Lucien Tregellas by Margaret McPhee Page A

to decline his request.’ Indeed, there had been no request. Lord Tregellas had plucked her straight from her seat and on to the dance floor as if he had every right to do so.
    â€˜Did you know who he was?’
    â€˜No,’ she answered. That, at least, was true. She had not known that her dark defender was the notorious Wicked Earl, not then.
    Furrows of worry ploughed across her father’s forehead. ‘But how came you to his attention, my dear?’
    Somehow it seemed strangely traitorous to reveal the truth about Lord Tregellas. She didn’t understand why, just knew that it would not be what he wanted. It made no sense. Surely to tell them that he had stepped in to save her honour would have done him only good? Common sense affirmed that. Instinct fought against it…and won. ‘I do not know,’ said Madeline. She was not in the habit of lying, especially to her papa. Guilt sat heavily upon her shoulders.
    â€˜I understand he does not normally dance. Why should he then suddenly take it into his head to dance with a quiet, unassuming and gently bred girl like you?’ Mr Langley pondered his own question.
    Madeline understood exactly why Lord Tregellas had waltzed with her. She was not foolish enough to think that he actually liked her. There was nothing to recommend Madeline Langley to him, indeed to any man, when it came to that. It was simply a matter of saving her from enduring the dance within Lord Farquharson’s arms. What she did not understand was why Lord Tregellas should care. She kept her thoughts to herself and shook her head at her father’s question.
    Mrs Langley snorted in the background. ‘Quiet and unassuming?’ she echoed. ‘It is clear you have spent little time of late in your daughter’s company!’
    Mr Langley chose to ignore this comment. ‘Madeline,’ he said as carefully as he could, ‘Lord Tregellas is a gentleman of some renown. He may be an earl and in receipt of a large fortune, but…’ He hesitated, unsure how best to phrase the next words. ‘He has a rather dubious reputation, my dear—’
    â€˜Everyone knows what he is reputed to have done,’ cut in her mother.
    â€˜What did he do?’ asked Madeline.
    Mrs Langley’s mouth opened. ‘He is a murderer of the very worst kind. Why do you think he’s called the Wicked Earl? He killed the—’
    â€˜We shall not lower ourselves to become gossip-mongers, Mrs Langley,’ said her father reprovingly.
    Madeline looked from one parent to the other. Even she, prim and proper Miss Madeline Langley, had heard talk of Lord Tregellas. He was said to have committed some heinous crime in the past. That fact alone made him strangely fascinating to half the women across London, although he was reputed to treat them all with a cold contempt. Madeline knew that, and still it did not matter. The man that had forced Lord Farquharson to leave her safe in the Theatre Royal, who had warned her against that fiend, and had saved her again at this evening’s ball, was not someone she could fear. He had, after all, given her every reason to trust him. ‘It was only one dance,’ she said in defence of Lord Tregellas and herself.
    â€˜It was the waltz! ’ sobbed her mother. ‘Madeline is quite ruined after this evening’s fiasco.’
    Mr Langley said patiently, ‘Come now, my dear, she’s hardly ruined. It was, as she said, only a dance.’
    The sobbing burst forth into a wail. ‘Oh, you understand nothing, Mr Langley!’
    Mr Langley wore the weary air of a man who knew exactly what the forthcoming weeks would hold if he did nothing to resolve the situation. ‘Perhaps I could have a word with Farquharson.’
    â€˜He’ll have nothing to do with Madeline now. All my plans lie in ruins.’
    â€˜He’s a stout fellow. He’ll listen to reason,’ said Mr Langley.
    Her mother stopped