"Not at all. He's merely trying to please me."
"I'm sure he is. But no one tries that hard to please a relation, and certainly not Norcourt. He's behaving like a man being forced to a woman's will."
The comment hit too close to comfort. "Pray tell me, how on earth would I force a man of Lord Norcourt's position to my will?"
"I haven't yet figured that out. But I would guess it has something to do with his determination to have you in his bed."
She released his arm, the sudden clamor in her chest making it hard for her to breathe. "For shame, sir," she said, trying to sound outraged instead of defensive. "I know such shocking talk is de rigueur in your circles, but I shan't tolerate it."
His expression was as stony as his name. "Nicely done, madam." He leaned close. "You almost sound like a parson's wife. Just not enough to convince me."
"I was unaware that I had to convince you of anything. Now, if you don't mind, I'd prefer the company of complete strangers to that of a man who apparently thinks me a deceiver." With that, she walked away, hoping that her affronted mien would keep him from following.
It was a foolish hope. As she picked her way through the murmuring, half-slumbering guests lying or sitting on the floor, the marquess followed her at a leisurely pace. "Does Norcourt know that you're looking for someone here?"
Her heart skipped a beat.
"I've been watching you all night. You scan every face, take note of every name spoken. And your questions aren't those of a disinterested observer."
"I know no one in this area," she said, fighting for calm. "Who could I possibly be looking for?"
"It's just a theory."
"A ridiculous theory." And if she didn't squelch it, she would get no more information out of him. "Why don't you talk to your chemist? He'll tell you how many questions I asked
him
about the properties of nitrous oxide."
"Yet you've shown no interest in trying it yourself."
She blinked. "What?"
"The nitrous. You have yet to ask for a bag."
"Neither have you."
His black devil's eyes glittered. "I'm the host. I must keep my wits about me. But you've no need to do so. And I would think your keen interest in scientific matters would make you eager to inhale some."
The truth was, she'd inhaled nitrous oxide years ago under the careful supervision of her father, who'd always been willing to further her store of knowledge. The effects had been minimal. But she could hardly tell Lord Stoneville that, because it would unleash a whole slew of questions about who she was. Nitrous oxide wasn't that easy to come by, after all.
"I can witness its effects in your guests," she hedged. "I don't need to experience them for myself."
"But it does seem a shame for you to go to so much trouble to attend a nitrous oxide party and then not have the main experience. Wouldn't you say?"
He had a point, and the more she denied him, the more suspicious he would become. She had to allay his suspicions before he voiced them to Anthony.
Perhaps she
should
inhale some. Given her experience last time, it shouldn't cause any harm. And since the effects were notoriously short in duration, a few puffs should satisfy him. Indeed, if she pretended to be under the influence longer than she was, she might question him about the guests with impunity.
And this time she'd ask about Sir Humphry. "You're right." She smiled sweetly at her tormentor. "I really should try it if I'm to form any reasonable opinion. But only if you try it with me." Yes, that would be even better. Then he might not remember her questions at all.
The smile playing about his lips was decidedly unnerving. "Very well." He offered her his arm. "Let's go to the library. Nitrous tends to amplify sounds— it can be uncomfortable in too noisy a room."
True, but his reason for wanting to go to the library probably had more to do with privacy than noise. And given her own aims, privacy might be wise for her as well. She didn't need anyone overhearing her questions about his friends.
She tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Lead on, sir."
Lord Stoneville snagged two bags as they passed a footman. Moments later, they left the crowded drawing room to head down a long gallery. When they reached the end, he ushered her into a dimly lit room lined with bookcases.
He started to close the door, but she said firmly, "No, leave it open. I'm a married woman, remember?"
Though annoyance flicked in his eyes, he shrugged and led her to a couch. After they were seated, he handed her a bag, then took the stopper off, holding his finger over the opening. "Start with a few shallow puffs to get yourself used to it."
She did, making sure he put
his
bag to his lips as well. Like last time, she felt nothing, no strange visions, none of the "thrill" to the "extremities" that Sir Humphry had described in his book. She might have been disappointed…if not for the fact that she needed to keep her mind clear.
"Well?" he asked after her fourth small puff.
"It's interesting," she said evasively.
"Interesting? Try it again."
She put the mouthpiece to her lips. Without warning, he squeezed the bag, forcing her to inhale a larger amount.
"
Now
tell me what you think."
"I…I think it's fine." The word ended on a giggle. That was most strange.
She glanced over to see how he reacted to the gas, but he wasn't taking in any nitrous. Or she didn't think he was. It was hard to think when a strange warmth was spreading through her limbs, down her belly, into her
mons
, which felt hot, very hot. Her chest seemed to expand, grow heavy, as if filling up with the gas.
Wait, was she still breathing it in? She hadn't meant to. Had she?
White spots appeared before her eyes, beautiful, glorious white spots. They danced like little fairies, making her giggle.
Then the white spots formed a face, which loomed closer. "Tell me, Mrs. Brayham," Lord Stoneville asked, "are you really married to a parson?"
A parson! She laughed. Why would she marry a parson? They were dull fellows, who often disapproved of science. "I…I don't recall. But I don't think so." Was she supposed to say that aloud? It seemed wrong somehow.
The looming face smiled broadly. "His cousin, eh? You're Norcourt's new mistress. I knew he couldn't keep up his façade. He's a rakehell to the bone."
"Oh, yes," she agreed, thinking of how Anthony had made her feel in the garden pavilion. It was rather like she felt now— warm and tingly. Very, very warm and tingly. Although she didn't like that her head tingled. That was odd.
She splayed her free hand through her curls in an attempt to stop the tingling, but that only dislodged her pins, making her hair tumble down. "Oops!" She giggled, and then, fascinated by the sound of it, giggled again.
"All that rot he spun me about preserving your reputation," Lord Stoneville said. "You probably wheedled this party out of him by promising to do something naughty."
"No. No-o-o-o." The long, low sound of the drawn-out word fascinated her, so she kept repeating it. "No no no no. No thing naughty. No thing. Nothing." Why,
no thing
and
nothing
were the same words. What an important realization!
Apparently its huge significance didn't occur to her new friend. "Nothing naughty, eh?" he murmured. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much."
When had he moved up next to her?
"And why did you persuade Norcourt to give you this party in the first place?" Lord Stoneville continued. "Who are you looking for? Who are you using him to get to?"
She
was
looking for someone, wasn't she? "The chemist!" she said cheerily. No, the chemist had a name. Hummy? Sir Humph? Didn't seem quite right.
"It's not the damned chemist," he growled, pushing the nitrous bag from her lips. "You already talked to the chemist, for God's sake."
He forced her chin up so she stared into his face. Lord Stoneville had a very cold face. How had she not noticed before?
"I want to know who you're looking for here." He shook her by the shoulders, further dislodging her coiffure. "Tell me, damn you!"
A figure appeared in the library doorway, with menacing shadows shrouding his face. It roused fear in her chest until the candlelight caught his features, and she recognized him. "Anthony!" She was
so
very glad to see him.
"No, not Anthony— " Lord Stoneville began.
"Let go of her!" Anthony demanded.
The marquess stilled, then twisted around to watch Anthony stride into the room. "You were supposed to stay in my study."
"Why, so you could seduce my cousin?" Anthony snapped as he hauled Stoneville up from the couch.
Stoneville shoved him away. "I'm not seducing her, you smitten fool. And she's not your cousin either, as you well know. Whoever she is, she's using you. I'm only trying to find out why."
"By forcing nitrous on her?" Anthony shouted, making Madeline wince.
"I didn't force it. She wanted to try it. She said so. Ask her yourself."
Who did they mean? Madeline could hear what they said, but it didn't make sense. The words jumbled up into nonsense once they reached her brain. She shook her head to clear it of nitrous, but that only made her dizzy, and she swayed forward.
Anthony hurried to catch her, then urged her back onto the couch. "Be still, Madeline." His eyes mirrored his concern. "Wait until the intoxication passes."
"Anthony." The name was like a talisman, bringing a smile to her lips. "I feel…I feel…" Warm, now that he was here. Content. Oh, how to describe the perfect pleasure that surged through her at his touch? "It's so…"
"I know, sweetheart." Anthony brushed her hair from her face. "Shh, now."
She nodded, perfectly happy to do what he said. She liked Anthony. Unlike Lord Stoneville, who stank of brandy, Anthony smelled like sweet Russian oil. When he looked at her with his kind eyes…she heard bells tinkling…tingling…
She giggled at the rhyme she'd made.
"Can't you see she's in no condition to answer your questions, Stoneville?" Anthony cupped her face tenderly. "Or mine."
"On the contrary, she's in exactly the right condition," the marquess said. "Let me give her a bit more nitrous, and she'll tell you whatever you need to learn. Then you'll see that she's here under false pretenses."
"I know that already, damn it." Anthony shifted her to sit more comfortably on the couch. "At the moment, I don't care. And yes, I know she's using me."
"To do what?"
"I…it doesn't matter. Anyway, it's none of your concern!"
"You don't know why, do you? Well, it
is
my concern when she's in my house asking about
my
friends." Leaning over Anthony's shoulder, Lord Stoneville put the bag of nitrous to her lips and squeezed, forcing her to inhale more gas.
"Stop that!" Anthony ripped the bag away and tossed it aside. "Come, sweetheart, we're leaving."
No, leaving seemed…wrong, very wrong. Even through the haze of her thoughts, she knew there was a reason she was here. What was the reason again?
Ah yes. "Can't leave," she mumbled. "Can't. Not yet. Not till I meet Sir Humph. Free. Sir Humphry."
"Davy?" she heard Lord Stoneville say through the encroaching fog in her brain. "The chemist, of course! That's what she was trying to tell me, who she's been looking for all night. I knew she was here for someone. She probably brought you here so she could find him since she couldn't get to him otherwise."
"What would she want with Sir Humphry?" Anthony asked.
"I don't know. Perhaps his wife isn't paranoid after all, and he
has
been seducing his female admirers. He could be her lover— wouldn't surprise me."
"No!" she cried as she tried to rise. She didn't have a lover.
"Stay there, Madeline." Anthony pressed her back onto the couch, then turned to glare at Stoneville. "Go back to your guests. It's my problem."
"Can't you see she's making a fool of you?"
"Get out!" Anthony roared. "Leave us, damn you!"
"Fine," the marquess retorted. "But you're a bloody besotted idiot if you let her twist you about her finger."
"Better than being an arse," Anthony muttered under his breath, as Lord Stoneville headed for the door.
She watched the marquess disappear through the doorway. He couldn't go yet— he hadn't introduced her to Sir Humphry. "Wait! Come back!"
Frantic to catch him, she stumbled to her feet. Then crumpled to the floor.
