but I was everything but. Instead I wondered how long he had stayed, wondered if he had watched me sleep as I had watched him, wondered if he too dreams of kissing me. Something unknown quivered through me, hot and startling. What are these feelings I cannot say, for I’ve never encountered them before, though they felt remarkably like how desire is supposed to be.
Maryann lowered the quill and closed her diary. Just thinking about the marquess made her entire body grow warm and flushed. Since that fateful night she had spread the rumors, Maryann hadn’t been to another ball. Her parents forbade it, hoping her absence would urge society to forget. To her regret, her parents were using their influence to squash all murmurings linking her name with the marquess. Tonight, she would be attending a ball, a test to see if they had successfully undone the damage she’d willfully casted upon her reputation.
And her mother had sternly warned Maryann to ignored Nicolas St. Ives, Marquess Rothbury at all cost. Maryann closed her eyes, hoping that the curious hunger she felt growing inside did not lead her to ruination…or something far worse.
Chapter Nine
Almost three weeks after the first night the marquess stole into her chamber, Maryann stood on the terraced balcony of Lady Trembly’ s home, escaping the stifling heat of the overly crowded ballroom. She lifted her hand to her mouth to hide an indelicate yawn. Maryann felt a bit weary and wished she were at home snuggled in bed reading or working on her latest embroidery. The late summer day had been unusually dreary and overcast, and she had spent the day indoors, canceling a shopping date she had with her friend Ophelia.
This midnight ball was her second affair this week, the first a picnic at Hyde Park. Maryann had tried to escape attending this ball, hating the very idea of encountering Lord Stamford without a new plan. The countess insisted the first step in proving the rumors untrue was to make a united show to the ton. They were all at the ball, even her father, who spent most of his evenings at White’s with his cronies, a glass of brandy, and their political debates.
There was a faint stir when they had entered, but their hostess had hurriedly greeted them, signaling her belief in the Fitzwilliams’ impeachable reputation. Once in the ballroom, a few sly speculative whispers had reached their ears, but her mother acted as if those persons were ants below her heels. Maryann had danced three times, once with her father and twice with Crispin.
Lady Sophie stood in a circle of admirers, her humiliating spectacle of a few weeks prior forgotten. Or no one dared mention it when her brother, the duke, attended the same event. Old gossips were quickly forgotten in lieu of new gossips, and tonight it was Maryann’s name on those wagging tongues. Maryann suspected it was her scandal which had forced the duke’s sister to attend. It would not do for her to stay at home and gloat at another’s downfall. That must be done in person.
It was Lady Sophie and her coterie sauntering in Maryann’s direction with malice on their faces which prompted her to seek fresh air on the balcony.
They had not witnessed her escape, and she reminded herself that she was not running or cowering away. “There are other days to fight,” she whispered.
With a heavy sigh, she lifted her face to the sky, pleased to see a few stars out. Knowing that her family was disappointed in her hurt. She had told Crispin earlier it was that same disappointment she had endured when they had plotted her future without a single say-so from her.
The feel of eyes on her body had her scanning the crowded ballroom. A gasp stifled in her throat when she spied Stamford by a potted plant. The manner in which he stared at her was decidedly outrageous; he did it boldly, and quite uncaring that people might see and speculate. His insolent inspection was enough to create another scandal.
Horror darted through her when he started to discreetly move toward her. If she hadn’t been watching him, it would have slipped her notice. With a stifled curse, she hurriedly slipped inside the ballroom, scanning the crush for her mother or even Crispin.
Her brother danced the waltz with a young lady she did not recognize, and she did not see her mother or father. Now that she was in the thick of the crowd,