Chapter 12
“You came!” the Marquess of Belford cheered, his hands outstretched to Anna as if they were old friends.
She had met him a handful of times in the year and a half that she had been at Stonebridge.
First, at her husband’s funeral, offering sincere condolences.
After that, here and there, when they had crossed paths during her morning walks and his morning rides.
Cordial encounters, but nothing that would warrant such familiarity.
“Oh, I am so pleased,” the Marquess continued, his eyes a little glazed, as if he had been imbibing. “It is good to be acquainted with one’s neighbors.”
Anna put on a bewildered smile. “Yes, I suppose it is. Although, how did you know it was me? Is my mask not good enough?”
“The crest on the side.” The Marquess nodded to the departing carriage. “But, have no fear, I shall not give up your secret. Your mask is excellent. No one shall have any notion that it is you!”
It was only then that she noticed he was dressed like a Greek god, in a black silk toga that kept sliding off his shoulder. If he wasn’t careful, he might expose more than his desperate desire to befriend his neighbors.
“You must be… Hades?” she said, forcing some cheer into her voice. “The God of the Underworld.”
Colin threw back his head and laughed, making her think she had judged it entirely wrong. “I shall be whichever god you want me to be, Your Grace,” he replied, once his laughter abated. “Indeed, though I suspect you are here as Aphrodite, I might be compelled to ask you to be my Persephone.”
She blinked in surprise. Mythology had always been one of her favorite subjects, which she had indulged in for hours at the library at Pembroke House.
Poor Persephone, dragged off to the underworld for half the year to be Hades’ wife, tricked into the position with pomegranate seeds.
It was tantamount to a proposal from the Marquess.
Anna had not expected such a thing so soon, nor was it welcome.
Or maybe it was just whatever liquor he had been drinking that was influencing his words.
Giving him the benefit of the doubt, she chuckled. “Oh, well, unfortunately, I do not care much for pomegranates.”
The Marquess grinned. “Ah, that is a pity.”
He shifted his lively focus to Jeremy, and all the good cheer and merry smiles faded from the man’s face. Whatever he saw made him immediately release Anna’s hands. But when she looked up to see what was going on, Jeremy’s expression didn’t seem different from his usual cold indifference.
“You are both welcome here,” the Marquess hurried to say, his arm sweeping wide to usher them in. “Please, enjoy yourselves.”
At Anna’s side, Jeremy grumbled, “We’ll try,” as he took her arm to guide her inside the charming Belford House.
It was nothing like a Scottish gathering. The music was too restrained, the guests too consumed with themselves and their appearances rather than celebrating, and the dancing was so methodical and predictable that it hardly qualified as dancing at all.
Jeremy already wished he hadn’t bothered attending.
Where was the feast? Where was the merriment?
Where were the liberally poured drinks? The laughter?
The liveliness that existed at the very heart of a good gathering?
Considering it was an event where anonymity was encouraged, he had expected more vigor, more enthusiasm.
I should’ve tossed the invitation into the fire. After all, it wouldn’t be easy to find a husband for Anna when everyone had their faces covered. He wondered absently why he hadn’t thought of that problem sooner.
As he guided Anna toward the edge of a crowded ballroom, all adorned with ostentatious displays of Colin’s wealth, his ears perked up at the sound of whispers.
The crowd was not subtle about it either, with many eyes shifting to where the pair stood, gossip flowing behind fans and elbows nudging ribs.
“Who is that?” someone hissed.
“Is that a kilt?” another asked, her fan beating faster.
“Who is the lady in gold? My goodness, what a gown!”
“You see, that is what I should have worn!”
“It is unseemly.”
“It is majestic.”
“Are they together?”
And it went on and on until Jeremy’s head started to buzz, as if a swarm of gossiping insects was inside his skull.
He only ever enjoyed gatherings because of his family and because they were familiar.
Being the younger brother meant there was never any pressure on him to host, entertain, or pretend to be interested.
Listening to the whispers, he began to realize that he had misjudged the night’s endeavors. Not just that, but the demands of his new station, too.
Ye’d know exactly what to do, Douglas. Whereas Jeremy just wanted to leave before anyone approached him and started making tedious conversation.
“What is that frown for?” Anna said with a snort of amusement. “Did you not say that you wished to surprise them? You should have expected this magnitude of curiosity, for it is not every day that they see a man’s bare legs.”
He glanced down at her. “I wasn’t aware ye were interested in me legs.”
Behind her mask, she rolled her eyes. “I am merely pointing out the source of their excitement. I have not paid your legs the slightest bit of attention… or interest, for that matter.”
He knew he should cease his flirtations unless he wanted to be burned again by the inferno of temptation, but in that gown, with her shoulders exposed and looking so stunning, he had to resist the urge to lean in and kiss that bare skin.
It was not easy. Instead, it made him feel even more inclined to suggest they leave, though the short carriage ride back to Stonebridge would not be nearly long enough for what he wanted to do to her.
“Are they always like this?” he asked instead, returning his gaze to the throng of guests in a vain attempt to distract himself.
“And worse,” Anna muttered, her arms crossing over her chest as if to defend herself from the bombardment of gossip. “It is lucky I am wearing this mask, or the stares would be rather more hostile.”
He tilted his head to one side. “Why is that?”
“They think I killed my husband,” she answered flatly.
A memory of his conversation with Colin the other morning returned to Jeremy. The Marquess had alluded to something of that nature, and of a reputation that had a way of clinging to a woman.
“Did ye?” he asked, playing ignorant.
She laughed dryly. “I am afraid I cannot tell you that.”
“That doesn’t sound like something an innocent lass would say.”
She turned her beautiful hazel eyes up to meet his gaze. “Perhaps, I want you to think me capable of anything, especially where my freedom is threatened.”
Jeremy gave a small nod and kept to himself what he had already heard from Colin: that a physician long ago confirmed that Anna had no part in her husband’s death. The man had suffered from a weak heart, like his predecessors. Nothing more.
“I did notice the books ye were reading,” he remarked instead, struggling to hide the smirk that wanted to curve his lips. “Ye have a taste for the dramatic. If ye wanted to do away with me, ye could just poison me drink.”
To emphasize his point, he took a glass from a passing tray and sipped, mostly to conceal his amusement.
Did she really believe anyone would think she was capable of killing a man?
She certainly had fire in her, but no real violence.
In fact, she was pretty much like Sprightly, nudging his leg in indignation, comforted by a little attention.
“What?” she spluttered. “I would… I would never!”
“I thought ye said ye were capable of anything?” he teased, enjoying the way her lips parted in shock.
She turned her face away, her arms folded across her chest. “You are very annoying, sir. Very annoying indeed.”
“Because I saw right through yer ruse? Come now, where’s yer sense of competition?
Ye should be telling me all the ways ye would kill me, after all of yer reading about the Romans.
” His gaze lingered on the smooth skin at the nape of her neck, his fingertips longing to caress her there, his lips urging him to lower his head and kiss that sensitive spot.
She puffed out a breath. “No, I should not, because it is not funny. None of this is funny.”
He was about to tell her that, actually, he found the conversation surprisingly entertaining, when a figure blundered in. A man in a Tudor costume, with an alarming codpiece and all, staggered straight into Anna, almost knocking her off her feet.
Jeremy acted impulsively, his arm rushing out to pull Anna close and shield her from the drunken lout. It was only a second later that he realized what the other guests might think, prompting him to create some polite distance between them once he saw she had regained her balance.
“Are ye well?” he asked.
Anna nodded, dropping her gaze to make sure that her costume was as it should be. “No harm done.”
“Aye, not yet.” Jeremy glowered at the man who had knocked into her. “Ye! Apologize to the lass.”
The man swayed where he stood and lifted up a simple black mask. “Apologize for what?” he slurred. “Who do you think you are, talking to King Henry the Eighth like that? I ought to have you beheaded.”
Jeremy took a step forward and loomed over the smaller man. “Ye could have injured her. Apologize, or I will make it so ye’ll be needing that codpiece, to make up for what I have cut off.”
The man’s eyes widened to the whites, his mouth opening and closing like a beached fish.
“It is quite all right,” Anna said in a rush, putting an arm between the two men. “This is my cousin, Benedict. A pleasant fellow, as you can see. Nevertheless, I would not have you… hurt him in such a public event.”
Jeremy’s lip curled. “Ye’re fortunate ye’re related to the lass, else ye’d be on the floor right now.”
But it seemed that Benedict was the kind of man who did not know when to relent, as he puffed out his embroidered chest and held his chin high.
“You should not concern yourself with family matters,” Benedict spat, as he turned a leering grin on Anna. “Have you finally found someone new to marry, dear cousin? Goodness, I hope it is not this mannerless wretch. He cannot even speak properly!”
Irritation burned hot in Jeremy’s chest, his hands tightening into fists until the pain from the burn on his palm pulsed, all to stop himself from punching the man halfway across the ballroom.
He wanted to, fiercely, but he had to think of Beatrice, Sophie, and Anna.
If he caused a ruckus, society would not forget easily.
Through gritted teeth, Anna replied, “You are embarrassing yourself, Cousin. Perhaps you should go outside and take in some fresh air. Better yet, perhaps you should leave; you are causing a scene.”
“Only if you come with me,” Benedict hiccupped, his hand reaching out to grab Anna’s arm.
“Maybe I should marry you. You are a duchess with a fine house, finer than that hovel your father left behind, so maybe I shall have it. Clearly, there is no heir if you have been left to do as you please there for all this time, so why should I not have it? A proper manor and a proper title are what is owed to me!”
Jeremy noticed Benedict’s knuckles whiten and the slight flinch of Anna’s mouth. The bastard was hurting her, and that was every reason to cause a scene.
“Take yer hand off her, or I will snap it like a twig,” Jeremy warned, his voice a low growl.
“Will you leave us be!” Benedict snapped, turning his nose up. “Who are you? Why are you loitering around my cousin and me? Be gone with you.”
At that, Jeremy grabbed the vile cousin by the collar and twisted, the strength in Jeremy’s arm practically lifting Benedict off his feet. “I am the Duke of Stonebridge,” he hissed in the man’s face. “And ye’ll take yer hand off Anna, or ye’ll lose it.”
Benedict blinked, his hand relaxing on Anna’s arm. “You are the Duke of Stonebridge?”
“Aye. An heir was found, and ye’re looking at him.” Jeremy still did not loosen his grip on Benedict’s collar, too incensed to just let the man get away with his disrespect. Toward Anna, most of all.
At that moment, Colin showed up with a worried look on his unmasked face. He had his hands raised in a peace gesture, clearly coming to mediate before his masquerade ball was ruined.
“What seems to be the matter?” the Marquess asked.
Anna wrenched her arm free from her cousin. “It is nothing, Lord Belford. My cousin got a little too much into the character of King Henry the Eighth and has imbibed too much.” She took a breath. “I am sorry for the disruption.”
Colin’s gaze flicked between the trio before he extended his hand. “Then, allow me to remove you from the situation, Your Grace.” He smiled. “Would you do me the honor of dancing the next set with me?”
Jeremy waited for her to decline, a frown forming on his brow as she reached to take the Marquess’s offered hand. He did not like how the man’s fingers curled so eagerly around hers, nor the pleased smile that lit up the Marquess’s face, as if he had won a great prize.
“Gladly,” Anna said, and did not look back as Colin led her through the crush of guests to the dance floor.
In the meantime, likely aware of Jeremy’s distraction, Benedict pulled free from the taller man’s suffocating grip and staggered toward the garden doors.
For a moment, Jeremy was tempted to follow and finish what he had started, but seeing Colin and Anna so close to each other kept him rooted in place.
Isn’t this what ye wanted? a mocking voice whispered in his head. At this rate, she might well have a proposal by the time the night is over.
And though it should indeed have pleased him, his hands remained curled into fists, his chest tight, and his eyes blazing as he watched the dance begin.