"What do you expect?" he snapped. "They all remind me of Tessa. It would be like…telling a child about…about my parties."
"Hardly." With a snort, Madeline faced the girls. "You know that book of harem tales you girls were passing around at night in the dormitory, the one I confiscated last week?"
The brilliant blush on Miss Seton's face revealed that she'd probably read the entire thing. "We told you, we don't know
how
that got under the floor."
"What book of harem tales?" Mrs. Harris exclaimed.
"
Stories of a Barbary Harem
." Madeline surveyed the blushing girls. "I found it when I nearly broke my neck on the board that someone left sticking up after they hid the book under it."
"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Mrs. Harris demanded.
"I didn't want to worry you." And she didn't want Mrs. Harris destroying the book before she could read it herself.
She'd only had time for a cursory glance at it, but she'd seen enough to know it was explicit about certain matters, not to mention full of ridiculously overblown descriptions about the "pleasures of the bed." Although after today, she wasn't so sure they were overblown.
She leveled her stare on the girls. "The things discussed in that book, girls—
those
are debaucheries."
"Ohhhh," Lucy burst out, her eyes wide with understanding. "But those didn't take place anywhere
near
a bed. And there were lots of people about."
"I thought you never read the book, Miss Seton," Mrs. Harris said dryly.
"I-I…um…"
"Well,
I
never read it," Elinor wailed, "so I don't know what you mean!"
"Good!" Anthony and Mr. Godwin said in unison. They halted to stare at each other.
When Anthony went on, his face was ripe with color. "I can only imagine what nonsense you'd find in it— alarming claims and lurid exaggerations in no way appropriate for a young girl."
"I agree entirely, Lord Norcourt," Mr. Godwin said.
"You think their wild imaginations would serve them better?" Madeline said.
"We'll discuss this further once we return to the school," Mrs. Harris put in with an air of finality. "I'm sure we can find more appropriate ways to educate the girls on such matters." Smiling at the irate Mr. Godwin, she took his arm. "Now, I should like to see the lion you told me about, sir. Come along, ladies."
Anthony looked relieved as he let Lady Tart appropriate him again, and Mr. Godwin looked positively self-righteous. The girls, however, looked confused. They surrounded Lucy in a fury of whispering that probably meant she was passing on her tidbits of information and further muddying the explanation.
In that instant, Madeline swore she would find a way to explain such delicate matters to them. Just see if she didn't.
Chapter Eleven
Dear Charlotte,
Wonder about my "sources" all you like, my dear. You know I'll never reveal them. But do write and tell me about the expedition to Mr. Godwin's menagerie. Is his collection as wide and varied as rumored?
Your equally curious cousin,
Michael
T
hey toured the menagerie for two hours, with Mr. Godwin providing feed buckets and allowing the girls to pet the tame animals. Madeline tried to add to the girls' education throughout, but it was difficult when Anthony kept staring at her with that assessing look. What was he thinking? Was he considering how to get her alone so they could "finish" their lesson in seduction?
An uncomfortable heat pooled in her belly, making her want to squirm, as she'd squirmed earlier when he'd stroked her between the legs. He would surely do it again if she gave him the slightest encouragement.
Any more sessions like this morning's and she would find herself in deep trouble. She couldn't even hold her tongue in public— how would she do it in private once he started…turning her to mush?
If only she hadn't blurted out that bit about the goat-riding. She'd covered up her slip, but she couldn't have him finding out she was from Telford. One letter to anyone he might have known when he'd lived there, and he'd have the whole tale about Papa in excruciating detail.
Still, the party must be soon. Which meant she'd
have
to let him give her that dratted lesson. But next time she meant to be better prepared. Tonight, no matter how demanding her father, she was going to read that harem book. It might be lurid, but at least it would explain the wild way Anthony made her feel.
She'd thought she understood the principles of lovemaking because of her observations of animals, but she hadn't counted on how amazing it felt to have a man kiss her, caress and fondle her private parts, make her feel as if only she—
"Madeline," said a voice at her ear.
Startled, she turned to find Mrs. Harris looking irritated. "Is something wrong?" Madeline asked.
"Lord Norcourt and Lady Tarley have disappeared."
Madeline gave her a blank stare, though she wanted to scream. Going off alone with Lady Tart was
not
going to help Anthony's cause. Or Madeline's.
"We're about to be called in for luncheon," Mrs. Harris went on. "Fortunately, Charles hasn't noticed, and the girls and the other teachers were too engrossed in watching him feed the lion to notice, either— but if the viscount and the countess stay gone much longer, everyone will remark upon it. Someone must find them before that happens. I'd go myself, but then Charles is
sure
to notice."
"Shall we send a servant?"
"No, indeed. Who knows what they might be doing? Servants gossip, and I cannot risk the school's reputation by having something like this happen at a school function. Bad enough that Charles dislikes him, but if it gets out that I brought them together on purpose— "
"It's not your fault."
"Oh, yes, it is. I let my guard down. I should never have let him inside my school." When Madeline blanched, Mrs. Harris said, "I'm not blaming you, dear; I'm blaming myself. You were merely attempting to help the girls— and his poor niece. But I'm experienced enough to know that rakehells never change."
"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think. Why, they might not even be together at all." When Mrs. Harris snorted, she added hastily, "And even if they are, they're probably just touring the gardens and…and talking over old times."
Mrs. Harris's raised brow showed her skepticism. "Nonetheless, you must be the one to find them. I can't risk anyone else catching them misbehaving."
"Of course not. I'll bring them back discreetly, I promise."
Tapping her chin, Mrs. Harris mused a moment. "I'll tell everyone that Lady Tarley headed toward the carriages to look for a shawl she dropped, and I sent you that direction to fetch her in for luncheon."
"Have you any idea where they might actually be?"
"Try the garden pavilion first. It's the only private spot on the grounds. When you find them, instruct Lady Tarley what to say before bringing her back."
"All right." That might be something of a feat, but she'd do her best.
"His lordship can follow later. I'm sure he's adept at lying his way out of any situation, so he can produce his own explanation for where he wandered. Just make sure you and Lady Tarley approach from a completely different direction."
With a nod, Madeline started to walk away, but Mrs. Harris stayed her. "Later, I shall expect a full report about what you saw."
Madeline's throat went dry. "You want me to
spy
on them?"
The color rose in Mrs. Harris's cheeks. "I want to know how badly my experiment has run awry. Then I can determine how to proceed."
Oh, Lord. This was bad, very bad. "As you wish."
But a flood of anger rose in her throat as she headed toward the carriages until she was out of sight of everyone, then circled back to find the path to the pavilion. All her plans were about to be ruined, and for what? She would
not
let him ruin her plan to save Papa, even if she had to drag him kicking and screaming off that blowsy witch Lady Tart!
By the time she found the garden pavilion half-hidden in some trees, she'd worked herself into quite a temper. The sound of voices as she neared the miniature stone building made things worse, for it proved Mrs. Harris right.
But the voices weren't cozy murmurs. They sounded rather hostile. Creeping up to an open glass window, Madeline peered inside to find Anthony leaning against the central pillar, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression grim as he watched Lady Tarley swish in front of him, halfheartedly tucking her fichu back in the bodice of her gown.
"You could at least help me, Tony," Lady Tart complained in her girlish voice, although her enormous breasts were anything but girlish as they fought to escape her snug bodice.
A pang of envy seized Madeline before she tamped it down. What did she care if Lady Tarley possessed the two attributes that men always seemed to want— a buxom figure and no brain to speak of?
Though Anthony didn't look particularly entranced by either. "It wasn't
my
idea for you to remove your fichu." His voice dripped condescension. "I'm certainly not fool enough to put it back in for you. And stop calling me 'Tony.' You know I hate it."
"I know you used to be more fun." Lady Tarley stuck out her lower lip in a pretty pout that didn't seem to move him. "I can't believe gaining the title turned you into such a dull creature that you can't give a girl a little pleasure."
With a curse, Anthony pushed away from the pillar. "You're not a girl, Kitty. You're a married woman. And I don't dally with married women."
She thrust out her breasts. "Even ones with charms like mine?"
"Yes, damn it! How many times must I tell you I don't commit adultery?"
So he had some scruples after all, did he? That, plus his refusal of Lady Tart's overtures, dissipated Madeline's temper.
"If so," Lady Tarley snapped, "it's the
only
thing you don't do. What a silly rule for a rakehell."
"However it may seem to you, it is
my
rule, and I never break it."
"But the earl hardly notices that I— "
"I don't care," he growled. "I don't care if your husband bores you in bed or ignores you or prances on your head every night. I am
not
interested in renewing our affair, as I've made clear countless times already today." He grabbed her by the arm and tried to lead her to the door. "It's time for you to return. I'll follow in a few minutes. We don't want anyone to realize we've been off together."
"Why not?" Snatching her arm free, she searched his face. "Don't tell me Widow Harris has caught your eye? That's pointless, you know. My brother Charles wants her for something more than a tumble, so she won't look at you. Besides, she'd never allow a man of your low morals to bed her."
"Then it's a good thing I'm not remotely interested in her."
Lady Tarley blinked. Then her eyes went wide in horror. "Oh, Lord, you want to seduce that scrawny schoolteacher with the outrageous tongue!"
Scrawny! Because Madeline didn't have breasts so big they could float a ship? How dared the witch call her scrawny!
When Anthony uttered a low curse, Lady Tarley tossed back her head. "I'll put a stop to that. I'll tell my brother to have that saucy creature dismissed."
As Madeline's heart dropped into her stomach, Anthony exploded. "You will do nothing of the kind, you nasty little twit," he growled.
With implacable steps, he backed Lady Tarley into a stone bench that caught her behind the knees, forcing her to sit abruptly, her breasts jiggling at the shock.
He paid them no heed as he loomed over her, anger cutting his features into sharp planes. "If you say anything to cause Miss Prescott to lose her position, I'll make you regret it. The woman is necessary to my plans, damn you."
Necessary to my plans.
Madeline caught her breath at the sudden stab of pain in her chest. It shouldn't hurt. It was what they'd both agreed to from the beginning. But to hear him state it so baldly tightened a knot in her heart.
"There's naught you can do to stop me," Lady Tarley taunted him.
"You think not?" The menace in Anthony's voice took Madeline by surprise. "No doubt the earl would be interested to hear about your friend in Bond Street who lends you money for your card games without charging you interest. That is, as long as you provide him with certain benefits."
The color drained from Lady Tarley's face. "You wouldn't dare."
"But I would, my dear, with great relish."
Madeline ought to be shocked by his chilling threat. Instead, she was thrilled by his defense of her, even if it
was
only because she was necessary to his plans.
"You can be such a beast sometimes," the countess complained. She stood and shoved him away, then gave a petulant sniff. "Fine, if you want her, take her. You won't be satisfied for long with that bony scarecrow in your bed. And when you come crawling to me, I shall make you beg before I take you back."
