Lady Madeline's Folly
Page 16
"No, I had decided to wait till Saturday. Papa asked me to. The trip will be off now of course. He'll have to stay in town. There will be meetings... It was kind of you to take time to come and tell me."
"That's not really why I came, Maddie," he said, in a softer, hesitant voice. "Let us sit down. We must talk. I think you have some idea what I want to say."
She could not speak for the lump in her throat. A gentleman to the end, he was going to tell her he was engaged to Lady Susan, before she heard it in some public place. He took her hands in his, holding them tightly. She swallowed down the lump and replied, "Yes, I have a pretty good idea, Eskott."
"There's no use fighting it, is there? I know I should be angry with you: you have treated me with abominable disregard for years, culminating in that outrageous accusation! How could you say such a thing to me? What really hurt was that you could believe such treachery of me, but not of him."
"A madness most indiscreet. I have paid for it, and will go on paying."
"You're not telling me you still care for him!"
"Good gracious no! I nearly slapped his face last night when he came bowing up to me, with his simpering bride in tow."
"I am ashamed to be in the same party as him, but at least he takes a very inactive part. He is turning brewmaster, I hear."
"I can't believe I ever cared for him. But love is blind, they say."
"It is infatuation that is blind. Love sees the flaws only too clearly, but goes on caring just the same, in spite of all," he said with a rueful smile that made her wonder if his mind was unalterably set on Lady Susan.
"Then I am disinfatuated. I see only the flaws now. I don't even find him handsome. The best part of him is his jacket, and I made him order that. He doesn't merit a Weston jacket."
"He doesn't merit any more remorse either, Maddie. Life is too short."
"Yes," she said, thinking of poor Perceval, cut down in his prime. "I must make the most of what is left. Do something useful and worthwhile."
"Helping the poor, making the world in general a more just place?"
"Yes."
"Welcome to the party," he said, taking her fingers and squeezing them. "You'll make a perfect Whig hostess. Converts are always enthusiastic partisans. That woolsack I'll be sitting on one of these days is big enough for two. Care to join me?"
"Lady Susan..."
"I did such a poor job of hiding my disappointment last night when I learned you had left the ball that she gave me my congé on the spot. She said it was kind of me to try to fall in love with her. Wasn't that sweet? I was so happy I kissed her. The two of us received congratulations from half a dozen bystanders."
"Well they should congratulate you. She's a lovely girl," Madeline said with a surge of affection for the hussy.
"I am a fool to let her slip through my fingers. I want to make my position absolutely clear this time. I am not here to resume my role as your delivery boy-cum-convenient escort. I am thirty-five years old. I realized when I saw Perceval shot today how tenuous a hold we have on life. He was only fifty. He little thought when he tied his cravat and shaved this morning that he would never do those things again. It could have been me that got the bullet as well as he, for the assassin was quite obviously deranged. I don't plan to waste another day of my life. It's marriage immediately, or the end of our relationship. This is the third time I've asked you. Three and you're out. What do you say, old girl?"
"I would be honored to join you on the woolsack, dear Eskott. Or anywhere else."
"Good, I have a few other places in mind as well," he said, pulling her into his arms. She felt safe and warm and loved, and every bit as excited as a bride-to-be should feel on such an occasion. She was entering a new phase of her life, her "boys" left behind, their place taken by one fully mature man. When he kissed her, the past fell from her mind and she envisioned a bright future, in which helping the poor played a much smaller part than loving dear Eskott.
About the Author
Joan Smith is a graduate of Queen's University in Kingston, Ontario, and the Ontario College of Education. She has taught French and English in high school and English in college. When she began writing, her interest in Jane Austen and Lord Byron led to her first choice of genre, the Regency, which she especially liked for its wit and humor.
She is the author of over a hundred books, including Regencies, many with a background of mystery, for Fawcett and Walker, contemporary mysteries for Berkley, historical mysteries for Fawcett and St. Martin's, romances for Silhouette, along with a few historicals and gothics. She has had books in the Doubleday Book Club and the Literary Guild, had one book condensed in a magazine, and has been on Walden's Bestseller list.
Her favorite travel destination is England, where she researches her books. Her hobbies are gardening, painting, sculpture and reading. She is married and has three children. A prolific writer, she is currently working on Regencies and various mysteries at her home in Georgetown, Ontario.
Publishing Information
Copyright © 1983 by Joan Smith
Originally published by Fawcett Crest in September, 1983
Electronically published in 2006 by Belgrave House
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.BelgraveHouse.com
Electronic sales: ebooks@belgravehouse.com
This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.