Page 85 of A Deal with her Forbidden Duke
“Lady Bastian, if we should all listen to gossip and treat it as the truth, then it seems you are questionable in your own way, as well. Tell me, is it trueyouwere unfaithful to Lord Bastian at the winter ball mere months ago? A musician, was it not?”
Madeleine noticed the blood drain from the woman’s face.
“Young, handsome, particularly interested in an older woman such as yourself. I am sure if it not true, you would not want people believing so,” Madeleine spoke slowly, “Though of course, people would not blame you. Lord Bastian is rather dull, is he not? But I amsureit is not true. It could be merest speculation.”
Lady Bastian’s expression flickered from shock to anger, her lip curling. “Tread carefully,Madeleine. You were not always a duchess.”
“No,” she agreed. “I was not. But I am now, so it isyouwho should tread carefully. I can and will use the power I have to see you ruined. Furthermore, my husband can ruin your poor, unknowing husband. And my friends here can ensure those rumors are proven right, I am sure.”
“You—you!” Lady Bastian cried, stepping back.
Madeleine was aware of the small crowd that had gathered. Among them was Lord Bastian approaching with Alexander and the artist, everybody looking bewildered at what had occurred.
“It is your decision, Lady Bastian. I do not stand to lose anything, for the rumors about me are untrue.” Madeleine’s threat rang clear, unabashed.
She caught Alexander’s gaze for a moment, and the look on his face had heat licking through her. He looked impressed, as if her straight spine and lifted chin ignited something in him.
Lady Bastian stepped back further before curtseying. “Enjoy the exhibit, Your Grace.”
Hurriedly, she left, disappearing into the crowd, followed by Lord Bastian.
“Nicely handled,” Tessa told Madeleine.
“Truth be told, my hands are trembling,” Madeleine confessed, laughing at her own foolishness. “She is a wretched woman.”
Before she could say anything further, a shadow fell over her.
“Duchess.”
Madeleine lifted her gaze to find her husband looking down at her. “I would like to show you a painting.”
He looked at Colin and Tessa, nodding in greeting and farewell in one.
“Of course,” Madeleine told him, her voice quiet.
He began to pull her away, past the thick of the crowd.
Perhaps he would dislike her making such a spectacle of herself. Perhaps he would rebuke her. Perhaps he was proud but also?—
“There is a side room off to the right of the next gallery room,” he told her in a low voice in her ear. “You are going to go in there, and I will be behind you swiftly, but I wish to find you on your knees, Duchess.”
“I—”
“Do you agree to this arrangement?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her stomach curling at the thrill of his desire deepening his voice in his commands.
“Good.”
He nudged her ahead and Madeleine took no time at all to cross into the next gallery room, hearing his striding steps behind her.
There was a small wooden door to the right side as Alexander had promised. She slipped through it, not daring to glance around her.
Once inside, she hovered, counting her own pounding heartbeats. She paced, her back to the door.
It looked as though it was some sort of study, a large painting above the mantlepiece, and a desk adjacent to it. A chair faced away from the window, looking into the room.
Madeleine eventually leaned against the desk.
