“Do you love my nephew?”
“That,” Maddy said, “is none of your business.” And finally she stalked from the room.
“Has she gone?” Lady Gosforth asked Marcus.
Marcus looked out into the corridor and nodded.
Lady Gosforth sat back in her chair and gave a large sigh. “What do you make of that?”
Marcus gave her an enigmatic look. “Nash won’t thank you for interfering, you know.”
“Pshaw! Interfering? I never interfere.” Lady Gosforth twirled her lorgnette on its ribbon. “I like the gel! She has the kind of spirit you don’t see in the mealy mouthed chits of today.”
“She certainly has spirit,” Marcus agreed.
“And breeding.”
“Breeding? How do you surmise that?”
“Of course there’s breeding. Did she once treat you or me as anything but an equal? Was there even a sniff of toadyism? The slightest attempt to ingratiate? No, she slapped me down, stood there in that atrocious rag of a dress, flung my accusations in my teeth, took me to task, and even had the face to call me an obnoxious woman.”
“An obnoxiousoldwoman,” Marcus corrected her, earning himself a sharp rap over the knuckles with a fan.
“You completely misled me about the gel.”
“Me? I never said a—”
“She’ll lead that boy a merry dance, and she’ll make him a splendid wife. She’s in love with him, of course.”
“In love? How can you possibly know that?”
“Dolt!” She smacked him again with her fan. “To anyone but a thick-headed Renfrew, it’s obvious. The real question is, does Nash love her?”
“It’s my opinion he’s besotted,” Marcus said. “But that could be the result of his accident.”
His aunt made a rude noise. “Accident! An accidental wedding, to be sure.” She gave a spurt of caustic laughter. “What fun! I’m so glad that I let myself be dragged to the wilds of Wiltshire. Now don’t lollygag around, boy, help me to my feet. I have a wedding to organize.” She bounced up with no help from anyone.
“Nash has already made the wedding arrangements,” Marcus said.
“Pshaw!” His aunt dismissed Nash’s abilities with a scornful wave. “Arrangements? He’s marrying the gel in some hasty, hole-in-the-corner fashion in some poky and obscure village church.”
“He has arranged a bishop to be present.”
Lady Gosforth sniffed. “Only one? I suppose that will have to do. But what has he done about her dress? And clothing for those children? And what about afterward?”
Marcus gave her a blank look.
“Exactly! That child has no family to support her—and don’t look at me like that, I know she has a gaggle of siblings, but pray, what use are children? It’s a mature and knowledgeable woman the gel needs, and as usual, it falls to me to do what must be done.”
Odious, arrogant old woman.
Maddy was still shaking with anger . . . or reaction . . . or something. She should have walked on, pretended not to hear. What was that saying about eavesdroppers never hearing any good?
Part of her was glad she’d given the old harridan a piece of her mind. It was immensely satisfying. If only she didn’t feel the slightest bit sick about it.
She hated fights. Her wretched, wretched temper.
And now she was so late for her waltzing lesson Nash had probably given up on her and gone riding. She wouldn’t blame him if he had.
