Free Christina Hollis by Lady Rascal Page A

shamefully.
    ‘If you could possibly see your way clear to keeping the regrettable matter between ourselves, mademoiselle...’ He looked uncertain, and took Madeleine’s silence for scorn. ‘It’s not that I care what shame I bring upon myself, you understand. It’s just that the things I said last night—about hating home—and the...matter of funding...Mother doesn’t know. To think that I could have been such a fool! Drinking, and—’
    ‘I’ve seen worse,’ Madeleine said truthfully. ‘Although I think your mother guesses more than you know, Master Philip. She’ll understand you far better than you suspect. I shouldn’t think you could hide much from her.’
    There seemed nothing else to say. Madeleine poured the last few trickles from the teapot into her cup and took her time in adding the sugar.
    ‘Will you miss Paris, Mademoiselle Madeleine?’
    Adamson said at last, clearly unnerved by her continued silence.
    Madeleine had to think back quickly to her story. ‘I have not really been here long enough to tell, Master Philip.’
    ‘I could take word to your lodgings—inform them of our good character and intentions. Perhaps...you might even wish to accompany me? You would be quite safe, mademoiselle,’’ he added quickly.
    ‘No, sir. That’s all sorted out. I’ve long since sent them a message,’ Madeleine fibbed. ‘If we could devote all our time and energy to getting clear of the city I would feel a lot happier.’
    Finishing his last piece of fruit, Adamson dabbed a napkin against his lips. Madeleine had to admire his composure. The city was crumbling into riot around them, his personal life was in ruins and a total stranger now shared his guilty secret, but still his public manners and bearing were impeccable.
    He felt her looking at him and turned. The grey eyes had no brittle lights in them this morning. They were only sad and searching.
    ‘Thank you for coming to my aid last night, mademoiselle. It was more than I deserved, and to treat you so shamefully—’
    ‘I’m surprised you remember anything about it!’ Madeleine laughed.
    ‘Yes—but perhaps I remember too much.’ He cleared his throat, and Madeleine realised that Philip Adamson would never be joked out of depression. A more subtle approach would be needed.
    His enigmatic expression made Madeleine look away. She picked up her teacup once more and tried to concentrate on curling her little finger as Mistress Constance did.
    In only a short time away from the streets she had lost the art of easy conversation. Madeleine wondered if the mannered coyness of the English was catching. In desperation to find a cure she said the first thing that popped into her head.
    ‘I was sorry that your mother did not like you meeting with Miss Kitty—’
    She stopped. Suddenly his manner had changed, agitation replacing interest, his features tightening.
    ‘Yes—well. That could not be helped.’ He rose, throwing his crumpled napkin on to the table.
    Striding quickly out of the room, he left Madeleine with her embarrassment. As she watched the slowly expanding folds of his discarded napkin Madeleine wondered how she could manage to free the man trapped within the manners.
    Madeleine had not realised how quick and easy packing could be, as long as you had staff to do it for you. When she returned to her room after breakfast only a few items were still left out. Brush, comb and cosmetics were set out on the dressing-table while a small bonnet and discreet cloak lay on the bed.
    The weather was so close and stuffy that Madeleine said she would go without the cloak and bonnet. Mistress Constance was scandalised, and Madeleine quickly changed her mind.
    As the maid went to supervise the loading of the trunks Mistress Constance drew Madeleine aside.
    ‘My dear...’ she began in an undertone, looking about as though spies might be hiding in the wainscot ‘...it will take us at least ten days to get home. That means, of course, ten days spent