Christina Hollis by Lady Rascal

interested.
    ‘What is it? Why’s he gone off?’
    Mistress Constance flounced the lace about her neck and wrists in agitation.
    ‘Our reputation is lost forever now...as sure as eggs are eggs! Go after him, Madeleine! Try to make him see reason!’
    Madeleine shifted nervously in her seat. To get up and leave in full view of all these people in transparent muslin was the last thing she wanted to do. On the other hand, she now saw the little blonde girl slip out in pursuit of Philip Adamson. Curiosity, tinted a pale green after the way she had seen him look at the other girl, now forced Madeleine out of her seat.
    She looked around, and was a little heartened to see that all the girls of her own age were wearing the scandalous new fashion. She was not out of place.
    Risking more wrath from the conductor, Madeleine stood up and inched her way along the row of occupied seats. There was not a murmur of complaint at her silent passing. Some of the gentlemen even smiled at her, although Madeleine recognised those sort of looks far too well. She had more sense than to return them in this company.
    Once out in the hall Madeleine could breathe a sigh of relief. Closing the door thankfully behind her, she took stock of the situation.
    This house was built along similar lines to the Adamsons’ villa, but on a much grander scale. It smelled even newer and more expensive.
    A rattle of conversation was hurrying out from a half-open door opposite. Madeleine could make out the voice of Adamson, although his English meant nothing to her.
    She knocked at the door and went in. Silence fell like a lead weight.
    The first thing that Madeleine noticed was that this room was set with even more tables of food. Fine white tablecloths fluttered in a breeze from open garden doors. Then she saw Philip Adamson. He was standing in the far doorway, clasping both of the little blonde girl’s hands to his chest.
    ‘Oh...mademoiselle...’
    Adamson dropped the girl’s hands as though they were red hot and folded his arms. He’s guilty! Madeleine thought with astonishment. He’s tortured with it! I really must get to the bottom of all this.
    ‘Miss Pettigrew and I were just—talking, mademoiselle.’
    The girl shot Madeleine a look that said the talk was far from innocent. Turning away pointedly, she raised herself on tiptoe and kissed Adamson on the lips before fluttering out of the room. Madeleine was unable to respond to the few words of farewell that were thrown at her. She was too staggered by what she had just seen. Aristos actually kissing!
    In broad daylight!
    At least Adamson had the common decency to look ashamed.
    ‘That was—that was Miss Kitty Pettigrew,’ He said brusquely. ‘A—friend.’
    ‘We do have them in Paris, sir.’ Madeleine grinned at him, but he had gone from embarrassment to anger in a flash.
    ‘You have brought me a message from my mother, no doubt,’ he said, with sharp disdain.
    ‘Mistress Constance would prefer you to go back inside, Master Philip.’
    Adamson looked back towards the garden. Fine net curtains had been suspended over the open garden doors to keep flies from the food. He paused before drawing one curtain back.
    ‘It was not you, then, who considered me worthy of your company.’
    He stood on the threshold, half turned towards her. Dying rays of sun touched his hair with the colour of new gilding. Beyond the garden wall the sky was painted in a shade of old rose nearly matching his fine clothes.
    There was no trace of the happy animation he had shown at the sight of Miss Kitty Pettigrew. In the evening silence he seemed even sadder and more solemn than ever.
    ‘Come back to the music, Master Philip. That’ll cheer you up!’
    In an impetuous gesture Madeleine dashed forward to take his hand, but Adamson was not a man to be ordered about, even by the well-meaning. He shook off her hand almost roughly.
    ‘I intend to make my excuses to our host and return to our villa directly. I would be