Page 32 of Masquerading with the Duke
‘Leave it to me.’ Ramsay grinned. ‘Have a pleasant evening.’ Ramsay paused, an irrepressible grin on his face. ‘Miss Martina will be there, I take it?’
Jared shook his head but was smiling as he climbed onto the box seat of his waiting curricle and encouraged his horse forward with a slap of the reins against his rump.
Chapter Nine
Martina dressed for dinner that evening, taking her time over her appearance for no reason other than that she could afford that rare luxury. She had not often dined with the family when she lived here before removing to the Redrows’ abode, but whenever she had she’d felt a little overwhelmed by the elegant company and had little to say for herself. She had grown in confidence in the few short months that she had been away and wanted to repay the duchess’s faith in her by adding a sparkling presence to her table.
‘Good news, dearest,’ Ariana said, bustling into the room. ‘I have just spoken with the duchess. Mrs Redrow called to see her this afternoon.’
‘Oh.’ Martina sank onto the side of the bed, the yellow satin of the borrowed gown she wore crinkling beneath her weight.
‘Don’t look so glum. The lady came in a conciliatory frame of mind, claiming to be worried about you because she was unaware you had left until she got back from a trip to Southampton.’
Martina bit her lip and nodded, unsure what response to give, or if Ariana even expected one. Mrs Redrow had been away, that much was true, she reflected as she smoothed imaginary creases from the fabric of her skirts. She wondered if her former employer had guessed at the reasons for Martina’s hasty departure and wanted to be sure that she hadn’t run to the duchess with exaggerated tales of inappropriate behaviour. Since Redrow’s despicable assumptions had been entirely inappropriate, Martina failed to see how her account could be exaggerated, always supposing she decided to tell the truth. Perhaps sophisticated women were supposed to take such overtures in stride, either giving in to them or laughing them off; in which case, Martina was glad not to have reached that level of sophistication.
Given that the Redrows valued their acquaintance with the duke and duchess above just about anything else, constantly dropping the connection into conversation at every opportunity, Martina wondered at Redrow’s temerity in attempting to compromise her. He knew very well that the duchess was her sponsor, for want of a better word. Had lust overcome common sense or was he simply arrogant enough to assume that Martina would have welcomed his vile advances?
She managed the suggestion of a smile. Redrow was a handsome man, and she had observed over the years that good looking men took it for granted that their appearance gave them some sort of divine right to do as they pleased without risk of censure. He must have been mortified when Martina repulsed him and ran back to the Park. He probably invented some fiction for her departure that Mrs Redrow pretended to believe because believing him would be easier than confronting the issue of his assumptions. Martina had been obliged to bite her tongue on several occasions when he’d come home half in his cups, reeking of cheap perfume, and she heard him inventing some implausible excuse for having missed a family dinner.
Mrs Redrow must realise that he was a philanderer, but chose to turn a blind eye. And now she’d had to mortify herself by coming to the duchess and pretending concern for Martina; all the while suspecting the truth about what had driven her away. Martina became increasingly impatient, thinking Mrs Redrow foolish for tolerating her husband’s behaviour. But then what choice did she have but to put a brave face on it? There always seemed to be plenty of money and Mrs Redrow enjoyed impressing her friends by dressing in up-to-the-minute fashions. Even so, it seemed like a poor deal for being stuck in an unhappy marriage. Martina snorted her disgust, drawing an enquiring look from Ariana.
‘Yes, Mrs Redrow was away for the night,’ she said in response to Adriana’s remark, aware that in making the admission Ariana would draw the correct conclusions.
‘I thought as much.’ Ariana sat beside Martina and squeezed her shoulders. ‘You did the right thing to leave, my love. We have not endured so much hardship only to be looked upon as fair game.’
‘I thought of our prison, when we were so close to being sold. Of how those horrible men leered at us.’ She shuddered. ‘I will never allow any man to use me in that manner. I don’t care what it costs me to walk away or what people think of me.’
‘Good girl! My lessons have not gone unheeded.’
Martina smiled, hugged her sister and felt some of the tension ebb from her.
‘We must go down as soon as you are composed,’ Ariana said gently. ‘People are expected.’
‘People?’ Martina glanced up at her sister. ‘What people?’
‘I’m not sure. Lady Vincent for certain. She is happy to appoint you as her children’s nanny, but the way.’
‘By the way?’ Martina blinked back tears. That is wonderful news and incredibly generous of Lady Vincent to take the risk, given that I have just walked away from one position without giving notice, yet you only just thought to tell me.’
‘Sorry, I assumed you already knew. I am sure she will want to talk to you about it tonight. Anyway, sit at the glass and I will do your hair for you.’
Martina felt soothed by the touch of Ariana’s deft fingers skilfully arranging her thick hair into a flattering style, leaving long spiral curls dancing around her face. She completed the coiffure with a yellow ribbon to match her borrowed gown.
‘There, all finished.’
Martina examined her reflection without much interest. Her olive complexion had been darkened by the sun and the freckles she had thought might appear traced a faint random pattern across the bridge of her nose. Martina’s green eyes, so similar to her sister’s, stared back at her, bright and aware, guarded and slightly reserved. After being robbed of the innocence of childhood, living from hand to mouth and in constant fear for as long as she could remember, maturity had claimed her at an early age. The experience with Redrow had added another layer of protection to her outer shell and, she hoped, made it difficult for anyone to guess the nature of her thoughts.
‘Mrs Redrow is having your things sent over,’ Ariana said, squeezing Martina’s shoulder and snapping her out of her reverie.
‘That’s good,’ she said, standing. ‘You will be able to call your wardrobe your own again. Thank you for my hair. You have made me look sophisticated.’
‘Which is no more than the both of us deserve. We are greatly obliged to the duke and duchess for taking us in and treating us like family, but never lose sight of the fact that we are ladies in our own right, even if our circumstances are greatly reduced.’
‘I wish I could remember more about Mama and Papa,’ Martina said with a wistful sigh.
Ariana’s expression froze. ‘It’s better that you do not.’
‘It must be so hard for you because you can remember so much. I don’t give you enough credit for the way in which you have always protected me. You were only seven when Papa was killed by the French and Mama…well, Mama suffered at the hands of marauding French soldiers the fate that we ourselves narrowly escaped from, thanks to your ingenuity. You had to grow up so quickly, we both did, but you shielded me from the worst of it and I never express my gratitude often enough.’
