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Her husband had his heirs and was apparently content to allow his wife her pleasures providing she did not interfere with his; he’d married her for the fortune she brought him.
    Hallam’s mouth curled at the notion of such an arrangement, though he knew that several of his friends had married either for money or land and were seemingly content in similar marriages. It would not do for Hallam. He would not have taken up with the obliging Lady Meadows had she not made it clear she was interested in an arrangement. In truth, it had brought him only physical relief, for his heart belonged to one woman—a woman he could never have.
    What had Madeline done to him that he could not be interested in any other woman? Bitterness swept through him, because he wanted neither a marriage of convenience nor the caresses of a mistress. Even in the lady’s bed, he’d known a sick longing for the woman he could never have.
    His frown increased as he watched Adam and Jenny walk arm in arm from the church, the happy smiles on their faces telling of their pleasure in each other. Why could he not find a woman to love so completely that she swept the memory of Madeline from his mind? Miss Carstairs would make someone a delightful wife, but not him. He was a man haunted by the past, unable to forget the torment that had begun when Madeline broke his heart.
    Could a man ever put the past behind him so completely that his heart was no longer shadowed by an old love? For him it seemed impossible. He gave himself a mental shake.
    He must forget his own problems. Hallam had duties as Adam’s groomsman and he pushed the worrying thoughts away, smiling as he looked about him at the guests. He must make certain that everyone had a carriage to convey them to the house, where the reception was being held.
    As they left church, Adam and Jenny were showered with rose petals and rice, the guests laughing and cheering as the happy couple ran for their carriage. Hallam stood outside the church, greeting people and overseeing the carriages as they lined up to collect their passengers. Suddenly, his breath caught as he saw a woman in a pale-blue silk gown. She wore a lace fichu at her throat and carried a fine, lacy wool stole over her arms, a long ringlet of fair hair resting on one shoulder.
    Obviously the wife of a rich man, her clothes and jewels of the finest money could buy, Maddie looked beautiful but cold. A proud beauty, heartless and carved of ice. Hallam’s heart felt as if someone had thrust a dagger into it.
    She had noticed him. He saw her green eyes gleam suddenly and for one moment she seemed to come to life, the colour washing into her cheeks, but in the next she had turned to the man next to her and they moved away to their carriage. He watched as she was assisted inside the splendid equipage, but she did not turn her head to glance at him, though he knew that she had seen him.
    She had deliberately drawn her husband away so that she did not need to acknowledge him. Hallam felt the knife twist inside him. Had she become indifferent to him? He’d thought not when they met at the ball, but now he was unsure. She had deliberately avoided speaking to him at the supper party. He was the fool for carrying a torch—a memory that was sacred to him was less than nothing to her. She probably found it amusing.
    Recalling himself to the task of making sure the guests were all on their way to the house, Hallam finally settled into the last carriage with some of the other ushers. He had by this time steeled himself for the inevitable meeting with Madeline. She would be at the reception and he would find a way of speaking to her. He wanted to know that she was well and happy and then he would forget her.
    Yes, he truly would, he vowed. If Madeline told him that she was content in her life, he would make up his mind to find a good-humoured lady who would be happy with a home and children—perhaps a widow who had memories of her own and would not expect