Grey straightened his jacket. “You needn’t have shut the door. I’m leaving for dinner.”
“Change of plans.” Gravenhurst stripped off his soiled shirt and strode to the wash stand to clean himself. He tossed his shirt to the ground exposing his back and the red, angry cuts Grey had given his friend.
“Sorry about the cuts.”
Gravenhurst waved a negligent hand before he dipped both of them into the water. “Don’t apologize. Your training was necessary.”
“And finished.”
“Not quite,” Gravenhurst replied while donning a clean shirt.
Grey crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “I should’ve gutted you.”
“Careful.” Gravenhurst straightened his jacket. “That volatile temper could get you killed where we’re going tonight.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you. My only plan is to see Madelaine.” Grey strode past Gravenhurst and through the door.
He had one foot in the hall when Gravenhurst said, “That’s a noteworthy plan. And I like it. I really do. Yet the king has just taken me to task for not training you in the art of subterfuge.”
“I’m plenty deceptive,” Grey retorted. “Just tell the king to ask around.”
Now fully clothed, Gravenhurst sauntered from the room and held Grey’s overcoat toward him. Grey shook his head. “I won’t be needing that coat. I’m going to dinner and then I’m going to spend a lovely evening indoors in the warmth of my aunt’s apartments with Madelaine. I’m going to drink wine and get to know the woman who has intrigued me.”
“A fine plan, as I said. Off with you then.” Gravenhurst pressed his face near Grey’s. “I’ll tell the king you don’t wish to be one of us.” He tapped discreetly on his ring.
Grey’s thumb went immediately to the king’s ring. He recalled his vow to protect and serve above all personal wants, above all personal needs, above all else. “Damn it to hell.” He snatched his overcoat from Gravenhurst and shoved his arms in it. “What am I supposed to tell Madelaine?”
“You’ve got me. But you’ll have plenty of time to think of a believable lie by tomorrow.”
