Free Lady Madeline's Folly by Joan Smith Page A

about you, but Papa tells me he has the honor of your acquaintance, ma’am.”
    “I knew him when he was in shortcoats. I suppose he has got over that nasty habit of thrusting toads and frogs into a girl’s face by this time?”
    “I believe so. Now that he is more mature, he thrusts badgers and rats. He most particularly asked me to inquire whether you still hide your head under a pillow at night to escape the bogeyman who used to visit you when the moon was full.”
    “No, I still do it,” she said with a laugh. “Imagine Andy remembering that. We spent a summer together once about a hundred or so years ago, on a farm in Scotland. I can’t recall how it came about. My mama was in the straw, but I don’t know what accounted for Andy’s visit.”
    “I expect my papa was in the basket,” he answered lightly.
    “I’ll have the butler show you to your room, Henry,” Madeline said, eager to get him to herself. “Come to the study when you are freshened up. We have such a lot to talk about.”
    “I like him,” Lady Margaret said when he had gone abovestairs. “A handsome fellow. I always liked Andrew Aldred. He would have amounted to something in the world if he had made a decent marriage. It would be a pity if his sons followed in his footsteps. I expect their papa has cautioned them against such a course. I suppose you have a well-dowered young girl all picked out for him by this time, eh Maddie?”
    “It’s a bit early for that yet,” Madeline answered blandly, but a blush betrayed her feelings.
    “I do not refer to yourself, goose. You can look higher than Mr. Aldred. Still, he is a bright, lively lad. It will be nice to have some young company in the house for you.”
    Within minutes. Henry was back downstairs, searching Madeline out in the study. She ordered tea and a sandwich for him, then sat down to talk.
    “Before we begin, Madeline, I have some confessions to make,” he said, casting his brown eyes on her in a beseeching way.
    “What is it?” she demanded, alarmed, with some premonition that it involved a girl.
    “About my foot-dragging in the matter of Tilsit’s offer. The fact is, when I went to London, I was instructed by my father to go to Neville, a friend of his. I don’t know whether the name means anything to you, but he is a Whig. He offered me a position, a paltry job really, but that is not why I refused it. At the moment, I don’t merit anything better than that. I refused because you had convinced me my interests lay elsewhere.
    “I knew my welcome at your home would be removed if I accepted Neville, and how could I deprive myself of my only joy in London? But till I talked it over with my father, explained my reasons to him in person, I disliked to definitely turn Neville down. It would have hurt my father, had he heard the news from Neville and not me. That was the real reason I went home, to unencumber myself of my guilty secret to Papa. He was understanding, however. Once he learned I truly believed in the principles of the Tories, he urged me to put my efforts where my feelings were. He’s a wonderful man, my father. I wish you could meet him. Now that I have convinced him, I can give Tilsit his reply. I shall see him as soon as we get to London.”
    “I don’t see why you could not have told me all this sooner,” she objected. “But it is no matter. I am satisfied with it. It is unusual to find a young man who takes such consideration of his parents’ wishes nowadays. I respect you for it, Henry. And your mother... ?”
    “She had a cold. I would not lie outright about it. It was not very serious. She is all recovered, thank God. You are so understanding, Cousin. I hope you will not lose your respect for me when you hear the rest. Some confessions, I said. The fact is, I was—now how shall I say it?— entangled with a girl at home. Not serious, you know, but when you have been on good and friendly terms with a young lady for a year, some private conversation is