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ride, but that seemed to do little to deter her.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Mrs. Ridley is much too determined for that,” Madalene said as she extended her gloves towards Graham. “Will you inform Mrs. Foster that I require her presence in the drawing room?”

“Yes, Miss,” Graham responded before he stepped back.

Madalene turned reluctantly towards the drawing room door. How she tired of these house calls. She had grown to dread them. Scheming mothers would parade their sons in front of her in hopes that she would fall for their flowery words. It grew rather tiresome.

She walked over to the door and peered in. Mr. Ridley was standing next to the window, looking out towards her well-maintained gardens, as his mother sat rigidly on the sofa. She had to admit that he wasn’t entirely unfortunate to look upon with his sharp features and straight nose, but he had one flaw that she could not overlook. His mother. Mrs. Ridley was intolerable. She was a gossiping busybody and had deemed most people of the village beneath her.

Smoothing down her dark blue riding habit, Madalene stepped into the room and greeted her guests.

“Good morning, Mrs. Ridley.” She tipped her head at the woman’s son. “Mr. Ridley.”

He turned from the window and faced her. His eyes perused the length of her, and she could see the approval in them. “You are looking especially lovely this morning, Miss Dowding.”

“Thank you,” Madalene replied graciously.

Mrs. Ridley spoke up from the sofa, her words sounding less than genuine. “I must agree with my son, Miss Dowding. You are looking quite beautiful this morning.”

Madalene smiled politely at her. “My morning ride must have agreed with me, then.”

“Oh, do you like to ride?” Mrs. Ridley asked innocently.

“I do.”

“My son also loves to ride,” Mrs. Ridley said, glancing over at him. “Don’t you, Roger?”

“I do.” Mr. Ridley cleared his throat. “Very much.”

“Is that so?” Madalene asked, attempting to feign interest.

“It is,” Mr. Ridley confirmed. “I also like dancing.”

“Dancing is a most wonderful pastime.” Madalene wasn’t entirely pleased at the direction this conversation had taken.

Mr. Ridley took a step closer to her, and his face was now red with a thin line of perspiration on his upper lip. “I was hoping you would save me a dance at Mrs. Brooks’ ball tomorrow evening.”

Madalene clasped her hands in front of her, delaying her response. She didn’t want to encourage the poor man, but she didn’t want to be rude either. “I’m afraid I haven’t decided if I will be in attendance yet,” she admitted honestly.

Mrs. Ridley gasped. “But you must!”

Fortunately, before she could respond, her companion, Mrs. Foster, walked into the room. “I am sorry that I am late,” she said with a smile on her lips.

Madalene stepped closer to her silver-haired companion. “Thank you for joining us, Mrs. Foster.”

“It is my pleasure,” Mrs. Foster replied before turning her attention towards Mrs. Ridley. “How are you doing this fine morning?”

“I am well,” Mrs. Ridley replied with a forced smile.

“I am happy to hear that,” Mrs. Foster said.

Mrs. Ridley turned her attention towards Madalene. “I believe my son is still waiting for your response.”

Madalene attempted to keep her face expressionless as she replied, “I would be happy to save Mr. Ridley a dance, if I attend the ball.”

Mrs. Ridley clapped her hands together. “You two will make such a dashing couple on the dance floor.”

“Thank you, Miss Dowding,” Mr. Ridley remarked as he wiped the sweat off his upper lip. “You have made me immensely happy.”

A silence descended over the room, and Madalene watched as Mrs. Ridley gave her son a pointed look. Mr. Ridley reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a small piece of paper. He unfolded it and studied it for a moment.

“Do you like to draw, Miss Dowding?” he finally asked.

Madalene glanced curiously at the piece of paper in his hand. “I do, very much.”

“It would appear that we have something else in common, Miss Dowding,” Mr. Ridley said as he slipped the paper back into his waistcoat pocket.

Mrs. Ridley smiled approvingly at her son. “Is there anything else you wanted to ask Miss Dowding?”

Mr. Ridley gave his mother a blank stare. “I don’t believe so.”

“Nothing at all?” Mrs. Ridley pressed.

With a frown on his brow, Mr. Ridley removed the piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket and reviewed it again. He looked up and asked in a hesitant voice, “Would you be interested in going on a carriage ride with me tomorrow?” It was evident by his expression that he was waiting for her to reject him.

Madalene felt compassion towards him, and she didn’t have the heart to turn him down.

“A carriage ride sounds like a splendid idea,” she responded.

Relief washed over Mr. Ridley’s features. “I shall come by tomorrow afternoon to retrieve you.”

Abruptly, Mrs. Ridley rose from her seat. “If you will excuse us, we will be on our way,” she declared. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”

“Of course, it was my pleasure,” Madalene replied.

After Mrs. Ridley and her son left the drawing room, Mrs. Foster shook her head. “That poor man was so nervous around you that he was reading notes from a piece of paper.”

“You noticed that, as well?”

“I did,” Mrs. Foster said. “I found it rather sweet.”

Madalene walked over to the window and watched as Mrs. Ridley and Mr. Ridley stepped into their carriage. “Mr. Ridley is a nice enough man, but I have no interest in matrimony at this time.”

Her companion came to stand next to her. “I’m relieved to hear that, because you are still much too young to marry.”

“I daresay that is not true,” Madalene replied. “I am twenty-one.”

Mrs. Foster grinned. “That is quite young, my dear,” she commented. “Marriage is a lifelong commitment, and the decision should not be taken lightly.”

“What if I decide not to marry?”

With a half-shrug, Mrs. Foster remarked, “Then that is your decision. But I would hope that is not the case.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because falling in love is one of

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