“As you wish. I will take over from here.”
Bramsley bowed and exited the study, leaving Rayne alone with his tumultuous thoughts.
He had every intention of following his errant wife’s trail to discover what machinations she was involved in. But he would wait until morning. He could depart tonight, but he wanted to delay the moment of truth a little longer.
Rayne uttered a caustic, self-deprecating laugh upon acknowledging his weakness. Perhaps it was craven of him, but he was loath to confirm that Madeline had betrayed him. More crucially, he had no desire to arrive in the middle of the night only to discover his wife in bed with her lover.
Before he could wrench his mind away, the image of Madeline giving her lush, beautiful body to another man flashed in Rayne’s head. A sensation somewhere between fury and anguish rose up within him, yet he fiercely quelled it, determined to consider the situation with ice-cold logic rather than raw emotion.
With unsteady hands, Rayne poured himself a stiff brandy, then sank onto the sofa and stared unseeingly at the fire. Even so, he knew that neither the potent liquor nor the crackling flames could take away the sudden chill he felt inside.
Be careful what you wish for, he thought bleakly. He had wanted proof that Madeline was keeping something from him, and now he had it. She’d set out on a clandestine journey and lied about her destination. A journey he would never have known about if not for being alerted by the servants he’d set to spy on her.
Madeline’s furtiveness proclaimed her guilt louder than words—but guilt for what?
Why hadn’t she come to him? If she needed financial help for her brother, as Rayne had earlier surmised, she should have known he would give it, even if it meant funding Gerard’s peccadilloes.
But perhaps the problem was not her brother. Perhaps Madeline had gone to meet not Gerard but Ackerby.
The sick, clammy chill of dread seeped from Rayne’s gut into his heart. Had she gone to meet her lover, just as Camille had done? Was history repeating itself? Ten years ago he had followed Camille to a rendezvous with her lover. It was how he’d learned of her betrayal.
The two cases were eerily similar, Rayne reminded himself grimly. Madeline might not be only out for herself, but it was looking more and more likely that she had sacrificed herself to him in marriage in order to help her brother or even her lover.
Rayne gulped a long, burning swallow of brandy, no longer able to crush the storm of emotions roiling inside him … hurt, anger, bitter disappointment, jealousy, even a twinge of panic.
Even when Camille had broken his youthful heart, he hadn’t felt this kind of pain. Even during his worst missions, when he’d faced danger, treachery, and death, he hadn’t felt this emptiness, this hopelessness. What a fool he’d been to think Madeline an ideal match for him.
He cursed fervently at himself. He had let Madeline inside him. He’d made himself dangerously vulnerable to her, misjudging the very real threat of what she could do to him.
And now he would have to pay for it.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Rayne laid his head back on the sofa. It was going to be a long night, one where he doubted he would get much sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Love should not hurt this much, Maman.
Hearing a carriage arrive in the stableyard of The Blue Boar Inn, Madeline paused in her fretful pacing to glance out the window of her hired room. Upon recognizing the Haviland crest on the coach’s door panel, she gave a start of disbelief.
Merciful heaven, Rayne! What was he doing here?
Madeline watched in dismay as her tall, powerful husband stepped from the vehicle and glanced upward, his piercing gaze scanning the floors above the inn’s front entrance.
Her heart leaping in panic, she drew back from the window to avoid being seen. Yet Rayne must know she was here. Why else would he have stopped at the very inn where she was waiting for her wayward brother to make an appearance?
How had he even found her? Madeline wondered. And what the devil should she do about it? The proprietor, Ben Pilling, would surely admit to her presence and direct Rayne to her chamber.
Madeline squared her shoulders. She wouldn’t remain here cowering. It would be far better if she went downstairs to face Rayne before he came in search of her.
Taking a steadying breath, she gathered her reticule and left her room, then negotiated a short stretch of corridor and descended the front staircase to the entrance hall.
As expected, she found Rayne engaged in conversation, but not with the innkeep. Instead, he stood near the open door to the tavern, speaking in low tones with a brown-haired man who looked oddly familiar. Unable to place him, she turned her attention to her husband. Rayne still wore his caped greatcoat but had removed his stylish beaver hat and gloves.
Just then he glanced around and spied Madeline where she had paused on the final stairstep. Rayne didn’t smile or speak. He merely gave her a measuring stare.
For a fleeting moment Madeline could see anger there in his eyes, along with several other indefinable emotions. But then his gaze turned inscrutable again as he crossed the entry hall to her.
“My lord, what brings you here?” she murmured, trying to keep the telltale nervousness from her voice.