“It is always such a crush at the Allingham’s,” Lady Frances leant in to say. “They like it like that, think it makes them look popular. But”—her sweet smile was very sly—“it means they invite almostanyone.”
Like Madelaine, of course. She could hardly miss the insult when it was so directly made.
Fortunately there was no need to reply. They had almost reached the sanctified presence of their illustrious hosts. Madelaine heard the people ahead of them be announced and bit back a laugh.
“His Grace, the Duke of Cumbria; Her Grace, the Duchess of Cumbria…”
Oh, yes, clearly justanyonewas here tonight.
Their own names were called, several heads turning as Lady Frances was announced. She met the looks of greeting with a dazzling smile, her eyes alight, her pretty face as bright and hungry as…well, as a well-trained dog eager to be let off the leash and start its self-important work.
But Madelaine quashed her amusement. It was hardly fair. Lady Frances lived for this life, and was good at it, and thrived. It was mean-spirited to begrudge skill, no matter how it was applied.
And it was just as well that she had schooled her expression. The gazes that turned Lady Frances’s way then shifted to her, curious, assessing. Lady Frances saw the interest and clasped Madelaine’s elbow to her side, more than ready to fan the mildest attention into intrigue, so long as she could be at the centre of it.
They went forth together, each of them to wrest what they could from public opinion. And if every tall, dark-haired man made Madelaine’s heart hitch, it was only natural. She and Lord Cotereigh had parted on bad terms, with much embarrassingly heated action on her side and a whiff of unapologetic impropriety on his.
Yes, she was a widow. It did not mean he ought to close the door, or take her wrist, or stand so close. He was the only man in the world who could smirk with the whole of his marble-cut jaw. He had no right to do any of it.
“Mrs Ardingly. Lady Frances.”
She jumped at the sound of Lord Cotereigh’s voice. Stupidly she spun to face him, meaning her blush was in full force when she met his eyes. There. There was that very same smirk.
He bowed to them both, exquisite in his dark evening dress. He might well have been expressly designed to wear it. Black and white. His very colours.
“You look in good spirits, Lord Cotereigh,” said Lady Frances with a quizzing smile.
“Because I find you looking so well, Lady Frances. And you too, Mrs Ardingly. I trust you are quite recovered from last night’s indisposition?”
What a ridiculous game to play. But she was determined to play it as well as he did. If Lord Cotereigh could bathe a lice-ridden child, she could perform society manners.
“Perfectly recovered, I thank you.” Her gracious smile was a mask, wiping away all traces of her blush.
He entered into some polite greeting with Lady Frances’s mother. Attempting to find other places to put her attention, Madelaine looked around. It was hard to see far due to the crush of people. Her attention snagged on the back of a tall man nearby. It might have been the very duke they’d followed into the house.
She gave a start at Lady Frances’s voice. “Cote, do tell me, I heard you discovered some poor street urchin in a dreadful state. How is the boy?”
Whatever tactic Lord Cotereigh had used to secure Lady Frances’s cooperation tonight, she seemed determined to punish him a little for it. She met the twitch of his frown with a smile, her fair head tilted in innocent curiosity.
“Doing well, so the doctor informs me,” replied Lord Cotereigh.
“Did you really take him to your house? What a very grand gesture! I’m sure I don’t know what your servants could have thought.”
Lord Cotereigh glanced around then, seeing some people attempting to squeeze past behind them, ushered them allseveral steps back until they were as close to their neighbours as politeness allowed. Which was very close indeed, given the crush. Madelaine winced at finding herself almost shoulder to shoulder with the tall duke.
“A servant’s life is so very boring without a little novelty, don’t you think?” Lord Cotereigh said to Lady Frances, his smile sportive, no trace of irritation left.
“But whatever do you mean to do with the creature now you have him?”
“I thought to ask Mrs Ardingly’s advice on that. She’s an expert at providing support to the poor. Mrs Ardingly knows a great deal about workhouses and charity schools and all sorts of benevolent societies.” He met her startled look. “Isn’t that right?”
She stared at him. He’d been the one to warn her not to talk of charity tonight, and now he was forcing her onto the topic. And so very loudly too! Several people had turned to look.
“If there’s anyone who knows how best to help this boy, it must be you, Mrs Ardingly,” he went on.
His dark eyes held hers, that silvery glint of amusement in them. Minutely, he gave the slightest nod over her shoulder. She turned and met the interested gaze of a young woman who appeared to be with the tall duke. The woman gave a small smile, one that apologised for being caught eavesdropping, before turning back to her companion’s conversation.
“Surely,” Lord Cotereigh continued, his voice now at the level of someone talking to an elderly, hard-of-hearing relative, “you must know of some benevolent education societies or some such thing, Mrs Ardingly. I know how strongly you believe in the education of young people otherwise denied such benefits due to poverty or circumstance or even their sex.”
