A Masquerade in the Moonlight - By Kasey Michaels Page 0,56
friends. Which is why, dear Marguerite, we have all taken such pains to be sure your entry into society is a smooth one, using our combined consequence to make up for your sad lack of a mother to introduce you.”
“And my sad lack of a substantial dowry, Perry,” she added, wondering just where this conversation was heading. Surely the man wasn’t so ridiculous as to be about to propose a marriage between them? “We wouldn’t want to forget that, now would we? Papa died greatly in debt, and my grandfather is not all that plump in the pocket that I would allow him to throw his money away on anything so silly as a dowry.”
“The matter of a dowry is insignificant. Your grandfather’s consequence is enough to overlook such a lapse. But—and my dear child, I am only saying this because of the love I bear both you and your deceased parents—you cannot allow your good name to be muddied by associating with undesirables.”
Marguerite grinned. “Oh? And which one of you is undesirable, Perry? Stinky? Ralph? Surely not William. It is early days yet for the Season, and I have not had sufficient time to cultivate any undesirable associations.”
He helped her into the open carriage that waited at the corner, then sat down across from her, carefully splitting his coattails as he settled himself against the squabs. “Don’t tease me, child,” he said sternly. “This is no time for frivolous speech. I’m speaking of the American, this Donovan fellow. He’s totally unacceptable.”
Marguerite felt her smile freeze in place. So, she had been right to worry. The members of The Club disliked Donovan. She forced herself to giggle like a brainless chit fresh out of the schoolroom—which was, after all, what she was supposed to be. “You cannot be serious, Perry. I have no involvement with the American. None of any importance, that is. He merely saved me from a slight embarrassment a few nights ago and I thanked him by riding in the park with him the other morning. He did stop by our box last night, but that was only to see my grandfather, who is fond of his absurd stories about the wilds of Philadelphia.”
She allowed her smile to fade and leaned forward worriedly. “Although I did hear a rumor about Mr. Donovan and William. Is it true the American cracked William’s jaw at Gentleman Jackson’s? It seemed unbelievable when first I heard of it, but I haven’t seen William, so I cannot be sure. I had wanted to ask you, but knowing how proud William is, I felt it wiser to pretend I was ignorant of the rumors.”
Perry’s beady brown eyes shifted warily, as if he were in fear of being overheard. “William’s physician has assured him it is only a minor split in the bone, although it is monstrously inconvenient, and exceedingly painful and swollen.” Then he, too, leaned forward, his normally stern features curled upward in glee, like an eager child about to impart a deep, dark secret. “The surgeon has him rigged out in a wide bandage tied on top of his head, keeping his mouth all but shut. He looks like an old lady about to go out into her garden who has bound up her chin so that if her Maker should call her to his bosom while she is outside, she won’t be found with her jaws agape.”
Now Marguerite did laugh in earnest, immediately conjuring up a picture of the sartorially splendid Earl of Laleham with his chin in a sling. “Oh, Perry! We shouldn’t be seeing any humor in this. Poor, poor William!”
Sir Peregrine sobered immediately. “He’s not happy, that much is certain. But you can see why he—none of us—wishes your name to be bandied about in the same breath as that upstart American’s. Besides, Donovan has been telling all who will listen that he is going to marry you. Did you ever hear of such cheek! No, no—you must listen to the people who have your best interests at heart. You must not see the American again.”
“Why do you see him, Perry?” Marguerite asked, her hands drawing into fists in her lap as she longed to hop out of the carriage, seek out Donovan, and crack his jaw. Marry her indeed. She knew he had plans for her, but they had nothing to do with marriage! “What is he doing in England in the first place? He certainly is no diplomat, even though that’s what he proclaims himself