“Thank you, Simpkin. I greatly appreciate your kindness,” Madeline said earnestly before turning away and heading upstairs to change her gown for her class.
Yet with the threat of the duel hanging over her head like a sword, she knew she would be unable to keep her mind on her lesson or her pupils.
As she reached her bedchamber, Madeline shook her head again, this time in disbelief. It strained credulity, having two noblemen fighting over her after years of being utterly ignored by the male sex. The irony would even have made her laugh if the situation weren’t so perilous.
But instead of laughing, Madeline knew she would be struggling to calm her gnawing fear and counting down the hours until she could visit Rayne and do her utmost to convince him to call off the duel.
Rayne could scarcely believe he’d acted so impulsively in challenging the baron to pistols at dawn. Normally he was not only even-tempered, he was particularly cool-headed where women were concerned. He never allowed his emotions to become involved over a woman, not after the heartache Camille’s betrayal had caused him a decade ago.
Calling Ackerby out had been decidedly irrational, Rayne knew. And he would be hard-pressed to explain the rage that had overcome him upon seeing that bastard assaulting Madeline Ellis. If it were any other man but himself, he would ascribe his actions to sheer male jealousy.
Yet it couldn’t be jealousy driving him, his conscience argued. For jealousy, his feelings would have to be engaged, and whatever tender feelings he h
eld for Madeline derived from his friendship and admiration for her late father, not ardor for her as a lover.
No, more likely his fierce response stemmed from simple protectiveness of the gentler sex, in addition to possessiveness because he’d asked her to be his wife. Those, and the knowledge that he was morally responsible for Madeline’s welfare, made him determined to save her from the baron’s lecherous attentions.
To Rayne’s surprise, however, Madeline hadn’t appreciated his intervention in the least. In fact, she had turned on him, taking him to task for daring to come to her rescue.
Yet he had no regrets, Rayne reflected grimly as he set in motion the steps required of dueling, beginning with writing to the man he would ask to be his second and sending a footman to London to deliver the missive. Ackerby needed to clearly understand that Madeline had a protector and champion now, and if he refused to make a suitable apology, he would be taught restraint at the point of a gun muzzle.
Therefore, it gave Rayne a measure of concern when barely an hour later Simpkin was announced at Riverwood. He had told the aging butler to look out for Madeline and to alert him if the baron dared to show his face again at Danvers Hall.
“Ackerby did not return to harass Miss Ellis, did he?” Rayne demanded as Simpkin entered his study and offered a brief bow.
The butler’s brow creased in a troubled frown. “No, my lord. And yet I thought you might wish to know … shortly after you left, Miss Ellis directed me to post a letter to Baron Ackerby.”
“Did she now?” Rayne asked sharply, troubled himself by the revelation.
“Yes, my lord. And it seemed urgent to her that her correspondence be sent at once. I posted a second letter for her, as well. That one was addressed to a Mr. Gerard Ellis.”
“Her brother,” Rayne murmured, deep in thought.
“I dislike betraying her confidence,” Simpkin explained, “but you asked me to look out after Miss Ellis and to inform you if Lord Ackerby posed a threat to her in any way. And after what you revealed to me about him, I confess it worries me that she felt compelled to write to him.”
“You did well to tell me, Simpkin,” Rayne assured him. “I will take the matter from here.”
He thanked the butler and dismissed him, then stood frowning as he gazed out over the grounds of Riverwood in the direction of Danvers Hall. The news that Madeline had written Ackerby was inexplicably disturbing and caused a myriad of long-buried feelings to surge through Rayne. Suspicion and doubt were foremost, along with uneasiness.
He couldn’t help but question Madeline’s motives in writing to Ackerby. Why would she send an urgent communication to a nobleman she claimed to despise?
Something else struck Rayne just then as he recalled Madeline’s expression when he’d struck down her assaulter: Her eyes were dark with outrage. At the time, he’d thought her wrath directed at the baron for forcing her against her will.
But had he misinterpreted her response? Rayne wondered. Was it possible she was furious at him because he had challenged her lover?
Rayne ran a hand raggedly through his hair as he fought his conflicting emotions. He’d trusted Madeline because she was her father’s daughter, but he didn’t really know her. Had he been too gullible in taking her word about her predicament?
Something was wrong, he could sense it. Ferreting out traitors was his business after all. And for a moment there, Madeline had looked … guilty. As if she were hiding secrets from him.
Rayne muttered a low curse under his breath. He’d been down this same path once before—a woman hiding secrets from him. And just now all his instincts were screaming out in silent warning that he was about to repeat history.
Questions flowed rapidly in his mind, particularly the chief one: Was there more to Madeline’s relationship with the baron than she claimed?
He’d been determined to protect her from a libertine, but perhaps she had not actually needed protecting. Perhaps he’d even interrupted a lover’s tiff at the inn several days ago, the first time he saw her with the baron.
And in the garden a short while ago, Madeline could have been embracing Ackerby willingly. Perhaps when he’d fondled her breast, her muted cry had been a groan of pleasure. Some women liked rough treatment, even welcomed it.
Rayne’s jaw muscles went taut. Surely he was overreacting. Simply because he’d had one bitter experience with a woman’s betrayal was no reason to be suspicious of Madeline.