With a tug, Mary tried to break free of his hold, but Rotridge wouldn’t have it. “My lord, if it is my dowry you are after, then I suggest you reconsider. It is not—”
“Dowry? Why on earth would I be interested in your dowry when I have more money than I know what to do with?”
“I cannot imagine,” Mary confessed.
“If you were to marry me, I would allow you full control of your dowry. I certainly have no need of it, and if it is a modest sum, I will even be happy to add to it. I suppose, in a way, that this would give you the independence that you seek. Financially, at least.”
It was the sort of bargain that would appeal to most young ladies. “Forgive me, but I understand your motivation even less if it is not driven by monetary gain.”
Reaching the corner, Rotridge pulled her into the darkness, his arm circling around her waist and forcing her up against him. “Perhaps I simply want you for you.”
Mary shook her head. “No. I do not believe that.” She tried to pull away—to return to the light—but he only tightened his hold. “Please. Let me go.”
“In a moment,” he said. Raising his hand, he used his teeth to pull away his glove. Then, on a sharp inhale of breath, he ran his naked fingers through her hair, his breaths increasingly shallow as he gathered up a handful of locks and pressed them against his nose. “You smell divine,” he murmured.
A tremor snaked its way through her. “I think we ought to rejoin the festivities,” she whispered, her words faltering as she glanced toward the other guests. If he kissed her where everyone could see, she would have no choice but to bow to his will or accept ruination.
Rotridge pinned her with a hard stare. “In a moment,” he repeated as he tightened his hold even more.
A low growl shifted the air around her. “I believe it is time for our dance,” a harsh voice spoke.
Mary turned her head toward the masked figure who’d quietly materialized beside her. He was taller than Rotridge—broader too. Relief eased the tension that had quickly been building inside her.
“And who might you be?” Rotridge asked, releasing both Mary and her hair so he could face Signor Antonio properly.
“That is none of your concern,” Signor Antonio said.
Rotridge stared at him a moment before returning his attention to Mary. Bowing, he said, “It has been a pleasure, my lady. I shall look forward to our boat ride with great anticipation. Will tomorrow suit?”
While instinct urged her to make an excuse, Mary knew she would not be able to avoid the earl indefinitely. “Yes, my lord, tomorrow will suit just fine.”
With a curt nod, he muttered something indiscernible to Signor Antonio before striding away at a brisk pace.
“You should have said no,” Signor Antonio said as he grasped her by the arm and steered her back into the flickering light of a nearby torch.
“I did not want to be rude.”
“And I suppose he demanded politeness by treating you with respect, unwilling as he was to release you when you asked him to do so?”
“No . . . I . . .” What could she say?
“He took advantage of your kindness.”
“Perhaps,” she admitted.
He sighed audibly. “Did you tell him that you have no interest in marriage?”
“Yes.”
Abruptly, he spun her around so she faced him. “Promise me that you will be careful.”
“You think he might prove dangerous?”
“For you, yes.”
“Because he was not deterred by my lack of interest in courtship or marriage?” Forcing herself to stand tall, she stared back into his dark eyes. “You were not deterred either, it seems.”
“Perhaps not, but at least I am not pulling you into dark corners in order to smell your hair.” There was a dangerous edge to his tone. “Can you honestly tell me that his actions did not disturb you?”
Slowly, she shook her head. “No.”
“Then perhaps, even if you do not feel as though you know me well enough to heed my warning, you will listen to your own instinct?”
“Yes,” she assured him.
A moment passed, during which neither one of them moved. Eventually, Signor Antonio nodded. “That is all I need to know. Thank you.”
The relief in his voice melted her insides. With her heart beating rapidly in her chest, she accepted the arm he offered her, aware once again of the masculine strength he exuded as he guided her toward the dance floor in preparation for the waltz.
Chapter 3
When the first notes of music rose through the air, Richard pulled Lady Eleanor into his arms, just as he’d longed to do since the moment he’d first seen her. Pure pleasure rushed through him, pushing away the anger that he’d felt at seeing Rotridge with his lecherous hands on her. Christ, he’d been tempted to give the man a sound thrashing. But he’d held back, aware that he would only be allowing an elemental possessiveness that he had no right to, to guide him.
Moving along the edge of the dance floor, he hesitated only a moment before setting his hand more firmly against Lady Eleanor’s back. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, which in turn made him smile. “You are managing very well, considering you’ve never danced this before.”
“You were right to say it would be easier than the other dances, though I do believe you are holding me inappropriately close.” Her words were followed by a delightful flush of pink across her chest.
Perhaps she was right. For a second, he considered adding more distance between them, but then thought better of it. The uncertainty that plagued him came from lack of practice, nothing else. It simply had to be tamed. “I disagree.” He deliberately tightened his grip on her, reveling in the way her lips parted with surprise while heat tore its way through him. She glanced around, her eyes slightly anxious. “Look at me,” he said. “We are only dancing. There is nothing wrong with that.”
Giving him her full attention, she quietly whispered, “Then why does it feel as though I am committing a sin?”
Her words, though innocently spoken, stirred his blood like nothing else ever had. Jesus! For the first time in five years, he was not only speaking to a woman, but holding one in his arms—a delightful one at that. Temptation did not even come close to describing the longing that was steadily building inside him, brought on not only by her beauty but by her sensuality and intellect as well.
Forcing back all thought of potentially kissing his way down the side of her neck and over the smooth skin of her shoulder, Richard struggled to gain control. “Perhaps it is the atmosphere,” he suggested. “Masquerades do have a tendency to encourage more carefree behavior.”
“I suppose it must be because of the anonymity. Hidden behind masks, people have the opportunity to do things they would not otherwise dare to consider.”
“Such as?”
She pursed her lips, which made her look adorably cheeky. “A shy gentleman might suddenly feel emboldened, allowing him the courage he needs to ask a lady to dance.”
“I hope you are not suggesting that I might be shy, for I can assure you that I am anything but.” Not entirely true, though he preferred apprehensive.
“And yet I have no clue about your identity. In truth, you could be anyone, perhaps even a groomsman who happened to chance upon some quality clothing.”
“I see your point. But if I were a groomsman, would I be as well-read as you know me to be?” Emboldened by their light repartee, the magical touch that the evening provided, and the reminder that nobody knew who he was, Richard moved his hands to her waist and lifted her right off the ground. He heard her suck in her breath while several onlookers gasped in confounded shock. Heedless of it all, he proceeded to swing Lady Eleanor around while spinning in a wide circle.
“That was far too daring,” she chastised as soon as he set her back on her feet and resumed their previous pace.
“Tell me you did not enjoy every second of it.”
Setting her mouth in a firm line, s
he looked away from him. “Everyone is watching,” she eventually said, not answering his question. “My aunt does not look the least bit pleased.”
“Then it is fortunate that I care more about your opinion than I do about your aunt’s.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “You are intolerable. What if you had dropped me?”
“A gentleman never drops a lady.” Twirling her around, he led her between two other couples.
“Perhaps not, but then again, we have not yet established that you are in fact a gentleman. For all I know, you could be a scoundrel.”
“I can assure you that I am no such thing.” Dipping his head, he whispered close to her ear. “In time, you will learn that I value honesty and dependability. That I consider a man’s honor to be paramount to his character. So I would be much obliged if you would refrain from suggesting otherwise, even if you only meant to do so in jest.”
Briefly closing her eyes, she gave a little nod. “Forgive me,” she whispered, regret marring her features. “I did not mean to insult you in any way.”
“I know.” The music gradually faded and their movements slowed until they came to a gliding halt. Stepping back, Richard offered Lady Eleanor a bow while she curtsied in return. He didn’t like the tone he’d just taken with her, but it was too late for that now. “Will you join me for a walk in the garden?” he asked, stiffly offering her his arm. He was suddenly desperate to smooth away the tight expression that he’d caused.
“As lovely as that sounds, I am not so sure that it is going to be possible,” she said, her eyes fixed on a spot directly behind his left shoulder.
Turning, Richard winced as he spotted an older woman bearing down on him with Lady Duncaster in pursuit. “Your aunt, I presume?”
“Yes. With Mama and Papa abroad, I am presently under her protection.” She looked up at him with calmness in her eyes. “No need to worry. She is not as fierce as she looks. Just be polite.”
Squaring his shoulders, Richard stood his ground as Lady Eleanor’s aunt came to a halt before him. She was a slim woman with delicate features, possessing a chin that was sharper than most. Her dark brown hair was streaked with random lines of silver, and in front of her eyes, she held a lorgnette surrounded by a vast array of colorful feathers.
“Signor Antonio,” Lady Duncaster said, coming up alongside her, “May I present my dear friend, Lady Foxworth?”
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Countess.” Reaching for her tiny hand, Richard bowed over it while hoping that his gallantry would win him her favor.
“Thank you,” she said as she peered up at him from behind her lorgnette. “You clearly have me at a disadvantage. Will you please tell me who you are? I should also like to know why you presumed to have the right to dance with my niece in such a scandalous manner.”
Every muscle in Richard’s body grew taught. Was it just his imagination, or was his cravat more restrictive now than it had been earlier? With rigidity, he met Lady Foxworth’s assessing gaze. “I must apologize for allowing myself to get carried away during the dance. It was not my intention to offend anyone. As to my name . . . I am afraid that Signor Antonio will have to suffice.”
Lady Foxworth pressed her lips together in a firm line of disapproval. Beside him, Richard sensed Lady Eleanor’s surprise. Like her aunt, she’d probably expected him to reveal himself when asked to do so.
“Unfortunately that is not good enough,” Lady Foxworth said. “Not when I am responsible for my niece’s reputation.”
“I can vouch for his character,” Lady Duncaster said with a hasty look in Richard’s direction. “Signor Antonio comes from a very respectable family—a family with whom an association would be a coup.”
Raising her chin a notch, Lady Foxworth was silent for a moment and Richard realized that he was holding his breath in anticipation of what she might say next. “I have always trusted your judgment,” Lady Foxworth eventually told Lady Duncaster, “but I am afraid that my conscience will not allow me to do so in this instance. Unless I am made aware of Signor Antonio’s exact identity, then I am afraid that I cannot allow him to continue socializing with my niece.”
Closing his eyes on the finality of her words, Richard expelled the breath he’d been holding. Silently, he cursed the fear that kept him from living and the hatred that fueled his vendetta. Because in spite of what Lady Eleanor had told him—that she had no desire to marry—the way in which she responded to him suggested that he might be able to change her mind if he was allowed the chance to do so.
“What if he confides in me?” Lady Eleanor asked, cultivating this idea.
Lady Foxworth regarded him shrewdly. “I do not believe that he is prepared to do so. Are you, Signor?”
Heart hammering in his chest, Richard forced himself not to look at Lady Eleanor. He didn’t want to see the hope brimming in her eyes or the disappointment that would take its place when he said what had to be said. “Not yet.”
As soon as the words were out, he felt as though a cavern had been carved into the ground, separating him from the woman who stood by his side. Tonight, for the first time in years, he’d felt a sliver of hope that the happy future he’d always dreamed of might one day be his—if he could only win Lady Eleanor’s affection. Unwilling to give up completely, he said, “Perhaps in time—”
“No,” Lady Foxworth said, her hand slicing the air between them. “You have every right to keep your secrets, Signor, but until I am made aware of what they are and have been reassured that they pose no threat to my niece’s reputation or happiness, then you will stay away from her. Is that clear?”
The ultimatum was not to Richard’s liking even though he understood Lady Foxworth’s reasoning completely. Had he been in her shoes, he would have made the same demand. “Yes.” He spoke the word with difficulty.
Lady Foxworth finally allowed a faint smile. “Thank you. I appreciate your understanding.”
Clenching his jaw, Richard nodded. “If you will excuse me,” he said with a curt bow directed at Lady Foxworth and Lady Duncaster. Turning toward Lady Eleanor, his heart ached at the sight of her pained expression. “It has been a pleasure.”
She gave him a bleak little nod, but said nothing in response. Turning his back on her, Richard walked away without a backward glance, his pace brisk as he strode toward the French doors leading into the house. Rushing through the well-lit hallway, he marched toward the stairs, climbing them quickly in his haste to return to his bedchamber and the darkness that beckoned within.
“I am sorry,” Lady Foxworth told Mary as soon as Signor Antonio was out of earshot, “but it is for the best.”
“I disagree,” Mary said as she watched Signor Antonio disappear amidst the crowd. “He is the only gentleman whose company I have ever enjoyed and rather than welcome his interest in me, you chose to send him away.”
“You must understand my reasoning, Mary.” Her aunt no longer bore the hard façade that she’d presented Signor Antonio with. Instead, she looked deeply sorry about what she’d had to do. “Secrecy has no place in any relationship, and you must admit that the secret he chooses to keep is quite significant.”
“I am sure he has a good reason for it, and if Lady Duncaster is willing to vouch for him then—”
“You are not Lady Duncaster’s responsibility,” Lady Foxworth said. Addressing her friend, she added, “I hope you will forgive me for I mean no offense, but it is my duty to assess all potential suitors myself.”
“I understand you completely,” Lady Duncaster said.
“Perhaps you could share his identity with Aunt Eugenia, without making me aware of who he is,” Mary suggested, addressing her hostess.
“I am sorry,” Lady Duncaster said, “but I have given him my word.”
“But—”
“You must accept his reasoning as well, Mary,” Lady Foxworth said.
“Even if he is the only gentleman to ever spark my interest?” Mary asked. “It hardly seems fair!�
�
Sympathy filled Lady Foxworth’s eyes. “Perhaps that is because you have chosen to keep to yourself until now. But tonight you danced with three gentlemen, which means that you have been noticed. It is only a matter of time now before others show an interest, and once they do, then I am certain that one of them will prove to be worthy of your affection.”
“You are probably right,” Mary found herself saying. She was suddenly eager for the conversation to be over.
“Lord Rotridge looked quite taken with you,” her aunt added, sounding hopeful.
“Yes,” Mary said, suppressing a shudder. “He has invited me to go boating with him tomorrow.”
“Well there you are then,” Lady Foxworth said. “I have every confidence that you and the earl will have a marvelous time getting better acquainted. And if you decide that he is not for you, then I am sure that we will have no issue with finding someone else who is more to your liking.”
Mary nodded. She was not about to tell her aunt that she had no intention of marrying anyone or that the only man who’d ever come remotely close to potentially changing her mind about the subject had just been forbidden to speak with her. Doing so would only lead to a series of unpleasant questions that Mary was not prepared to answer.
“The Earl of Chadwick is exceedingly charming as well,” Lady Foxworth added. “Such a fine young gentleman. Would you be kind enough to make the necessary introductions, Lady Duncaster?”
“Of course,” Lady Duncaster said. She craned her neck and looked around. “There he is, ladies. Follow me!”
Mary cringed. “I dislike approaching him like this,” she told her aunt as they walked behind Lady Duncaster toward the opposite side of the terrace. “The idea of being forced upon a man with the expectation that he will keep me company or ask me to dance is humiliating.”
His Scandalous Kiss: Secrets at Thorncliff Manor: 6 Page 4
