The coach inched forward in the queue of fine vehicles. Maddy put her face close to the window. Looking ahead, she could see a throng of people gathered in the torchlight outside a town house. They appeared to be common folk, hoping to catch a glimpse of the luminaries descending from their carriages.
A frisson of anticipation capered over her skin. Her plan was about to be set in motion. Tonight, for the first time, she would be one of the favored few allowed to enter the rarefied realm of the nobility. She finally would have a chance to search for her grandfather …
“Madelyn!” the dowager groused. “Don’t press your nose to the glass. That is most improper.”
She looked across the coach to see Lady Gilmore glaring in the pale light of the lanterns, her gloved hands grasping the gold knob of the cane, the ostrich feathers on her olive-hued hat wagging above her wrinkled features. A stern-faced Lord Gilmore sat beside her, then Lady Sophia in dark mulberry silk, the beauty of her dainty form spoiled by the haughty set of her chin.
The luxurious coach comfortably seated all six of them, with Maddy on Nathan’s right and Emily on his left. Nathan said nothing in Maddy’s defense; he merely looked aloof, although she knew him well enough by now to detect the faint twitch of amusement at the corners of his mouth. After two weeks of marriage, the rascal still enjoyed seeing how much she irritated his family.
Maddy sat back demurely and folded her kid-gloved hands in her lap. Let them all sneer. She was determined not to be a liability for Emily’s sake. “Forgive me, Grandmamma. I quite forgot myself for a moment.”
“You must be on your best behavior tonight,” Lady Gilmore scolded. “I would not like to think that I’ve squandered the past fortnight instructing you in proper manners.”
“I think she’ll do famously,” Emily piped up. “She’s a very quick learner and the dancing master said she’s his best pupil.”
“Pish-posh. A monkey can be taught to dance. It is how she behaves among her betters that concerns me. And at this party in particular! Lady Milford invites only the crème of the crème.”
“Indeed, she’s the premier hostess of the ton,” Sophia said, turning her cool blue eyes on Maddy. “I cannot imagine that Lady Milford has ever before felt obliged to include a common actress on her guest list.”
Maddy hid her annoyance behind a regal manner. “Then I shall endeavor to be worthy of the honor.”
Nathan chuckled. “Since I am recently married, it would be peculiar for my bride not to attend.” He placed his hand over Maddy’s in her lap. “And we can be thankful for the opportunity. An invitation from my godmother is guaranteed to make Madelyn acceptable to the ton.”
He was gazing at his father, no doubt savoring Gilmore’s disapproving expression. Maddy had not quite grown accustomed to the tension between the two men. It loomed like a dark cloud over every meal, every family gathering in the drawing room, every chance encounter in the corridor.
Nevertheless, the firmness of Nathan’s hand on hers stirred a melting warmth in her. He had come through on his promise to help her, after all. Somehow, he had persuaded Lady Milford to host a party to pave Maddy’s entry into society. It was the perfect remedy to the dowager’s poisonous decree that would have kept Maddy hidden away at Gilmore House.
“This is the first grand event of the season,” Emily said, her face aglow with excitement. “I can scarcely wait to see who’s here. Oh, I do hope I’m asked to dance.”
A fond smile eased the earl’s taut features. “You are looking exceptionally lovely tonight, my dear. I’m sure the gentlemen will be clamoring for introductions.”
Maddy allowed herself a secret smile of satisfaction. No one seemed to have noticed exactly why Emily appeared so radiant, or looked closely enough to see that it was due to a clever application of cosmetics. Earlier, Maddy had brought the girl into her dressing room and used a minuscule amount of putty to fill her pockmarks. The pits were still there, but they were far less evident, especially with a dusting of powder and a touch of rouge on Emily’s cheekbones to enhance her youthful luminosity.
Lady Gilmore had expressly forbidden the use of face paint. But luckily, the dowager’s poor eyesight had prevented her from detecting the subterfuge. Maddy had no intention of enlightening her.
The coach crept forward and came to a halt in front of the brick town house. A footman opened the door and stood stiffly at attention. He extended his gloved hand to help the ladies exit, first Lady Gilmore, and then Maddy.
As she stepped out, the petticoats beneath her evening gown rustled. The peacock-blue dress had been sewn from one of the lengths of silk that Nathan had given her, and she’d had to cajole the dowager for the right to wear such a vibrant hue. But the effort had been well worth the trouble. She knew from the mirror in her dressing chamber that the off-the-shoulder gown complemented her upswept blond curls. Lady Gilmore had even grudgingly allowed Maddy to borrow a delicate sapphire teardrop necklace from the collection of family jewels.
In the glow of the torches, a red carpet runner had been laid to protect the ladies’ hems. She had a swift view of the many admiring onlookers; then Nathan took hold of her arm and they followed the Earl of Gilmore and his mother past a line of liveried servants and into the house.
Throngs of richly garbed aristocrats crowded the spacious foyer with its high ceiling, and the air buzzed with conversation. The crystals of a huge chandelier glittered with the light of a hundred candles. A nervous excitement flowed through her veins. This had been her mother’s world—and Maddy had long been curious to view it.
She handed her wrap to a waiting footman. Clutching a small reticule, she took a position with Nathan behind the earl and dowager in the receiving line. Lady Milford stood at the base of the marble staircase and welcomed each of her guests. Resplendent in lilac satin, a diamond tiara on her coal-black hair, she was clearly the doyenne of high society.
Maddy drew a shaky breath. She hadn’t seen Lady Milford since the woman had come to the dressing room at the theater and requested that Nathan be included in the auction. Would her ladyship acknowledge their prior meeting? How would Maddy explain that acquaintance to the others—especially Nathan’s grandmother?
Nathan lowered his lips close to her ear and whispered, “Don’t look so frightened, darling. My godmother won’t bite.”
“Perhaps not her, but someone else, then.”
He laughed softly. “Stay close and I’ll guard against the wolves.”
He turned to speak to Emily and Sophia, who stood behind them in line. All the while he kept his hand at the small of Maddy’s back in a possessive gesture. Even in the midst of so many people, a pulse of attraction heated her. The carnal delight she had found with him these past few weeks had far surpassed her tame, virginal fantasies.
Since their marriage was one of mutual convenience, she had diligently ignored the darkness in him, the part of himself that he kept closed off to the world. It wouldn’t do to wonder at the source of his hatred for his father. Nor to yearn for any more than physical pleasure with Nathan. After all, he would only be in her life for a few months.
The line moved forward. After greeting their hostess, the dowager hobbled several steps away and then stopped to wait with Lord Gilmore. Her wrinkled face alert, she held the quizzing glass to her eye and closely watched Maddy to see that no mistakes were committed.
Nathan made the introductions. “Lady Milford, may I present my wife, Madelyn, Lady Rowley. Madelyn, this is my godmother.”
Maddy sank into the curtsy that she’d spent hours practicing. As she arose, Lady Milford gave her a warm smile and clasped Maddy’s gloved hand. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Rowley. I’m intrigued to finally meet the woman who caught my dashing godson.”
The shrewd light in those violet eyes told Maddy that the secret of their earlier meeting was safe. With great relief, she returned the smile. “The pleasure is all mine, my lady.”
“You appear to have made Nathan very happy,” Lady Milford added. “Perhaps you and I might have a chance to chat more later.”
“Thank you, I would enjoy that very much.”
Then the little exchange was over and Maddy could breathe again. As Nathan drew her away, the dowager gave her a terse nod of approval. The Earl of Gilmore merely compressed his lips and averted his gaze to the milling throng. He was likely checking to see who might have noted her identity, Maddy thought in vexation.
She realized there were indeed many people looking her way, ladies whispering in small groups and gentlemen boldly eyeing her. They were all strangers to her. She saw no one familiar among them.
Was the Duke of Houghton present? He might be in the company of his grandson, her cousin. But Lord Dunham was nowhere in sight.
She held Nathan’s arm as they started up the grand staircase with the rest of their party. “You’re in,” he murmured for her ears alone. “You’ve officially breached the walls of society. Everyone will have to accept you now that you have my godmother’s stamp of approval.”
Maddy allowed herself a moment of triumph, although another concern weighed on her mind. She glanced around to make certain no one could overhear. “Nathan, I have to ask. Do you know if any of the gentlemen from the auction were invited here?”
His mouth tilted in a grin. “Worried?”
“Of course I am. It could prove awkward. Should I pretend not to know them?”
“Do as you wish. So long as it displeases Gilmore.”
His careless manner irked her. As happy as he’d made her in the bedchamber, he could be exasperating in his quest to use her to shame his father. “Don’t tease. If anyone openly denounces me over that auction, it could cause a horrid scandal and reflect badly on your sister.”
As they reached a reception area at the top of the staircase, he brought her gloved hand to his and kissed the back. “Set your mind at ease, darling,” he murmured. “I very much doubt any of those men would wish their peccadilloes revealed in public. They’ll pretend not to know you for fear of landing in hot water with the ladies in their life.”
The reassurance eased her qualms. The last thing she needed was for one of the gentlemen to reproach her in front of everyone for spurning him. Or worse, to catch her alone and attempt to grope her as Lord Dunham had done at the theater.
“Why are you two whispering?” Lady Gilmore grumbled, huffing and puffing from the climb up the steps. “What are you saying?”
“I was merely asking Nathan to tell me who is here,” Maddy improvised. “But I fear he’s been away from society for so long, many are unknown to him.”
“You will sit by me with the matrons,” the dowager declared. “I will provide any necessary names. Come along now. You will hold my arm while Gilmore and Sophia introduce Emily to the right people.”
Maddy had envisioned herself strolling through the crowd with Nathan, admiring the gowns of the other ladies, viewing the opulent surroundings, and most of all, searching for the Duke of Houghton. Was she really doomed to be stuck in a corner with the grumpy dowager?
She frowned up at her husband in attempt to convey her displeasure, but he merely gave her that maddeningly handsome smile and handed her over to his grandmother. “Take good care of her, Grandmamma, while I go in search of a card game.” He leaned close and gave Maddy a kiss on the cheek, whispering, “You’ll be bored, but I’ll make up for it later when we’re alone.”
The warmth of his breath tickled her ear and sent a feathery tingle over her skin. Leaving her frustrated in more ways than one, he sauntered off into the multitude. He looked tall and attractive in his dark coat, his shoulder-length black hair drawn back at his nape with a leather ribbon, setting him apart from all the other gentlemen. He drew quite a few glances, she noticed, especially from the women, and just as he stopped to turn his dimpled smile on a brunette beauty, Maddy heard the dreaded thud of the cane on the floor.
“Don’t stand there gawking,” Lady Gilmore hissed. “Help me into the drawing room.”
Maddy dutifully grasped the old woman’s arm. The dowager had stringy muscles beneath her olive-green sleeve, and she seemed sturdier than her appearance, tottering along with the aid of her cane. They went through an arched doorway and entered a long chamber, apparently two large drawing rooms that had been opened up for the purpose of this party. The rich décor of gold and blue formed a fitting backdrop for the many elegant guests.
At one end of the room, occupying several rows of chairs, a gaggle of middle-aged and elderly matrons sat with their fans waving and their tongues wagging.
“This is the true test,” Lady Gilmore muttered. “You are to sit quietly and speak only when addressed. And no babbling whatsoever!”
It had to be the hundredth time Maddy had heard that particular directive. She swallowed her exasperation and said meekly, “Yes, Grandmamma.”
As they neared the women, the whispers intensified. Many pairs of sharp eyes dissected her dress, her posture, her manners. It was obvious that every one of these pretentious snobs knew Lord Rowley had had the audacity to wed an upstart actress and then thrust her into their exalted midst.
Lady Gilmore stopped in front of them and presented Maddy. As each lady was introduced to her, she smiled politely and sketched a graceful curtsy. When the ordeal was over, she and Lady Gilmore found seats at the edge of the gathering, and the dowager bade Maddy sit near a large fern on a pedestal by the wall.
Maddy had to tilt her head to see past the leafy vegetation. She had been placed far enough away from the other ladies so that no one spoke to her, though they continued to stare disapprovingly in her direction while murmuring behind their fans. The veil of greenery also effectively separated her from the other guests in the drawing room.
Clearly, the dowager’s plan was to hide Maddy in plain sight.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, she told herself. At least she had a partial view of the party. A footman brought around a tray of drinks, and she sipped on champagne, the bubbles bursting on her tongue. For a time, she entertained herself by studying the array of gorgeous gowns on the other ladies, noting the cut of the sleeves and bodices, the accessories like gloves and reticules. When she opened her shop, she would have to be well versed in the latest fashions.
She also kept a watch for elderly gentlemen. But if the Duke of Houghton was present, she had no idea which one he might be. The barrel-chested man with the gray muttonchop whiskers? The stoop-shouldered octogenarian with a cane? The craggy old lecher who gawked openly at the ladies?
When a small ensemble began to play, Maddy surreptitiously tapped her feet in time to the music. She was wearing the fancy slippers given to her by Lady Milford, and every so often, the sparkly toe kicked up the hem of her peacock-blue skirt. From her vantage point behind the fern, there appeared to be dancing at the far end of the chamber. With all her heart, she longed to be in the thick of the other guests, whirling around the floor in Nathan’s arms.
Impatience sizzled in her veins. Where was her husband? He’d mentioned something about cards, but that had been well over an hour ago. Had he joined a foursome? Or was he squiring that pretty brunette in a dance? It grated on Maddy to think of him aiming his heart-melting smile at another woman. He surely would be renewing acquaintances with members of the ton tonight. Ten years ago, he’d had a wild reputation, and if he were to meet an old flame …
At that moment, the crowd shifted and she spied a familiar gentleman in the doorway. All other thought fled her mind. That narrow aristocratic face beneath the neatly combed flaxen hair belonged to her cousin Alfred Langley, Lord Dunham.
She sat up straight, her gloved fingers digging into the reticule in her lap. Lord Dunham stood in conversation with someone. Who? Straining to see past the foliage, she spotted another gentleman with similar bone structure and sandy-brown hair, though he wore gold-rimmed spectacles and his face looked younger, his features lacking the sharpness of Lord Dunham’s.
Were the two men related? More importantly, did Lord Dunham’s presence mean that the Duke of Houghton was also in attendance?
Her heart thumped. This could be her big chance. While deciding on a scheme to escape Lady Gilmore’s watchful protection, she noticed Emily standing a short distance away with Lady Sophia, exchanging pleasantries with a middle-aged couple.
The younger gentleman with Lord Dunham cast several furtive glances at Emily. A hint of yearning played on his face. The girl did indeed look like a vision, her slim figure garbed in cream silk, pearls at her throat, the candlelight shining on her russet-brown hair.
Lady Gilmore was gossiping with a matron, and Maddy waited until there was a break in conversation. She leaned closer and asked, “Grandmamma, pardon me. Might I ask if you know those two gentlemen standing over there by the doorway? They look enough alike to be twins.” Not really, but Maddy needed an excuse to single them out.
Lady Gilmore picked up the quizzing glass and squinted through it. “Twins? Hardly, they are eight years apart in age. The fair-haired one is Lord Dunham, heir to the Duke of Houghton. The other is his younger brother, Lord Theodore Langley.”
Maddy sat in stunned surprise. So she had two cousins, not just one. She debated whether or not to inquire about the duke’s presence, too, then decided against it, not wishing to arouse Lady Gilmore’s suspicions. “I was curious because Lord Theodore appears to be gazing rather admiringly at Emily.”
“Humph. I should rather Lord Dunham take a fancy to the girl. He may be a rapscallion, but he is the heir to one of the grandest titles in England.”
“I wonder if Emily has met them,” Maddy said. “I shall go find Nathan or the earl and ask one of them to do the honors.”
The dowager grasped the knob of her cane. “Nonsense, I can introduce them myself.”
“Oh, pray don’t disturb yourself, my lady. I’m sure the earl is somewhere nearby.”
Without further ado, Maddy arose from her chair and glided into the swarm of guests before Lady Gilmore could voice another objection. A heady sense of freedom swept through her. She would likely catch a scolding later for leaving without permission. But that risk was well worth the chance to cut herself loose from that clutch of old biddies.
She made a wide berth around her two cousins. Lord Dunham mustn’t spot her—at least not yet. Of all the gentlemen from the auction, he was the one most likely to harass her and stir up unwelcome gossip.
The lilt of music lured her toward the far end of the room. She didn’t see Nathan or his father anywhere. People stared and whispered, but she pretended not to notice. Her chin held high, Maddy imagined herself in the role of a highborn lady as she strolled through the multitude. She felt rather like an actress stepping off the stage and walking among the audience.
If anyone caught her eye, she smiled coolly and gave a regal nod. No one spoke to her since convention dictated a lady be formally introduced before engaging in conversation. Maddy didn’t mind in the least. It was a blessing they were all strangers because she hadn’t entered society to make friends.
She wanted a glimpse of her grandfather. If he was here.
This was the glittering world in which her mother had grown up. Had any of these people known Mama when she’d made her debut nearly thirty years ago? They would be shocked to the depths of their snooty souls to learn that the scandalous commoner in their midst was the daughter of Lady Sarah Langley, disgraced for eloping with an actor.
But no one must know just yet.
Approaching the dance floor, she spied another man familiar to her. The Marquess of Herrington was squiring a horse-faced girl in amber satin with a tail of ribbons at the back of her gown.
Maddy took her time selecting another glass of champagne from a tray while she surreptitiously observed him. Brown hair, brown eyes, ordinary features. Of all the gentlemen who had submitted bids in the auction, Lord Herrington had been the most dull and unremarkable. For that reason she had believed he would suit her well, a quiet scholar who would not make many demands on her. She had all but settled upon him as her lover when Nathan had presented his offer of marriage.
How different her life would be now had she kept to her original choice. She would not be a wife, but a mistress.
The music stopped. Lord Herrington bowed to his partner. Leaving the dance floor, the couple strolled into the milling assembly and headed straight toward Maddy.
She tensed. There was no time to turn and flee. That might attract undue attention, anyway.
She knew the moment the marquess saw her. His eyes widened ever so slightly. His nondescript features turned rigid. Yet his gaze flicked over her as if she were invisible.
She found his action unexpectedly amusing. He must be squirming inside, wondering if she would embarrass him by offering a greeting or making reference to the auction.
Maddy was half tempted to raise her champagne glass in a salute. Instead, she merely took a sip as the couple walked past her. What a relief that she had spurned his offer. Nothing about the lackluster man stirred her in the least. She shuddered inwardly to think of allowing him the intimate pleasures she’d shared with Nathan.
“Any regrets?”
A familiar male voice rumbled in her ear, and she choked on a bubbly swallow of champagne. She whirled around to see the smirking features of her husband, the gold flecks in his green eyes gleaming in the candlelight. Her heart took a wild leap. “Nathan! I thought you were playing cards.”
“I was. Then I spotted you here, making moon eyes at Herrington.”
“Pardon me? After your grandmother’s lessons, I’m far too refined to make moon eyes.”
He took hold of her hand and rubbed his thumb over her gloved palm. “Your dreamy expression must have been for me, then. You were reflecting on your good fortune in selecting me instead of him.”
Nathan had deduced her very thoughts. Maddy was indeed thrilled with her choice. She couldn’t imagine being with any other man. But she didn’t want him to guess just how much the world sparkled whenever he was near. “Conceited jackanapes. You have an overblown sense of your own worth.”
Chuckling, he plucked the champagne glass from her hand and set it on a table. “Well, my overblown senses tell me you’re keen to practice your dancing skills. Come, the next one is a waltz.”