“No.”
“That poor man… Seeing his poor health…understanding exactly the loss he suffered…my heart breaks for him.”
“He has his son. He has something living of his wife.”
If her aunt heard the sharpness in those words, she didn’t show it but sighed, a happy sort of sadness.
“Yes, and what a comfort that must be. And the son so very kind, so very good to us. I wasn’t sure at first…he seemed a mightily haughty sort of fellow, as stiff-necked as any Thorne has ever been. But when you think of everything he’s done for us, and for Tom—the pains he’s taken for that poor boy—you cannot but believe he has a good heart, for all that he’s a little…commanding.” Her aunt toyed with her skirt. “Some people quite like that though. That authoritative air can be quite becoming in a gentleman.”
Torches lit the street, laid out to light the way for all those arriving at the ball. They showed quite clearly how her aunt peeked up, girlish and curious and hopeful—and guilty with it.
Madelaine forced the embarrassment from her voice. She was entirely calm. Entirely.
“Lord Cotereigh is as conscious of any potential mésalliance as any Thorne could ever be.”
Her aunt’s eager look fell away. She sighed, disappointed, and frowned out at the street.
“That’s exactly what I feared. I’m sorry, my love.”
“You have no reason to be sorry for me, I assure you.”
Her aunt only nodded, saying nothing, meaning much.
Madelaine followed the steady stream of guests, walking up the steps to Cumbria House arm in arm with her aunt, who was trembling with nerves. Madelaine gave her arm a reassuringsqueeze, though her own heart was shooting about like a bee in a bottle.
Elegant little gas lanterns lit their way, illuminating stone urns of cut flowers and greenery. The steps ahead were a satin and silk blur of the guests preceding them. A faint breeze stirred feathers and lifted ringlets from hot, nervous necks, bringing the scents of starch and perfume and smoke from the torches in the street.
Their host and hostess—the duke and duchess—would be waiting to greet them in the hallway. And with them would be a representative from the new society’s committee. Neither Madelaine nor her aunt would be there, fronting the society.Theywere not on the board. They were neither important nor popular. And even worse, they were women.
No, the task of being the society’s face had fallen on poor shy Lord Pembroke—one of the many trials and tribulations of being a marquess and the highest ranked member of the committee board.
But when she drew level with their hosts, another man stood by the marquess.
Lord Cotereigh.
He met her surprise with a laughing look. She barely knew what reply she gave the duchess before she completed her curtsy and was standing before him.
“Won’t you give me your hand?” he murmured, eyes still laughing.
“But…” She was both stupefied and stupid. “Why are…”
He gave a small bow. “My very first duty as the newest committee member.”
“You?You’rethe tenth man?”
“It counts, don’t worry. Handley was in a spitting rage, but he couldn’t exactly dispute that I am a man, I’m on the committee, and I’m there by my own hand.”
She didn’t know what to say. What to think. The queue was waiting behind her, poor Lord Pembroke looking her way, a rigid smile on his face. She pressed his hand, forgot to press Lord Cotereigh’s, and moved on, walking into the ballroom in a daze.
It didn’t help that there were candles everywhere. People everywhere. Mirrors and gilding and white marble. The noise and the crush was appalling, even worse than the Allinghams’.
Everyonewas here. Lord Cotereigh truly had won. Ten men on the committee, and what surer sign was there of a ball’s success than being scarcely able to breathe or think?
“Champagne.” She took her aunt’s arm again and towed her in a hopeful direction, making no reply to her aunt’s comments on how surprised she was, how pleased she was, how good of Lord Cotereigh, and how like him to astonish them all.
Astonishing, yes. More astonishing if he meant it. If he was still there six months after his wager had been won, or a year, or three, still reading statistical reports and parliamentary bills and drafting letters and dealing with accounts and actually being helpful.
But of course he wouldn’t be. This was all a joke to him. He’dlaughedat the shock on her face.
