Madelaine gave Lady Frances an uncertain look, feeling the need for backup. But that lady was watching Lord Cotereighin narrow-eyed amusement, seemingly fully cognisant of his intentions, even if she didn’t quite approve.
“Excuse me.”
The voice came from just behind Madelaine’s shoulder. She turned and found herself face to face with the duke’s companion again—a very petite, slender woman, her hair cropped stylishly short.
“How rude of me to interrupt,” apologised the woman with an engaging smile, “but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation about schools. It’s something of an interest of mine—I’m attempting to set up one of my own, you see.” She smiled to herself, wrinkling her nose in self-approbation. “But I have forgotten to introduce myself.” She held out a very small hand. “I am, ah, the Duchess of Cumbria.”
The slight hesitation made it sound like she didn’t quite believe it. And now the man at her side—the duke—turned and smiled down at her, the smile mostly in his eyes.
They were husband and wife? From her first quick glance at the group, she’d assumed the beautiful fair-haired lady with them would be the duchess. But now Madelaine noted how that lady had a hand on the arm of an energetic-looking young man in a military red coat. All four of the party were looking at her.
She dipped her head and curtsied. “Your Grace.”
“Oh, and this is my husband, Cumbria, and my brother, Captain Littleton, and his wife, Mrs Littleton. You are Mrs Ardingly? Did I hear that correctly?”
“Yes. Very pleased to meet you.” She introduced Lady Frances, her mother, and Lord Cotereigh.
Lord Cotereigh began a conversation with the duke, which Lady Frances and her mother attached themselves to. It left Madelaine and the duchess free to converse. Her brother and his wife also joined in, though it was the animated little duchess who led the way, describing her vision of a language school forwomen with such fervent, bright-eyed enthusiasm Madelaine was half ready to ditch her own cause and sign up. It was a little awkward to admit that her own involvement with educational establishments was somewhat limited, though she had several useful contacts she promised to forward to the duchess.
“My own interest in education is rather broad. It is more the manner in which children are treated in general that concerns me.”
She wished she had a glass of champagne inside her. How unbearable if the duchess or her companions laughed at her like so many others had done before. But what a boon it would be to bring the duchess to her cause—a duchess as patron!
“The way they are taught?” The duchess nodded eagerly. “Indeed, I have read Maria Edgeworth’s book on the subject.”
Madelaine only just stopped herself squeakingYou have?It wouldn’t do to question a duchess. Or appear too relieved, too desperate.
“Isn’t it a fascinating study?” she said instead. “And its central tenets are some which underpin my own beliefs. A rational, scientific approach is necessary. We must look at the evidence, not outmoded traditions. But even more important is Miss Edgeworth’s emphasis on how early childhood experiences shape the adult. It is that experience, that treatment of children…”
She was losing her nerve, rattling around the edges of her subject. She took a breath.
“In short, I believe physical punishment of children must be stopped, and not only because of its inherent cruelty, but because it harms far more than their flesh. It stunts the growth of their hearts and creates bitter resentment and distrust where there ought to be loving connection.”
The duchess’s grey eyes had grown wide, but she nodded, more thoughtful than shocked.
“Yes. I suppose it very well might.” She looked at her brother. “My brother and I never went away to school. Our parents taught us. And they never once raised a hand against us. It is a small sample, but it goes to show an educationcanbe delivered without such means.”
“How anyone could ever strike a child is beyond me,” said Mrs Littleton, a red flame kindling on her porcelain cheeks. She looked remarkably furious for such an angel. “I am quite in agreement with you, Mrs Ardingly.”
Relief washed through Madelaine, more pleasant than any glass of champagne.
They spoke on the subject for several moments more, and it was only when the duke broke in to murmur a word to his wife that Madelaine looked around, realising the band had just struck their warning chord. The first dance was about to begin—and Lord Cotereigh was leading Lady Frances away to the ballroom.
If her relief had been the delicious warmth of champagne, now she felt a sudden swamping of cold water. But that was ridiculous. He’d said he would dance with her, and so she supposed he would. It was absurd to expect it to be thefirstdance.
She rearranged the bracelets on her wrist, turning back to her new acquaintance with a fixed smile, but that group was breaking up too.
“You promised, Hessie,” Captain Littleton was saying to his sister.
“As if it’s a chore!”
“My wife, you see,” the Duke of Cumbria said to Madelaine with a smile, “has forsaken me to stand up with her brother instead.”
“You know how I love to dance,” protested the captain.
“And I’m in no fit state,” Mrs Littleton confided for Madelaine’s benefit, a shy hand going to her stomach.
“Yes, and you’ve been standing up far too long already.” Her husband scanned the room. “Look, there are your sisters. I’ll deposit you in their care.” He grinned. “Don’t hate me for it.”
