of the countless eyes upon him. “Have your man draw up the necessary papers. I’ll sign them immediately upon my return, then send them posthaste to your estate. We’ll be in business together by the next harvest.”
When de Picassaret didn’t say anything, he added, “Does that suit you, sir?
“Of course.” He hesitated. “This woman, Madeleine, must be important for someone like you to drop everything in such a manner.”
“No one you need concern yourself about.” He turned to Coster. “I will deal with you upon my return,” he told the gentle giant. “For now, saddle my horse. I ride to London.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Garrett cursed, loud and long, the entire ride to London, disregarding those he passed. He knew they thought him mad but he didn’t care. Madeleine had driven him to the point of insanity.
Why had she left?
Had her guilt over the consummation of their love driven her from his arms and into God’s? She had told him she planned to enter a convent. Was there one within the walls of London in which she could hide from him? And what of her family? Did Peter and her parents really exist or were they more of her fanciful tales? How could he have fallen in love with someone who lied as easily as birds flew or ducks swam? Why could he not let her go and simply get on with his life?
Because he had no life before they’d met. A pleasant existence had been destroyed by his runaway wife. That part of his life was still unresolved. Now he chased after yet another woman who had deserted him.
As surely as the sun would rise, Madeleine was his ray of hope. Garrett ached inside with the knowledge that he had no future if she did not share it with him. He needed Madeleine as much as he needed the air he breathed. He craved her, all of her—her humor and intelligence, her warmth and kindness, her willowy body and its hidden curves of pleasure. He would seek her out to the ends of the earth, kiss her into submission, and then drag her home to Stanbury.
He pictured the scars on her legs and back and wondered if her flight had some connection with the abuse she had suffered. He’d not said a word to her about them after they’d made love. He doubted she had any idea he knew just how terribly she’d been scarred. No, when he found her he’d smother her with love before he demanded answers. The truth, this time.
London’s massive gates were sealed when he reached them. He rode up, a solitary figure in the still morn. He cursed his luck, knowing he would be denied entrance until sunrise. He dismounted Ebony and paced back and forth, his breath visible in the damp night air.
He’d taken a huge risk by coming to London but his gut told him Madeleine mislead Coster as to her final destination, knowing the serf would eventually pass along the information to Garrett. It was a flimsy excuse. He doubted Madeleine even had a mother, much less one as close as Sussex.
He looked to the great city rising before him and his heart told him the woman he loved was somewhere within those walls. He would find her, his French beauty. As he’d ridden, it became clear to him. Her gestures were typical of the French. Even her very name was French. She could even be related to the same Bouchards at Chateau Branais. He would begin at the waterfront and see which ships were headed to France.
As he waited, he continued to pace, searching his memory for any clues within his grasp. All had seemed well until the arrival of Henri de Picassaret.
Garrett halted in his tracks. Was that the connection? De Picassaret was French. Did the nobleman know Madeleine? Or her abuser? Garrett tried to recall if Madeleine had reacted oddly in any way once he’d told her de Picassaret was to visit Stanbury. He had been so enamored with her and the time they’d spent in his bed that he remembered little else.
She had fled when the Frenchman arrived, making Garrett believe there was some connection. If only he’d thought to quiz de Picassaret more thoroughly before he stormed away from Stanbury. The vineyard owner must think him mad.
He remembered the nobleman had indicated he would make his way to London upon leaving Stanbury, as he was ready to return to his home. It could be worth his while to locate