“Of course,” Diane said. “What shall we do, my dear? Do you play the pianoforte and sing?”
“I do,” Madeline said. “But I confess to being a trifle rusty. My uncle does not have a pianoforte.”
“Shall I play then while you sing?”
“That would be preferable,” Madeline said with obvious relief.
They rose together and went to the pianoforte while Hart led her uncle to the group of chairs nearer the long windows overlooking the terrace. He would have much preferred to remain to appreciate the music, but could not suggest it now. He seated himself where he had a clear view of them. Madeline and his sister agreed on a piece and Madeline stood, slim and elegant, her hand resting on the piano. Soon her soprano voice rose sweetly in the room in a country song.
“Your niece sings well with delightful expression,” Hart said.
“Years of practice. She was much indulged by the earl and countess.”
Hart had been right. Wakeham’s voice lacked any fondness for his niece.
“Surely being gifted with loving parents hurts no one.” Hart struggled not to protest at the man’s unfair condemnation. Hart barely knew Madeline, but found nothing spoiled about her. It became increasingly apparent her life had taken a starkly tragic turn since becoming an orphan and the ward of this man. “Hasn’t Lady Madeline yet made her debut?” he asked, aware he was rudely inquisitive but now quite happy to forget his manners.
As expected, Wakeham looked affronted. “Madeline is barely out of mourning and still very distressed. Her come-out must wait until the following year.”
Hart could say nothing to this, although he disagreed. He suspected it suited Wakeham to keep her here. But why? It wasn’t because he was fond of her. It pointed to a certain disregard for Maddie’s wishes, which made Hart see red.
They agreed on the necessary repairs, while Hart worried about where he would find the money to satisfy Wakeham’s demands. Then they joined the ladies at the green baize-topped gaming table. Hart, as banker, removed the cards from the pack. “You sing beautifully, Lady Madeline,” he said as he shuffled them.
Her cheeks flushed. “You are kind. I’m afraid I am not in good voice. Lack of practice, I suspect.”
“It was a pleasure to listen to you.” He turned to Diane. “Plus my sister’s skill at the pianoforte, of course.”
“My, Hart, what have I done to deserve such praise?” Diane asked, obviously amused. “I remember when we lived under the same roof, my playing came in for some criticism. Which I thought most unjust.”
“You have improved immensely,” Hart said, dealing the cards.
Madeline giggled.
Her uncle glanced sharply at her.
They settled down to play.
As he studied his cards, Hart said in a casual tone, “It was most fortunate that Lady Madeline did not hurt herself when she fell from her horse, was it not?”
Madeline met his gaze and gave a small shake of her head. Why? What was she afraid of?
“An unfortunate accident.” Wakeham stiffened in his seat.
“The strap appeared to have been cut.” Hart watched his reaction. “Odd that, don’t you think, Mr. Wakeham?”
“Careless,” Wakeham said. “I’d fire the fellow, except he’d be difficult to replace, and is usually reliable.”
Hart nodded and desisted, as Madeline obviously didn’t want him to pursue it further.
The subdued game followed with light, trivial conversation, mostly led by Diane. Hart could sense Wakeham’s eagerness to depart. He took his niece home early after their game of whist, which displayed Madeline’s proficiency. When Hart complimented her, she admitted she often played with her parents after dinner. “I worked very hard at it, I confess. Determined to beat my father.” She smiled wistfully. “But I never did.” It offered a sad view into the life she had left behind and increased Hart’s sympathy for her.
After the door shut, Diane joined him in the salon for coffee. It was still too early to retire, in Hart’s opinion. He refused to adjust to country hours. “What do you think of Lady Madeline?” she asked.
Aware his observant sister might have picked up some signal from him as he played with Madeline as his partner, he chose his words carefully. “I find her a remarkably strong-minded young woman, considering all that she has had to endure.”
Diane smiled. “Is that the best you can do? She is lovely and has a very pleasing manner. I liked her immensely.”
“She can be very firm in her opinions,” he said to throw her off. He sensed she was matchmaking again and, much as it amused him, he would not allow it. He would choose his bride, not his older sister. Her days of directing him by the leading strings ended many years ago.
