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Chapter Ten
Madalene hurried down the steps of her townhouse with a burst of newfound energy. She found herself growing increasingly anxious to see Lord Hawthorne today. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but it most likely had to do with the fact that he was going to teach her how to use a muff pistol. That had to be it. It wasn’t as if she were excited to see him. Heavens, no. The man was insufferable.
Stopping at the mirror in the entry hall, she took a moment to peruse her reflection. She was dressed in a simple white cotton gown with a round neckline, and her hair was pulled back into a tight chignon. She hoped she was properly prepared for the meeting with Lord Hawthorne.
The smell of food wafted out of the breakfast parlor, and Madalene felt her stomach growl in response. It took only a few moments for her to walk into the parlor and step over to the buffet table. She piled her plate high with food and went to sit across from her companion.
Mrs. Foster lowered the newspaper in her hands and greeted her. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” she replied. “Is there anything of worth in the newspaper today?”
Laying the paper on the table, her companion said, “Not particularly. It is just the same articles, day in and day out.”
“What, no noteworthy gossip on the Society page?”
“Lord Hawthorne’s ball is mentioned,” Mrs. Foster shared. “It is to be the event of the Season.”
“Truly?” Madalene asked as she laid her napkin on her lap.
Mrs. Foster nodded. “I must admit that I am looking forward to it.”
“Why?”
“Lady Hawthorne always hosts the most elaborate social events,” Mrs. Foster expressed. “I can’t imagine the ball will be any different.”
“Personally, I am dreading the ball.”
Mrs. Foster gave her a curious look. “Why is that, dear?”
“No doubt I will be forced to dance nearly every set with gentlemen that are far too eager to please me,” Madalene explained.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Mrs. Foster teased. “What a terrible plight you have. You are rich, handsome, and clever. Not to mention, unmarried.”
Madalene leaned to the side as a footman placed a cup of chocolate in front of her. “It is quite the burden to deal with the scheming matchmaking mothers.”
“I can only imagine,” Mrs. Foster said as she reached for her teacup, “but that is why I will be keeping a watchful eye on you. We can’t have a gentleman abscond with you to Gretna Green, now can we?”
“That isn’t likely to happen.”
“I’m afraid it is much more common than you think,” Mrs. Foster remarked, frowning. “Some men are desperate to get their hands on a woman with a fortune.”
“It is a good thing that Lord Hawthorne is teaching me how to use a muff pistol today, then,” Madalene shared.
Mrs. Foster placed her teacup back on the saucer. “What did you discuss yesterday when he came to call?”
“Nothing of importance,” Madalene said vaguely.
Mrs. Foster gave her a look that implied she didn’t believe her. “Why don’t I be the judge of that?”
“We spoke mostly of polite topics.”
“Now I know you are lying to me,” Mrs. Foster stated with a shake of her head. “You hate speaking to gentlemen about polite topics.”
“It is different with Lord Hawthorne.”
“In what respects?”
Madalene pressed her lips together as she attempted to come up with a believable lie. Finally, she settled on the truth. “We are such vastly different people.”
