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He felt Madelyn’s reaction as her fingers tightened on his arm. ‘You think I am not happy simply because of the clothes? How shallow you must think me. But I gave my word and I will abide by it.’ There was a pause and Jack could hear her take a long breath. ‘I would be obliged if you would introduce me to some more people. I find my acquaintance somewhat limited at present.’
‘Where is Lady Fairfield?’ he asked, annoyed. ‘She should be making more effort. Ah, there she is with the Macclesbournes, looking for you, I imagine. Much better if she makes the introductions—we do not want to start any speculation.’
‘Do we not?’ Madelyn enquired tartly as they crossed the crowded room. ‘When, exactly, are you intending to announce our coming marriage? Or will you simply produce me along with your title and hope no one actually notices?’ She gave a little start as though she had alarmed herself with that abrupt question, then took her hand off his arm and walked away, back to where the two friends had their heads together, deep in gossip.
Hell and damnation. She is quite right. I have to face up to this even though I cannot decide what is the best way to go about it. Or the least bad way.
It was no good putting things off, even though he was beginning to realise that he was committing himself to a woman who was going to make an exceedingly prickly wife. On the other hand, life was not going to be dull...
‘Taking pity on the maypole, Lackland?’ Lord Ivor Handley, younger son of the Duke of Evesham, drawled as he strolled up, clearly bent on mischief. ‘Probably as eccentric as her father—but rolling in money unless the old lunatic spent it all on his fantasy castle. Thinking of trying your luck? Be all right if you keep your eyes shut, I suppose.’
Finally, a legitimate target for his ill humour. ‘You are speaking of a lady of my acquaintance, Handley. I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.’
‘Oh, come on, Lackland, you are not serious—’
‘My name is Ransome and I am finding you increasingly boring, Handley. My tolerance for bores is never very high. Or perhaps you would care to continue this conversation outside?’
Handley was handsome, rich, indulged and rarely thwarted, let alone told he was a bore. He turned an unlovely shade of red and began to bluster. Jack flexed his fingers and toyed with the idea of planting the man a facer right where he stood. No, bad tactics. Best to get him outside first...
‘I say, Ransome, just the man I need. Tell me, is it true that Fakenham’s selling his greys?’ Charlie Truscott, one of Jack’s closest friends, blundered cheerfully between them. ‘Evening, Handley. You all right, old chap? You look a bit feverish. I’d cut down on the curried lobster patties if I were you. Now, Ransome, what about those greys?’
Handley turned on his heel and cut through the crowd towards the door. Truscott looked after him, shrugged and quirked an eyebrow at Jack. ‘Hitting someone in the middle of a soirée’s not the thing, you know. What’s the fool done now?’
‘Insulted a lady and bored me.’
‘Fair enough, but hit him later, not here is my advice. Now, do you know about Fakenham? There are all kinds of rumours going about that he’s in difficulties.’
Jack watched Handley’s disappearing back in case he decided to go and be unpleasant to Madelyn in retaliation, but he answered his friend. ‘He is selling his greys and his high-perch curricle, that’s true. But it is nothing to do with his finances. After that last accident his wife put her foot down. Stop racing or lose his—how shall we put it?—privileges.’
‘Phew! That’s a lady with spirit.’
‘She said they had two children already and she did not want to be left with any more fatherless infants when their father broke his neck.’
Truscott’s hoot of laughter had heads turning, including Madelyn’s. She was being introduced to a small group of young matrons, Jack saw with approval. He knew of them all and they were lively, fashionable and likely, he hoped, to be kind enough to an unconventional newcomer.
‘Who was that I saw you with just now? Not a female I recognised—a proper long Meg, if ever I saw one. Not your style at all.’
‘Miss Aylmer.’
‘What, not Castle-Mad Aylmer’s daughter? How come you know her? Rich, of course.’ He shot Jack a swift glance and cleared his throat. ‘Er...interesting lady, I imagine.’
‘She considered using my services at one time,’ Jack said repressively.
He should have known better, Truscott immediately picked up the edge to his voice. ‘Oho. Saw she got value for her fee, did you?’
‘I was on the verge of calling Handley out for insulting her just now,’ Jack said mildly. ‘The lady is still in the nature of a client.’
‘Peace, peace.’ Charlie held up both hands, palms out in the fencer’s gesture of surrender. ‘Of course she is.’
‘Actually, there is more to it. I could do with your advice,’ Jack said, suddenly determined to get this thing out in the open.
‘I was just thinking this is becoming an intolerable squeeze. Fancy coming back to my place and trying the new brandy I’ve just discovered? We can put our feet up, discuss horses or whatever else takes your fancy.’
‘I will, thank you.’ Jack looked over to Madelyn, who had Lady Fairfield at her side, decided she could well do without him to aggravate her and turned for the door. ‘And where did this brandy come from, might I ask?’
‘The Rector of my parish sent me a cask up. The stuff keeps landing on his doorstep. Most mysterious and, of course, he has to get rid of it.’
‘Nothing to do with leaving the keys of the crypt in the lock on moonless nights, I suppose?’
