Page 17 of The Captain Claims His Temptress

Stephen shrugged. “Lady Saxton invited him.”

The major chuckled. “He did quite a remarkable job feigning interest in her roses last night.” Then he frowned. “Does Madalene Spencer have anything to do with this invitation?”

“Lady Saxton asked us to keep Madalene company. I declined.”

Blythe groaned. “I feel like a bloody nurse dealing with wayward children. Perhaps the two of you need to be locked in a room together, far away from that woman.”

Stephen bristled at the major’s threat, especially the part that referred to Madalene with the venomous tone and the wordsthat woman.

After Blythe’s departure, Stephen opened the heavy drapery, allowing the sunlight to enter the room. He sought the rays and dropped onto the carpet in a cross-legged sit. As his skin warmed, he exhaled long and slow.

I am a soldier. I am disciplined. I will avoid all distractions. I will stay away from Madalene Spencer in that tauntingly tight blue dress. No to her delicious kissable lips. No to her soft bosom. No to those full hips. Never again to her little gasps of pleasure.

Chapter eight

October 4th, 1817

Maddieworeherbluepelissewith intricate braiding and a matching bonnet for her tour of the gardens. Twice she attempted to engage in conversation with the frowning Mrs. Ainsworth. However, both times, the woman lifted her nose and stepped ahead of Maddie. Refusing to allow the deliberate cut to fester, Maddie concentrated on the brilliant colors dotting the landscape.

Next, they visited the enormous hothouse. Maddie could have fit her old townhouse inside the structure, and it was not as if her home was small. Exploring the many gardens in St. Alban would take forever, and she would enjoy every second of it. Perhaps her mother’s British blood flowed through her, and Herald Hall was where she belonged.

“Ladies, please choose your spot,” Aunt Henrietta announced as she pointed to three men in livery. “Wilson and…”

“Diggins,” a short bald man said.

“Myrle,” said a giant who looked as if he had lost a lot of fistfights.

“Wilson, Diggins, and Myrle will help you set up your easels.”

The short man performed a half-dozen hand flourishes as he bowed. The odd-looking one clicked his heels and saluted.

Lady Saxton was too busy whispering directives to Wilson to pay attention to Myrle and Diggin’s antics. However, the guests rolled their eyes. Maddie could not help herself. She chuckled, earning her an uncomfortable lecherous wink from Diggins.

The women dispersed to search for the location they desired to paint from. Maddie retraced the path to the roses. She halted beside a bush and caressed the delicate petals of a pink bloom. She should bottle up the fragrance and bathe in it. Captain Eaton would take one whiff of her and fall at her feet instead of treating her like a pariah.

She sighed. Tempting the soldier further was pointless since a dalliance with her was not worth her uncle’s wrath. Exhaling her frustration, she turned a corner. Two women in front of her spoke in hushed tones.

“Her behavior is shameful. I cannot believe we are expected to keep company with her. What might that do to our reputations?”

Suspecting that the women were talking about her, she tucked behind a fern and eavesdropped.

“Did you see the way she behaved last night? What a shameless flirt,” said the pinch-faced Mrs. Ainsworth. “There are whispers that she was seen engaging in scandalous behavior.”

Surely her uncle had not said a word, and Hugo Adams had promised to keep her encounter with Stephen a secret.Humph. The solicitor was a no-good rat.

“Do tell. What man did she throw herself at?” Lady Lionel asked.

Maddie held her breath.

“Mr. Adams, Sir Saxton’s solicitor. And ’tis said that he was under her skirts. They did not even bother to go into a chamber. Their affair happened in the hallway.”

Mr. Adams? What balderdash from the busybodies! Maddie was tired of the falsehoods that circulated about her, and she would come out from hiding and tell them as much.

Just as she was about to reveal herself, Lady Lionel brought her hand to her chest. “Poor Lady Saxton.” The woman’s nose wrinkled as if she were smelling a New York alley. “The baronet should shove Madalene Spencer into the cargo haul of one of his ships and send her back to America.”

The outright hatred she elicited from others chipped at Maddie’s confidence, and this particular barb stabbed her heart. She needed to pull herself together and face these women with her head held high. Using the sleeve of herpelisse, she dried her tears, then stepped out from behind the plants.

“Lady Lionel and Mrs. Kingston,” she said.