The purpose was for her enjoyment, but that did not matter to her father.
Fortunately, as always, Anna knew the exact moment to arrive and save Thalia from committing public violence. She and Simon, dressed as a shepherd and his shepherdess—and looking very much in love—led Thalia away.
“I don’t know how you put up with him,” Anna said.
“I hardly have a chance if I am to remain in the house and home.”
“Perhaps you should consider marriage, after all.” She sent an adoring look at Simon, who returned it in kind. “There are some gentlemen who make such a sacrifice worthwhile.”
Thalia smiled at the happy couple. “If you find another Marquess of Bloomsby, then let me know, and I will be sure to jump with alacrity.”
Anna laughed, slapping her arm, and the party stopped as they came face to face with a familiar brooding figure.
Of course they did.
Thalia really should have predicted the Duke of Marrowhurst would be invited to an event like this; perhaps some part of her had known and had been excited to see him again.
Her stomach swooped at the sight of his costume for the evening.
Technically speaking, he was wearing a wolf’s mask. The painted wood sat atop his features, and he wore a gray fur costume that draped about his frame.
Thalia caught a glimpse of skin behind the wraps, and her face immediately flushed.
“Marrow!” Simon said, clapping him on the shoulder. “What a delight!”
“You invited me,” the Duke said dryly.
“But you never used to accept my invitations.”
“That’s because before they were sent by your mother, not your wife.” The Duke bowed to Anna. “A pleasure, Lady Bloomsby.”
“We are coming to see each other far more often, Your Grace,” Anna said, dipping in a slight curtsy. “And, of course, you recall my friend, Lady Thalia.”
The Duke glanced in her direction. “She is hard to forget.”
Even his eyes were dark, like a wolf’s. His arms were bare, and her mouth went dry at the sight of bulging muscles.
Heavens above, he has more muscles than Michelangelo’s David.
To escape the flush that spread up her cheeks, she turned away from the Duke and searched the crowd for someone who might ease the tension.
Naturally, the first person that she caught sight of was Elliot, largely because she knew the Duke disliked Elliot, so she beckoned him over.
“Mr. Calloway,” she said, her smile as coquettish as she could make it.
He was dressed like the sun, wearing gold so blinding she almost squinted. It was just like him to be so overtly theatrical.
The Duke gave a stiff bow and led Miss Parsons away.
Success!
So why did it feel like such a hollow victory?
Maxwell did his best to focus on Lydia, who was smiling at this newest gentleman who came to investigate the new debutante on the scene.
He eyed the man up and down. Well-dressed, although he had a bit of a smirk that did not endear him to Maxwell.
And although he treated Lydia with every deference, Maxwell suspected it was because he had heard rumors of Lydia’s dowry—true rumors. Maxwell had been determined to help his niece out as far as possible, and he had given her a very satisfactory dowry.
