“Really?” Neatly folding Mary’s cloak, Amy set it aside before approaching her mistress.
“He wore the same mask that he wore at the ball.”
“I take it that he did not give you his name either?” Amy asked as she began helping Mary undress.
“No,” Mary lied. For whatever reason, Richard wanted to keep his identity secret. If she was to gain his trust, then she could not allow the risk of him discovering that she’d shared any part of their conversation with anyone.
Richard.
The informality was strange for her.
“Will you see him again?”
Blinking, Mary slowly nodded. “Probably.” Because in spite of what he’d initially said, she trusted her instincts, which in this case told her that she would not be so easily forgotten by him.
Chapter6
“Good morning,” Lady Duncaster said as she slid into a chair across from Mary and beside Lady Foxworth the next day at breakfast. “I trust you both slept well?” She gazed directly at Mary as she spoke, which resulted in a sudden wave of discomfort.
“Indeed we did,” Lady Foxworth said, taking a sip of her tea.
Lady Duncaster’s eyes remained on Mary even as she ordered a slice of cake from one of the footmen standing nearby. “Good.” She seemed to relax against her seat, which in turn put Mary at greater ease. “Any plans for today?”
“Mr.Thomas Young has offered to show me one of his experiments,” Lady Foxworth said. “I am supposed to meet him in the rose garden at ten o’clock.”
“But, Aunt Eugenia, that is in only ten minutes,” Mary said.
“Oh!” Lady Foxworth’s teacup clattered against its saucer as she set it down. Pushing her chair back from the table, she rose. “If you will excuse me, I really must not keep him waiting.”
Mary hid a smile as she nodded her agreement and wished her aunt a good day.
“I do believe that she is smitten,” Lady Duncaster said as soon as Lady Foxworth was out of earshot. “It’s very much like watching a young debutant in the middle of her first Season—all giddy and such.” She stirred two lumps of sugar into her tea.
“It would be nice for her if she could find someone to make her happy,” Mary murmured.
“I agree,” Lady Duncaster said as her cake arrived. She dipped her spoon into it, denting the cream. “Love, marriage, courtship, and romance can be such a complicated business. In my opinion, everyone deserves a chance at happiness.”
Mary kept silent, aware that Lady Duncaster was referring to the brief marriage that Lady Foxworth had entered into in her youth. It had been a love match, but sadly, her husband had died only one month after the wedding. She’d shown no interest in any man since. Until now, that was, though Mary suspected her interest in Mr.Young had more to do with the man’s intellect than with his looks and that any potential relationship between the two would be based on a common interest in science more than anything else.
“How are things progressing with Lord Rotridge?” Lady Duncaster asked, her expression serene as she looked at Mary.
The unexpected question caught Mary off guard. “They are not,” she said without thinking.
The edge of Lady Duncaster’s mouth tilted. “Not your type?”
Scrunching her nose, Mary shook her head. “Not in the least.”
The countess nodded. “It is unfortunate. After all, he is both handsome and terribly wealthy. A woman could do far worse than him.”
Mary wasn’t so sure about that last part. The inexplicable insistence with which Rotridge was trying to pursue her, coupled with the fascination that he seemed to have with her hair, was far too unsettling for Mary’s liking. “Looks and fortune are not the most important attributes,” she found herself saying.
Lady Duncaster popped a large spoonful of cake into her mouth, visibly savoring the delicacy while studying Mary closely. Too closely. “Does this opinion of yours have something to do with a certainmaskedgentleman, by any chance?”
Lowering her gaze, Mary stared down at her empty plate. “Not at all.” A second passed before she chanced a look at Lady Duncaster from beneath her lashes and asked, “Why would it?”
Setting down her spoon, Lady Duncaster reached for her teacup and took a sip. “Because your interest in him has not diminished since the night of the ball. Rather, it has grown.” And then, “You went against your aunt’s wishes and indirectly asked me to deliver a note to him on your behalf.”
Heat washed over Mary’s entire body. “I am sorry, but I could think of no other way in which to contact him and”—casting a wary look at some of the other guests present, she lowered her voice to a whisper—“leaving things as they were seemed wrong.”
