“What have you that needs mending, sir?” she asked, feelingbold.
His lips quirked into a wry smile beneath his mask. “Wouldyou believe it’s my heart?”
So he loved another, then. She tried to ignore the stab ofdisappointment the revelation sent through her. With her rotten luck, it figured.
“I know better than anyone just how difficult it is to menda heart.” She frowned as she thought of the unhappy life in which she had foundherself. The realization she had settled on this miserable path was a constantburr beneath her mind’s saddle. “Perhaps impossible.”
“What man would dare to break the heart of a woman asbeautiful as you?” he demanded. “An utter imbecile, surely.”
She laughed. “Forgive me, but I fear you’re guilty ofdissembling.”
“Dissembling?” He pressed a large hand over his heart,feigning shock. “I’m wounded. Why would you say such a thing?”
“Because you can’t see my face,” she pointed out, grinningdespite herself. She well knew that her dainty mask covered all of her face aswell, save her mouth. It was rather the point of a masque, after all.
“Yes, but you have the most extraordinarily lovely eyes I’veever seen,” he returned with remarkable aplomb. “I daresay they’re almostviolet.”
Another wave of warmth washed over her. He was somehowdifferent, this man. Dangerous to be sure. “I rather like you,” she confidedbefore she could stop herself. Drat. Being too honest had always been one ofher downfalls. She’d never been very good at hiding her emotions behind apolite veil. Perhaps it was why she’d had such difficulty blending with Londonsociety.
He grinned. “You sound alarmed. I’m not all bad, I assureyou.”
She shook her head, trying to regain her wits. “It is merelythat I’d given up on your countrymen.”
“My countrymen?” He paused, his eyes crinkling at thecorners as he eyed her with dawning comprehension. “You’re an American, areyou? I thought I detected an accent.”
“I am,” she acknowledged. “I suppose that renders my eyesless lovely now.” Although a number of American heiresses like herself had madetheir way to England, they were not always well received. She’d had to workquite hard to forge her way, and acceptance from English ladies had not alwaysbeen an easy or even achievable feat.
“Of course not.” An emotion she couldn’t define darkened hisvoice. “Your eyes are still lovely as ever. Would you care to dance?”
Oh dear heaven. The invitation excited her until sherecalled two things. She was an abysmal dancer, and her train was in pieces.She wisely kept the first to herself. “I’d love to, but I’m afraid my train…”
“Bloody hell, I’d already forgotten.” He grimaced. “What anass. Perhaps you’d like another glass of champagne?”
Belatedly, she realized the glass she held was empty. Whenhad she drunk it all? She couldn’t recall. Perhaps that was the reason her headfelt as if it had been filled with fluffy white clouds. Yes, that had to be it.Surely it wasn’t the tall stranger with the gorgeous mouth who kept plying herwith sensual looks and disarming smiles. She probably ought not to have anotherflute of champagne.
“I’d love another,” she said. Hadn’t she lived her life theway she should? And what had that gotten her but misery and loneliness and ahusband she hadn’t seen in over a year?
He returned to her side and pressed another glass ofchampagne into her hand. “There you are, my dear.”
“Thank you.” She took a fortifying sip. She was horriblyconfused by the way this man made her feel. While she’d come to Lady Needham’sscandalous country house weekend in a moment of rebellion, she hadn’t trulyexpected to find a lover. She wasn’t entirely certain she evenwantedalover, for it surely wouldn’t change her grim circumstances, and yet thestranger before her somehow compelled her to wickedness. She forced her mindinto safer territory, trying to distract herself from wanton thoughts. “Who hascaused your heart to require mending?” she asked him. “A wife?”
He hesitated, drinking his champagne, and for a moment shefeared she’d overstepped her bounds. “Not a wife, no,” he said with care. “Buta very old and very dear friend.”
“A lover,” she concluded aloud, then flushed at herbluntness. “I’m sorry, sir, if I am too forthright. I cannot seem to helpmyself.”
“You needn’t apologize. Everyone knows that here at LadyNeedham’s none of the standard society rules apply.”
It was true, and it was one of the many reasons she’ddecided—against her better judgment—to attend. “Is that why you’re here?” sheasked him, unable to squelch her curiosity.
“I suppose it is in part,” he confirmed, taking another sipof spirits. “What of you? What finds you here? You appear terribly young forthis fast set.”
“Disappointment, I suppose.” She gulped her champagne as heclosed the distance between them. He was so near she could see the dark stubbleon his defined jaw.
“You’re certainly too young for disappointment.” He ran afinger from her elbow to her wrist, stopping to tangle his fingers with hers.“Who would dare to disappoint you?”
“My husband,” she whispered, her mouth going dry. Thoughtruth be told, she was far more disappointed in herself than she was in themarquis. After all, she had known he married her for her dowry in the same wayshe had married him for his title. It was simply that she had not anticipatedhis utter defection and her resulting loneliness. But there was little need todivulge her inner sins and secrets to the man before her now. This was to be alighthearted affair. No more love for Maggie. She had quite resigned herself toher fate.
“He must be an utter bastard to cause you so much distress.”
