“It means that I don’t want you interfering in my affairs,” he said coolly. “If there was something I wished to tell you, I would have done so by now.”
He had to have given Rhiannon sufficient time to meander out of the gardens and back into the safer crush of guests within the manor house by now. And Aubrey couldn’t bear another damned second of deception. He had to flee.
Without waiting for Whit to say anything else, he stepped around his friend, stalking down the path.
The things he was willing to do for Lady Rhiannon Northwick never ceased to astound him. Now, he thought grimly, all he needed to do was keep the cunning minx out of further trouble.
A Sisyphean task if he had ever heard of one.
CHAPTER 9
Rhiannon had found the perfect place to hide from Richford at the ball that evening.
It was in plain sight.
After confiding her plight in her new friend, she and Lady Blue had traded gowns and masks for the evening. She had even donned a red-haired wig that Lady Blue had brought with her for reasons that were still unknown to Rhiannon. Lady Blue’s chestnut hair was exceptionally lovely on its own. Rhiannon hadn’t dared to ask, however, too pleased with the chance for a disguise. The wig was finely crafted, and it hid her own golden hair perfectly.
As she moved into the transformed ballroom with other guests, she was confident that Richford would have no idea who she was. Her gown and mask were blue, her hair was red, and she was still furious with him for his high-handed behavior. How dare he cavort with another woman before her and then have the audacity to interrupt her in the garden and bloody poor Lord Question Mark’s nose?
That was how she had begun to think of her unfortunate would-be suitor—Lord Question Mark—because his name was, indeed, a mystery to her. They had scarcely been alone beforeRichford had come rampaging down the path, breathing fire quite as if he were a mythical dragon determined to protect the damsel in distress. Never mind that she hadn’t been a damsel in distress at all. Rather, she had quite intentionally accompanied Lord Question Mark to the gardens for a stroll.
True, he had shoved her out of his way, and she had landed hard on her bottom—so hard that a bruise had formed, for she’d examined herself in the mirror when dressing—but Rhiannon was persuaded that he hadn’t been attempting to push her down. Likely, Lord Question Mark had been trying to keep her safe from Richford’s swinging fists.
And my how they had swung. She was reasonably certain Lord Question Mark was presently sporting a broken nose.
“You look lovely, my dear Lady Pink,” came a familiar voice at her side then, intruding on her ruminations.
She turned to find Lady Blue approaching, wearing one of Rhiannon’s pink gowns and her matching silk mask. “Thank you, as do you. Pink certainly becomes you. I’m indebted to you for trading gowns.”
Lady Blue smiled. “I’m happy to help a friend avoid an overbearing curmudgeon for the night. You’ll be free to dance and flirt with whomever you like all evening long.”
Rhiannon felt her smile slip, because she didn’t want to dance or flirt with anyone else. All she wanted was Richford, even if he infuriated her. Also, her head was beginning to itch beneath the wig, and the blazing chandeliers were radiating heat. She felt a trickle of perspiration run down her back.
“He’ll never know it’s me,” she said, trying to hide the note of disappointment in her voice.
What was wrong with her? She should be happy. She ought to be reveling in the chance to find a gentleman of her choosing without fear that Richford would appear and pummel him.
Lady Blue opened her fan and began waving it. “My, it’s hot in here, isn’t it?”
“Dreadfully sweltering,” Rhiannon agreed, resisting the urge to scratch her head as she began fanning herself as well.
“Is there any gentleman you would like to meet?” her friend asked.
Rhiannon turned her attention to the throng of revelers in the ballroom. All manner of gentlemen were in attendance. Her gaze flitted over a tall, dark-haired man with twin patches of gray at his temples and a strong, angular jaw. He was quite handsome. Then there was a man with golden waves and broad shoulders who was equally attractive. Some wore masks, while others didn’t. A few were known to her, easily recognized without a disguise in place.
Oh, how she wished that one of them would incite a spark deep within her.
But inside, she was empty. She felt nothing.
“Not yet,” she murmured. “What of you?”
“Me?” Lady Blue laughed. “I’m afraid I’ve had no success in finding a suitable lover just yet, but there is still time. Perhaps this ball will prove a boon.”
Rhiannon continued searching the crush of guests in the ballroom, only belatedly realizing what—or whom—she was looking for.
Him.
“I don’t see Richford gracing us with his masculine beauty yet this evening,” her friend said at her side, as if she had read Rhiannon’s mind.
