the area.
“You’ll be attending the masquerade ball, Fenwick?” Jago asked.
Fenwick pulled his eyes from Catherine with obvious reluctance. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
Ria gave one of her throaty chuckles, which Jago found grating rather than appealing. “Lord Fenwick is the advance guard of a large house party that I shall host two weeks before the ball.”
Fenwick’s family seat was less than an hour away and yet he was staying at Ria’s house?
Knowing Ria the house party would be the sort that seethed with nocturnal adventures.
“The ball will be held at the end of the party—a grand finale of sorts.”
Jago’s gaze drifted to Benna, who’d helped Mariah dismount and was examining the point straps on her new saddle. Now that he knew she was a woman he couldn’t believe that he’d ever been fooled. Indeed, her rough clothing made her look even more feminine.
“Jago?”
Ria’s voice shook him from his musing. “I beg your pardon?”
She gave him an arch look and turned in her saddle, her eyes flickering over Benna, the horse, and Mariah. Jago could see she was befuddled at what could have pulled his attention away from her.
“I asked what costume you would choose for my party,” Ria said.
“I already know what I will be,” Catherine piped up.
Jago smiled at his niece’s childlike excitement. “And what is that?”
“I can’t tell you; it is a secret.” She pursed her lips, her eyes dancing. He couldn’t recall her looking so happy in ages—if ever. So, at least Ria was good for something.
“Thank you, Ben,” Mariah said when Benna had finished adjusting her saddle.
Fenwick glanced absently at Jago’s stable master and then did a double take. “You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked, his tone imperious.
“I don’t think so, my lord.” Her expression was unreadable but Jago could see that she’d paled beneath her tan.
Fenwick stared, his eyes narrow and his expression no longer lazy.
“Benna used to be a groom for a gentleman called Mr. Fenton—perhaps you knew him?” Mariah volunteered.
Benna shot the girl a look of surprise and Mariah blushed. Jago knew what that meant: his youngest niece must have been eavesdropping again.
Jago stepped into the awkward silence. “Ben worked for Mr. Stephen Worth before coming to Lenshurst. Perhaps that is where you saw him before,” Jago said.
Fenwick grunted, and turned back to Catherine, already bored with the subject.
“We’d best be on our way if we are to deliver the rest of our invitations.” Ria cast Jago an openly chiding look that said more clearly than words that she would much rather be somewhere people didn’t waste time discussing a mere servant’s work history. “We are on our way to hand-deliver our invitation at Oakland Manor. Shall I pass along your regards to Mrs. Worth, Jago?”
“I dined with them last night, Ria. But thank you for your kind offer.”
She frowned. “Didn’t they arrive only yesterday?”
“Yes.” Jago could see that his one-word answer did not provide the information she’d wished for—such as why Jago would be invited over to their wealthy neighbors’ house before they’d hardly had time to unpack and settle in.
“Well,” Ria said coolly, shifting in her saddle. “I look forward to seeing you girls at the ball, if not before.”
Fenwick nodded to Catherine and Mariah, and they were off.
Catherine waited just until Ria and Fenwick were out of earshot to say, “I’m going to tell Mama.” She left the courtyard at a near run, Mariah on her heels.
Jago turned to where Ben had been standing with the horses, but his mysterious employee was already gone.
Why did Fenwick think he recognized his stable master?
Why had Benna looked so terrified at the possibility?
And why did Jago suspect that there was a great deal of her story that Benna had not shared with him?
Chapter Fifteen
Bath
December 1816
One Year Ago
Benna stared at the contents of the black velvet box that Geoffrey had just handed her.
“Well? Do you like it?”
She looked up at him, unable to close her mouth. “Er, it’s a ring.”
“Very good, Ben!” He gave a bark of laugher. “Of course it’s a bloody ring.”
“But—”
“But what?”
“It’s a woman’s ring.”
Geoff raised his eyebrows, as if to say: And?
“How can I wear this without getting strange looks?”
“Well,” he said with exaggerated slowness, “if you were to go about as a woman, nobody would give you strange looks.”
Benna closed the box and set it on the table. “You’d better explain what you mean.”
“Do you know what day it is?” he demanded.
She blinked. “Er, Wednesday?”
“What day of the month?” he asked, his smile