LITMIR.BIZ

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her husband admonished her. ‘It is not for you to comment upon how your brother spends his evenings.’ He paused, curious. ‘How do you know so much anyway?’

      ‘Benedict told his sister and she told me.’

      ‘What did he tell her?’ Duncan asked, suddenly interested.

      ‘Oh, nothing of import, except that you were rivalling each other to take a certain actress out to supper. Felicity said there was a wager on it.’

      Duncan muttered darkly under his breath. Trust Willoughby to empty the bag. If the object of the wager had been anyone but the delectable Miss Charron he would have answered teasingly, but there was something about their meeting the evening before that did not warrant that; it was the confidences they had shared, the private moments when they had not been flirting with each other, when he had been privileged to see the real Madeleine Charron hidden behind the actress. It was something he wanted to keep to himself; now that Benedict had made light of it, he was angry.

      And disturbed. If that second wager were to become common knowledge, he would be in a coil, not only with Madeleine herself, but with his father, who would never countenance a lady being used in that way, actress or not.

      ‘Benedict Willoughby should keep his tongue between his teeth,’ he said.

      ‘Did you win it?’ James asked.

      Duncan felt trapped. He could not be impolite to his brother-in-law, but he was aware that he was being forced into a corner. ‘Yes, a light supper, no more, and it has nothing to do with whether or not I go to Almack’s.’

      ‘Then you will come,’ Lavinia said, delighted her ploy had worked.

      ‘I suppose I will have no peace until I agree.’

      ‘Then we shall go on Wednesday week. It is a special occasion to mark the anniversary of Waterloo. I believe Wellington will be there.’

      ‘Oh, then I am safe; the ladies will be all over him and will ignore me.’

      ‘Duncan, I despair of you,’ Lavinia said.

      But Duncan was not listening; he was employed in puzzling his brain into devising a way of making Benedict stay mum about their second wager without losing face.

      The Duchess smiled. ‘Duncan, what are you doing tomorrow?’

      ‘Nothing I cannot postpone, if you need me, Mama,’ he said cheerfully.

      ‘Will you come to the orphanage with me? I have a pile of clothing I have collected and I need a strong arm to carry the baskets.’

      It was typical of the Duchess to take them herself; she liked to be personally involved and the fact that the orphanage was not in the most salubrious part of town did not deter her. But she had promised the Duke she would never go unescorted, and as he was rarely free to go with her due to government business, she would ask Duncan or James or sometimes Sir Percy.

      The mention of the orphanage reminded Duncan of Madeleine and the story she had told him, a story that had tugged at his tender heart. He really must stop thinking about her; it clouded his judgement. ‘Of course, Stepmama, I am at your service. What time do we leave?’

      ‘Ten o’clock—that is, if you can rouse yourself from your bed in time.’

      ‘I will be ready and, just to show you my good intent, I will not go out again tonight, but retire early.’ He was only teasing; he was quite used to staying up until the early hours, dawn sometimes, and he could still rise bright and early.

      He was as good as his word and presented himself in the breakfast parlour in good time to eat a hearty breakfast and oversee the loading of two large laundry baskets full of donated clothes into the boot of the carriage before handing his stepmother in, settling himself beside her and instructing the coachman to take them to Maiden Lane.

      ‘You are thoughtful,’ remarked the Duchess when they had been going for a few minutes and he had not spoken. ‘You do not mind coming with me? I have not kept you from more pleasurable pursuits?’

      ‘No, not at all,’ he said abstractedly.

      ‘Then you are troubled about something else.’

      ‘No, Mama, not a thing,’ he said, falsely bright. They were crossing the square in front of St Paul’s and he had just spotted Madeleine Charron walking arm in arm with Marianne Doubleday towards the market.

      Having spent a wakeful night trying to decide what to do about that disgraceful wager, he was unprepared for seeing her again so soon. The sight of her, laughing with her companion as if she did not have a care in the world, set his heart racing. If she knew what was going on in his mind, she would not be laughing. She would be angry.

      His head was full of her and his loins were stirring with desire, even now, in this busy square. He had made a wager of which he was thoroughly ashamed and yet the fulfilling of it would give him a great deal of pleasure. One-half of him goaded him, telling him the pleasure would not all be his, he knew how to give pleasure too and he could be very generous to those who pleased him and what else could an actress expect? The other half of him knew that such thoughts were reprehensible and dishonourable and he ought to have more respect for her than that. Why, he would not treat the lowliest servant in that cavalier fashion.

      The ladies had stopped and were looking towards the carriage and it was then that the Duchess saw them. ‘Oh, there is Miss Doubleday. I need to speak to her.’ And before Duncan could make any sort of comment, she instructed the coachman to pull up.

      The carriage drew to a stop beside the actresses and Duncan had perforce to jump down and open the door for his stepmother to alight.

      Marianne took a step towards them and curtsied. ‘Your Grace, good morning.’

      ‘Good morning, Miss Doubleday,’ the Duchess said. ‘I hope I find you well.’

      ‘Oh, exceedingly well, my lady.’ She smiled, almost mischievously. ‘My lady, may I present my friend and colleague, Miss Madeleine Charron.’

      Frances turned towards Madeleine, while Duncan stood silently behind her wondering what was coming next. ‘I am pleased to meet you, Miss Charron, though I would have known you anywhere. You are become quite famous and rightly so. I saw your performance in Romeo and Juliet and it moved me almost to tears.’

      ‘Thank you, my lady.’ Madeleine made a curtsy, though she always maintained she would never bow the knee to anyone just because they were aristocrats, but she did not want to embarrass Marianne, nor alienate the Marquis. And her ladyship was not behaving like a top-lofty aristocrat at all, getting down from her carriage to speak to them.

      Her ladyship indicated Duncan with a movement of her gloved hand. ‘This is my stepson, the Marquis of Risley, a keen theatre-lover.’

      Duncan held his breath, half-expecting Madeleine to say they were already acquainted, but she simply smiled coolly at him and inclined her lovely head. It was not a bow, simply an acknowledgement. ‘My lord.’ When she looked up again, he saw the merriment in her violet eyes and found himself smiling back at her.

      ‘Miss Charron,’ he said, doffing his hat. ‘I am honoured.’

      If the Duchess noticed the conspiratorial look that passed between them, she ignored it and instead turned back to Marianne. ‘Miss Doubleday, I am glad we are met, I wanted to have a word with you about a little musical evening I am planning. If you are free of engagements, I should be very grateful if you would perform for us.’

      ‘I will deem it an honour, my lady. But it would depend on the day. A Thursday would be best. We have no evening performances on Thursdays.’

      ‘Yes, I know. I will bear that in mind and send you a note.’

      ‘Then I shall look forward to hearing from you, Your Grace.’

      ‘I leave the choice of offering to you,’ the Duchess added. ‘I am sure you will think of something suitable.’

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