Fallen Angel by Elizabeth Thornton Page A

to tell, I'm accustomed to plain fare at my mother's table. Besides, it's always been my policy to follow the old maxim 'When in Rome' etc. No, really, I'm looking forward to sampling your Scottish cuisine."
    "Good," said Maddie dryly, nettled beyond endurance by his English condescension. "I'll inform Janet that there's no need to defer the black pudding for another evening."
    "Black pudding?" queried Deveryn.
    Cynthia shuddered. "I hope you're funning Maddie. It's a barbaric dish. No civilized person would deign to let it pass his lips."
    "Now you've got me interested. What is it?" asked Deveryn.
    "Porridge, uncooked, of course, with the entrails of an ox, minced very fine," intoned Maddie with biting exactitude, "and soaked in the blood of the animal. It's very good for one, and a relic, I suppose, from the days when we Scots were cannibals."
    Maddie unconsciously rolled her tongue inside her cheek and the viscount suppressed a chortle. Cynthia's complexion, he noted, had paled to an unflattering shade of grey.
    "When the Scots were cannibals?" murmured Deveryn with exaggerated politeness. "And when was that, would you say?"
    "About the same time we practised human sacrifice, give a year or two," drawled Maddie, "though it was before my time, I collect. Janet could tell you more if you're interested."
    "Maddie," interjected Miss Spencer in determined accents, "you were going to ring for tea?"
    Maddie rose and obediently pulled the bellrope at the side of the mantel. The gesture, she knew, was wasted effort. Until her aunt had descended on Drumoak to act as chaperone to her motherless niece, no one had ever used the bellpull which every room boasted. Maddie was not even certain whether they worked or not. Certainly, no servant at Drumoak had ever been summoned by a pull on a bell, in her memory. After a moment, she excused herself and went in search of Janet.
    When she returned, conversation was all of court circles. It was evident to Maddie that the viscount moved in the upper reaches of polite society. Cynthia and Aunt Nell, she noted, seemed to hang on the viscount's every word.
    The conversation held no interest for Maddie, and she was glad when the tea trolley was rolled in and she could busy her hands in pouring tea and offering round Janet's butter scones and shortbread. Her glance sliced to Cynthia. The cool violet eyes were narrowed on her. It had yet to be determined who was mistress of Drumoak. For the first time Maddie wondered what provision her father had made for her in his will.
    She heard her grandfather's name on Deveryn's lips and she made an effort to concentrate.
    "As soon as things are settled here," intimated Miss Spencer confidingly, "Maddie and I shall remove to my father's house in London."
    "That is not my intention," said Maddie sharply. She saw the look of pained surprise on her aunt's face and said in a more gentle tone, "Scotland is my home, Aunt Nell. I have no wish to leave it."
    "Surely it was settled between us, Maddie?" Miss Spencer's voice coaxed. "And if your father named Grandpapa as your guardian, you may have no choice in the matter."
    Maddie shook her head. "I don't think so, Aunt Nell. I'm sure Papa told me once, a long time ago, that he had named Mr. Moncrieff as my guardian."
    "And how shall we find out?" asked Deveryn, concealing his interest behind a mask of politeness.
    It was Miss Spencer who answered him. "The solicitor is due to come up from Edinburgh as soon as we send word that Cynthia has arrived." She turned to Cynthia. "Did Donald ever say anything to you about Maddie's guardian?"
    "No. But then he wouldn't."
    "I don't care who is appointed my guardian," interjected Maddie firmly. "I intend to remain right here in Scotland."
    "Who is Mr. Moncrieff?" asked Deveryn.
    "The minister of St. Ninian's, our parish church at Inverforth," replied Miss Spencer absently.
    At the mention of the church, a faint blush stained Maddie's cheeks, but she said calmly, "I scarcely know my