Page 79 of Misfit Maid

Riseley clapped Delagarde on the back. “Never mind!” He grinned. “Lay you odds she takes the Rankmiston boy.”

“Oliver? She will not. If for no other reason than she can’t wish for that old cat as a mother-in-law.”

“There is something in that,” Corringham conceded. “For my money, it will be Hampford.”

Delagarde uttered a short laugh. “Are you mad? Maidie can’t abide him. He was out of the running at the start.”

“Well, she can’t take Bulkeley, that is sure,” Corringham argued. “So who else is there?”

Delagarde caught a glance exchanged between his two friends, and frowned. “What are you two at? There are plenty of prospects. She does not have to choose among these.”

“No, no,” agreed Corringham soothingly. “She might meet anyone at any time. There’s no saying.”

Riseley let out another snort. “Oh, isn’t there, by God! She don’t need to meet anyone new. What about Wiveliscombe?”

Delagarde’s breath shortened. He glared at his friend. “What about Wiveliscombe?”

“Well, look at it, dear boy. Fellow has to settle down some time. May as well do so with someone who can provide him with the ready.”

“He has a point, Laurie,” Corringham agreed. “The fellow seems deucedly attractive to the fair sex.”

“Oh yes, devil of a fellow! Tell you what, Laurie. If I were one of your Maidie’s court, I’d snap her up sharpish—before Wiveliscombe gets to thinking too deeply about letting her slip through his fingers.”

It had been difficult enough to stand aside while Maidie basked in the adulation of as ineligible a set of potential marriage partners as one could imagine. After this hideous conversation, it became well-nigh impossible. Delagarde found himself disinclined to linger in the company of his friends, and curtly excused himself, withdrawing to a more secluded vantage point from where he could watch who approached Maidie. If that abominable reprobate dared to go anywhere near her, there would be nothing for it but to break his word.

To his relief, Wiveliscombe kept his distance. But he was no better pleased to see Eustace Silsoe move in and take Maidie aside for a moment or two. He was half inclined to go across and rescue her, but he had done so in the past, and the results were not happy. She would do better without his intervention.

But Maidie was never more sorry Delagarde had withdrawn his protection.

“Now, how have you persuaded your scrupulous champion to relax his officious guardianship, my dear Maidie?”

She lifted her chin, determined Eustace should not guess her state of mind. “There was no persuasion. He has merely recognised I am capable of judging for myself.”

The feline smile appeared. “But how very clever of him!”

A wisp of disquiet flitted through Maidie’s heart. “Why do you say that?”

“Your naivety never ceases to amaze me. I suppose it is one of the drawbacks of being yourself so very frank. You are the easiest of dupes, Maidie.”

Resentment burgeoned within her. She might be a novice in the fashionable world, but she knew Laurie—or at least, she had thought she knew him. Unease stirred again.

“How am I duped?”

Eustace leaned closer, in order that his words would reach her ears alone. “You have been lulled into a false sense of security. It is a good ploy, but an obvious one. Delagarde’s recognition has more to do with your rebellious spirit than your judgement, I fear.”

“How so?” asked Maidie, but recalling her many quarrels with the Viscount, his words had an ominous ring of truth.

“He sees that the more he intervenes, the readier you will be to throw yourself into matrimony—however unsuitable the match. He steps back, and you desist.” Eustace drew away and smiled again, though his voice was cold. “Delagarde must be congratulating himself on the success of his tactics. Your conduct tonight has been most prudent. You are all unsuspecting, Maidie. He may pounce at his leisure.”

Seated on her stool before the telescope, her eye to the piece, Maidie shifted the stem in a slow but comprehensive sweep until she found her marker. If her calculations were correct, the comet should be at a point within inches of this spot. The mapped-out path was on the open chart on the whatnot at her side, and she came away momentarily to check exactly where the comet last had been.

It was nearly three in the morning, and she had abandoned any attempt to sleep. Recalling Lady Hester’s advice, Maidie rose out of her bed, dragged on her dressing-robe, and set about star-gazing in earnest. She must do something to distract her mind. Anything to unburden herself of the incoherent mutterings of her heart. All the fault of that hateful Eustace, with his insidious murmurings.

If the exercise of comet chasing did not quite banish the distressing effects of the thoughts Eustace had set in motion, the meticulous nature of the task of recording her findings proved sufficiently engrossing to dull them. She checked through the eyepiece again. Yes, there it was. Precisely where her amended calculations, made after the visit with Sir Granville, had predicted. She drew up the circle created by the telescopic frame, and began to chart in the pattern of stars which would fix the comet’s current location.

Her concentration intensified, for she had to check, come away to draw, and check again, several times over. Great-uncle Reginald had been strict about the necessity for accuracy. He would not accept shoddy work, and doing tasks over again had taught Maidie to be meticulous.

The click of the door latch did not penetrate her absorption.

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