He came closer still. “I might ask the same of you.” He looked from side to side. “Are you waiting for someone, by any chance?”
“And if I were?” Mary asked. She sounded much braver than she actually felt. Being alone like this with Rotridge was not the least bit comforting.
He shrugged, not halting his approach, though his steps grew increasingly measured. “I might offer to keep you company until he shows up.”
Taking another step back, Mary found herself pressed up against the side of the temple. Swallowing, she tried to still her trembling hands. “Thank you, my lord, but you really need not trouble yourself on my account.”
A chuckle made the air quiver around her. “Oh, it is no trouble at all, I can assure you.” Arriving directly in front of her, he reached up, pulling a lock of her hair free from the confines of her plait. Running the silky strand through his fingers, he murmured, “Quite the contrary.”
“I thought we had an understanding, my lord. Indeed, I believed you accepted my refusal to marry you when last we spoke.”
A low chuckle swept over her. “You are quite mistaken, my dear. I was merely offering you a brief reprieve because you were feeling unwell. But I see now that you are fully recovered and would therefore like to take this opportunity to change your mind.”
“My mind cannot be so easily swayed.”
“I intend to prove otherwise.”
Horrified, Mary watched as he dipped his head toward hers. “Please stop,” she said, her hands coming up between them with the intention of pushing him away.
His thumb settled against her jawline. “You will be mine, my lady.” A strong whiff of alcohol assailed her as he spoke. “The sooner you realize that, the better it will be between us.”
Mary sucked in a breath, prepared to fight him off, just as a tall broad shadow appeared directly behind him. Before she could even manage a gasp, Rotridge had been shoved aside with such force that he stumbled to the ground a few paces away.
“What the hell?” Rotridge muttered, sounding surprised.
“I believe the lady asked you to leave her alone,” Signor Antonio said. His back was turned toward Mary as he stood over Rotridge, but his voice was unmistakable. She knew it was him.
“You!” Rotridge scrambled to his feet so he could face his opponent. “How dare you involve yourself in my courtship?”
Signor Antonio grunted. “It is hardly a courtship when the lady is unwilling. If I may, I would suggest that you head on back to the house before you lose more than your pride this evening. Especially since I am the one her ladyship came to see.”
“I should have known,” Rotridge snarled. His eyes flashed as he looked toward Mary. For a moment she thought he might be considering fighting Signor Antonio. But if he were, he changed his mind and bowed stiffly instead. “My apologies,” he said. “I hope I have not offended you in any way, Lady Mary.”
“It is nothing that cannot be forgotten,” she lied, for the sake of being polite.
He nodded at that, but made no move to leave.
“If you do not mind,” Signor Antonio said, “I should like to have a private word with...” He glanced toward her and she saw then that he was wearing the same mask that he’d worn at the ball. “LadyMary.”
“Forgive me, but leaving you alone with her would be highly irregular,” Rotridge said. “People might think that—”
“No they will not,” Signor Antonio grit out. “Not unless you happen to say something on the matter, which I would sincerely advise you against doing.”
“Is that a threat?” Rotridge asked, his voice a little lower than earlier.
“Just a warning. For now.”
There was a pause, and then Rotridge finally nodded again, spun on his heels and marched away with a disapproving gait.
Mary expelled a deep breath that she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. “I was beginning to think that you would not come.”
He turned toward her again, offering her only the expressionless features of the mask. “I must confess that I almost decided not to.”
His honesty caught her a little off guard. “Why not?” When he failed to answer, she said, “I thought you enjoyed my company as well as I did yours. Was I mistaken?”
There was a long drawn-out silence, followed by a distinct, “No.”
Mary shook her head. “Then I do not understand.” Easing away from the temple wall, she went toward him, her heart drumming wildly against her chest with every step she took. When he was within reach, she daringly reached out to touch his hand—bare skin against bare skin that sent a spark of energy shooting up her arm. He must have felt it too, for she heard him suck in a breath just as she did. “You know my real name now,” she whispered softly. “Will you tell me yours?”
