murmured, wanting to stab himself for even saying such bloody nonsense.
Lady Maryann flushed, and the gaze that looked at him was wounded, before her incredibly long lashes lowered, shuttering her emotions. Her delicate fingers climbed and pushed the spectacles up her pert nose before she took up her fork and resumed eating the succulently prepared lamb.
That’s right, my little racoon, he silently encouraged, treat us like the ants we are.
A few of the men who had overheard laughed, and one even said, “Hear, hear, the place of ladies is in the home, and if not to give opinions on balls or the nursery, a lady’s mouth should be closed at all times.”
A general murmur of assent swept their end of the splendidly lavish dining table and Lord Crispin’s face darkened with his ire. Lady Musgrove had given her excuses earlier and departed the ball, no doubt overwhelmed by the chattering which erupted once he had returned her daughter to her side.
Whispers of how nefarious he was for stealing a kiss from Lady Maryann had flown from many lips. Some had been titillated at his audacity for dancing so publicly with her, and someone had dared to remark how terrible it must have been for him to kiss such a plain wallflower.
She’d handled herself admirably and ignored those determined to gossip. Her chin had been lifted high, a mocking smile on her sweet lips, as if to say, I dared, come what may. Lord Stamford had watched her, his face inscrutable, but in his eyes there had been a promise of punishment. Nicolas prayed he had been mistaken.
Lady Maryann had also received many envious stares from ladies who had set their caps for him over the seasons. Of course, she had seemed oblivious. Nicolas hoped he hadn’t been reckless in his need to feel her in his arms, and to help her escape the attachment her parents pushed against her wishes. While chatting with her in the gardens, he’d silently acknowledged how careful he had become, seeing the possibility of danger in everything. Not even his sisters Nicolas allowed to visit him in London, and he had men who discreetly kept a careful watch on his family, despite the fact that no threat had ever presented itself. Nicolas preferred to be overly cautious than regretful with loss.
Then when his walk with vengeance was over…then and only then would he live without restraint.
He glanced at her, and from the stiffness of her shoulders he could tell that she was upset and bravely masking her hurt. Lady Maryann had offered her opinion on a bill that had passed in the commons and would be debated by the lords at the next sitting of parliament. Her insight had impressed him and rendered those within earshot silent. He hoped he masked his admiration and so had delivered his cutting remark.
He’d wounded her pride grievously, but he would not apologize for it, since it was in keeping with the person he wanted to be before these people—the careless rake who had no true attachment. If before they thought the rumors and dance had meaning, now they would be forced to reassess their perception. If to Lady Maryann’s detriment, Nicolas had dismissed a lurking threat too soon, now that hidden danger would think it had been a mere dance, nothing more.
Forgive me, but I must always be a step ahead.
One of the men responsible for breaking Arianna sat at the supper table with them: Viscount Weychell, heir to a most prestigious earldom. The duke had left earlier with his cronies and had invited Nicolas to join them at some new haunt they had discovered. He had declined, a surprise even to himself. He did not normally allow the opportunity to be close enough to the duke to pass him by, it was a chance to observe and patiently watch so Nicolas could learn all the duke’s picadilloes.
The Duke of Farringdon had become more careful and paranoid of late, mumbling to all who would listen that he was being watched and followed, and that someone was out to ruin his investments and reputation. Both Viscount Weychell and the duke had reasons to be more careful. They had the proof of one of their chummiest cronies fleeing England to Italy to escape his debts and crumbling reputation.
That man, Viscount Barton, had been the first to fall to Nicolas’s scheme. In the letter Arianna left behind, she had detailed clues about each of her villains, for she had not known