A Masquerade in the Moonlight - By Kasey Michaels Page 0,114

practiced ennui. “And there’s more! Gold spoons! Golden plate! Gold coins! Dozens and dozens of them! Oh, well done, Totton! Well done!”

The crowd pressed forward, everyone eager to sec Totton’s Treasure, as it was already being called. Only Thomas and Paddy hung back—they and, Thomas noticed, Marguerite and Sir Ralph.

Sir Peregrine was surrounded by well-wishers and his thin face beamed with pleasure as he acknowledged the tribute he obviously believed he so richly deserved. Any remaining flowers were trampled beneath ladies’ heels and gentlemen’s boots as the ton braved the dirt and the damp mist that had changed to a steady drizzle in order to get a closer look at the magnificent treasure.

And then, just as Thomas had about given up cudgeling his brain for the reason behind this scene, he heard a single male voice raised in entreaty. “Balbus! Good gentlefolk, who’ll buy my Balbus? Coins, plate, pretty pots fer the ladies. Who’ll buy my Balbus? Threepenny a piece!”

One by one, people at the back of the crowd began to turn, looking at the peddler, until everyone was nudging the person next to him, pointing out the man hawking his “Balbus.”

The three ladies positioned in front of Thomas and Dooley saw the man as well. “What’s that?” said the first. “What’s the fellow selling? Balbus? But—but that’s impossible! Unless—”

“Unless that pretentious fool Totton has been thoroughly disgraced! Balbus! Oh, this is too delicious! I simply must have one!” the second lady exclaimed, already joining the throng of people surging toward the hawker.

The third remained immobile, making up one of the crowd directing their attention to Totton and shouting questions that held a hint of threat in them.

“I don’t believe it,” Thomas muttered, beginning to smile as he saw the peddler holding a shiny gold vase high above his head as he walked among the crowd, a wooden tray hung from his neck laden with a booty identical to that being oohed and aahed at by the Prince of Wales and the members of society. Take the rough woolen cowl from the man’s head and replace it with a leather visor, and he would be looking at Lord Chorley’s gaming partner, not that any but someone as discerning as Thomas would notice.

“I don’t bloody believe it,” Thomas repeated as Dooley began to laugh, “and I don’t for the life of me know how she did it, but it’s bloody brilliant!”

At last, as the crowd parted, the peddler reached Sir Peregrine, who was standing as if turned into one of the statues in his office at the ministry, although all his limbs were still intact. Only his consequence had gone missing, lost amid the laughter and derision now assaulting him from every side.

“Buy me Balbus, sir?” the peddler asked Totton before passing on, disappearing into the crowd.

Sir Peregrine continued to stand there, a beaten man, all his dreams lying in the dirt at his feet, and Thomas almost felt sorry for him.

Almost. For just then he happened to look up to see Marguerite staring at him across the expanse, her head tilted slightly, holding a single finger upraised at eye level. “One,” he whispered in agreement. “Indeed, yes, my devious aingeal, one. And four to go. If only I knew why.”

The drizzle was turning cold and Sir Peregrine’s audience, now that they had been entertained, were in a rush to be off to digest what they had seen and then spread the word of his humiliation all across Mayfair with the speed of a swarm of locusts. Thomas stood his ground as they weaved around him on their way to their carriages, listening to their complaints.

“The cheek of the fellow! My boots are ruined, and all for a Balbus, whatever in blazes that is. Did you purchase one, Marcus? So did I, a coin. If he ever shows his face in public again, I vow I’ll shove it up his nose!”

“He has become a laughingstock, and none too soon. Imagine—setting himself up as an expert on Roman antiquities! Always said he valued himself too high, and now he’s gone and proved it. Twopenny a piece, indeed!”

“Twopenny? I paid threepenny! Oh, now I’m really vexed. That bacon-brained Totton! I’ll cut him dead next I see him—if he has the temerity to show his face again!”

“You paid? I scooped up one of the vases from the box. There were dozens of the things. Nothing but heavy glass painted over with gold leaf. Prinny threw one of the plates at Totton before he tripped