The Marchioness twisted her handkerchief. Her words came out in a rush. ‘You see, I have been such a failure as a wife. I…I do not know how to give a man pleasure that way and my husband…he is very dear to me, you see. He is patient and makes no demands at all, but he cannot bear to bed me.’ Madeleine returned to her chair, collapsing into its cushion. Tears poured down the Marchioness’s cheeks. ‘He knows I pine for children, and that is why he sought to adopt your daughter. For me! To make me happy. A wretch such as myself who cannot please him!’ Madeleine took a fortifying sip of tea. The Marchioness sniffled, even that managing to sound ladylike. ‘I thought perhaps if I had lessons in lovemaking, I could learn how to please him. I would be a willing pupil. So, you see, I thought of you.’ Madeleine’s breath quickened. The Marchioness knew of her past? Perhaps the Marquess had discovered her identity. Had Devlin told him? Her cheeks burned in mortification. Surely neither of them would have spoken of it to this lady.
