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 play. You brought your drunken friends to make fun of me. You threw orange peel on to the stage and cut off my speeches before they could be properly delivered. I am used to being derided, Lord Risley, but I had thought you were more sensible of my talent. You certainly made a great pretence of appreciating it last week, but that was before I refused to become your paramour, wasn’t it? Was this your vengeance?’
‘Vengeance? Good God! Surely you do not believe I am as contemptible as that?’
She ignored his denial. ‘And now I suppose those…those…rakeshames are privy to everything I told you in confidence.’
‘No, never! I was with those fellows, but I did not know what they would do and I certainly took no part in their bad behaviour. Please believe me. I would not for the world have you hurt.’
‘Hurt, my lord,’ she said haughtily. ‘I am beyond hurting. I am angry that other people’s enjoyment of the play was spoiled by a handful of idle ne’er-do-wells.’
‘So am I, believe me. Please allow me to take you home. You cannot walk through the streets alone at this time of night. Anything could happen.’
She smiled slowly in the darkness. ‘You are concerned for my safety?’
‘Naturally I am.’
‘And you would walk with me?’
‘If you prefer that to riding in my carriage, then I will be honoured to do so.’
‘Then send your carriage home. It is not fair on the horses to keep them waiting so long.’
He turned and instructed his coachman to take the equipage home, then offered her his arm. She laid her fingers upon it and together they strolled off in the direction of Oxford Street. He would have to walk home from there, but she did not care. It served him right.
Chapter Three
N either spoke for several minutes, both deep in thoughts they could not share. Though she was still very angry with him, Madeleine was obliged to admit, if only to herself, that she was glad of his company. She could easily have asked the stage door-keeper to fetch her a cab, but instead she had elected to walk home, a decision she regretted almost as soon as she had made it, but her pride prevented her from retracting. To reach Oxford Street from Covent Garden on foot meant going through a most insalubrious area of town, where footpads and other criminals abounded and a lone woman was fair game. Furious with her escort she might be, but she was glad of his protection.
Duncan was fully aware that his fellow carousers had assumed he had left them to take Miss Charron home in pursuit of the wager, which he wished with all his heart he had never made. Tomorrow they would demand chapter and verse in order to be convinced that he had succeeded in climbing into the actress’s bed. He sighed heavily; he would have to admit failure and put up with the ribaldry that was bound to follow. He would never live it down. And he prayed most heartily that Miss Charron herself never got to hear of it. How, in heaven’s name, could he explain it to her and still keep her goodwill?
Judging by the peal she had rung over him a few minutes before, he had lost it already and he cursed himself for agreeing to dine with Benedict and his friends and accompanying them to the theatre afterwards. Once they began hectoring the performers, he had tried to restrain them, but they were all so drunk, they took no notice and, to his eternal shame, he had given up.
‘Miss Charron,’ he said at last, ‘I most humbly beg your pardon if I have offended you—’
‘It is not me alone you offended, my lord,’ she said in her haughtiest voice, ‘but all the other performers and the audience too who could not hear the play for the noise you and your friends were making. You call yourselves gentlemen! I have seen more gentlemanly behaviour in street urchins.’
‘You are right, but in my own defence I can only say I did not know my friends would behave in such a fashion; they had taken a drop too much.’
‘A drop!’ She spoke scornfully, walking swiftly, head high, so that her words were carried to him over her shoulder. ‘A barrel would be more accurate. And that is no excuse, though I am aware everyone thinks it is. Now, I beg you to say no more about it, for talking about it is making me angrier by the minute.’
‘If you will not hear my apology, then I will remain silent.’
‘Please do.’
They resumed their silent contemplation as they walked, more quickly now. The streets had been busy around the theatre, which was lit by street lamps, but now they were in an unlit area, where the houses were crowded together and what little moonlight there was could hardly penetrate. Every now and again a door opened to reveal the noisy interior of a low tavern, as people came out to wend their way drunkenly homeward. There were puddles in the road and unpleasant smells whose source could not be determined. There was a scurrying of mice around a pile of rubbish and a cat screeched as someone threw something at it from a bedroom window.
Madeleine shuddered, realising she had become soft. Not so many years before, she would have walked through here and thought nothing of it. No one would have accosted her; she was a child of poverty, just as they were, and had nothing to steal. What a long way she had come. But not far enough, nowhere near far enough. She smiled suddenly.
‘My lord, I am sorry.’ She laid a hand on his arm and the slight contact heightened her awareness of him as a man—a tall, muscular, handsome and very virile man. ‘That was unkind in me when you have taken the trouble to see me safe home. Talk if you wish to, I shall listen.’
The sudden change in her tone of voice took him by surprise. The virago had gone and been replaced by a woman who appeared to care that she had berated him unjustly. And the hand on his sleeve was as warm as the smile she turned towards him. He could see her face clearly by the light coming from the window of a house they were passing. The rest of her—her clothes, her hat, her small feet in patent leather shoes—were in shadow, but the face, framed by the soft outline of the feather in her bonnet, was clear, the eyes bright and the lips slightly parted.
She was beautiful and desirable and if she were not who she was and if he were not who he was, he could easily fall in love with her, properly in love, not as a man loves his mistress, which would be acceptable in Society so long as he kept her in the background, but as a man loves the woman he would like for his wife. The unthinkable thought shook him to the core and he took a moment to compose himself before he spoke again.
‘I
