A Masquerade in the Moonlight - By Kasey Michaels Page 0,104
she had met with Laleham, for he was sure to interfere.
Thomas Joseph Donovan. The man interfered with everything she did. Her revenges, her dreams, even her confusions. And yet, if she didn’t see him again tonight, hold him again tonight, love him again tonight, she had no great desire to live to see the dawn.
And if that made her a wanton, so be it. She’d not be short of company in hell!
“Miss Balfour! You are in looks this evening. How gratifying that your indisposition of this afternoon is now a thing of the past.”
Marguerite clenched her teeth together tightly for a moment, swallowed down on an impulse to shiver, then turned to curtsy to the Earl of Laleham, who always seemed to look at her as if she was a property he was considering purchasing. “La, sir, I thank you,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him as she had seen a young woman named Araminta do to Donovan before he had joined her last night. “You must be the bravest of men, your lordship, to be willing to be seen with me. I am in disgrace, you know.”
He bowed over her extended hand, his lips cool and dry against her skin. “On the contrary, Miss Balfour,” he said, and she watched, bemused, for his lips barely moved as he uttered the words. “It is your chaperone here who has fatally blotched her copybook. Everyone knows full well you are motherless, and therefore it is your chaperone who must be held accountable if you are to inadvertently commit a minor faux pas, and so I have already informed our hostess. I believe the dear lady is even now passing along my words to everyone in attendance.”
“Oh, Lord. I’m doomed,” Mrs. Billings moaned quietly, so that Marguerite prudently took hold of the woman’s elbow, in case she swooned, and quickly suggested they adjourn to the row of chairs at the back of the crowded room where the amateur musicians would soon perform.
“Perhaps we might seek out a glass of lemonade for your chaperone, Miss Balfour?” Lord Laleham suggested a moment later, as if he could read her mind.
“Yes,” she answered, slipping her arm through his so that everyone could see she was with him, that he accepted her. She didn’t care if she were to become a pariah, but being in disgrace would limit her invitations, and she wished to be on the scene to watch each of her victims fall. “I believe that might be best. We can then give dear Billie a few moments alone in which to collect herself.”
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Billings said, sighing, then reached into her reticule for her vinaigrette.
Together, Marguerite and the earl made one circuit of the long room, greeting mutual acquaintances, Marguerite smiling as if she were truly enjoying herself before adjourning to one of the dozen or so tall, open windows looking out over the gardens that had been thrown wide to catch the evening breezes.
“Sir Gilbert is still shunning society, dear Marguerite?” Laleham inquired as if he truly wished an answer.
“You know my grandfather, William,” Marguerite replied, watching as a young couple strolled down one of the dimly lit paths, their heads pressed together. Will I soon be out there with Donovan? “He would rather visit the tooth drawer than spend an evening listening to amateur musicians sawing away on their instruments. In truth, so would I. Do you suppose Lady Southby is going to sing? She did two weeks ago, at Lord March’s, and I had to pinch the inside of my wrist to keep from jumping up and stuffing my shawl down her gullet. If anyone made such a terrible racket near the home farm at Chertsey the hens would lay square eggs for a fortnight. But enough of that! How are you, William? It has been so long since we’ve spoken. Is your injury quite healed?”
“Descriptions of my injury were quite exaggerated, my dear,” he said, taking her elbow and assisting her in stepping over the low windowsill and out onto the balcony. “I am much recovered, as my presence here tonight proves. But I have learned my lesson. Never turn your back on an American, my dear, for they are not dedicated to any notions of fair play.”
Marguerite longed to slap him. “Are you saying, William,” she asked, careful to keep her tone even, “Mr. Donovan took advantage of your good manners and attacked you unfairly? How utterly expected of the man. I barely know him, but