position, I believe. Aldred says he is a bright chap. You’ll find something for him. I am too busy at this time. G’day.” He nodded and was off, walking carefully, and being half hauled into his carriage.
Despite the excitement of a possible change of government, she continued thinking of her father when she returned to the saloon. Things would be very different when he died. Her position in society depended to no small extent on being Fordwich’s daughter. She had no brother. Upon Fordwich’s death, the title and estate would go to Cousin Morash, who was not at all active politically. It was even possible Morash would not welcome her at his home. Her mother’s fortune of thirty thousand pounds was hers, so she would not be poor, but certainly her new establishment would not equal the one to which she was accustomed.
And if she bought a London home—and she could not envision a life without a London residence—would there be enough left over for a country seat? Never being able to leave the city except as someone’s guest was nearly as dreadful an anticipation as not having a home in London.
Cousin Morash would very likely offer her rack and manger, but his wife was a drab, dreary creature. What manner of social life would Cousin Eileen have, she wondered. The annual ball, for instance, might very well go by the board, as Eileen felt it her duty to present her husband a plight of her troth every year. Six children already she had encumbered him with, every one of them with red hair and freckles.
How could women do it? With a shake of her head, as though to get rid of the problem, she went to a desk and began penning her note to Robert Dundas, informing him that Captain Hopper... Her work was interrupted by a new caller. She looked up with interest as the butler announced:
“Mr. Henry Aldred, ma’am.”
Chapter Two
She looked up to see a sharp pair of brown eyes regardingher curiously. Henry’s bow was graceful, if a trifle tardy. He had examined her longer than she liked. He was neither short nor ugly, and if he was poor, there was no real evidence of it in his appearance. The blue jacket that sat on his broad shoulders was not up to the quality of London tailoring, to be sure. A little bulge under the arms and a wrinkle at the shoulder were noticed upon a close inspection, but in the presence of Mr. Aldred, one’s attention was more apt to be drawn to his person than his garments.
He was tall, well formed, his face open and innocent without being rustic. The wind had turned his cheeks to scarlet, and the removal of his curled beaver had left one little strand of his dark hair hanging over his forehead, increasing his boyish charm. Yet he was clearly more than a boy—at least in his mid-twenties, she reckoned. There was an air of confidence on his ingenuous countenance that one did not see on younger faces.
“Cousin Aldred, delighted to make you welcome,” she said, offering her hand, like a gentleman. Aldred blinked in surprise, but stepped forward to grasp her fingers and give them a firm shake.
“Lady Madeline, delighted,” he replied, as his eyes made a quick trip from the top of her fashionably tousled dark curls to the tips of her equally fashionable feet, clad in patent slippers. Neither was the lively face omitted, nor the graceful figure.
She took no objection to this scrutiny, occupied as she was in a similar examination of her caller. “I hope you left the family in Manchester well,” she said politely, as though she were doing no more than making civil small talk. In fact, her every faculty was alert to judge his accent, his manner of expressing himself, his quickness. It was always amusing to annoy the ladies by appearing with a new escort.
“Tolerably well, thank you, ma’am. Papa tells me Cousin Fordwich is fine, and I can see there is nothing amiss with your health.” This speech held just the proper amount of flirtation and admiration for a new young acquaintance of
Despite the excitement of a possible change of government, she continued thinking of her father when she returned to the saloon. Things would be very different when he died. Her position in society depended to no small extent on being Fordwich’s daughter. She had no brother. Upon Fordwich’s death, the title and estate would go to Cousin Morash, who was not at all active politically. It was even possible Morash would not welcome her at his home. Her mother’s fortune of thirty thousand pounds was hers, so she would not be poor, but certainly her new establishment would not equal the one to which she was accustomed.
And if she bought a London home—and she could not envision a life without a London residence—would there be enough left over for a country seat? Never being able to leave the city except as someone’s guest was nearly as dreadful an anticipation as not having a home in London.
Cousin Morash would very likely offer her rack and manger, but his wife was a drab, dreary creature. What manner of social life would Cousin Eileen have, she wondered. The annual ball, for instance, might very well go by the board, as Eileen felt it her duty to present her husband a plight of her troth every year. Six children already she had encumbered him with, every one of them with red hair and freckles.
How could women do it? With a shake of her head, as though to get rid of the problem, she went to a desk and began penning her note to Robert Dundas, informing him that Captain Hopper... Her work was interrupted by a new caller. She looked up with interest as the butler announced:
“Mr. Henry Aldred, ma’am.”
Chapter Two
She looked up to see a sharp pair of brown eyes regardingher curiously. Henry’s bow was graceful, if a trifle tardy. He had examined her longer than she liked. He was neither short nor ugly, and if he was poor, there was no real evidence of it in his appearance. The blue jacket that sat on his broad shoulders was not up to the quality of London tailoring, to be sure. A little bulge under the arms and a wrinkle at the shoulder were noticed upon a close inspection, but in the presence of Mr. Aldred, one’s attention was more apt to be drawn to his person than his garments.
He was tall, well formed, his face open and innocent without being rustic. The wind had turned his cheeks to scarlet, and the removal of his curled beaver had left one little strand of his dark hair hanging over his forehead, increasing his boyish charm. Yet he was clearly more than a boy—at least in his mid-twenties, she reckoned. There was an air of confidence on his ingenuous countenance that one did not see on younger faces.
“Cousin Aldred, delighted to make you welcome,” she said, offering her hand, like a gentleman. Aldred blinked in surprise, but stepped forward to grasp her fingers and give them a firm shake.
“Lady Madeline, delighted,” he replied, as his eyes made a quick trip from the top of her fashionably tousled dark curls to the tips of her equally fashionable feet, clad in patent slippers. Neither was the lively face omitted, nor the graceful figure.
She took no objection to this scrutiny, occupied as she was in a similar examination of her caller. “I hope you left the family in Manchester well,” she said politely, as though she were doing no more than making civil small talk. In fact, her every faculty was alert to judge his accent, his manner of expressing himself, his quickness. It was always amusing to annoy the ladies by appearing with a new escort.
“Tolerably well, thank you, ma’am. Papa tells me Cousin Fordwich is fine, and I can see there is nothing amiss with your health.” This speech held just the proper amount of flirtation and admiration for a new young acquaintance of
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