Passionate Scandal. Michelle Reid
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immaculate silk jacket. ‘Was that your doing?’ She looked enquiringly at her father. ‘Did you advise her not to let me wallow?’
His face gave him away, and Madeline smiled again. If anyone knew how best to deal with her, then it was this man. ‘Thank you,’ she leaned over to kiss his cheek. ‘Your instincts rarely let you down, do they?’
‘They did where Dominic was concerned,’ he muttered gruffly. He had liked and respected Dominic Stanton. So much so that he’d encouraged his love affair with Madeline from its conception. Everyone concerned had, the Stantons just as eagerly as the Gilburns. It had been a beautiful dream while it lasted. ‘I’ll never forgive myself for my part in encouraging you.’ He voiced his grim thoughts out loud.
‘You really had no say in what I did, you know,’ Madeline drily pointed out. And he grinned because he knew as well as she did that when Madeline wanted something badly enough she went all out to get it. And she had wanted Dominic, so badly that it still hurt just to remember. ‘We were simply wrong for each other,’ she stated flatly. ‘And we should perhaps be thankful that we found out soon enough. Does Charles Waverley run a successful racing stable?’ Once again, she deftly changed the subject.
‘Very. He trained last year’s Derby winner...’
There were going to be some surprised faces around Lambourn in the near future, Edward Gilburn ruefully judged as he watched the sleek mask of sophistication drop smoothly into place on his daughter’s face. And found himself yearning for a time when a black-haired, wicked-eyed gypsy had danced all over his peace of mind. A time when Nina had captivated, and Madeline shocked. While Nina had sat sewing her fine seam, filling his heart with a gentle gladness for being allowed to take the place of her dead father, Madeline would be off on some wild prank or other which would inevitably bring his wrath tumbling down on her unrepentant head—followed by his secret respect. She rode like the devil, played every sport there was going with panache. And later, when she grew into a wild and wilful young woman, she’d run rings around all the poor besotted young men who fell for a pair of wicked blue eyes and a mane of wild black hair.
Dee had despaired of ever taming her then, he recalled. She would send letters home with Madeline after one of her Boston visits, enquiring in her oh, so sarcastic way if Edward was raising their daughter as a delinquent for any specific reason. But even Dee had had to admit that Madeline drew the opposite sex to her like bees to honey, that she was exciting to be with. Madeline possessed a fierce will of her own, but she was also able to laugh at herself, and not many could do that.
Dominic hadn’t laughed, the damned fool! If he had—if only he had laughed that fateful night of the country club ball, then maybe Madeline wouldn’t have run away, and maybe she would not be sitting next to him now, talking with the bland aplomb of the well trained socialite.
He preferred the other girl, the one who would have been bouncing up and down beside him right now, brimming with excitement, plans, driving him demented with the pranks she intended pulling on her friends.
Or maybe she wouldn’t, he then revised thoughtfully. Maybe time alone would have taken the spirited child out of Madeline. Perhaps Dominic Stanton had only accelerated a natural progression—though he didn’t think so. He knew his daughter well, knew what kind of devil drove her, because the self-same one had driven him. It had taken him over forty years to learn to tame his own. He hadn’t expected Madeline to do it any quicker.
No, Dominic had done that, taught her how to think before she acted; hide instead of being her true exciting self!
* * *
They stood like a formal reception party, Madeline noted drily as the car slowed and stopped in front of the grey-stoned country manor house where Louise, Nina and a serious-faced man stood waiting for them at the bottom of the wide stone steps.
Louise looked no different than she had the last time Madeline had seen her four years ago now. Small, and neat-figured, she still had hair that shone that wonderful spun-gold colour, and her smile was still that infinitely gentle one Madeline had first encountered at the age of eight. Nina had altered, though, she noted with a small shock. Her stepsister had grown more beautiful in the four intervening years, her pale gold hair a short cap of enchanting curls around her angelic face. And that had to be Charles Waverley, she decided as she turned her attention to the only stranger in their midst. Tall, weatherbeaten, with the whipcord-lean frame of a working farmer, he stood head and shoulders above both women. There was an expression of solemn reserve about his chocolate-brown eyes.
And it was at him that she smiled first. Why, she wasn’t quite sure, except that she knew somehow that it was what Nina would want her to do, make this man she had fallen in love with know she welcomed him into their small family fold.
She saw the uncertain glance he sent Nina before he levelled his gaze back on her, and also saw the hint of relief, as if he’d just taken some terribly important test and was now glad it was over.
‘Maddie, darling!’ It was Louise who came forward to envelop her in her warm embrace. ‘Oh, it’s so wonderful to have you home!’ She pushed her to arm’s length in much the same way her father had done earlier at the airport, her smile rather watery. ‘And looking so different, too!’ she exclaimed. ‘So frightfully sophisticated!’
‘Nice to be back, Louise,’ she answered earnestly, somehow unable to return the effusive greeting. It’ll come back, she told herself firmly, frowning inwardly at her own reticence. It was only now as she stood here with these people she had spent so many years of her life with that she noticed the restraint she had learnt to apply on herself. ‘And you haven’t changed in the slightest,’ she made an effort to sound natural. ‘I hope Nina won’t mind if I tell you I had to take a second look to tell which of you was which!’
‘You’ve earned yourself a kiss for that,’ Nina said promptly, coming to replace her mother in Madeline’s arms. ‘I can’t think of a better compliment than to know I look like Mummy. Hello, Maddie,’ she added huskily, looking up at her with gentle, loving eyes. ‘Have you missed us?’
‘Every single day,’ she assured, unwilling to tell the truth and admit that she had found it necessary to her own survival to dismiss all that was even vaguely English from her mind for those first few years. ‘And you look wonderful. Would that have anything to do with this rather dishy man I see standing guard behind you?’ she teased.
Nina blushed, and turned to draw Charles Waverley closer. ‘This is Charles, Madeline,’ she gravely introduced. ‘And you have to like each other on sight, or I shall be miserable.’
Madeline found herself looking once again into those serious brown eyes, and held out her hand. ‘Well,’ she said frankly, ‘I shall promise to like you on sight, Charles, so long as you can promise me you’ll take precious care of Nina.’
‘A promise I won’t find it difficult to keep.’ He smiled, and took her outstretched hand.
‘Let’s get inside, shall we?’ Edward Gilburn’s gruff voice broke in. ‘Come on, Charles,’ he took his future son-in-law’s arm. ‘Women are notoriously silly when it comes to hellos and goodbyes. Let’s you and I go and find a nice glass of something while they talk each other’s tails off.’
With a laugh, the three women followed them indoors, and proceeded to do exactly what Edward Gilburn had predicted by chatting madly—or, more correctly, Nina and Louise did the chattering. Madeline simply smiled a lot and put the odd word in now and then when required. They didn’t seem to notice her reserve, though she did.
It will come, she repeated to herself on a small frown. It was only natural that she should feel strange with them after a four-year separation. The old natural camaraderie would return soon enough once she’d settled back in...
CHAPTER TWO
BUT it didn’t. And it was a relief to escape.
Madeline turned Minty, her chestnut mare, towards the river and cantered off. The clouds which had welcomed