No Marriage of Convenience (23 page)

She dropped to a low curtsey, her mind racing with
countless possibilities as to why the Duke had singled her out.

She never considered the obvious one.

“Madame,” he said quietly, “you have caused quite a stir and it is not even ten o’clock.”

So much for her plan to remain silent. One could hardly ignore a Duke, let alone the host.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” she said, using the accented voice she’d affected when she’d played Hélène, a French émigré, in
The Forgotten Daughter
. She could only hope it disguised her identity from the astute gentleman.

“No apologies necessary, Madame Aphrodite. You’ve made my masquerade an immediate success. I can spend the rest of the evening resting on my laurels.” He bowed over her hand. “If you will honor me with the first dance, I think we will set tongues wagging for a better part of the Season.”

Riley could only nod mutely at being singled out for such an honor and followed the man to the dance floor.

With their guardian gone, the sisters were instantly deluged with offers.

Very quickly, Bea and Maggie were on the dance floor with their ecstatic partners, while Louisa remained behind. She had her own reasons for holding out. Smiling patiently at the men who continued to seek her favor, shaking her head at the offers to dance, offers for punch, offers of marriage. She held her solitary position until a man all in black, a Hades to her Persephone, approached her.

He didn’t even need to ask her—he just extended his hand and she followed, much to the chagrin of her ardent admirers.

Anyone who saw the exchange could tell the pair were deeply in love, for despite her mask, the lady’s smile and eyes glowed for all to see.

“Roderick,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have come.”

He pulled her closer. “And neither should you—dressed like that.” Jealousy glowed in his stormy gaze.

She blushed furiously, only too pleased at his response. How could she explain it? All the hours practicing with him, holding his hand, the chaste kiss that was part of Act Three, had led to this…this dizzying, unbelievable feeling.

She’d fallen in love. She was in love with Roderick Northard. It was glorious and unthinkable.

He swung her about, his hand on hers possessive in its grasp. She was his, as it should be.

Still, that didn’t stop Louisa from worrying. She leaned closer to him. “What if you are caught? You weren’t invited.”

“I don’t need an invitation to be with you. You are my heart, my love, my life.”

She sighed. He may not be a Viscount, or even a gentleman, but he did know how to make her head spin. Still…

“Riley might recognize you.”

“And what if she does?” Roderick smiled. “I don’t care. Let her find out.”

Louisa wasn’t so convinced. If Riley did find out, then her uncle would know…and then there would be, as Beatrice would so eloquently put it, hell to pay.

Roderick would be banished from Ashlin Square and she would never see him again. That is, unless they…

She tried to shake off that scandalous thought. She’d be ruined, would never be received if she ran off with an actor. The life she’d dreamt of for herself—as a regal lady-about-town—would be lost.

What she needed to do was stop this affair right now,
before she became too entangled to think straight. Even as she struggled to find the resolve she needed, she stole a glance at the man who’d won her heart.

His grin sent her pulse racing.

’Twas a feeling, she knew, that was worth altering one’s dreams.

Riley spent most of the evening watching the proceedings from the side of the dance floor, politely and firmly refusing all offers to dance. When several of her would-be suitors became too insistent, she decided to retreat to one of the alcoves set aside for the matrons and chaperones.

Settling down, Riley was only too glad for a respite from the unwanted attentions and spent a well-earned moment basking in her success.

One that was not shared by the marriage-minded mothers of the other girls who now stood in the shadows of the St. Clair sisters. In the next alcove, the occupants were discussing the situation at length.

“If my daughter wasn’t spoken for,” the plaintive voice complained, “I’d be furious at the Duke for allowing those jades to remain in good company.”

“I agree. Look at my Harriet. Completely overlooked! And the fortune I spent on that costume. Utterly wasted.” The other lady paused. “Did you just say that Dahlia is spoken for? The Earl has finally made an offer?”

Riley’s ears perked.
Dahlia? Offer?

Egads, was she too late?

“Well, not exactly,” Mrs. Pindar confessed. “Let’s say I have acquired enough leverage over Ashlin that he will no longer find reluctance financially feasible. My solicitor is slated to call on him tomorrow, so I would say the
announcement should be in all the papers by the end of the week.”

Riley’s mouth gaped open. Mason’s unnamed creditor was Mrs. Pindar. And now the woman intended to force Mason into marrying Dahlia.

She raised her chin a notch higher and steeled herself against the crushing heartbreak welling up inside her and threatening to send a maelstrom of tears streaking down her cheeks.

Mason, as proud and honor bound as he was, would not be able to refuse. For if he did, the Ashlin name would be ruined forever.

“There now, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” an elderly lady said, as she settled down into the chair next to Riley. Dressed in a black gown and an elegant black turban, the regal lady’s only adornment was a magnificent emerald necklace. Majestic in her bearing, and from the fawning attentions of those in her wake, Riley guessed the woman to be a person of lofty social consequences.

Riley rose to leave—rude though it was, for she didn’t want to speak with anyone, not right now.

“A moment of your time, young lady.” The woman put her hand on Riley’s arm and stopped her from rising further.

It was a command that Riley didn’t know how to get out of, so she sat.

“You’ve caused quite a stir,” the lady commented.

“So it seems,” Riley demurred.

“I am the Countess of Marlowe,” the lady said, pausing after the introduction as if she awaited Riley’s recognition.

“I am pleased to meet you, Lady Marlowe,” Riley said. “But now really isn’t the best time. I have some matters that—”

“Young lady, I couldn’t care less about your matters! I
said I am the Countess of Marlowe, and now I expect your name. We will attend to your matters in due time.” Lady Marlowe stared at her, awaiting the introduction that Riley owed in return. When Riley was not forthcoming, she said, “So you fully intend to keep your identity a secret. In my day you would have been cast out, but Everton is an indulgent fool.”

“The Duke has been very kind in his attentions,” Riley said in the man’s defense.

“Kind indeed. He’s made you and your companions the talk of the night. Well, at the unmasking you’ll find out the price for such forward and unseemly behavior.”

Riley would have found such censure rather alarming if it hadn’t been for the twinkle in the lady’s eyes. So she smiled indulgently at her, saying nothing.

The sharp lady missed nothing. “Oh, I see. You have no intention of being here when all these fools take off their masks and pretend to be surprised when they discover with whom they’ve spent the evening.” She nudged Riley and pointed her fan at a couple on the dance floor. “Lady Kynsley and her lover, Viscount Worthen. As if anyone doesn’t recognize the Kynsley diamonds, let alone the mole on her chin.”

Riley resisted the urge to laugh.

“And over there,” the lady continued. “Even with all these insipid shepherdesses running about, there is no doubt that prancing, simpering miss dancing with your cousin, Lord Ashlin, is anyone but Charlotte Pindar’s daughter. She has her mother’s unfortunate mannerisms.”

Riley’s shock must have been evident even behind her mask. “Lord who?” she tried to bluff.

“Don’t even try to play coy with me. I pestered it out of Everton five minutes after your entrance, which I must say was better planned than Nelson’s recent campaign.”
The lady settled back in her seat, a satisfied grin spreading across her face. “As for being a St. Clair, that is another matter. You haven’t their coloring nor their height, though you have a presence about you that could give the mistaken impression you actually belong to that hedonistic lot.”

Riley didn’t know how to answer that.

The lady eyed her. “Oh, don’t get missish on me. I have no intention of telling anyone your secret. Now, let’s go back to something more enjoyable—discussing this foolishness around us.”

For the next half hour, Lady Marlowe regaled Riley with her intimate knowledge of the foibles and follies of the
ton
.

“Now I’ve kept you from your charges far too long, my dear,” Lady Marlowe said. “Look at the time—if you’re to get them out of here before the unmasking, you haven’t got a moment to spare.”

Riley looked up at the clock and then around the room. Not one of the girls was in sight. “Great!” she muttered. “How will I ever find them in this crush?”

Lady Marlowe laughed. “There is one of them there, coming off the dance floor with Lord Betham’s son. Drinkers, all of them. Steer her clear of him.”

“Thank you,” Riley said, rising to intercept Maggie, who was even now blushing at the attentions being paid her by the gallant Cavalier. “Thank you so much for everything,” she told the lady. She didn’t know what overcame her, but she leaned over and placed a kiss on the cantankerous lady’s cheek. “My friends call me Riley. I would be honored if you would do the same.”

So intent on finding Bea and Louisa, she didn’t see the look of shock on the lady’s face, or the one small tear
which fell down her wrinkled cheek before the imperious lady swiped it away.

Oh, it was bad enough she’d violated every one of Mason’s edicts this evening, if only to prove him wrong, and now it seemed his dire predictions might be coming true.

“Looking for someone?” asked a voice she’d hoped she wouldn’t hear all evening.

Mason caught her by the elbow.

Riley shook herself free. “Are you crazy? You’ll give us away.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about that if you’d done as I’d instructed.”

She bristled at his overbearing demeanor. “Since when did you become the commander of my life?”

“When you came under my protection,” he whispered back.

Around them, a few curious glances were turning into open stares. Riley could feel the speculation already getting out of hand.

“Gather the girls together and go home,” he instructed. “I will meet you there.”

“That is exactly what I planned on doing before you got in my way,” she shot back.

“Good. At least you are showing some sense,” he said back to her. “I will see you there.” He smoothly returned to the crowd, mingling into the crush and disappearing from sight.

Then she remembered what Mrs. Pindar had said. Was there any hope that she could warn him before he found himself bound to Dahlia?

If he hadn’t done so already.

She glanced nervously at the clock and realized it was now quarter to midnight. Her gaze frantically searched the crowd around her for Maggie. When she spotted the girl,
she made her way to her side and asked, “Where are your sisters?”

Maggie looked over the crowded room again, tipping her head this way and that. “Louisa was dancing with Rod—”

The girl’s mouth snapped shut and she bit her lip to obviously keep it that way.

“With Roderick?” Riley asked, not really waiting for an answer. Damn his wretched hide. “Where are they?”

Maggie groaned, as if she preferred Riley ask her to lose a limb rather than betray her sister’s confidence.

In the end it was the girl’s worried gaze flicking back and forth toward one of the open windows which gave away Louisa’s hiding spot.

Riley caught Maggie by the hand, towing her charge along. “We’ll see about this.”

On their way to the gardens, they passed the room set aside for cards. Out of the corner of her eye, and much to her shock, Riley spied Bea at one of the tables.

If that wasn’t bad enough, she was surrounded by a large crowd who seemed entranced by the play before them.

As she and Maggie drew closer, Riley’s worse fears of discovery came true when she spied Bea’s opponent.

Lady Delander.

Eh, gads! What was Bea thinking, playing cards with their gossipy neighbor?

Even worse, Del stood at his mother’s side, his gaze fixed on Bea as if there wasn’t another woman in the room.

“Look, Riley,” Maggie whispered. “Bea’s winning.”

Indeed she was. Piled up in front of the girl sat a large stack of coins and even one of the Dowager’s earrings,
the ruby and diamond heirloom winking mischievously amidst the gold.

Oblivious that she’d been caught, Bea played the rest of her cards, smiling in triumph at Lady Delander as she laid down the card necessary to win the game.

Around the table the spectators exchanged shocked glances.

“Well, I never!” Lady Delander sputtered.

“That’s the fifth straight hand that gel’s won,” an older man in a domino remarked to no one in particular.

“I demand a rematch,” Lady Delander said. “I will have satisfaction, for there must be something amiss with you, young lady. I’ll have you know I am not beaten in piquet. Ever.”

“The evidence in front of her begs to differ, Mother,” Del said, winking at Bea. “Apparently being a goddess makes the lady impervious to your, shall we say, remarkable skills.”

“Oh, do shut up, Allister,” Lady Delander snapped. “Now I will have another hand,
Miss Artemis
.”

At this moment, Bea glanced up and her gaze met Riley’s.

Riley shook her head and nodded slightly at the clock over the mantel, which read quarter to midnight.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Bea murmured, “but I must go.” Scooping her winnings into the hunting pouch at her waist, she hastened after Riley before the flabbergasted woman protested further.

Del watched dumbfounded as the beautiful goddess fled the room in the wake of her other appealing companions. Besides besting his mother in piquet, the enchanting huntress had slain his heart with her devilish glances from behind her silver mask.