“Lord Cotereigh.” Madelaine didn’t offer him her hand this time. She’d learnt her lesson. She dropped a small curtsy. “How do you do?”
“Very well, madam.” Did his eyes flicker to her mouth? Searching for that ink? He wouldn’t find it. She’d scrubbed herself almost raw to get rid of it, as demented as Lady Macbeth and laughing brittlely, though surely it was no fair comparison. She wasn’t about to drive a man to madness.
“But if I am interrupting…?” he asked politely.
“Not at all,” she reassured him, equally polite. “Perhaps you know some of these gentlemen.” She turned to them with a smile. “Mr Wilberforce, Mr Hunt, Reverend Moore, may I introduce the Viscount Cotereigh?”
Apparently and unsurprisingly, they didnotknow each other. Mr Wilberforce shook Lord Cotereigh’s hand. The others bowed, the reverend getting hastily to his feet.
It gave her no small sense of satisfaction for Lord Cotereigh to learn that she and her aunt weren’t entirely friendless. Even if he’d never met them, she felt sure he’d heard of Mr Wilberforce, perhaps even Mr Hunt too.
Lord Cotereigh advanced into the room as the other gentlemen left it, Reverend Moore deciding to make himselfone of the departees. She felt an uncharitable pang of relief. The reverend meant well, but having learnt she was a parson’s daughter, seemed to suppose she delighted in talking of little but scripture and obscure theological points. And while it was always refreshing to talk to a man who felt her capable of intelligent conversation, she had to admit the topic was rather dry.
Still. It was probably preferable to whatever Lord Cotereigh had come here to say.
“Please, my lord,” said her aunt, beaming. “Do take a seat! I was ever so sorry to miss you when you called the other day. This tea is cold,” she continued before he could respond, pressing her hand to the pot. “Madelaine, call for some more, will you? And biscuits too. Sandwiches. Can I press you to take a sandwich or two, Lord Cotereigh? My cook cuts them so very neatly.”
“Thank you. I am not hungry.”
Didhe eat? She went to the bell pull and tugged softly on the embroidered sash, finding it hard to imagine. He might get crumbs on his trousers, heaven forbid! Might get crumbs around his mouth. Sticky lips, sticky fingers—
She released the bell pull abruptly, accidentally setting it jangling again, then went to sit down on the sofa by her aunt. Lord Cotereigh had taken the seat opposite, just as before. The large book was on his lap, his right hand atop it, strong fingers with clean, neatly trimmed nails splayed over the reddish brown cover. There were words picked out in gold, but she couldn’t read them from this angle.
“But this is a delight to have you visit again!” her aunt was saying. “I could scarcely believe it when Madelaine said you’d been to call, and for me to miss the honour too! But here you are, so very kindly repeating it. I knew, when Madelaine told me she’d given you one of her pamphlets, that you couldn’t help butbe persuaded to our cause as soon as you’d read it. She writes so very well, doesn’t she?”
Madelaine found herself staring hard at the wall opposite. Unfortunately it happened to be the part where a section of wallpaper had started peeling from the top. Her aunt had been planning to get it fixed for three years.
“Yes, very well,” agreed Lord Cotereigh, blandly polite. But her aunt clapped her hands in delight, Madelaine determining, with great concentration, that she absolutelywouldfind someone to fix the wallpaper this week. Perhaps she could do it herself?
“I knew it! She is such a great asset. My champion, my guiding light! I’d be lost without my Madelaine. And so she has persuaded you, my lord? You are won to our cause? Oh, it would be capital indeed; you don’t need to tell me howyouare revered among all the greatest families in town.”
How did one make wallpaper paste?Madelaine thought furiously. The housekeeper might know.
“You are too kind,” said Lord Cotereigh, and only someone looking for it would have noticed the sarcasm. Madelaine felt it like a cold knife.
So why are you here?Forgetting all about wallpaper, she flashed into indignation on behalf of her aunt, as always happened whenever anyone laughed at her. Madelaine adored her—shewastoo kind. Too kind for this world. Too kind for the scathing, selfish contempt of men like Lord Cotereigh.
He seemed to sense her disquiet, his glance going to her face, an eyebrow condescending to raise itself a minuscule amount at her expression. Quickly she schooled it, smoothing her dress over her lap with a swipe of her hands and looking up, now with a smile.
“It is indeed a great pleasure to see you again, Lord Cotereigh,” she said. “To whatever do we owe the honour?”
It seemed he could hear hidden sarcasm just as well as she. That raised eyebrow lingered, faintly amused.
“I have come to offer my assistance, Mrs Ardingly. Lady Pemberthy.”
“Oh!” her aunt gasped, clasping her hands together in joy. “I knew we must soon meet with success! Thank you, thank you, Lord Cotereigh!”
“I suggest you hear the proposed form my help will take before giving me your gratitude, Lady Pemberthy.” He said it dryly, but, to Madelaine’s surprise, not unkindly. That faint humour still underlay his tone. “It may not be a form of help you wish to accept.”
“Oh, I’m sure any assistance—”
“Let us hear Lord Cotereigh speak, Aunt.”
“Oh, yes, yes! Of course. Forgive me, my lord. Pray, do continue.”
He inclined his head, shifting his hand absently across the cover of the book on his lap before he began. His palm made a faint rasping over the stiff cloth cover.
“I am indeed here to help your cause, but for my own selfish reasons.” He looked up from the book with a smile at their surprised expressions. “I made a wager, you see, that it would be possible for my influence to raise your cause to one of popularity, even fashion. And I don’t intend to lose.”
