"I most certainly don't mind it, Prudence!" Madeline exclaimed angrily, her eyes firing daggers at the governess. Really, for someone claiming to be a proper lady, Prudence was terribly, terribly rude towards people she considered less worthy. Well, certainly, Madeline did not treat those she disliked with the best of manners, nor did she ever try anything like that-whyever should she have?-but that was nothing like Prudence's ways! She was Madeline Smith, for God's sake! She could never be compared to Prudence, and come out as remotely simillar-not in any way. Madeline was the beauty, Madeline was the belle, Madeline was the charm, the flirt, the devil and the angel. Prudence was Prudence, and as annoying as hell itself. Nothing Prudence did was like that which was done by Madeline. Men desired Madeline; the same men desired to be as far away from Prudence as possible. No, irrevocably, Madeline was nothing like Prudence.

Before the two women, or rather a beautiful woman and an obnoxious beast, who had been strolling about the Town Square of Lindebo, a young man had appeared, with the loveliest shade of gold in his hair and a pair of astonishingly bright, green eyes. Madeline found it obvious he was about to address her; was there a more desireable woman in this wretched city(which could be fun at times)? She thought...not. This man, who could have been perhaps four years older than herself, bowed deeply, inquiring as to whether Miss Smith would mind to indulge him with a few moments of her company. The fact he knew her name had hardly surprised her. Everybody knew her, especially since the tango with Mikhail Sweeney---ah, but she hated to think about that God-forsaken idiot of a man! And she would not think of him. He had conducted himself most horribly and most improperly, with an astounding level of insolence. And stupidity. The tango., She thought simply, without any reference to her partner. She had expected more of him. When men disappointed Madeline Smith, they were the losers in the game. She had plenty of fish in the sea. All got caught.

Except for Jacques Deveraux. But he got hung. Or he would, soon enough. There was some amusement that could have been drawn out of the situation, had there been any need for more than she already had. Arguing with Prudence was irritating, but it was also somehow enjoyable to defy the governess in public, especially in front of handsome men. And handsome men were an amusement on their own. She was so content she was not one of those submissive ladies which obeyed their chaperones. One reason to that was that there was no one anyone could wish to be more than Madeline Smith, and the other was that, if it had been up to Prudence, they would have remained locked up in the house for the better part of the year. That was, apparently, what English people did after scandals. How pathetic. Hiding away and letting all the gossipers win. The fact that you were gossiped about meant that you were famous. Where was the crime in that? Most importantly, Madeline liked to be the talk of the town. That, itself, was reason enough for it to be so.

Prudence seemed as if she was going to object to Madeline utterly and completely denying her sentence, which had been 'I believe Miss Smith would not require company of any gentleman today, sir, and that she would, therefore, mind it.' In the end, though, she gave up, jutting out her chin and nodding her head briefly. Finally, a sign of some small part of common sense from her. Why on Earth did Prudence care how Madeline conducted herself, anyway? Gregory paid her the money one way or another, as long as her reports and Madeline's reports were alike enough. She could have made both of their lives so much easier by simply always serving Gregory what he wanted to hear, and letting Madeline go her own way. Really, how dense could one be not to realize the simplicity and the easiness...and the well-being...that lied in that course of action?

'Every rake in town shall be after you at the present moment, Miss Smith, if you show your face in the public so early.' Prudence had also advised her(not that Madeline already had not gone out in the time period between the ball and the present day). What she had known, most certainly, but hadn't had the gall to mention since she had found out Madeline's letter to Gregory had been sent before her own and had depicted the entire incident as Prudence's fault due to her serious lack of guidance, had been that every rake in town already was after Madeline. Plenty of invitations to balls of those not so respectable in the society(and even those that were, for she would surely attract attention to their events) and calling cards had arrived to the house of Miss Smith in Adelaide. But Prudence had to trot around chatsising Miss Smith carefully; at least until she found out what her father had to say to this entire matter.

"You are welcome to join us, dear sir-but not without a price." Madeline grinned coyly at the man's surprised look, "Your name." He laughed, and bowing again, said; "Christopher Dalton, at your service, ma'am." They went on walking, at a slow but steady pace, discussing all the appropriate and the proper topics at first; the weather, poetry, books, the upcoming social events. He complimented her, too, and Madeline shamelessly enjoyed the attention and the fruition and the aftermath of the tango. Then, Mister Dalton, who she did know to be a ladies' man, or, to put it in other terms, a rake, mentioned a small party that they had both attended last week; "Why, indeed. Mr. and Mrs. Dilling had made a nice event out of it." The Dillings were newcomers to Lindebo that lived not so far away from Madeline. With her eyebrow mischievously arched, she asked, "It does surprise me that you had not asked me for a signle dance, sir! Am I to be offended?"

As he hurried to come up with one excuse or another, Madeline tuned him out, merely smiling and nodding mechanically. She knew full well why he had not come to close to her...and why he was here, now. There were two types of rakes around this place. Some, like the late Ferdinand Mallister and Mikhail, had worked together, in a way, to gain ladies. Madeline had had no doubt that Mallister would have taken her had she chosen him over Mikhail, which was what had made him so charming. Those who stuck to the rules blindly were boring.The others worked on their own, without much care of what others of their ilk would have to say to that. The latter only had been approaching Madeline during the last two weeks. Now, the others began flowing in...because it had been exactly two weeks since she and Mikhail had had any kind of contact, or had been seen together. Two weeks, since she had called him a woman and since he had angrily ran out of her house. It had all been his own fault, holding the simple fact she had called Mallister a gentleman so much against her that he had teased her with the prospect of Jacques Deveraux's exectuon. It had been obvious to him she had wanted help, and he had refused it. Naturally, that had brought him to be the sore loser of the game; and how sore he had been!

And he had even left her wondering whether he had, indeed, been the one to murder Mallister. What had the profession of that Mr. Bullworth been? Had he stood in Mikhail's way somehow? She did not know which theory she liked better, this or the one with the killer being a woman bitter at men who used women. The former, she decided, for then she could be courted by the murderer, and then she would have been remembered as the one to dance the tango with the murderer. If only he had not been as dim-witted as to ruin it all. Well, he had lost-that had been her revenge. If he apologized, Madeline would have, after enough time passed to make him go insane, reluctantly agreed to begin talking to him again. She won either way-she always won-for if nothing, she would be remembered as the woman who dared stand up to the murderer and offend him! My, that was something as well. I would never hang with him, though! What a repulsive thought.

"....and she was the most jealous of women, who would not let me look at you at all!" Mr. Christopher finished, and Madeline shook her head with a chuckle, "It is perfectly all right. I do understand." Well, not all of such men were boring-the rules were not against them flirting with her anymore, so the rules were fine by her again. Madeline felt satisfaction with herself once more(nothing she was not already used to) and she thanked Mr. Christopher earnestly for complimenting her outfit of bright scarlet with a collar higher than her usual and fashionable skirts. Her hair looked fashionable, too, in a deliberately messy style, covered by a matching bonnet. Anyone can be murdered as gruesomely as they wish to, and Sweeney can burn in all the fires of hell - Madeline Smith will never lack manly attention so long as there is even one man left in this world!

Though it would have been nice if Mallister had survived.