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Mrs. Foster shook her head. “I don’t know what I am going to do with you. I daresay that I would have a more productive conversation with a cat.”
Madalene placed her cup on the table. “I know that I am making light of this conversation,” she replied, “but I assure you that no harm was done from me visiting the coffeehouse or gambling hall.”
“Except that Lord Hawthorne saw you,” Mrs. Foster said, giving her a knowing look. “Both times.”
“That may be true, but he has agreed to help me find Edith.”
“I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” Mrs. Foster remarked. “What would a marquess know about finding a missing person?”
“It is different with Lord Hawthorne.”
“In what way?”
Madalene pressed her lips together as she considered her response. It was evident that Lord Hawthorne held secrets. She could see it in his eyes, but they were safely guarded. Furthermore, he did claim to have a certain set of skills that could help her find Edith.
“There is more to Lord Hawthorne than meets the eye,” Madalene said.
“What are you referring to?”
“I can’t explain it,” Madalene admitted, “but I feel as if I can trust the man.”
Mrs. Foster didn’t appear pleased by her admission, apparent by the frown that appeared on her lips. “You shouldn’t give your trust to a man with whom you are hardly acquainted.”
“I know it sounds foolish—”
Speaking over her, Mrs. Foster said, “It does, and, frankly, I am back to wanting to tie you to a tree.”
Madalene laughed at her companion’s unexpected remark. “I will be mindful to be cautious around Lord Hawthorne.”
“It pleases me immensely to hear that.”
“Why do you say that?”
Mrs. Foster pointed at the window that faced the street. “I just saw Lord Hawthorne ride up on his horse.”
Before she could respond, Graham appeared in the doorway and met her gaze. “Lord Hawthorne is here, Miss. Are you available for callers?”
“I am,” Madalene answered, smoothing her primrose muslin gown.
“Very good,” Graham replied before exiting.
In the next moment, Lord Hawthorne stepped into the room. He was dressed in a blue jacket, a matching waistcoat, and buff trousers. His brown hair was brushed forward and he had a wry smile on his lips. She wondered what it would take to truly see him smile, one that exuded happiness.
Lord Hawthorne bowed stiffly. “Good afternoon, Miss Dowding,” he greeted. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”
Madalene tipped her head respectfully. “Of course, my lord,” she responded before gesturing towards Mrs. Foster. “Allow me to introduce you to my companion, Mrs. Foster.”
Lord Hawthorne turned his gaze towards her companion. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Likewise, Lord Hawthorne,” Mrs. Foster acknowledged.
Silence descended over the room, and before it threatened to become awkward, Madalene asked, “Would you care for some tea?”
“No, thank you,” Lord Hawthorne replied. “It is such a pleasant day that I was hoping to take a turn with you in the garden.”
“What a splendid idea,” Madalene responded, rising from her seat on the settee. “Would you care to join us, Mrs. Foster?”
Mrs. Foster shook her head. “I thank you for the kind offer, but I’m afraid I have letters I need to write,” she said. “I do hope you enjoy yourself.”
