It was only when she had spoken to that dog of hers that he had shifted back into reality. But not enough to continue on his way.
It was his own foolishness that he had spoken with her, but it had been just curiosity. At least until he had touched her hand. It was ridiculous that such an accidental and inconsequential contact had sparked the same kind of sensation like those galvanic contraptions he had seen at the Royal Academy. He was too old and experienced for such a raw physical reaction. It was probably the surprise and that peculiar sensation of having a place as familiar to him as the gardens transformed into something where he was the interloper and not she. Yes. That must be it.
‘Are you coming to the Carmichael soirée tonight?’ Hetty asked as the silence stretched.
Max knew what she was asking and sighed.
‘I can’t do it, Hetty. Lady Penny is everything you said she would be, but she is just too...compliant. I would wish her at the devil before the ceremony was over. Who’s next on the list? There has to be someone who can have a conversation without deferring to everything I say.’
Hetty sighed as well.
‘You are probably right. Lady Penny’s first impression is unfortunately her best. Perhaps Clara Bannerman, she is very sweet and...’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Her laugh.’
‘Oh, dear. You’re right, that would be hard to bear day in and day out. Then what of Lady Melissa Arkwright?’
Max considered Lady Melissa, his gaze straying to the sketch Hetty held in her lap. She might do. She was certainly beautiful and poised and already showed signs of becoming a very skilful hostess. She could preside quite easily over his properties. It was worth examining.
‘She is suitable on the face of it. Why didn’t you suggest her before Lady Penny? She seems more the part.’
‘I know, but Penny is...nicer. I thought she might be a better mother. I don’t know. It’s not easy choosing a sister-in-law for my only and very dear brother, you know!’ she said severely and Max laughed, relaxing.
‘And I appreciate your help very much, Hetty. I know it’s not easy taking time from your family because I have been putting off dealing with my promise to Father all these years. There always seemed to be plenty of time to get round to it. I should have done something about it sooner.’
‘Nonsense, I’m having a grand time. This is my first time on my own in six years. Ned and the children will eventually benefit from a much refreshed wife and mother. Which gives me an idea—I shall have this framed and send it to Ned to keep him company until my role here is played out. It really makes me look lovelier than I am, doesn’t it? I wonder if she paints...’
Max shrugged. He had had enough of the eccentric blue-eyed sprite for one day.
‘I have no idea. Will Lady Melissa be at the soirée tonight as well? Perhaps we should go after all.’
Max strode down the stairs where his groom was holding the reins of his grey stallion. He had slept poorly after the soirée last night and he needed to ride off some of the tension he was accumulating in this unpleasant but necessary process. He had known there would be conjecture once he started showing up with his sister at social events attended by debutantes and their mamas. It was bad enough that he had to attend these events in the first place; much worse was becoming the object of wagers, even in his own club and among his own acquaintances. The sooner he made up his mind and got it over with the better. At least Lady Melissa had proven to fit his criteria very well. More than her beauty he appreciated her inherent reserve—it was clear she wouldn’t turn out to be like Serena, a beautiful but fatally flawed vessel, just waiting for the right amount of pressure to crack it. And he certainly wouldn’t have to worry whether his children were really his. Lady Melissa was as cool and controlled as Serena had been fiery and volatile. He would let it sit a day or to and then take the plunge. There was no point in prolonging the agony.
He had just taken the reins and dismissed his groom when he saw the Huntley girl walking her ungainly pug. He hesitated, wishing he had held off for a couple minutes so he could have avoided her. Still, there was nothing for it but to be civil. He held his stallion easily as it fretted at the inaction and nodded to her.
‘Good morning. I see he has come to accept his fate with equanimity.’
She stopped, smiling up at him, but perhaps she sensed his diffidence because her smile lacked the openness of yesterday and her voice was a shade more like a society miss.
‘Good morning. He actually walked down the stairs himself after his morning visit with Aunt Minnie. He is becoming quite alert, aren’t you, Marmaduke?’
Max eyed the near-dormant pug dubiously. Alert was not an adjective that sprang to mind.
‘Impressive. What did Lady Huntley have to say about the introduction of a dreaded leash into her home?’
‘I hadn’t meant to tell her, but the doctor tattled on me and it has had a most alarming effect on her.’
‘Is she angry?’
She laughed and he had to actively resist the urge to smile in reflexive response.
‘Not at all. After the doctor gave such a glowing report of Marmaduke’s performance, and I gave her Marmaduke’s sketch, she actually pinched my cheek. And apparently her spies among the servants told her the leash had been delivered anonymously and she demanded to know where it had come from, but I said I don’t know you and your sister’s name, merely that you probably lived near here and she said I was being very sly and good for me. That is by far the longest conversation I have had with her thus far.’
Max gave in and laughed. This strange girl seemed to see the positive or at least the amusing in everything. It really wasn’t quite proper or wise to be talking to her like this in the middle of the street, but as Hetty had pointed out someone as lively as she must be terribly bored with only Minerva and the pugs for company. A few moments of conversation would make no difference.
‘For how long are you captive in the Huntley hold?’
‘That is wholly up to Aunt Minnie. My other siblings lasted between a two days at the shortest to six days at the longest. That was Augusta, but she said Aunt Minnie almost never spoke to her, it was just that she liked the way she played the pianoforte. Then there was Cousin Arthur—he held on for a whole two weeks and was completely hateful and unctuous about it and I would dearly love to break his record.
‘I see. And what skill does the length of your servitude depend on aside from reforming her pugs?’
She twinkled up at him.
‘I am not quite certain. She has me read to her a great deal, the most amusing books and certainly nothing we are allowed at home. And now that she has discovered I am a fair artist she has decided she wants me to paint a full portrait...’ her voice wavered slightly ‘...of Marmaduke.’
‘Good God.’ Max glanced down at the object of the conversation and Marmaduke scratched himself absently. ‘In a heroic pose?’
