Page 67 of Masquerading with the Duke
‘Perhaps she came alone and made some excuse for her husband.’
‘No.’ Martina’s tone was adamant. ‘He’s very careful not to upset his wife. Beneath her genteel exterior lies a will of iron. If she is content with her social climbing and has sufficient funds to carry off the grandiose gestures that she thinks those she wishes to impress will not see through—’
‘You are very observant.’
‘I may not understand English ways but I do understand people and what drives them. Ariana and I would not have survived for very long if we had not developed that skill. Anyway, as I was saying, provided Mrs Redrow is content, it leaves her husband free to do…well, whatever takes his fancy.’ She twitched her nose. ‘She would not accept a summons from his minister as a justifiable excuse that couldn’t allow for one day’s delay in order for them to be here tonight, especially since Parliament is in recess.’
‘Did something happen yesterday?’ Jared fixed her with a suspicious look. ‘Did he insult you, threaten you in any way?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘You seem distracted. On edge.’ He sent her a sensual smile. ‘Do I make you nervous?’
Several heavy drops of rain interrupted whatever response she had intended to make.
‘It seems the elements are daring to defy a duchess,’ he said, steering her back into the ballroom seconds before the deluge began in earnest.
‘There you are.’ Lord Amos smiled at Martina. ‘You must lend Martina to me, Braden,’ he said. ‘She promised me this dance. I shall return her to you immediately afterwards.’
‘I am not Mr Braden’s property,’ she protested as Lord Amos led her away.
Jared smiled at her spirited response, then turned to watch the rain pelting down onto the terrace, enjoying the coolness of the wind that caused the candles to gut. Several footmen set about closing the doors.
‘No sign of our mutual friend.’
Jared turned to Romsey, his mop of thick blond hair giving his identity away despite his masque. ‘Martina insists that he will be here somewhere.’
Romsey shook his head. ‘He’s been backed into a corner. He has no time for dancing.’
‘That is my opinion too, although Mrs Redrow seems very determined to attend. But if that’s the case, they should be here by now. I think Martina is worrying needlessly.’
‘Mr Braden, just the very man.’ Lady Romsey glided up to him, the mellifluous timbre of her voice every bit as pleasing to the ear as the lady herself was to the eye. ‘You must take pity on me and offer to dance. My husband appears to have developed two left feet.’
‘We just danced, my dear,’ Romsey pointed out mildly. ‘You are far too lively for these old bones.’
Jared smiled at the softness of Romsey’s tone as he fixed his wife with an indulgent smile. He clearly adored her, and it was easy for Jared to see why. She was a lively combination of mischief and sophistication; a perfect foil for the seriousness of Romsey’s mien brought about by the burden of his responsibilities.
‘I should be delighted,’ Jared said, offering her his arm.
*
Martina enjoyed dancing with Lord Amos. He was, unsurprisingly, an excellent dancer and an engaging conversationalist. Even so, Martina sensed his slight detachment, as though he didn’t think he deserved to be dancing and enjoying himself. She imagined he must be thinking about his dead wife, as he so often seemed to, and her heart went out to him.
She noticed Jared pass down the dance partnering Anna. He winked at her. When the dance came to an end, the duchess took control of Martina, introducing her to a few of the people she didn’t know. When she was finally free to wander about, making it look as though she wasn’t attempting to accidentally run into Jared, he was nowhere to be seen. She wondered if he and Lord Romsey had gone off to speak in private somewhere, or if Jared had become bored with proceedings and disappeared into the cardroom, as a great many of the gentlemen appeared to have done.
She somehow doubted it. He seemed determined to remain with her. Or was that a product of her wishful thinking? She had no way of knowing and possessed too much pride to continue scouring the crowded room, hoping for a glimpse of him. Besides, the press of bodies made it feel as though the room was closing in on her. The heavy rain had eased and turned more moderate. Rain was a rare commodity in her native Spain and was therefore something to be cherished. She loved the sound of it, and the fresh smells left in its wake. She had seen absolutely no sign of Redrow. He might keep a low profile but his wife most certainly would not, so it was safe to assume that Jared was in the right of it. They had not come and she need not worry about encountering him.
Her mind made up, she wandered outside where a number of masked people stood beneath the covered part of the terrace, enjoying a respite and the cooler evening air. One couple danced amid fits of laugher on the wet grass. Martina didn’t want to speak with anyone other than Jared, but it simply wouldn’t do to rely on him. He had made it abundantly clear that he looked upon her as a child, which was infuriating. She was willing to wager that she had survived far worse crises than he could even imagine but had got herself out of them without the need for a big, strong man’s protection.
That wasn’t strictly true, she conceded. They would likely not have escaped their kidnappers if Lord Amos had not come along when he did, but she was in no mood to be fair-minded.
Alone in an alcove where her dark dress made her next to invisible, Martina heard the muted music and laughter coming from the ballroom as she watched the rain steadily falling, bouncing on parched ground that greedily absorbed it. She allowed her mind to wander, feeling disgruntled for reasons that escaped her. She had been embraced by this generous family, where she felt safe for the first time in her life. The Sheridans asked for nothing in return for their generosity and placed no demands or restrictions upon her. Tonight she wore a lovely gown and had been accepted by the cream of Hampshire society, yet she felt dissatisfied without being able to say precisely why.
Her musings were interrupted when a figure loomed over her. She gasped, not having heard anyone approaching her hiding place.
‘Who are you?’ she asked sharply.
Martina had no time to be afraid before a man’s hand clamped itself over her mouth and an arm pulled her roughly against his body. She recognised him at once, cursed her momentary inattention and tried hard not to show her fear. He wanted her to be afraid of him and she was. But she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing it.
