Richard knew that there was a great deal of truth to this. Unfortunately, he couldn’t give in. Not now when he was so close to exacting his revenge on the man who’d once betrayed him. “It has been five years. I am sure most people have forgotten about me. To make an appearance now would make no sense unless I was planning to live a normal life, but we both know that doing so will be impossible.”
“Richard—”
“I look the way I do, Spencer. There is no changing that, so even if I were to meet a woman who appealed to me—one with whom I might imagine spending my future...” He saw Lady Eleanor’s kind eyes within the confines of his mind, her pretty mouth curving as she smiled up at him. “There is very little chance that she would agree to become my wife, least of all when I am not even in possession of a title.”
Spencer’s left eyebrow went up a notch. “You have a fine fortune, thanks to those clever investments that you have made with your secretary’s assistance.”
Richard nodded. “Mr.Collister is, without a doubt, invaluable. But money will not be enough. Not when it comes to capturing a young lady’s heart.”
“Clearly you have forgotten the way in which Society operates.” Pouring himself another glass of brandy, Spencer returned to his seat. “There are plenty of young ladies among our set who would not give a damn about what you look like as long as you are rich enough to supply them with new gowns and fripperies every Season.”
Richard felt his forehead strain beneath a frown. “If you think that I would have any interest inthosesorts of women, then you do not know me at all. I despise superficiality and greed.”
A hint of a smile touched Spencer’s lips. “The thing of it is, Richard, if you do happen to find a lady who is not in it for the money, chances are that she will not care about your appearance either. Such a woman—a selfless and kind woman—will want you foryou, in which case your scars will not make any difference.” Placing the rim of his glass to his lips, he took a sip, his eyes bright with the satisfaction of knowing he was right.
Needing distance, Richard rose and walked back to the window where he looked out at the black sky. Fragments of the conversations he’d shared with Lady Eleanor spilled through his mind. She’d enjoyed his company, but she hadn’t known who he was or what he looked like. “Do you suppose that if the right woman were given the chance to get to know me properly, that she might be able to develop some degree of fondness for me? Even if I did not allow her to see my face?”
“I think that you would have to let her see your face eventually.” Spencer spoke carefully, as if he feared Richard’s reaction. “To encourage any woman to marry you without doing so, would be very unfair.”
Richard started, dropping the curtain as he turned back to face his brother. “Of course. I was not suggesting any form of trickery. I was merely wondering if a moment might arise where I could show myself to her without my appearance altering her regard.”
Spencer blew out a deep breath. “I would like to think so. But unfortunately, your chance of meeting such a lady in disguise has passed. I do not believe that Lady Duncaster is planning to host another masquerade ball in the immediate future.”
Richard nodded. He would not mention Lady Eleanor. She was a secret that he intended to keep close to his heart. “It is getting late,” he said. “I believe you should be getting back to your wife?”
“Yes. I probably should.” Spencer’s footsteps tapped against the floor as he walked over to the door. “I wish you a good night, Richard.”
Richard inclined his head. “Same to you. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow evening.”
As soon as he was gone, Richard reached inside his pocket and retrieved the note from Lady Eleanor.
—And while I was honest with you when we spoke, regarding my position on marriage, I cannot help but feel a certain connection with you. If there is any chance that you might feel the same way, I will be at the Greek folly beyond the west lawn tonight at midnight.
Respectfully,
Lady Eleanor
Richard felt his stomach tighten as he reread the final sentence. Clearly, the lady was suggesting a secret assignation. The thought was certainly intriguing, not to mention tempting. Glancing toward the clock on the mantelpiece, Richard noted the time, barely visible in the dimly lit room. Ten o’clock. Pensively, he reached for his violin, tucking it beneath his chin before sliding the bow slowly across the strings. The effect was a languid moan, like that of a satisfied lover.
Closing his eyes, he allowed the haunting melody to flow through him. It represented everything that he was, all that he had suffered, and the patience with which he was carrying out his vendetta. It reminded him of five long years of solitude, nights filled with equal measures of yearning and loathing, both deeply imbedded within his soul.
The tune drew to an end and Richard opened his eyes to find himself staring into the long mirror that hung on the wall. His blood pumped slightly faster through his veins as he took in the damaged flesh. To subject Lady Eleanor to such ugliness in the hope that she might be willing to accept him as a potential suitor, would be foolhardy. Worse, would be the selfishness of letting her into his life when he was so consumed by anger. He ought to dissuade her.
Still standing by the window later, he watched as the cloaked figure of a woman stepped out onto the terrace below. She didn’t have to look up for him to know that it was her, her steps eager with anticipation as she walked toward disappointment. As sorry as he was for it, Richard knew that it was for the best. He waited until she was out of sight and was just about to turn away from the window when someone else exited the house. Richard peered down at the man who was presently crossing the terrace with brisk steps, the back of his neck pricking as he recognized Rotridge. And he was heading straight after Lady Eleanor. Hell and damnation!
Chapter5
Mary’s cloak swirled around her legs as she hurried across the west lawn in the direction of the folly. The night air was a little chillier than it had been the previous evening for the ball. It climbed up her legs and hugged her shoulders. Little did it help that the soles of her slippers were so thin that she might as well have been walking barefoot for all the good they did in keeping her toes warm.
Approaching a fallen column, partly overgrown by ivy, Mary glanced around, wondering if Signor Antonio might have arrived before her. Rounding the column, Mary peered through the darkness at the blurry silhouette of a Greek temple flanked by statues. Other columns lay at various angles, affording the look of a great archeological find. “Signor?” she whispered, making her presence known just in case he hadn’t seen her.
No reply.
Mary crossed her arms, hugging herself against the breeze as it nipped at her from every angle. He wasn’t here yet. Would he even come? The question had barely managed to form when the figure of a man emerged, his body gradually solidifying as he came closer. Mary’s heart kicked up for just a fraction of a second, then froze completely at the realization that it wasn’t the man whom she’d hoped for.
“What a pleasant surprise,” Rotridge said as he walked up to her.
Mary took a step back. “My lord, what are you doing here?”
