to his aunt, who was studying her with some interest. She stared back boldly, thinking hard. Delagarde seemed to be adamant, she was making no headway there. But hope was reviving fast. If she could only bring this lady round to her side! She was not, she told herself, a schemer. Not like Adela, not in the true sense of the word. Only what else could she have done? She would have preferred to set up house on her own. It was what she had planned to do, with Worm as chaperon. But that scheme would not do, as she had been brought to realise. She had been obliged to fall back upon convention, and for that she needed help. It had not entered her head that her designated assistant would decline to give that help. Now what was she to do? She made up her mind.
Addressing herself to Delagarde’s aunt, she said, ‘I have not properly introduced myself. I am Lady Mary Hope, daughter of the late John Hope, fourth Earl of Shurland; and great-niece of the late Reginald Hope, fifth Earl of Shurland, and my erstwhile guardian. I am related to Lord Delagarde through my mother, who was a Burloyne.’
‘Have we any relations called Burloyne, Aunt?’ asked Delagarde. ‘You ought to know. She claims it comes through the Otterburns.’
The elder lady nodded. ‘It does, indeed. Although it is some few generations back.’
‘I thought as much. Far too remote to be of consequence.’
Maidie brightened. ‘Are you an Otterburn, then, ma’am?’
‘I am Lady Hester Otterburn. Dorinda—that is, Delagarde’s mother—was my niece.’ To Maidie’s relief, Lady Hester smiled and touched her arm with a friendly hand. ‘What is it you want, child?’
Drawing a breath, Maidie plunged in again. ‘I want Lord Delagarde to arrange my debut.’
For a moment, Lady Hester looked at her with almost as great a blankness as had Delagarde. Then, to Maidie’s bewilderment, she burst out laughing. Lord Delagarde’s reluctance to oblige her was at least comprehensible. But this? She watched as the elder lady betook herself to Delagarde’s lately vacated chair and sat down.
‘Forgive me,’ she uttered, as soon as she could speak, ‘but that is the funniest idea I have heard in years.’
‘I don’t see why,’ Maidie said, pained.
‘Nor do I,’ agreed Delagarde, regarding his aunt with disfavour. ‘What the devil do you mean by it, Aunt Hes?’
Lady Hester bubbled over again. ‘The picture of you, Laurie, in the role of nursemaid to an ingenue. Really, it does not bear imagination! What in the world possessed you to think of such a thing, child? Laurie has no more notion of how to steer a young girl through the social shoals than the man in the moon.’
‘There is no man in the moon,’ Maidie said, vaguely irritated.
‘This is typical,’ commented Delagarde, gesturing towards her. ‘Her whole conversation consists of nonsequitur statements.’ To Maidie, he added, ‘We know there is no man in the moon. What is that to the purpose?’
Maidie tutted. ‘It is a foolish expression, which only shows how little people know of the cosmos.’
Both Lady Hester and Delagarde stared at her. Maidie eyed them both back, frowning. Had she said something out of the way? She knew she had been too little in company to appreciate the niceties of etiquette. Adela was always complaining of her lack of social graces. There had been some spite in that, but perhaps there was more ground for the complaint than Maidie had thought. Well, it mattered little. She had scant interest in society, and if only she could get this business over and done with, she would not be in need of social graces.
‘May we return to the point of this discussion?’ she asked, her tone a trifle frigid.
‘By all means,’ said Lady Hester amiably. ‘Do tell me why you hit upon poor Laurie for the task of introducing you.’
‘It was not by chance, you know.’ Maidie dug once more into her reticule, and brought out the letter, which she gave to Lady Hester. ‘This is from Lady Delagarde.’
‘Thank you. Do sit down, child.’
Thus adjured, Maidie resumed her former chair as Lord Delagarde walked across and took a seat on a little sofa that faced the fire. She eyed him surreptitiously, aware that he was watching her. Not, she dared say, with any degree of approval. Not that she wanted his approval. If there had been any other option open to her, she would have felt much inclined to abandon her scheme, for she was sure he was going to prove difficult. He was evidently a man used to having his own way, and all too likely to give her a great deal of trouble.
The thought faded from her mind as Lady Hester came to the end of the letter she was reading, and spoke.
‘It is Dorinda’s hand, I can vouch for that.’
‘I never doubted it,’ said Delagarde. ‘I hope I can recognise my own mother’s handwriting. What of it? You have not heard the half of this ridiculous story. Here is this female—’
‘Lady Mary, you mean,’ interpolated his aunt.
‘If she is Lady Mary—’
‘Oh, I think there can be no doubt of that.’
‘Thank you,’ put in Maidie gratefully. ‘I cannot think why he would not believe me.’
Delagarde almost snorted. ‘Because your conduct hardly tallies with the title.’
‘Laurie, do be quiet!’ begged Lady Hester. ‘Let the child tell her tale in her own way.’
‘Her tale is imbecilic. She does not wish to marry some fellow or other, and has thus fled her natural protector to come here and demand that I bring her out, on the pretext of that letter. A more stupid—’
‘Hush! Let her speak.’
Maidie threw her a grateful look, and launched once more into an explanation of her difficulties and the ingenious solution she had worked out. Unlike her great-nephew, Lady Hester listened without comment, and even managed to keep Delagarde from bursting out until Maidie had finished. Only then did she speak.
‘I think I understand. There are one or two matters I should like to clarify, however. The exact relationship between us is readily discovered.’
‘Readily discovered?’ echoed the Viscount, incensed that his great-aunt should give the time of day to the chit’s nonsensical scheme. ‘If you hunted it down through half the family tree, I dare say. Besides, I am sure there must be a dozen other males closer related to her than I am myself.’
‘But none of them, my dear Laurie, is a viscount.’
Maidie found herself the sudden recipient of a suspicious look from his lordship, and a questioning one from Lady Hester. What were they at now?
‘Why should that weigh with me?’ she asked forthrightly. ‘I am an Earl’s daughter.’
‘And may look as high as you please for a husband? I wonder just how high you are looking to go.’
Regarding Lady Hester frowningly, Maidie shrugged. ‘His rank is immaterial. It is not that which will determine my choice. I only meant that my title is bound to make it easier for me to find someone willing
