To Tame a Dangerous Lord by Nicole Jordan Page B

daughter. Her mother had died much too young, and her father had treated her more as a son than a daughter. Thus, she’d learned a number of masculine skills, which admittedly appealed to her more than the tame diversions young ladies were allowed, but which served her poorly in a ballroom.
    Why that thought should dishearten her, Madeline had no idea. A bare three days ago, she had been content with her lot in life. All this talk of Haviland’s marriage prospects had evidently unearthed hidden longings she had resolutely repressed.
    To hide her dissatisfaction—as well as to distract herself—Madeline turned the conversation to Freddie’s predicament. “It seems you are having your own difficult experience with blackmail, Mr. Lunsford.”
    His face drooped. “Yes, Solange Sauville. She is a French widow who holds a certain cachet in literary circles. I mistakenly let myself be dazzled by her beauty. My father would be appalled to know I have sunk so low, not only because he doesn’t condone licentiousness, but also because he particularly dislikes the French.”
    Madeline’s mouth curved faintly; it was a common sentiment among the English aristocracy, disdaining a people who had beheaded their king and queen along with innumerable other nobles merely for the crime of their blue blood. “I am half French myself, actually.”
    “At least it isn’t obvious with you,” Freddie said bluntly. “Madame Sauville looks and sounds French. Ishould never have become involved with her, I know that now. But my father will never believe that I have learned my lesson.”
    “Do you know yet how you will extricate yourself?”
    “On Tuesday evening Rayne means to attend
La Sauville’s
soirée in London in order to steal my letters back.”
    Madeline gave him a puzzled look. “I overheard you say that the letters are in her bedchamber.”
    “So she claimed. Rayne hopes to find them there, at any rate.”
    “Then I wonder if I could be of use after all,” she said thoughtfully.
    Freddie’s eyebrow rose. “How so, Miss Ellis?”
    Her gaze fixed on him. “Perhaps I could accompany Lord Haviland to the soirée on Tuesday night—as his guest or perhaps a family friend. He could keep Mrs. Sauville occupied while I search her rooms. I am less likely to be noticed, since I am a woman.”
    Freddie stared at her a beat before his expression brightened. “Your idea is bang-up clever, Miss Ellis. Rayne could doubtless use a female to help him. He may be a master of disguise, but even he can’t look as if he belongs in a strange lady’s boudoir. And if you are half French, you will readily fit in at Madame Sauville’s elite gathering, since many of her usual guests are émigrés.” Freddie paused. “Yet Rayne may not be willing to take you along. He likes to do things his own way.”
    “You should ask him to allow me to,” Madeline remarked. “I would very much like to help you in any way I can.”
    “By jove, you are a capital sort, Miss Ellis,” Freddie exclaimed, beaming.
    Madeline found herself returning his smile, but Freddie’s next remark took her aback.
    “If you succeed in helping Rayne, then you should be rewarded for your efforts.”
    “Rewarded?” she repeated cautiously.
    “You know … a monetary remuneration.”
    Heaven knew her finances were in a sad state, since she’d spent all her savings on her brother’s elopement. But she was not about to take Mr. Lunsford’s money.
    “I do not want a reward,” Madeline replied. “I merely want to help ward off your father’s retribution, and in some small measure repay Haviland for coming to my rescue.”
    Freddie looked quizzical, but then he shrugged. “As you wish, Miss Ellis.
I
simply want to retrieve my letters from that she-devil.”
    He bowed then, and strode off with a jaunty step, looking far more cheerful than he had this morning, but leaving Madeline feeling quite alone again in the crowded ballroom.
    She cast another glance at Lord Haviland