LITMIR.BIZ

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he was saved any more embarrassing revelations. His stepmother was very astute and he could no more have tried to deceive her than fly to the moon.

      Duncan helped the coachman carry the baskets of clothes into the orphanage, where they were gratefully received by the ladies who looked after the orphans. Duncan, who had accompanied his stepmother on other occasions, had never before paid much attention to the inmates, nor the conditions in which they lived. The house was clean, the children clothed and fed and that was as far as his observation had taken him, but now, thinking of Madeleine Charron’s story, he looked with new eyes.

      While the Duchess talked to Mrs Thomas, the woman who ran the place, he wandered round the house, looking in all the rooms: the dining room with its long table and benches; the dormitories with their rows of beds, which reminded him of his boarding school; the room converted into a tiny chapel; the kitchen where some of the little inmates toiled at preparing the meals for the others. Was this how Madeleine had lived?

      She had said the orphanage she lived in had been for the children of officers, so perhaps it was a little more comfortable. But what was comfort when you were all alone in the world? How could comfort make up for the loss of a dear mother? His mother had died when he had been twelve years old and he had found that hard to take, but he still had a father and a sister and, for the last ten years, a stepmother he had come to love dearly. What must it be like to be all alone in the world and the prey of any jackass of a dandy who fancied he could buy your favours? He suddenly felt very protective towards Miss Madeleine Charron.

      London audiences were usually appreciative, if somewhat noisy, but on the first night of All’s Well That Ends Well some of them seemed to be in a mood to find fault. They did not wait for the other actors to speak their lines to Madeleine, but called out witticisms and then laughed loudly at their cleverness, earning sharp rebukes from those who wanted to see the play in peace. Marianne found it extremely hard to ignore them and to carry on with the performance and she was glad when the curtain came down on the last act.

      ‘They did not like the play either,’ she said to Marianne when they returned to their dressing room. ‘It makes me wonder why Mr Greatorex chose it.’

      ‘Fustian! Most of the audience loved it,’ Marianne said. ‘It was only that rake Willoughby, who fancies himself a pink of the ton, causing trouble. Didn’t you see him? He was with a crowd of young rakehells, all foxed out of their minds and intent on making themselves unpleasant. The rest of the audience was trying to silence them.’

      ‘And made them worse. They think that wealth and position give them the right to do as they please, that they can be brash and inconsiderate and spoil other people’s enjoyment and no one will say a word against them. They think they can get away with murder.’ She could not help thinking about her mother’s death at such times. It had been such a one who had run her down.

      ‘I was surprised to see Stanmore with them.’

      ‘Was he?’ She tried to sound indifferent, but mention of the Marquis set her pulses racing.

      ‘Yes, I caught sight of him sitting next to Willoughby as I was waiting for my entrance, so you see he is no different from the rest.’

      ‘I did not say he was.’

      It was hard to admit it, but she was bitterly disappointed. He had seemed a pleasant and attentive supper companion, who had talked to her as an equal, which had made her think that perhaps he was different from others of his breed. But he was not. She had been a fool to confide in him, telling him things about her past she had never told anyone except Marianne. Now, she supposed, he had regaled his drunken friends with the story and they had decided to have a little fun with her. She felt mortified and furiously angry and was certainly in no mood to accept the huge bunch of red roses the Marquis sent to the dressing room with a note to say he would be waiting for her when she came out.

      ‘You may take them back,’ she told the messenger who brought them. ‘Tell his lordship I have no need of his bribes and I shall be dining with friends.’

      ‘Well, I am surprised at you,’ Marianne said, when the man had gone, then laughed. ‘Now, I suppose, you are going to play hard to get.’

      ‘I always was hard to get,’ Maddy snapped, thinking suddenly of Henry Bulford, now Lord Bulford, of course. Marianne was right; they were all alike. So be it. Far from confessing her deception to the Marquis, she would play the nobleman’s granddaughter for all she was worth. Someone would pay for her humiliation, not only tonight’s but all she had ever suffered.

      ‘Oh, my dear child, they were loud and uncouth and very annoying, but you must not take it to heart. After all, you have endured worse than a little calling out and hissing in the past and risen above it like the great actress you are, so don’t let tonight’s nonsense make you bitter.’

      Madeleine smiled suddenly. ‘Always my inner voice, dear Marianne, the one that keeps me from my excesses, be they of rage, resentment or the dismals. What would I do without you?’

      ‘I am sure you would manage, my dear. Now, I am off to dine with Sir Percy. What will you do?’

      ‘I think I will go straight home. I am excessively fatigued and it may be why my performance was not at its best tonight.’

      ‘Fustian! It was as good as it always is. Take no notice of a handful of drunken rabble-rousers.’

      ‘The Marquis of Risley, among them.’ She paused. ‘There is no need to ask Sir Percy about going to the Duchess’s, seeing we have managed it without his help. The fewer people who know my intentions the better.’

      ‘You still mean to go through with it, then?’

      ‘Yes, more than ever.’

      Marianne finished dressing just as Sir Percy arrived to take her to supper. He was dressed in an outrageous coat of puce satin with a high stand collar and huge pocket flaps in a darker pink velvet. His waistcoat was a striped green marcella and his trousers were cream coloured and strapped under his red-heeled shoes, left over from a time when he was young and red heels were the height of fashion. He knew perfectly well that everyone laughed at his dress and some of the young bucks laid bets on what colour he would be wearing next, and it amused him to amuse them.

      He executed a flourishing leg to both ladies. ‘Delectable, my dear Marianne,’ he said, surveying her from head to toe. ‘Does Miss Charron come too?’

      ‘Oh, no, dear sir,’ Madeleine said, laughing. ‘The role of chaperon does not suit me. I am for home and bed.’

      ‘Do you say so?’ he queried, lifting a dark eyebrow. ‘Now, I thought I saw Risley’s coach outside. It must have been there for one of the others.’

      ‘I expect it was.’

      ‘Come along, my dear.’ He addressed Marianne. ‘I am as hungry as a hunter.’

      They disappeared in a flurry of rainbow colours, leaving Madeleine to complete her toilette alone, dressing in a green round gown with leg o’mutton sleeves and a sleeveless pelisse of light wool and topping her dark curls with a small green bonnet, decorated with a sweeping feather. She took her time, hoping that the Marquis would give up and go home, but when she ventured out into the street, the carriage was still there. Straightening her shoulders and lifting her head, she walked past it.

      ‘Madeleine!’ Her name was spoken softly but urgently. ‘Madeleine, wait!’

      She swung round, but could see nothing but his dark shape in the shadow of the building. ‘I have nothing to say to you, sir.’

      ‘Why not? Have I offended you?’

      ‘I will let your conscience be the judge of that, sir. If you have one, that is. I bid you goodnight.’

      He reached out and put his hand on her arm to detain her. ‘Let me escort you home, then you may tell me how I have displeased you.’

      She shook him off. ‘I do not need to ride in a carriage for that, my lord. It is easily told. You mocked the

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