Page 12 of A Masked Lady for Mr. Kenworthy
“Close my door, you silly girl,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.
He smirked as she shrank away from him, turning to shut the study door quickly. Then, she turned back to face him, wringing her hands and looking at the floor.
“Well?” he asked impatiently. “Give it to me. Give me the book.”
Faye bit her lip and looked up at him. Mayson relished the cowering fear in her eyes, but there was something else there, as well. He raised his eyebrows at his cousin and stood before her in anticipation.
Faye cleared her throat and placed her hands over her chest. Though she looked up, she avoided making eye contact with him. Mayson knew what she was going to say before she even said it.
“I could not get the journal,” she said softly.
Mayson uttered a low growl, moving so close to his cousin that he disturbed the hair on the top of her head with his breath.
“What?” he bellowed, balling his hands into fists.
Faye shuddered, no doubt with terror, but Mayson ignored her discomfort. He stood there, glaring at her, as she explained the events as they had unfolded at the ball the previous evening. Mayson’s rage soon mixed with fear as she described how a man had caught her in the act of searching for the journal, holding a pistol he was clearly prepared to use on her if necessary. Not because her life had been jeopardized, of course. If she had been shot, she would have simply been one less problem for Mayson to deal with. But if there was a man with a gun also trying to break into the marquess study, it was clear that something deeper was going on. Someone else obviously wanted access to Charles’s things, and they were willing to do anything to get it. But who could it be?
He glowered at his cousin, his face twisting into a fearsome snarl. He watched the young woman tremble, trying to decide how best to deal with her incompetence.
“I gave you a single, simple task,” he hissed, feeling his blood boiling. “And you failed to carry it out. I should rid myself of you this very instant.”
Faye began to beg and plead with him, which only angered Mayson further. If only he could give her to someone. She would be out of his life forever, and he would not find himself in trouble with the authorities if she were to go missing or turn up dead.
An idea struck Mayson so suddenly, it nearly knocked him backward. Perhaps he was onto something that could get him everything he wanted!
“Well, then I suppose you have no other choice,” he said. “You shall seduce the marquess.”
He watched as the color drained from his cousin’s face. Instantly, he could tell she would prefer him to kill her where she stood simply. That made the plan all the more delicious to him.
“Oh, please, Mayson,” Faye began, but he held up his hand, drawing back as though to strike her. He would not, of course, as the fading dowager countess might hear. But Mayson enjoyed his cousin’s fear, and she did not know that he would not hit her.
“You will carry out this task,” he said, his merriment seeping into his voice. “And this time, you will succeed. The marquess has quite the wandering eye, so even you can capture his attention.”
Faye stood silent for a moment, seemingly struggling to find her next words. Mayson’s smile widened as his cousin squirmed. He relished the moment, as he felt she deserved to be miserable since she had failed in such an important task.
“But how will I know how to find him?” she blurted out, clearly desperate for a way out of the proposition.
Mayson smirked smugly, shaking his head in exaggerated sympathy.
“Oh, Cousin,” he said, clicking his tongue. “Do you not trust me to help you in your endeavor? I just happen to know that the marquess enjoys a ride through Rotten Row every Wednesday afternoon. And I even know how a woman like you can get his attention without a chance of failure.”
Mayson pretended to wait for her to ask about his idea, even though he knew she wouldn’t. Her pale face began to turn green, and Mayson hoped she would not end up vomiting there on his study floor.
“You shall find yourself directly in the path of him and his horse as he is riding through the park,” he continued. “You will do it so suddenly that he actually runs into you and is forced to stop to see about you. Thus, you shall succeed in making him feel guilty for nearly killing you with his horse, and he will be willing to do anything you ask of him. And then, once you have gained his trust, you will find that journal. There, you see? Simple enough, even for you.”
Mayson continued to watch his cousin’s face with glee. He could see the emotions crossing her face, and he did not fail to spot the anger. No doubt he had offended her by insulting her ability to attract a man. He cared nothing for her hurt feelings, however. He only cared that she agreed to the plan. And he knew she would.
“And what if I refuse?” she asked.
Mayson smirked again. She was trying to sound brave and defiant, but the defeat was clear in her voice.
“You know perfectly well what will happen if you refuse, my dear,” he said, his voice dripping with false sweetness. “So, what will it be?”
Faye dropped her head and, although her face was now hidden, Mayson could see tears falling from her eyes and onto the floor beneath her. He rolled his eyes, wishing he had just shot her instead. He folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes at her. He knew well that she could see him in her periphery.
“Very well,” she whispered.
Chapter Nine
