The Prisoners of Wyvern Castle

Madeline discovers something about her new husband

As soon as he said the last words of the blessing, the fat priest stepped toward them, a broad smile on his face. "May I be the first to congratulate you, my lord and my lady?"

The man to whom Madeline had just been joined ignored the outstretched hands and whirled around to advance on Lady Wyvern, who stood as he approached.

"Very well. I have done what you demanded. Where is she?"

"Penworth, your manners," Lady Wyvern scolded, but the Earl of Penworth ignored her tone and spoke over the rest of her complaint.

"You promised to return her if I married Graviton's sister. We are wed. I want her back, Lady Wyvern, and I want her now."

Madeline was trying to make sense of it all. The earl had been forced to this marriage as well? By a threat? But to whom? Surely not... not his mistress?

She stole a look at her half-brother, Sir James Graviton, who was openly amused. "Send the boy back to his rooms, Louisa, and my sister with him. His treasure is there, is it not? Oh, do not fret, vicar. You will get your fee and your portion of the wedding breakfast."

The earl fastened on the bit of news about his treasure. "My lady is in the tower?" He headed for the door, but walked straight into the chair in which Lady Wyvern had been sitting, sending it careening across the stone floor, and himself stumbling, arms outstretched to catch himself, until he tripped over another chair and fell heavily.

"Wait until someone can lead you, fool," Lady Wyvern said, impatiently.

Graviton laughed out loud. "Mad, see to your husband," he advised. Madeline ignored the hated nickname, but obeyed the command, kneeling beside the young man stretched out on the floor.

"Are you hurt, my lord?"

"Winded, a little." The earl frowned, a drawing together of heavy brows over his clear, pale eyes. The frown didn't detract from the youthfulness of his face. She was no judge, but she thought him her own age, perhaps younger. She stood and offered her hand to help him rise, but he looked straight past her, as if she were not there.

Graviton was chortling again. "You did not tell her, did you?" Lady Wyvern asked.

"And spoil the joke?" Graviton replied.

Madeline ignored them. "Can I help you up, my lord?"

The earl held out his hand, and Madeline reached for it. Even through her gloves and his, she could feel the strength in his hand, and he made no allowance for the difference in their sizes, so she had to lean back against the weight of him as he pulled himself up. He was tall, this new husband of hers, who couldn't wait to abandon her at the altar. Tall, lean, and handsome. But very young.

"Thank you, Miss, ah, Countess. What is your name again? I am sorry. I was not listening."

Madeline had been listening. He was Rupert Frederick George Arthur John Fleming, 7th Earl of Penworth and Viscount Clearwater.

"Madeline," said Graviton, helpfully. "The family calls her Mad."

Graviton called her Mad. Papa had called her Linnie, and she had been Miss Graviton to the rest of the world. No more. Mother was dead and Miss Graviton was gone, too, wiped out by a few words and her signature on the marriage register.

"Madeline," the earl said, and smiled. It was a kind smile, but still he did not look at her.

"Enough entertainment." Lady Wyvern strode to the door and opened it. "See them to the tower," she commanded the waiting servants. "Penworth, you will find your 'lady' unharmed. But you will do your duty or suffer the consequences."

She swept from the room, the priest on her heels and a grinning Graviton sauntering behind.

The servant who came into the room took the earl by the arm. "This way, my lord." He began to lead the young nobleman towards the door, saying over his shoulder to Madeline, "If you will just follow, my lady, I will show you the way."

Two footmen fell in behind as the servant escorted the earl along the hall. "We're coming to the first corner, my lord," he said, and then, "and in a few steps we'll be on that little flight of stairs."

At the steps, the earl felt ahead with his foot, then mounted the stairs confidently as the footman counted, "one and two and three and four. And now, a straight walk to the next turn, my lord."

All of a sudden, Madeline realised why the earl had not looked at her. Curse Graviton. How was it funny not to tell her the man to whom she had been wed was blind?