“Not I, but you.” Maddy had become aware of the attention directed toward them. “You are quite right, I have been most imprudent. Pray forgive my shocking manners. I am truly grateful to you for rescuing me.”
The recipient of an extremely guileless look, Micah smiled. “My dear child,” he murmured, “there is nothing to forgive. I am delighted to have been of service to you.”
* * * *
The Polite World might be free to draw their own conclusions regarding Wilmington’s unprecedented attentions to so young and marriageable a miss as Madeleine de Villiers; Letty Jellicoe might abandon her schemes concerning young Lionel for even more grandiose plans involving the Earl; but at least two of the spectators had an inkling of the truth concerning the flirtation between Micah and his youthful companion. Kenelm, still smarting from the reprimand that he’d received from that gentleman, wondered how best to extricate his cousin from this scrape;
and Lady Tyrewhitte-Wilson, well acquainted with the Earl’s irascible temperament and his unflattering opinion of young ladies in general, wondered what he could have found to say to this particular specimen. Tilda hoped those comments weren’t of an incendiary nature; she did not care to see the girl ruin herself by losing her temper and making a public scene. It was to be hoped that the Duchess of Marlborough’s protégée had firm control over herself; Tilda was only too familiar with the bland expression that sat upon Micah’s sardonic features, and knew it signified that his lordship was comporting himself outrageously.
Lord Chesterfield was also familiar with that look; although it had been several years since he had attained his majority, and since Micah had relinquished his unofficial guardianship, Lionel was not likely to forget the diabolic way in which the Earl had involved himself in the less conventional of his ward’s affairs. There was no interference now, of course; not only was Lionel of age, he was a perfect gentleman. Tilda surveyed the young Marquess, who exhibited no annoyance, or even awareness, that Micah had chosen to dazzle a young lady for whom Lionel had shown what was, for him, marked preference; and thought the young Lord Chesterfield was in severe danger of becoming a dreadful prig. She was not sorry when Lionel left the box.
If Tilda’s companion also suspected Micah of indulging in more than a casual flirtation with a passable-looking female, he made no sign. Timothy was the soul of discretion. “It is a great pity,” he remarked, “that theater-going is not quite the thing, since you profess yourself so diverted by the spectacle.”
“You cannot think it quite respectable?” Tilda’s tone was wry. “Timothy, you are so dull!” Her worthy suitor only smiled, and she surveyed the crowd. “Theaters are rowdy, filled with young gallants and their ladies, and tradesmen, and the riffraff of London. I can think of nothing that I should enjoy more. Fortunately, I am not alone in my preference.” The noisy theater boasted as many aristocrats as common folk. “I believe the theater is on its way to becoming quite the thing. I cannot help but wonder what other changes will occur in the next hundred years. It would be interesting to view the future, would it not?”
“Is not the present sufficient for you?”
Tilda glanced at Timothy. His even features gave an impression of strength. She knew that only her presence in London had drawn him there; and wondered, not for the first time, why he remained so devoted to her, and why this steadfastness of purpose sparked no answering response in her. All the same, Timothy’s perseverance was such that she would probably, with resignation, marry him in the end. “No,” she said quietly, “it is not.” His hand tightened on her arm.
“Who is the child with Micah?” Timothy asked, as if he had not just been dealt a crushing blow. “I have not seen her before.”
“She’s but come to town.” Tilda explained the circumstances of Maddy’s meeting with the Duchess.
“Micah seems mighty taken with the girl,” Timothy remarked, aware as Maddy was not that the Earl’s attentions were generally reserved for dashing high-flyers and married ladies of adventuresome inclinations. “I am surprised, for I did not think him recovered from Cassandra’s tragic death, for all it occurred so long ago, and had thought him impervious to the wiles of the opposite sex. Can it be that this girl has changed his mind?”
Tilda, who had glanced at Timothy with annoyance when he commented on the deceased Countess, frowned. “I had not thought so,” she replied. She felt no inclination to resume a discussion of Cassandra, particularly with Timothy. “If he wants her, he must have her, of course. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Agatha had such an eventuality in mind.”
Timothy studied his companion, who was elegantly attired in gray satin and black lace. Diamonds circled her throat and dangled from her ears. “You yourself were unwilling to marry him,” he remarked, “yet you’d condemn a mere child to that particular fate? I have heard you comment that marriage to Micah would drive the most patient woman mad.”
“My own sentiments have little to do with the matter.” Tilda sought to hide her irritation; her brangles with the Earl were not to be taken seriously. “The Duchess will have her way. But I am indulging in idle speculation; I cannot anticipate what Agatha intends.” She watched as Micah returned Maddy to her aunt’s box, bowed, and took his leave. “I only know that she has had inquiries made about the child’s background, which she would not do without some definite end in mind.”
“And was she satisfied?”
“I assume so. She told me only that she considers the chit will do quite well. For what, I neglected to inquire.”
“With remarkable prudence!” Timothy laughed. “It is not like you to be so incurious.”
Tilda wrinkled her nose. “I admit I must have been thinking of something else. But Agatha is maddeningly close-mouthed on the subject, and I have determined to quiz her no more.”
The Duchess was stunningly attired in a creation of purple-blue velvet. A sapphire tiara sat regally atop her snowy curls, and her eyes snapped with excitement, for all she had cut short a delightfully risqué conversation with Brummel to return to her box. It was like her nodcock grandnephew to leave Mathilda alone with Timothy, even though Agatha had strongly impressed upon him it was his duty to prevent this dire contingency. No doubt Lionel’s nose was put out of joint by Micah’s flirtation with Madeleine. Agatha grinned, and wondered how the chit had enjoyed holding conversation with a rake. She didn’t consider Maddy the sort of insipid miss who would be put off by the Earl’s reputation.
“Agatha,” Tilda remarked, “you look positively mischievous. I shudder to think what schemes you may be hatching.”
“Don’t ask,” the Earl advised, making a timely reappearance. “I’ve found it’s safer not to know Agatha’s plans.”
The Duchess cackled and unfurled her fan. “Never mind,” she retorted. “All will be revealed in good time. You must contain your curiosity until then, Mathilda, difficult as it may be.”
Timothy was not widely recognized as a discerning gentleman, perhaps because of his admirable tactfulness. He listened to the easy banter of his friends, and surreptitiously studied the opposite box. The principals had reassembled, for the play would soon resume, and the girl, Madeleine, was the focus of interested attention from both her aunt and a young female whom he assumed to be a cousin of some degree. Timothy didn’t doubt that the Earl’s solicitude was being discussed, but Maddy, at least from that distance, appeared content to smile enigmatically. As Timothy watched, she glanced at their box, then as quickly away. He wondered which gentleman she wished to observe, the Earl or the Marquess.
Tilda and Micah, as usual, were arguing. “No,” said the Earl firmly, “I most assuredly will not take you there. Do not tease me, Tilda. I sympathize with your rebellion, but I will not assist you in this.”
“Pooh!” retorted Tilda. Micah met Timothy’s quizzical look.
“Our headstrong beauty,” the Earl explained, “has heard of a hotel in the neighborhood that she is most eager to visit. It was once a nobleman’s residence and boasts a splendid song and supper room with a platform stage. Eight hundred people may be accommodated there, I’m told, to listen to the performances and even join in the choruses.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Alas, ladies are excluded from the august company.”
“I know better,” Tilda interrupted. “Privileged gentlemen are permitted to entertain their female friends in discreetly hidden boxes at the side of the auditorium.”
“Apparently you do
not
know,” the Duchess interjected, “that the entertainment has begun. If you must continue this argument, pray lower your voices, lest your discussion attract more attention than the players.” Timothy paid little heed to Agatha’s scowl, and she hunched an impatient shoulder, studiously ignoring him as she thought wistfully of his immediate demise.
Timothy had long since learned to betray no shock at anything his love might say or do, but he believed that, once they were wed, she would learn to behave with suitable decorum. “Who told you this?” he inquired. Timothy considered that Tilda’s previous marriage had been a disastrous one, and could only be grateful that Dominic Tyrewhitte-Wilson had been sufficiently thoughtful to die before he succeeded in totally ruining his wife. It mattered not what Tilda said to Micah or himself, of course, but there were others who found her frankness vulgar and did not understand that her most startling remarks were uttered in a spirit of fun.
“Alastair,” replied Tilda, who meant exactly what she said and would have been extremely indignant to know Timothy’s sentiments on that subject. “He is not so stodgy as Micah, for he offered to escort me there himself.”
“Unfair,” Micah commented. “Did Alastair also explain that the ladies who appear there do
not
include Society belles?”
Tilda’s brown eyes twinkled. “Confess: you’ve been there yourself! No, Alastair did not explain, but I suspected something of the sort, which is why I refused his kind invitation. You must not think me so green as to be taken in by Lord Bechard!”
“He is a dangerous man,” Timothy stated, “and he bears you no great love. Do not dismiss him lightly, Tilda.”
“Timothy,” said the Duchess, irritated into speech, “you are truly a stick-in-the-mud!” It was unfortunate that this annoying individual was not within reach of her fan. She turned her irate gaze upon Tilda. “I trust you apprehend that visiting this hotel is another of the things you must not do.”
Timothy was quick to agree. “No, she must not,” he said. “You would not like it, Tilda. Such pursuits may appeal to the lower classes, but could be nothing but offensive to a lady of your background.”
“That comment,” retorted Tilda, stung, “is entirely unworthy of you, my friend. Next you will tell me that motherhood is the sacred function of the female species, and I warn you, Timothy, if you utter that particular inanity, I shall scream!”
Timothy had little choice but to smile, despite his dislike of such blunt sentiments, lest he alienate his love beyond all reconciliation. He thought that he must press his suit, and quickly, lest Tilda involve herself in some outrageous prank.
“She’s right.” The Earl was amused. “I imagine Tilda would find low life vastly to her taste. It has long been my suspicion that women are at least as adventurous as men.”
“If not,” barked the Duchess, “more so. Kindly devote your attention to the play.” She pretended not to notice as Lady Tyrewhitte-Wilson, her expression serene, gave the Earl’s arm a vicious pinch.
Timothy turned away and glanced again at the opposite box. Miss de Villiers quickly dropped her gaze, but Timothy had no doubt that her attention had been fixed on them. He wondered, with compassion, if she thought their merriment was centered on her, and hoped she was not being forced into a distasteful situation. It occurred to him that Micah had not so much as mentioned her name.
Chapter Six
Sublimely unaware that she had roused lively curiosity in a number of influential breasts, among them two such diverse individuals as the Earl of Wilmington and Sir Timothy Rockingham, Maddy frowned over an epistle penned in her mother’s spidery hand.
My dear child,
Lady Henrietta wrote, with obvious agitation,
you must not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be drawn into a closer acquaintance with Alastair Bechard!
Lady Henrietta’s scrawl skittered into illegibility, and Maddy painstakingly deciphered an occasional word. Her mother did not appear to hold a high opinion of Lord Bechard’s character. Maddy glanced up, startled, as Alathea burst into the room, slamming the door behind her.
“I have looked for you everywhere!” Alathea cried, and deposited herself, with a bounce, on Maddy’s bed. Maddy stared at her cousin, surprised, for she was not accustomed to being numbered among Alathea’s favorite companions. “I crept into your room last night, after the others were abed, in hopes that we might speak privately, but you were already asleep.” Alathea’s tone that she considered this behavior the height of thoughtlessness.
“I did not know,” Maddy replied stiffly. “You should have wakened me.”
“It’s of no significance.” Alathea was obviously eager to continue with the matter at hand. Maddy resigned herself to the role of confidante. “I suppose no one has told you what happened last evening, while you were making such a cake of yourself with Wilmington.”
Maddy had not imagined that Alathea would let the Earl’s attentions go by unremarked, particularly since the topic was of such interest in the household. Alathea wore all the signs of a young miss who had been cast into the shade, and Maddy experienced a definite satisfaction at her cousin’s chagrin. “No,” she replied indifferently. “Did something of importance occur while I was engaged with the Earl?”
“Kenelm,” announced Alathea, as if the word were bitter poison, “acted in a most disgraceful way.” She shot Maddy a look of intense dislike, but her need to vent her wrath was so great that even her resentment of her attractive, and undeniably spoiled, cousin was outweighed. “Only consider, Maddy: he insisted that Captain Huard leave our box!”