Madelina had no notion of what they spoke. Nor did she care. The way this Mister Mclintock approached them, the way he looked at her, evoked the oddest desire to hide. She stepped closer to William.
“William,” Lanora hissed, her voice lower still, “should we really let Madelina meet him?”
“Jasper is an old friend of mine,” William said.
Miss Birkchester sniffed. “We all know what sort of friends you used to keep.”
Annoyance roiled from her brother’s frame. She recalled his earlier intimation that Miss Birkchester living with them didn’t exactly suit him.
“Mister Mclintock is also one of my current friends,” William said out of the side of his mouth. He stepped forward and bowed to the younger man, which drew Mister Mclintock’s attention away from Madelina. “Mclintock, good to see you. Lanora, this is Mister Mclintock.”
“Greydrake.” Mister Mclintock returned the bow before proffering one to Lanora. “My lady.”
Lanora inclined her head.
“I know this is a social occasion, Greydrake,” Mister Mclintock continued, his attention now fixed on Madelina’s brother, “but have you given any additional thought to that contribution I suggested to my charity? I know what I asked for might sound a bit exorbitant, but—”
“Charity?” Lanora interrupted, her tone touched with surprise.
Disappointment shot through Madelina. She’d been certain Mister Mclintock had intended to request a dance with her, but he hadn’t permitted William the chance to introduce her. Not that she wished to dance with the tall, athletic looking, poorly mannered gentleman. She’d no desire to become trapped in his strange amber eyes, or watch the candlelight play off his unruly golden locks. He would prove a distraction to her goal in coming to London, to put her training to use.
Mister Mclintock turned a polite smile to Lanora. “Yes, my lady. I’m afraid I’ve come begging. Not only for money, but also for support when a certain matter goes before the Lords.”
“And you shall have both,” William said.
“He shall?” Lanora queried, a deep line marring her brow.
William, too, turned to Lanora. The tall gentlemen, angled away from Madelina as they now were, almost closed Madelina out of the group. Fortunately, she could see over their broad shoulders.
“Yes,” William’s voice held a trace of amusement. “Mister Mclintock is the one endeavoring to convince the House of Lords to create a special branch of the watch to monitor the most trafficked carriage inns. The posting inns as well, for his cause isn’t an atrocity that only befalls the wealthy. He’d like to see a decrease in—” William glanced over his shoulder at Madelina. “In a certain type of crime. He’s also begun a refuge for those already affected.”
Madelina kept her expression blank, though interest surged through her. She’d bet her left index finger that they spoke of women being snatched from the streets and forced into lives of debauched servitude. The exact sort of thing her aunt had brought her to London to combat. She furtively studied Mister Mclintock’s profile. This man, whom so many at the ball chose to avoid, sought to combat that trouble?
“That was your notion?” Lanora said with considerably more warmth. “William has mentioned the cause. Yes, of course, we wish to contribute. If only I’d been more aware of the problem, I should have helped sooner.”
“I seem to recall telling you, when first we came here, that it’s one of the dangers of London,” Miss Birkchester said, obviously not caring that manners forbid her entering a conversation that included a man to whom she hadn’t been introduced.
Madelina wished she could be so brash, but she and Aunt Aubrey had agreed that Madelina would attract the least amount of attention, and therefore complication, by portraying a bashful young miss. Deprived of speaking, she studied Mister Mclintock and sought to reconcile his poor manners and unsettling gaze with a man who would organize the protection of the innocent.
“I’m glad you approve, my lady”—Mister Mclintock turned to Miss Birkchester—“and that you understand how dire the trouble is, Miss….” He trailed off and turned a questioning look on William.
Madelina’s brother smiled. “Where are my manners? Mister Mclintock, this is Miss Birkchester.”
“How do you do?” Mister Mclintock asked, bowing.
Miss Birkchester’s answering smile displayed her beguiling dimples. “Rather well, thank you.”
Why Miss Birkchester must make herself so appealing when she didn’t seem to care for the gentleman, Madelina had no idea, but her behavior rankled.
Mister Mclintock turned, reopening the circle to Madelina.
“And this is my sister, Lady Madelina,” William continued.
Mister Mclintock leveled those amber eyes on her. “My lady,” he murmured.
His bow reminded Madelina to curtsy. “Sir.”
“Will you both dance tonight?”
