Rayne helped Madeline rise from the bed then, although her succeeding efforts to wash and dress were interrupted by more frequent kisses and his need to wrap his arms around her.
Clearly she did not mind, however; judging from her delighted sighs, she relished his distractions.
When Rayne assisted with the hooks at the back of her gown, he couldn’t resist sliding his hands around her waist to cradle her faintly swelling stomach.
At his gentle touch, Madeline gave another sigh, this one of utter contentment. “It still awes me, how drastically my life has changed,” she murmured. “Two months ago I never could have dreamed I would have a wonderful husband to love and cherish, or that I might be expecting your child. I am brimming over with happiness, Rayne.”
He rested his chin on the top of her head. “So am I, love.”
“Happiness seems to be rife these days. Your grandmother may seriously disapprove of me, but hopefully she will be pleased to learn that your title may soon have an heir. And you should be pleased, knowing you needn’t labor at siring a child for a while.”
Rayne pressed his smile into her hair. “It was a labor of love, I assure you.”
Madeline gave a soft laugh. “And Gerard has found happiness as well, thanks to you. Lynette’s parents have accepted him fully as their son. But who would have ever thought that Freddie would bestow his affections on a proper young lady and therefore please his father?”
Rayne’s lips curved at the prospect of his impetuous cousin settling down in respectable matrimony. Certainly a great deal had changed in the two months since he’d met Madeline.
“And all three of the Loring sisters are wildly happy in their marriages,” Madeline continued her tally. “Perhaps Lily most of all.”
The youngest Loring sister had recently returned from her wedding trip with her new husband, the Marquess of Claybourne. Lily had taken to Madeline straightaway, and they were fast becoming friends.
“I will always be grateful,” Madeline added sincerely, “to Arabella and Roslyn for helping me capture you, Rayne—and to Fanny, too.”
“You give them too much credit, my sweet.”
“I don’t believe so. Fanny’s advice particularly was invaluable in making you take notice of me.”
He hadn’t been surprised to discover the name of the courtesan who’d tutored Madeline in the tricks of her trade. What was surprising, however, was learning that Fanny Irwin had set her talents to another career altogether—writing Gothic novels. Her first effort had recently been published anonymously to vigorous sales if not great literary acclaim.
“Now I only worry about Tess Blanchard,” Madeline admitted, her tone turning troubled.
The biggest surprise of all was that Miss Blanchard had found herself compromised by a neighboring duke and had wed him to avoid a full-blown scandal.
“Tess longed to marry for love,” Madeline said in consternation, “but their union is far from a love match. At least they seem to have a strong physical attraction for one another, judging from the fireworks between them. I hope Fanny can help Tess’s marriage the way she did mine.”
“Perhaps you should allow them to solve their own problems,” Rayne suggested mildly.
Madeline started to disagree, just as she heard the sound of carriage wheels slowing outside in the street. Accompanying Rayne over to the window, she glanced down and recognized the dowager Countess of Haviland’s barouche.
A knot formed in the pit of Madeline’s stomach at the thought of facing her nemesis again.
“I suppose your grandmother is responding to your message about my condition,” she remarked to Rayne. Out of courtesy, he’d sent his elderly relative a brief missive yesterday, informing her of Madeline’s likely pregnancy, although he hadn’t spoken to Lady Haviland since their heated confrontation at Riverwood many weeks ago.
“I would expect so. We shall see.”
Rayne appeared in no hurry to finish dressing, however, and Madeline was even less so. By the time they went downstairs, Lady Haviland was awaiting them in the drawing room.
The dowager rose imperiously when they entered. Yet surprisingly, she wore an uncertain expression on her face, as if she feared her reception. Still, she scrutinized Madeline intently to the point of making her blush.
“I understand felicitations may be in order,” Lady Haviland stated coolly, yet with none of the belligerence Madeline expected.
“That depends,” Rayne replied, his own voice terse, “on whether you repent your disgraceful conduct. I gave orders for you to be refused admittance until you are willing to treat Madeline properly and welcome her into the family. You must have convinced Walters that you were ready to concede.”
The dowager bit her lip. “Yes.”
His expression remained cold, giving no quarter, as he put his arm around Madeline’s shoulders protectively. “Yes, what, Grandmother?”
“I have come … to welcome your wife into the family.”