He seemed sincere, Madeline decided, judging from his earnest tone. So she returned a faint smile. “Yes, indeed, Mr. Lunsford, I quite understand. And it is I who should ask your forgiveness for intruding on your meeting with Lord Haviland.”
When she picked up her pistol from the sofa seat, however, Lunsford’s blue eyes widened, and it was Haviland’s turn to smother a grin. “You will learn it is wise not to provoke Miss Ellis, Freddie.”
Lunsford swallowed, and his voice seemed a trifle high when he asked, “You don’t mean to shoot anyone, do you, ma’am?”
Madeline gave Haviland a repressive glance before saying sweetly, “I hope the need for shooting has passed, Mr. Lunsford.”
There was still a gleam of amusement in Haviland’s eyes when he spoke again to his relative. “I know we meant
to discuss your situation, Freddie, but I fear our plans will have to change. I must convey Miss Ellis to Chiswick tonight, and it would be best not to arrive too late.”
“But time is growing devilish tight, Rayne,” Lunsford protested even before Madeline could make her own objection to the scheme.
Haviland held up a hand. “My apologies, old fellow, but Miss Ellis’s welfare takes precedence over yours just now since her case is more immediate. I can return here in a few hours—or you may follow us in your carriage and stay the night at Riverwood, which will allow ample time for you to tell me your tale. In any event, it will be morning before I can act, so we will not actually lose any time. Moreover, I’m certain you don’t wish to air your grievances in a lady’s hearing.”
Freddie opened his mouth to speak, then evidently thought better of saying too much in front of Madeline and sighed in resignation. “Very well, I will follow you. But if I cannot deliver within a week, my goose will be well and truly cooked.”
“I understand. But it will not come to that, I promise you. Your goose will be quite safe.”
Haviland turned to Madeline. “You should return to your chamber and dress, Miss Ellis, while I pay your shot with the innkeep.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I thought I explained my feelings on the subject of charity quite clearly.”
“And I thought we agreed not to argue. Do you have any luggage to stow in my carriage?”
Madeline stared at Haviland in disbelief, but he regarded her evenly.
“Have you any luggage to take with you?” he repeated with the cool assurance of a man who inevitably got his way.
“Merely a bandbox. My trunk was still on the stage the last I knew.”
“I will have innkeep fetch your trunk and arrange for its delivery to Chiswick.”
“Lord Haviland—” she began before his deep voice interrupted in a silken tone.
“Do you need me to escort you to your room, Miss Ellis?”
He was clearly single-minded of purpose, leaving her with the feeling of being swept along in his wake. It was exasperating in the extreme…. But still, throwing her lot in with Lord Haviland seemed the best alternative, given her circumstances. She felt safer with him than stranded on her own at a strange inn, although that was not saying much.
Before making her decision, Madeline looked to his cousin. The congenial Mr. Lunsford seemed harmless enough. In fact, his charming manner reminded her somewhat of her brother, Gerard. She was marginally comforted to know Mr. Lunsford would be following them to Chiswick. Yet she didn’t relish the prospect of being alone with Lord Haviland in his carriage. Such close proximity would remind her too keenly of his devastating kisses. On the other hand, he was a trusted friend of her father’s, so surely she could trust him also.
Madeline found herself giving the same sigh of resignation that his cousin had given. “No, my lord, I do not require an escort.”
Haviland smiled then, a slow, spellbinding, approving smile that took her breath away. “Good. We will await you here and depart as soon as you are dressed.”
Forcing herself to exhale inaudibly, Madeline gave a curt nod to Haviland and a polite curtsy to his relative, then hurried toward the door.
The last thing she heard as she left the parlor was Mr. Lunsford complaining in a half-amused voice. “I suppose you cannot help playing the white knight, Rayne, but need you rescue a distressed damsel just when I need you the most?”
Haviland’s response, when it came, was in a similar amused vein. “No, I cannot help myself—and you should be grateful for my compulsion, since you will benefit from it.”
“Oh, I am, I am….”
She was grateful to Lord Haviland as well, Madeline decided as she quickly made her way down the corridor to her bedchamber. Yet she couldn’t help but worry that by putting her fate in the hands of a nobleman of Haviland’s stamp—a dangerous lord whom she found overwhelming and nearly irresistible—she was truly leaping from the frying pan into the flames.
After apologizing once more to a disappointed Freddie for the change in plans, Rayne pulled the bell rope, which brought the innkeeper scurrying to do his bidding. He paid the bills and arranged for Miss Ellis’s trunk to be delivered to Riverwood near Chiswick and for his own coach to be readied, then compensated the proprietor handsomely to stifle any urge he might have to gossip. Finally, Rayne settled on the sofa to hear Freddie’s tale of woe.
What he learned about his scapegrace relative did not surprise him: Freddie, lamentably, had indulged in a torrid affair with a French widow named Solange Sauville and was now being blackmailed with the love letters he foolishly wrote to her.