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Lady Hester mastered her mirth, dabbing at the comers of her eyes. “I don’t think so, Laurie. But be sure I will get to the bottom of this. I promise you, I am quite as intrigued as are you.”
But Delagarde did not inform his great-aunt of what was really troubling him. Whatever she chose to do, he was himself determined to get a sensible answer. Informing Lady Hester his exile was at an end, and he would himself escort them to the theatre, he went off to his own rooms to change from his top boots, buckskins and frock coat into the more appropriate raiment of black satin knee-breeches and a blue cloth coat over a Florentine waistcoat. He was seething with suspicion. For there seemed to him to be but one explanation of Maidie’s extraordinary conduct. Why she should be at pains to make up such a patently false tale to cover her tracks, he could not imagine. Unless the gentleman with whom she had no doubt had an assignation was one of whom she knew well he would violently disapprove.
No opportunity to get Maidie alone presented itself until the first interval, and then Delagarde’s plan to detach her from the party was frustrated. To begin with, upon the curtain’s falling on the first act, by two of Lady Hester’s acquaintance who descended upon them from a nearby box. Secondly, by the entrance of Eustace Silsoe. He had come, he said, from his sister, who requested her dear Mary to come to her box for a few moments.
There was little Maidie desired less than to leave the box on the arm of her despised suitor, but she had agreed with Lady Hester it was politic to allow the world to suppose good relations existed between the two households. She rose, therefore, and shook out the peach muslin petticoats to the simple gown with a plain neck and three-quarter sleeves, which was augmented only by an embroidered Norwich shawl disposed across her elbows, and a neat lace cap. Accepting Eustace’s arm, she allowed him to lead her from Delagarde’s box into the corridor.
She regretted it at once, for Eustace told her he had no intention of taking her to Adela’s box. “We will go out into the foyer, Maidie, and stroll up and down together.”
“Why?”
He turned his feline smile upon her. “Why, so people may suppose we are enjoying one another’s company. All you are required to do is to smile, and nod, and look as if you are interested in what I have to say to you.”
“Oh, is that all?” She preceded him through a door into the open foyer behind the boxes which gave access to the stairs and the balconies. “Suppose I do not choose to do any of those things?”
Eustace gave his gentle laugh, and leaned closer to speak almost into her ear. “I shall talk to you with an earnest air, which will give an appearance of even greater intimacy.”
Maidie stiffened, and tried to pull away from him. “You are hateful! If you think I am to be persuaded by such tactics as these—!”
“Oh, I have long given up the idea of persuading you. I am merely laying a trail for future investigation.”
“I do not understand what you can possibly mean. I do not wish to continue this conversation. Please take me back to Lady Hester.”
“Upon no account.”
Instinct urged Maidie to strike him, or to wrench herself from his grasp, and run incontinently away. But a moment’s reflection told her this would be playing into his hands. There were far too many persons standing or strolling about. Her short sojourn in town had taught her the fracas such a course would create could only result in undesirable attention and gossip. She cast a quick look around, hoping to see a face she recognised. Perhaps she might accost another party so her walk with Eustace would seem less particular. But she knew none of them. She heaved a despairing sigh, and then rescue came in a familiar voice speaking immediately behind her.
“Ah, there you are,” said Delagarde.
Maidie turned quickly, and found the Viscount standing there, holding out a glass. Her heart leapt—with gratitude, for his arrival could not have been more opportune. Then she caught what he was saying, and realised it had been deliberate.
“I have procured you some water, Maidie. Are you feeling a little more the thing?” He gave Eustace Silsoe a nod. “Kind of you, sir, to bring her out of that stuffy atmosphere. But you may safely leave her in my charge.”
To Maidie’s intense admiration, he then utterly ignored Eustace, whose urbanity was so evidently shaken he quite forgot to hide his chagrin. She felt Delagarde take her arm as he guided her to one of the straight chairs set here and there against the wall.
“Sit down, and drink that. Give me your fan.”
She held it out to him, and sipped at the water, watching him open her fan and gently ply it up and down before her face. Out of the comer of her eye, she saw Eustace hover for a moment, irresolute. Then, apparently accepting defeat, he turned and walked quickly away.
Quite forgetting the terms upon which they had earlier parted, and the disagreeable feelings she had experienced, Maidie smiled up at the Viscount. “That was so clever of you, Lord Delagarde. Thank you.”
He grinned. “Duplicity, Maidie. Very useful in certain social situations.”
“I see it is.” She laughed. “I could not think how to get away from him without making a scene.”
“Well, thank God you didn’t!”
“You did not expect it of me, I dare say. That I would refrain, I mean. But I have learned a great deal since I came to town. For instance, I know if you continue to fan me, and I pretend to be faint, no one will approach us.”
“Very good, Maidie,” said Delagarde, a quizzical gleam in his eye. “Dare I hope, then, it is safe to ask you any awkward questions?”
“If you mean you expect me to lose my temper—”
“Temper, Maidie? But you do not have one.”
An involuntary giggle slipped out. “Well, I don’t—except when you say something to send me up into the boughs.”
He laughed. “Perhaps I had better reserve my questions until we are at home.”
