She nodded coolly and dipped into a shallow curtsey, deliberately leaving off his title as she replied. “Good evening.”
His smile deepened, and she was struck by his ability to be so affable to a woman’s face and yet so dismissive and cruel behind her back.
“Might I claim the next waltz?”
A waltz. The most intimate of dances. Her chest clenched. He’d accepted the larger wager, then—to make her fall in love with him. Another twist of the proverbial knife to her heart, to be sure.
Well, she would not give him the satisfaction.
“I thank you for the request, but I am otherwise engaged.”
He blinked, his gaze sliding downward toward the empty dance card dangling from her wrist. Maria indiscreetly hid it among the folds of her skirts.
“Brother!” Juliana exclaimed delightedly, drawing nearer with Heather at her side.
The strains of another quadrille echoed through the ballroom from the orchestra’s balcony, and a flurry of motion and swirls of hot air filled the space. Maria could not countenance another moment. Her heart ached and her stomach churned.
“Please excuse me,” she muttered. Ignoring the surprised—and penetrating—glances of all those around them, including the dishonourable Jasper, Maria spun on her heel and strode determinedly toward the refreshment table.
If thatgentlemanand his friends were representative of her choices for a marriage, Maria wanted nothing to do with it. She would find a way to support herself in the future without relying on a man. Indeed, from that moment forward, she would gladly accept—nay,welcome—her role as a wallflower.
CHAPTER1
London, Spring 1817
Bodies jostledagainst Jasper as he made his way out of the crowd on Newgate Street. Morbidly energetic cheers rose up around him. The elbow of a man pumping his fist into the air narrowly missed Jasper’s temple as the dying struggled for breath.
Francis is coming for you, Jasper. Miles’ chilling last words raced through Jasper’s mind, and his pulse rushed dizzyingly through him.
Francis had not made it to the gallows. But why?How?
Dazed from the stench of unwashed bodies, urine, manure, and the dreadful reality that his cousin was loose, he made his way out of the crush and down the street to his awaiting carriage.
“Home,” he called to the coachman as he entered.
He settled back just as the carriage jolted into motion. He would have to warn Juliana and her new family. Sending them away would be the safest option, of course.
Christ. She’d want to help him again. She and her friends had become runners for Bow Street, of all things. Jasper had indulged their fantasy, but what could they truly accomplish facing off against Francis? The man was utterly mad. And while they’d been successful in capturing his cousins once before, he simply couldn’t risk their lives on luck.
And Maria, his inner voice whispered. She would wish to help, would put herself in any amount of sodding danger just to ensure that Francis was found and dealt with. Jasper’s chest squeezed disconcertingly. She cared for others far too damned much.
The carriage jolted, and someone shouted. Jasper’s stomach churned.
Francis was hungry enough for the dukedom that he would not simply murder those who posed a potential threat; he would eviscerate them with excruciatingly slow assaults on their sanity. The man had already made attempts on Jasper’s life, for pity’s sake, took pleasure in inspiring fear in others and would, therefore, use any means to frighten Jasper.
During the trial, Francis and Miles’ smug determination to prove Francis’ legitimacy and—outrageously—to assert that Jasper’s father was somehow responsible for their sister Jean’s death was unhinged.
The fact remained that while Jasper’s uncle—Francis and Miles’ father—was older than Jasper’s pater, he would never have become duke. And, therefore,Franciswould never become duke.
Even skewed as the judicial system was when it came to the peerage, Francis’ father was illegitimate, and couldn’t benefit from such inequality. So what could possess Francis to believe that, after all he had done, he could still attain the dukedom? The man had never truly been logical when it came to his wants and desires, but this…
A grunt of irritation escaped Jasper.
Now that Miles had been hung, Francis was alone in the world. And more dangerous than ever.
The carriage pulled up to his house, and he disembarked before it had completely rolled to a stop, his senses on high alert. The sky overhead had darkened, threatening a sudden spring rain and casting disquieting shadows along the streets of Grosvenor Square. A thread of unease tightened his gut, propelling him toward his front door. Which failed to open as he approached.
With a frown, Jasper pressed the latch and entered. “William?” His voice echoed in the stark, grand foyer.
