Rayne shrugged, surprised only that his friend had waited until now to comment on his impetuous marriage. “Well enough,” he answered. “It’s too soon to tell, since it has been less than a day.”

“I thought you had set your sights on a very different sort of wife,” Will prodded. “Your new lady hardly seems like a biddable female.”

Rayne couldn’t help but chuckle. “Biddable she is not.”

“Then why did you wed her? Because your grandmama wants you to set up your nursery?”

“That, and because I owed it to Madeline’s father to look after her. You knew David Ellis. She is his daughter.”

“Ah,” Will said with a tone of understanding. Will knew his history with Captain Ellis and so had no trouble grasping his prime rationale for choosing her.

Taking a sip of port, Will cocked his head at Rayne. “Shouldn’t you be with your new bride, then? When Sal and I jumped the broom, we spent our first week in bed. ’Tis how we made our little Harry, in fact.”

Rayne would actually like nothing more than to return to Riverwood and spend the next week in bed with Madeline, but he wouldn’t let himself. He was better off keeping his distance from her for the next several days or more. “I mean to remain here in London for a time to see if we make any progress exposing our plotters.”

Will shook his head good-humoredly. “You always did put duty before pleasure.”

Pleasure was indeed the word that came to mind when he thought of his marriage bed, Rayne reflected, assaulted by a sudden memory of Madeline—the warm silk of her body pressed against his, her flesh soft and yielding under his searching hands and mouth.

His body’s primal reaction to their lovemaking had been unexpectedly powerful—which was precisely why he would be very wise to stay away from her for a time.

“She must be unlike Mademoiselle Juzet for you to have risked wedding her,” Will remarked.

Reminded uncomfortably of his former love, Rayne felt his jaw tighten involuntarily. Will was one of the few people who knew about his painful brush with betrayal.

Rayne understood why Camille had acted as she did all those years ago. She’d loved her family dearly and her lover even more—and her loyalty to them overshadowed any feelings she’d developed for him. When her father had run afoul of Fouché’s deadly secret police and her entire family’s lives were threatened, she’d had no qualms about seducing Rayne so he would bring them safely to England. He would have saved her family anyway had she simply told him the truth. But Camille had made him love her before he’d caught on to her deception.

Afterward, Rayne had redoubled his efforts at his spy career, determined to wipe away the memory of his foolish weakness. He’d sought out the most dangerous missions, taken more personal risks.

He’d never seen Camille again, although he knew that she and her family had returned to France at the war’s end. Yet the experience had changed him significantly. Even though he was no longer bitter now, or even cynical about love, merely guarded, he had no intention of repeating his disastrous mistake.

The comparisons between his first love and his new wife were unavoidable, however. Camille had wanted him for his connections and wealth, which was a chief reason Madeline had appealed to him so strongly. She was very much the opposite of Camille in many respects.

She was not a seductress like Camille either, Rayne thought. He doubted he would have to worry about Madeline taking a lover behind his back. For that reason he was glad for her relative plainness.

And like Camille, Madeline wanted to help her younger brother. Yet she didn’t harbor any devious ulterior motives, plotting and scheming against him all the while.

He’d been too quick to judge Madeline, Rayne again admitted to himself. His suspicions about her relationship with Ackerby were likely unfounded.

Interrupting his musings just then, Will raised his glass in a toast. “I trust you will enjoy wedded bliss as I have, my friend.”

In reply, Rayne took a long swallow of port to finish off his glass. By his own design, wedded bliss was not in his future. But he expected to be fairly content with the bargain he and his new bride had made.

His sanguinity was short-lived, for when he arrived at his house on Bedford Avenue, Rayne found a terse note from his grandmother summoning him for a command appearance at the Haviland family mansion in Berkeley Square. His mouth curved sardonically as he read her missive. It should not have surprised him to learn Lady Haviland was in town, since her network of social spies was as efficient as his own international one had been.

Anticipating her disapproval of his marriage, Rayne was in no hurry to comply with his summons. Thus, he first took the time to change into evening attire in preparation for dining at Brooks’s Club afterward. When he did call upon his grandmother, he was required to cool his heels for a quarter of an hour before being admitted upstairs to her bedchamber.

Lady Haviland was lying in her bed in the darkened room, her eyes closed, a damp cloth pressed to her brow. Her color was good, however, with none of the paleness expected of an invalid, so Rayne was easily able to suppress his twinge of guilt. His grandmother’s heart always weakened considerably whenever she wanted leverage over him, as no doubt she did now.

When she finally deigned to open her eyes, he took her hand and carried it gently to his lips. “I regret you are feeling ill enough to take to your bed, Grandmother,” he murmured.

She appraised him with considerable disfavor, and her voice held the same condemnation when she responded. “You know very well that you caused this latest heart spell, my boy.”

“If you are suffering renewed palpitations, love, then you should not have made the journey from Brighton alone, particularly since I planned to come and fetch you at week’s end to convey you to Haviland Court.”

“I could not wait till week’s end to confirm the awful truth. How could you, Rayne? Marrying that little upstart? I will never be able to hold my head up among the ton again.”

With effort, Rayne refrained from replying as forcefully as he wanted. “I doubt my marriage will diminish your enormous consequence in the least, Grandmother.”

Tags: Nicole Jordan Courtship Wars Historical
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