Christina Hollis by Lady Rascal Read Free Book Online Page B

drily.
    At the interval Adamson escorted his mother and Madeleine towards the refreshment tables. Madeleine dashed forward to stake her claim, or would have done if Adamson had not caught at her arm.
    ‘This is a respectable English gathering, mademoiselle. We must form an orderly queue.’
    Madeleine enjoyed the feel of his strong fingers about her wrist and didn’t take offence. Several people whispered and smiled at this closeness, and to Madeleine’s disappointment Adamson let go of her arm as soon as he realised they were attracting attention. He collected three glasses of lemonade while his mother and Madeleine received little plates of sugared almonds, fondant creams and pastry cases of tipsy cream and conserve.
    ‘Pleasant. But I would rather have a nice cup of tea and a slice of heavy cake in my own home,’ Mistress Constance murmured before advising Madeleine not to eat quite so quickly.
    Madeleine was puzzled. The room was stifling, yet still Mistress Constance wanted tea.
    She finished her sweetmeats and lemonade, then started to nibble away at the sugar frosting the rim of her glass.
    ‘Not here, dear.’ Kindly but firmly Mistress Constance took the glass. ‘There’s plenty of sugar back at home if you need it.’
    This was even more mystifying to Madeleine. Why did the aristos display things that weren’t for eating? And the food kept coming. Breakfast, morning coffee, luncheon, tea, dinner—not to mention the snacks. Goodness only knew when she would get the chance to eat the things she had squirrelled away so carefully under her pillow, back at the villa.
    They settled down again ready to enjoy the second half of the sub. Adamson actually strained himself to ask Madeleine what she thought of the entertainment so far, although he was dismissive of her excitement.
    ‘This is a poor showing,’ he maintained. ‘When Allenby entertained last week we had musicians far superior to these. Now, they really would have given old Bach a run for his—’
    He stopped. A tangle of young latecomers had arrived and, to the disgust of more respectable patrons, were having hilarious fun in finding their seats. One little blonde girl in particular seemed to be revelling in the disapproval of her elders. Pulling faces at those who turned to stare, she reduced her silly young friends to giggling hysterics.
    Philip Adamson was not laughing. Neither was he joining in the growing chorus of disapproval.
    One look at the recognition on his face was worth a thousand explanations to Madeleine.

CHAPTER THREE
    The audience was in a susurration of complaint as the girl and her companions frolicked about the spare seats at the back of the salon. Only when a humourless butler put in a few sharp words did they reach something approaching quiet.
        ‘Philip! Turn around quickly—there’s a chance she might not see us!’ Mistress Constance hissed across Madeleine. Only when she brought her fan down with a sharp rap on her son’s knee did he start and look at her directly. He was still grinning.
    ‘I’m going to speak to her, Mother.’
    ‘Philip, I forbid it! Leave the girl alone!’
    The musicians began playing again, but Adamson was paying no attention. He was more interested in the little blonde girl. As he started to make tiny gestures to the group at the back of the hall, Madeleine tried to distract his mother from her distress.
    ‘Who is she, Mistress Constance?’
    ‘Oh, oh—the shame of it...’ The older woman snuffled into her lace handkerchief. The audience about them moved restlessly while the conductor turned to frown at this further rippling interruption.
    Madeleine was about to repeat her question, but she was cut short. In a sudden movement Adamson leapt up, pushing his way along their row to leave the room in a rush. Mistress Constance stifled a wail of anguish. Thoroughly unsettled by now, the conductor turned to face the audience and brandished his baton for silence, but Madeleine was not