Free The Chevalier by Jacqueline Seewald Page A

she said in a breathless, tremulous voice. “I will never forget you.”
    “Nor I you.” His voice was a husky whisper.
    She did not dare extend her hand to him, afraid that she would simply throw herself into his arms and melt there.
    “Goodbye,” he called after her, his voice sounding oddly thick as if something were choking him.
    Once inside, she heard a voice call out softly to her.
    “Mistress, I’m glad you’re safely back. I saw you ride off in that coach with those fine people, so I came back here. But I wasn’t at ease until now.”
    “Everything is fine, Johnny,” she said reassuringly. She tossed him his cap and hurried upstairs to her room.
    But everything was not fine. Her heart yearned for a man she knew she could not have and should not care about. She’d said farewell to him; her mind could accept it, but not her heart. All she wanted was to love and be loved by him. Her body ached for his touch. Would she ever see him again? She hurried to her bedroom. Tonight she would dream of his touch on her bare breast.

 Seven
    The journey to Scotland was at best an ordeal for Madeline as well as her mother. Madeline could not help but worry about her mother’s pain and discomfort although Maman did not complain. In their well-sprung coach, they took only her mother’s maid, Marie. The driver and footman rode together on top, pistols handy, watching for highwaymen. Informed of the famine that swept Scotland, her mother had seen fit to carry with them sacks of oats and barley and other staple provisions so that their visit would be less of an imposition on their relatives.
    “I would not for the world offend their pride,” her mother explained, “but from what we’ve been told, there’s great need in the country of my birth.”
    Maman also saw fit to have her many valuable jewels carefully sewn into specially made seams in her traveling gown and cloak. An inside pocket in Madeline’s own gown concealed a number of gold coins. Her Maman did not close the London townhouse but kept the servants working there as usual.
    “I will not be returning here,” Maman had explained in a calm voice, “but the house will be yours and it should be in readiness for you if and when you wish it. A woman must always have something of her own if it is possible.
    When I am gone, you will keep my jewels and use them as you see fit. We will not depend on the generosity of Roland for your portion. Even if a woman has a good husband, as I did, it is still advisable that she maintains economic independence. One should never be at the mercy of any man if one can help it, ma petite . I pass this bit of information on to you and hope it will help you make fewer mistakes.”
    Madeline nodded her head solemnly, recalling that her mother had a hard life before she met Papa. It seemed so unfair; now that Maman could live a life of ease, everything was being taken from her. Madeline’s eyes filled with tears.
    “Do not be sad. I will die in peace if I know that you are provided for.”
    “I wish you would not talk of such matters,” she protested.
    Her mother touched her face with thin, trembling fingers. “You are still just a child, and I wish that I could live to see you well married and content, but I fear that is not to be. I must talk of practical matters with you, for I know that you have a wildly romantic spirit; therefore, I must attempt to protect you from what might bring your downfall. Please try to think with your head rather than your heart. I do not wish my child to be hurt.”
    “I will be careful, Maman. You have my word.”
    “That Englishman made me most uneasy,” her mother said.
    Madeline nodded her head mutely, although she could not bring herself to meet Maman’s eyes. What could she say? Maman was right as usual. Gareth Eriksen was so overwhelming that when he kissed her, igniting a passion in her that would not be denied, she could not imagine refusing him anything he might ask of her. He truly was