“Who is that woman?” Madeline asked, frowning.
She felt a strange sort of buzzing along her skin when the duke glanced at her. What a strange sensation.
“That is my mother,” Tristan responded at last. “The Dowager Duchess of Tolford, Dorothea Lovell.”
“I remember the duchess,” Papa spoke up abruptly. “I remember when she came out all of those years ago. What a fine woman she was; everybody said so. She had great dignity.”
Dignity?Madeline thought, frowning.What a curious word to use.
She was vaguely aware of the duke stiffening, pressing his lips together in a tight, thin line.
“Quite,” he responded in a brusque voice, which indicated that the subject was closed.
The carriage reached a round courtyard in front of the house, and a pair of footmen bustled down the steps to open up the doors. Madeline climbed down first, blinking in the light and trying to surreptitiously stretch out her legs. Long journeys were awful, and she felt as though she had spent entirely too long in the confined space of a carriage.
The dowager duchess blinked at her curiously and came scuttling down the steps toward her. It was odd seeing such a tall, distinguished-looking woman creep around like a nervous debutante.
“Forgive me, I didn’t know that we were expecting guests,” the dowager quavered. “Tristan told me that he was bringing back poor Anthony’s son, and I hurried here at once.”
“Ihavebrought guests, Mother,” Tristan responded, climbing nimbly down and extending his arms to take the baby. Cradling the still-sleeping Adam in the crook of his arm, he reached out to help Papa down.
Madeline offered a wan smile to the dowager, trying to swallow down the familiar surge of nerves.
I hate meeting new people.
She couldn’t quite understand why her encounter with the duke hadn’t inspired such fear. Was it because she was too wretchedly angry at the fellow? Perhaps.
“This is Lady Madeline Huxley, and this is her father, Lord Beaufort,” the duke added.
The dowager broke into what seemed to be a genuine smile.
“What a pleasure to meet you! My poor Tristan doesn’t host very often here. It’s a terrible pity. Oh, and Tristan, before I forget, I must tell you that your friend, Isaac, has come to visit. I left him in your study.”
The duke grunted. “I’ll see him directly. Oh, by the way, Mother, Lady Madeline, and I are engaged.”
There was a long, taut silence after this.
“What?” the dowager managed, eyes turning wide and round. “Engaged? Oh, Tristan…”
“Your Grace,” Madeline burst out quickly, a flare of unease starting up in her gut. “I should like to tell Charlotte the news myself.”
I’d rather explain to her that there’ll be no marriage, so that she can understand the full scope of what is happening.
“As you like,” the duke shrugged. He seemed to be avoiding her eyes.
“Yes, but if you tell her husband, she’ll hear by the end of the day,” Madeline tried to explain. “So, I should be obliged if you wouldn’t tell the Duke of Arkley just yet.”
“Tell me what?” the man in question said, from somewhere behind them. Madeline gave a squeak of alarm and spun around, eyes widening.
Sure enough, there stood Isaac Cecil, the Duke of Arkley, with an expression of suspicious curiosity on his face.
Oh, dear,Madeline thought miserably.
“Very well,” she muttered to Tristan under her breath. “You will have to tell him now. I suppose we might as well get it over with.”
Tristan gave a short nod and turned to his friend. He gave a sweet, wide smile.
“Isaac, my friend, I have wonderful news.”
