“Not yet. I am due to attend the Broadstairs ball tonight. You never know, I might find her there.” Inexplicably, an image of Maddie encroached on his thoughts.
“Take care. Choose the right woman and marriage really is bliss. The wrong one and it’s hell on earth.”
Hart grimaced. “I shall be very circumspect in my choice of bride.”
Tate raised a dark eyebrow, his green eyes serious. “Might be wiser to choose with your heart.”
“As you did.” Hart knew what a difficult road Tate had traveled to marry his childhood sweetheart.
“I wish you the same good fortune, Hart,” Tate said.
“Thank you, my friend.”
Love was all very well and good, but Hart didn’t have the luxury of time and must choose with his head and hope his heart got involved. As he’d never fallen in love, he wasn’t confident.
A few hours later, in a Mayfield mansion a few streets from his own, Her Grace, Georgina, Duchess of Broadstairs, greeted Hart at the door of the festooned ballroom. Statuary, columns, urns of flowers, and orange trees decorated every available spot. Well-dressed guests filled the long, elegant room, moving about the fringes or forming a square for the cotillion. Candle smoke drifted in the overly perfumed air.
“You have been a stranger in London as of late, Montford,” the dark-haired duchess, dressed in gold satin, said teasingly. “Broadstairs and I thought perhaps a lady had taken you away from us.”
“Unfortunately, no, Your Grace. Matters pertaining to my country estate,” Hart said. “And as I must soon return there, I welcome such delightful company.”
“You shall find it here tonight.” She pointed her fan at no one in particular. The gesture was enough to draw Hart’s eye to an attractive brown-haired lady. Aware of his gaze, she slowly raised her fan to her face with her left hand. Over the top of the painted sticks, her smiling eyes met his. If Hart read her message correctly, she desired his acquaintance. He nodded and smiled.
“Now who has caught your attention?” With an innocent expression, Georgina followed his gaze. “Mrs. Vivian Spencer is delightful company. Lost her husband to the sea two years ago. Spencer was Vice Admiral. No children from the marriage,” she said, giving him a potted history of the lady. “Come, I shall introduce you.”
After she presented him, Georgina excused herself and slipped away.
Mrs. Spencer’s vivid blue eyes surveyed him as if she approved of what she saw, and he certainly approved of her. Diminutive and stylish, she seemed much at ease within society.
The waltz was announced, and Hart promptly invited her to dance before another gentleman with the same aim claimed her.
In his arms, she smiled up at him as he swept her around the floor.
“I have not seen you about in London this Season, Lord Montford.”
“I’ve been away. Matters with my estate.”
“How distressing for you to be trapped in the country. It’s bad enough that we must stay among the rustics during the hot months. I hope you are done with it.”
“Not quite, I’m afraid.”
“You are not about to vanish for the rest of the Season, are you?” she asked, tilting her head.
He smiled, finding her charming. “I shall hurry back.”
They spoke of mutual acquaintances, and when the dance ended, he escorted her to her friends. Hart stayed in her company for another half hour, and after securing a promise from her for the supper dance, excused himself to speak to the earl, Dominic Thorne, and his wife, Olivia, who seldom came to town. It was good to see them here tonight.
Another example of a successful marriage, Hart thought. It had been just as difficult for Dom to marry the girl he loved as it was for Tate. Perhaps the true test of a man’s love was the struggle he faced before he could call his beloved his own. He wished the path he took could lead to love, but he had to be brutally honest. Unless the love of his life appeared under his very nose, it seemed unlikely.
At the announcement of the supper dance, Hart made his way to Mrs. Spencer. A witty woman with an attractive laugh, she proved good company. While they ate supper, she inquired if he planned to attend the Browns’ card party on Friday. He hadn’t intended to go, but he agreed to see her there. When he headed home in the early hours, he considered the evening a success, which had, temporarily at least, pushed the worry about the bank from his mind.
*
Hart had persistentlylingered in Maddie’s mind all day. She spent her time indoors avoiding her uncle, pretending to be the woman he wished, reading, although the words seemed difficult to absorb; embroidering, which she disliked; and sketching, which she did. None of it was enough to make her sleepy when she retired, her mind still busy. In her nightgown, she stood at the window, gazing out at the sky. It had rained earlier, but had cleared away, and a slice of moon threw light and shadow over the garden. Movement on the path through the gardens alerted her. Her uncle’s three guests were back.
Curious, she slipped into her dressing gown. She had to know if her uncle told the truth about their card games. She quietly opened her door and crept along the corridor to the top of the stairs.
The front door opened, and the men’s excited voices rose, subdued at once by a curt response from her uncle but still loud enough for her to pick up a word or two. Something about a successful venture. What would that be? She stepped down another tread to hear more as they filed into the drawing room. The boards creaked. Maddie jumped back. How foolish, she knew every loose board on the stairs. She’d been too eager to listen to remember it.
