Kate Noble by Compromised

of events. Romilla could understand if she had had a nip or two of something to calm her nerves. But to claim she had only had punch! Romilla felt her ire work itself back up again. The least the child could do was be honest!
    Which was exactly what she was saying to her husband in the library the following morning. She was supposed to be guiding the girls through their first morning of callers, but Gail was still abed, and Romilla was so upset she had abandoned Evangeline to Miss Nesbitt’s spinsterly chaperonage in the drawing room while taking calls from eager young gentlemen.
    “Drunkenness is unpardonable! Abigail is unpardonable!” Romilla said in a huff. “It’s as if…are you even listening to me?”
    Sir Geoffrey sat behind his desk, his thumb idly tapping the arm of his chair, his eyes straying to the paper in front of him. Romilla stopped mid-sentence, jostling her husband into looking at her. What he saw was a woman who could not be placated. Romilla was spitting mad, and she would be hanged if he thought he was going to read the paper today.
    “Yes, dear,” he sighed. “I’m paying attention.”
     
    MAX was admitted to the foyer of the Alton household in high hopes. In his hand, he carried a bunch of white-belled flowers, as close to the trailing vines Miss Alton had shown him in the conservatory as he could find in London’s hothouses. He had barely slept a wink the night before in anticipation of meeting Evangeline again and presenting his rather hasty request to her father. He was about to do something he could hardly believe—asking a man permission to court his daughter. It was a day that had to arrive in any gentleman’s life. And Max liked Evangeline, he truly did. She was perfection incarnate. Surely this feeling he was stepping off a cliff would pass.
    Max handed his overcoat to the butler, a very formal and disapproving-looking fellow, who placed it in a cupboard with several other gentlemen’s coats and hats. It suddenly struck Max that he must not be the only caller this morning. All the young gentlemen who’d had chance to dance with the Alton daughters were sure to be vying for their attention, and the rest of the day would be filled with visits to and from other ladies. Such was life in the world of the Ton. Absolutely no time to yourself to sneak out to the conservatory.
    The butler turned imperiously and started toward the drawing room. Max followed, but was brought to a jolting stop by the sounds coming from behind a set of wide-paneled doors across the hall.
    “Her behavior last night was absolutely scandalous!”
    The heated female voice made Max wince. Obviously, the new Lady Alton was in a great temper about something.
    “I’m not disagreeing with you, dear,” came Sir Geoffrey’s deep rumble, “but…”
    “Could you believe a young lady could act so outrageously, at her debut ball no less ?”
    Max froze in his tracks. Evangeline had assured him that she would be perfectly all right, that she wouldn’t be in trouble for being alone with him in the garden. But now, having heard those snippets of conversation, Max knew she had been wrong. Her parents, her stepmother in particular, were in a froth over it.
    Max looked from the drawing room door, where the butler stood waiting to show him in, to the other door across the hall where the emanating sounds had been quelled to murmurs. He made his decision.
    “Do you have a pencil?”
    The butler looked at him curiously before reaching into his pocket and producing a short nubbed pencil. Max took a calling card out of his own pocket and scribbled a quick note on the back. He handed the trailing white flowers and the card to the butler.
    “Please see that Miss Alton receives these immediately. I’ll wait right here for a reply.”
    The butler took the bundle, barely sniffing at his peculiar behavior.
    “Yes sir.”
    And with one quick glance over his shoulder the butler disappeared into the drawing room. Max caught a