“Only because doing so would not have suited my costume,” Mary said as she looked around. When Lady Duncaster had announced the upcoming masquerade two weeks earlier, Mary had leapt at the opportunity to order a gown inspired by the beautiful painting of Eleanor of Aquitaine that hung in her bedroom. Not once had she considered that all the other women would choose to dress as though they belonged at Louis the Thirteenth’s court. “I did not realize that there would be a theme,” she said, more aware of herself than ever before.
“Lady Duncaster did mention it when she announced the ball.”
Mary nodded. Her aunt had told her about the ball after Mary had missed the announcement but had neglected to mention the theme until Mary had already ordered her gown. By then, it had been too late for her to order another. “Even so,” she said, determined to return to the more important matter at hand, “the fact remains that you must have gotten the wrong idea. I am not in the market for a husband at present.”
“Then you are a fool,” Rotridge warned as he snatched her glass right out of her hand and set it aside. Before she could manage a protest, he’d taken her by the arm and was steering her toward the dark corner of the terrace. “Independence is a novel idea, but you are a woman and since you are not an heiress, you will need a husband for the sake of security, if nothing else.”
With a tug, Mary tried to break free of his hold, but Rotridge wouldn’t have it. “My lord, if it is my dowry you are after, then I suggest you reconsider. It is not—”
“Dowry? Why on earth would I be interested in your dowry when I have more money than I know what to do with?”
“I cannot imagine,” Mary confessed.
“If you were to marry me, I would allow you full control of your dowry. I certainly have no need of it, and if it is a modest sum, I will even be happy to add to it. I suppose, in a way, that this would give you the independence that you seek. Financially, at least.”
It was the sort of bargain that would appeal to most young ladies. “Forgive me, but I understand your motivation even less if it is not driven by monetary gain.”
Reaching the corner, Rotridge pulled her into the darkness, his arm circling around her waist and forcing her up against him. “Perhaps I simply want you for you.”
Mary shook her head. “No. I do not believe that.” She tried to pull away—to return to the light—but he only tightened his hold. “Please. Let me go.”
“In a moment,” he said. Raising his hand, he used his teeth to pull away his glove. Then, on a sharp inhale of breath, he ran his naked fingers through her hair, his breaths increasingly shallow as he gathered up a handful of locks and pressed them against his nose. “You smell divine,” he murmured.
A tremor snaked its way through her. “I think we ought to rejoin the festivities,” she whispered, her words faltering as she glanced toward the other guests. If he kissed her where everyone could see, she would have no choice but to bow to his will or accept ruination.
Rotridge pinned her with a hard stare. “In a moment,” he repeated as he tightened his hold even more.
A low growl shifted the air around her. “I believe it is time for our dance,” a harsh voice spoke.
Mary turned her head toward the masked figure who’d quietly materialized beside her. He was taller than Rotridge—broader too. Relief eased the tension that had quickly been building inside her.
“And who might you be?” Rotridge asked, releasing both Mary and her hair so he could face Signor Antonio properly.
“That is none of your concern,” Signor Antonio said.
Rotridge stared at him a moment before returning his attention to Mary. Bowing, he said, “It has been a pleasure, my lady. I shall look forward to our boat ride with great anticipation. Will tomorrow suit?”
While instinct urged her to make an excuse, Mary knew she would not be able to avoid the earl indefinitely. “Yes, my lord, tomorrow will suit just fine.”
With a curt nod, he muttered something indiscernible to Signor Antonio before striding away at a brisk pace.
“You should have said no,” Signor Antonio said as he grasped her by the arm and steered her back into the flickering light of a nearby torch.
“I did not want to be rude.”
“And I suppose he demanded politeness by treating you with respect, unwilling as he was to release you when you asked him to do so?”
“No... I...” What could she say?
“He took advantage of your kindness.”
“Perhaps,” she admitted.
He sighed audibly. “Did you tell him that you have no interest in marriage?”
“Yes.”
Abruptly, he spun her around so she faced him. “Promise me that you will be careful.”
