“A price I cannot afford.”
“I could advance you the funds. You can repay me from your first salary.”
Madeline stared at him. “You know I will not accept financial support from you, Lord Haviland.”
“Ah, yes, your pride rears its head again.”
She bit back a retort. Perhaps she was a touch oversensitive about accepting charity, yet her feelings were only natural. Of course a man as wealthy and blue-blooded as Haviland would not understand why she would be embarrassed to borrow another lady’s gown.
She doubted, however, that his response was solely because he was uncaring and insensitive. More likely it was because he had scant concept of social inferiority since he himself cared little for society.
“It is not only pride,” Madeline insisted. “I am not about to accept the loan of a gown from my new employer only to cut it up.”
“Well, regardless of how you are dressed, I should like it very much if you would attend tonight.”
His tone had suddenly softened, and when he gave Madeline a lazy smile, an unaccountable surge of pleasure warmed her, despite her certainty that Haviland was attempting again to use his charm as a weapon. She couldn’t help noting the small laugh lines around his eyes, either. Those lines had been less visible in the dimmer light last evening.
“Your wishes are not at issue here, my lord,” she retorted, her tone more prickly than he deserved because of her effort to remain indifferent to his appeal.
“I know, but you ought to attend for your own sake—to meet your fellow teachers as well as your new neighbors, since you plan to live here. And I would count it as a favor. I need an ally tonight.”
“An ally?”
“I have a decided aversion to debutantes, but I expect to be swarmed by them since word is out that I am in the market for a bride.”
Haviland wanted her to protect him against the marriageable young ladies who were sure to hound him during the ball?
Madeline had no ready answer. “Do you expect to marry soon?” she asked more weakly than she would have liked.
“If my grandmother has her way, I will.” His faint smile was wry. “She was resigned to my ‘scapegrace ways,’ as she calls them, while my country needed me. But she puts great store in carrying on the family lineage and expects me to produce an heir.”
Madeline would be hard-pressed to explain the sinking feeling that revelation aroused. She had no reason to be concerned about Haviland’s matrimonial prospects, and no reason to be jealous of the other candidates, either. Yet she stood there tongue-tied for a moment, considering him.
He would have no trouble finding a bride of his choosing, she knew. With his fascinating allure, the most dazzling beauties of th
e ton would pursue him. That hint of danger about him, combined with that easy, seductive smile, was sure to win female hearts. He would be the object of every woman’s most secret dreams … or at least her secret dreams. And when Haviland gazed at her so intently with those vivid blue eyes, as he was doing now, she wanted to melt.
It was deplorable to think she was developing an infatuation for him, Madeline reflected. She had no desire to do his bidding like any foolish romantic.
Yet she did owe him a measure of gratitude for his generosity toward her. And perhaps he would indeed need an ally at the ball this evening. Furthermore, she very much wanted to meet her fellow teachers and the gentry who would be her neighbors in the foreseeable future.
“So will you attend the ball after all, Miss Ellis?”
She could make do, Madeline decided, with her lavender crepe evening gown, the nicest gown she owned.
“Yes,” she agreed, hoping she wouldn’t regret her acceptance—or further compound her ridiculous attraction to Haviland at an event where she would be out of her element.
“Excellent,” he said briskly as if he’d known all along how she would decide, obviously confident in his powers of persuasion. “I look forward to seeing you this evening. Meanwhile, I will have your trunk delivered here to the Hall. But don’t hesitate to send a message to Riverwood if you require anything else of me.”
With a brief bow, he was gone, leaving Madeline to stand there gazing after him, feeling a profound sense of disappointment. Haviland intended to marry very soon, and she was not a candidate for his bride.
She raised a hand to her temple, wondering at her foolishness. How could she possibly have dashed hopes when she hadn’t even been aware such hopes existed? She was nothing like the debutantes he would want for his countess.
Madeline bit her lip hard, acknowledging her despondency. She had rarely allowed herself to regret her plain appearance. Indeed, she had always believed that brains and character were more important than looks. Yet now that she had met the handsome, magnetic Rayne Haviland, she suddenly found herself wishing she were beautiful and stylish and accomplished the way Lady Danvers was.
A sizable dowry wouldn’t hurt either. Beauty and fortune might have made her eligible to be on Haviland’s list of possible brides.
Turning toward the drawing room door, Madeline tried to quell that ridiculous thought. She wasn’t one to view fate through rose-colored glasses. She was pragmatic, practical, sensible, dispassionate. She kept her emotions well-disciplined, locking them down deep inside where they could never hurt.