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Maidie rose abruptly from her chair, and flew to the window, making valiant efforts to choke down the instant rush of sobs to her throat. There was silence in the room behind her, more significant than the concerned clucking which had begun this interview. She drew a painful breath. That had been foolish. She could not more surely have confirmed her duenna’s intuitive guess. What now was she to do? Denial would be fruitless. But if she admitted it, would they not probe to discover the identity of the man upon whom she had bestowed her affections?
“Who is he, Maidie?” came from the Worm, as if she read her thought.
Maidie stiffened, rallied her defences, and turned to face them again. She found both the elder ladies had risen, and so she kept her distance, as if by this she might better hold out against their curiosity.
“Is it one of those whom Lord Delagarde has dismissed?” pursued her duenna. She glanced at her cousin. “If so, I am sure Lady Hester might perhaps persuade him to alter his mind. Could you not?”
“I do not know that I wish to,” Lady Hester said slowly, and Maidie was dismayed to see the comprehension in her eyes.
“But surely—” began the Worm, and was silenced by her cousin’s lifted finger.
Lady Hester had not shifted her gaze from Maidie’s face. She came slowly to the window embrasure, and Maidie watched her approach with a good deal of consternation. But when she reached her, Lady Hester put up her hands to Maidie’s cheeks and held her so, scanning her face.
“You look drawn, Maidie. If I had thought it would bring you this much unhappiness, I would never have encouraged it.”
Maidie did not pretend to misunderstand her. She winked away the wetness which rose to her eyes, but her voice was husky. “He—he does not truly want me.”
Lady Hester’s hands dropped. “I am not at all sure I agree with you.”
“You are thinking of his determination to refuse to see me married to another. But it is not what you think—what you might be pardoned for imagining.” A sudden irrational hope lit her breast, and she looked at Lady Hester in painful enquiry. “Unless—has he said anything to you, ma’am?”
“Alas, no. At least, I have talked to him on the matter, but that was some days ago. His conduct has certainly borne out what I then suspected.”
“What—what did you suspect?”
Lady Hester smiled. “That he is more drawn to you than he has himself any idea of.”
“Drawn to me? Yes, perhaps. But that, Lady Hester, is not enough.”
Chapter Fourteen
By a supreme effort of will, Delagarde had managed to hold aloof from Maidie for two whole days since Tuesday’s ball. He hoped that giving her a sensation of freedom, however illusory—for he had every intention of maintaining his strict guardianship—might induce her to refrain from engaging herself any further. He trusted he had made it abundantly plain he would not allow her to continue in such promises, even if she made them. What was more, Riseley had reported that his prompt intervention on the night of the Rankmiston’s ball had resulted in a falling off on the part of Maidie’s would-be suitors. That Corringham had added a rider to the effect Delagarde’s conduct was rapidly earning him the reputation of having designs upon Maidie himself, he did not allow to disturb him. Let the world think what it might. He had little doubt he had the Shurland faction to thank for such tattle. Maidie’s safety meant more to him than the transitory tarnish of his own reputation. His integrity was at stake—and her whole life!
If there was a part of him which feared to be too much in Maidie’s company, he firmly suppressed it. She plainly distrusted him. He did not wish to be provoked into giving her further reason. He was glad of the lack of engagements these two days, for it had given him all the excuse he needed to abjure her society. Tonight, however, there was a musical evening, and he braced himself to withstand any attempt by Maidie to provoke him into another quarrel.
When he had changed into appropriate raiment, and entered the drawing-room to await the announcement of dinner, however, he found only Lady Hester and Miss Wormley in possession.
“Where is Maidie?”
“She has gone to visit Sir Granville Wilberfoss again,” said Lady Hester.
“Is she not coming with us tonight?”
“Apparently not.”
Delagarde grunted, trying to will away a sensation of disappointment. “Well, I suppose she cannot come to any real harm there.”
“She is unlikely to engage herself to marry an old man, if that is what you mean,” said his great-aunt.
He cast a quick glance at her. “Do I detect a note of censure? I should have thought you would be glad I am doing my best to prevent her from ruining her life.”
“Oh, yes.”
“What do you mean,oh, yes?”
“I beg of you to believe, my lord,” twittered Miss Wormley nervously, “that I am indeed very glad.”
He thanked her, and pointedly ignored the burgeoning mischief in his great-aunt’s face.
