A Noble Masquerade (21 page)

“Is he here?” Georgina whispered as soon as they crossed the threshold into the drawing room.

Miranda was thankful they were attending a card party that evening instead of a ball. It was difficult to avoid people when one had only one room to work in. The card party was spread through two drawing rooms, a dining room, the main hall, and the library. While the library was informally reserved for the men, she could use it if absolutely necessary.

“I am sure I don't know.” Miranda smiled at a couple of people she knew. The other benefit to card parties was that a person could wander the room and look as if she had a purpose. And if she did sit down to a game she could be firmly engaged for upwards of an hour with no need to contrive another activity for herself or drink another cup of warm lemonade.

“No one's seen him in days. I'm beginning to think it wasn't really him.” Georgina pouted prettily and then flipped her mouth into a beaming grin as they passed a table holding Lord Eversly and Mr. Sherbourne. Both men sat a little straighter. Poor Mr. Sherbourne.

“Why do you say that?” Miranda hated her curiosity, but
she had wondered about his absence as well. Was he still lurking in the shops, hoping she would show up? While she had the benefit of knowing the duke truly was in town, she wasn't about to divulge that to her sister.

“His aunt.” Georgina nodded at a gentleman and lady seated at one of the card tables. “She says he isn't at the house. He would hardly return to town and take up lodgings elsewhere when he has that beautiful, enormous home over on Pall Mall.”

Having met the aunt and heard multiple unflattering stories of the woman, Miranda could think of several reasons why Ryland would avoid the house on Pall Mall. “There are plenty of gentlemen that let homes for the Season, you know.”

“Upstarts. They aren't worth my notice or yours, sister. No pedigree and no title. Who knows how they got all that money? It could be from anywhere, but they think it makes them Quality somehow.” Georgina paused in the doorway to the second drawing room, looking over the occupants.

She nudged Miranda in the side and nodded toward the window across the room. “There's one now. Odious man. He came to visit a few days ago after you'd gone to lie down with your headache. I don't know what Gibson was thinking to let him in.”

Miranda looked across the room. Three men stood in conversation by the window. Two of them she recognized and knew they would never set foot in Hawthorne House, so she decided Georgina was referring to the third. He was shorter than the other two with a head of reddish-brown hair. He looked like a pleasant gentleman and he irritated Georgina, so Miranda was inclined to like him.

“Introduce me.”

“What?”

Miranda looked down at her sister. “Introduce me.”

Georgina's eyes widened. “To the odious man?”

“You do remember his name don't you?” Miranda couldn't keep a slight smirk off of her face.

“Of course I do. But if I introduce you, then he'll think I've been talking about him—”

“You have.”

“—and he'll think that I'm interested. He'll come to call again.” Georgina frowned.

“Introduce me,” Miranda repeated. “Unless you're afraid he'll like me more than you.”

It was quite unfair of Miranda to tug on her sister's vanity that way, but she really wanted to meet this man who made her sister so mad. Georgina drew her brows together and sucked in her cheeks. She should have looked ridiculous, but somehow her cheekbones stood out more and her eyes seemed more exotic. “I don't think I have anything to worry about. This way, sister dear.”

Miranda found herself hauled through the drawing room until they stood next to the trio of men deep in discussion about some business venture. That explained how Odious Man had gotten invited to the card party. The aristocratic life cost money and men who could help make it were always welcomed on the fringes of society.

“I apologize for the intrusion, but my sister insisted we come over here.” There wasn't a hint of derision in Georgina's tone. Miranda was impressed. Her sister's duplicity was deep indeed. “Mr. McCrae, she particularly wanted to meet you. Lady Miranda, this is Mr. Colin McCrae. I believe you know the other two gentlemen.”

Poison.
She was going to poison her little sister's chocolate in the morning. While Miranda knew the other two gentlemen by sight, she couldn't remember their names. They were fringe men, usually invited to simply even up the numbers. They were considered third or possibly even fourth tier bachelors that her mother would never direct her to in a social situation.

Georgina smiled sweetly at her sister.

“How do you do, Lady Miranda? I was just telling Mr. Craven and Sir Robert about a shipping company I'm involved in. Very dry conversation, I'm afraid.”

Miranda's gaze flew to Mr. McCrae's face. He winked at her. She drew a quick breath in surprise.
He knows!
Bless this man.
If he hadn't already been snared in Georgina's web she might consider setting her cap for him herself. It would help her get past the horrible situation with Ryland.

No. Forget that.
She didn't need to set her cap for a gentleman. Men were even more manipulative than Georgina. Doting aunt was her future goal.

“I'm afraid I know nothing of shipping.” Miranda turned to the other men, their names bringing to mind bits and pieces of information from previous dinner parties. “Mr. Craven, how is your sister? She married last year?”

The man with the thinning hair beamed. “Yes, she did. Doing splendidly. I hear from her occasionally.” After a beat of awkward silence, he spoke again. “Sir Robert, do you fancy a game of faro? I believe they are starting one in the library.”

Mr. McCrae watched his companions leave with a raised eyebrow. He turned back to the women with a small smile. “I suppose that leaves me to entertain two lovely ladies. Might I retrieve you a bit of refreshment? Or procure you a seat at a table?”

“No, thank you,” Georgina said. “I see someone I must speak with. Pardon me.” Was it Miranda's imagination or did her sister look a bit flushed?

“Do you need to speak with them as well?”

Miranda smiled at the joyful light in the man's light blue eyes. He knew exactly what had just transpired and it didn't bother him in the slightest. “I believe I am good where I am, thank you.”

“I am pleased to finally meet you.”

She tried to mask her sudden burst of surprise. A widening of her eyes was the only outward sign that escaped. At least she hoped it was. “Finally, Mr. McCrae?”

He settled back into the corner, forcing her to completely turn her back to the rest of the room if she wanted to continue the conversation. She did.

He smiled into her eyes and leaned forward, as if to impart a secret. “I've heard about you.”

A genuine smile spread across Miranda's lips. There was something very charming about her companion. “All good things, I hope.”

“But of course.”

“Hmmm.” Miranda knew some of the things that were said about her—that she was too cold, too demanding, too choosy. If this man had truly been talking about her, then he would have heard some of the spiteful comments. As it didn't appear he was going to believe them or bring them up, she elected to leave them alone as well. “Have you sat down to a game of whist yet this evening?”

“Sadly, no. I'm afraid I've been too deep in discussions since I arrived. Should we find a table and sit down to a game?” Mr. McCrae tilted his head in a slight bow and made to offer her his arm. He froze as something over her shoulder caught his eye. His arm shifted, raising his hand to cover his mouth as he cleared his throat.

Miranda darted a glance behind her and found Ryland dressed in the first stare of fashion. He would have looked like quite the swell except for the discoloration that remained around his right eye. “Ry—er, Duke! I was not aware that you were attending this evening.” She turned to allow Ryland into the small conversational group. Regardless of how confused
she felt about him she couldn't be rude to a duke in the middle of a party.

His eyebrow arched over the array of blue, purple, and sickly green that adorned his face. “I'm quickly finding that I can go almost anywhere in London right now. Every hostess wants to claim I attended her gathering.”

Miranda frowned. “So you weren't invited?”

“My dear Lady Miranda, do remember I've been away for a while. Hostesses haven't sent me an invite in years.” His smile was patronizing, and Miranda found herself tempted to see if she could make his eyes a matching set.

“A lady never resorts to violence.”

Her mother had thoroughly expounded on that point after the incident at the house the other day. There are many more subtle, cutting ways to exact revenge on a gentleman.

Only Miranda wasn't any good at them. Her ladylike demeanor often felt like little more than a mask. Anything requiring actual skill was beyond her.

Miranda turned to her new acquaintance. “Mr. McCrae, may I present His Grace, the Duke of Marshington? Your Grace, this is Mr. McCrae.”

“A pleasure, sir,” Ryland said quietly.

Mr. McCrae's smile had not dimmed with the appearance of what many men would consider a formidable presence. “The honor is mine, Your Grace.”

The two bowed to each other and then said nothing for several moments.

Miranda felt an arm snake around her elbow. She turned, startled to find Georgina clinging to her side. “Georgina?”

“You looked in need of rescue, dear sister. You couldn't possibly partner both of these fine gentlemen in a game of cards.”

Miranda noticed that while her sister might have referred to both gentlemen, she had eyes only for the duke. Giving in
to the inevitable, Miranda introduced them. “Your Grace, my sister, Lady Georgina. Sister, may I present—”

“The Duke of Marshington.” With an elegant sweep of her arm, Georgina presented her gloved hand. “I know who you are, Your Grace. I always keep up with news of importance.”

Ryland did little more than bow over Georgina's hand before turning his attention back to Miranda and Mr. McCrae.

“Lady Miranda and I were about to locate an open spot at a table. We fancied a game of whist this evening.” Mr. McCrae offered his arm and Miranda rested her hand on his elbow, fascination blooming. Here was a man, face-to-face with one of the highest-ranking persons in London, and he had not tried to turn the discussion to his advantage in social or business matters.

Georgina's eyes lit. “There is an empty table across the room, but you'll need another pair.”

The fact that the young girl, barely a week into her first Season, had perfected the coy art of flirting was impressive and frightening at the same time. Miranda sighed as Ryland fell under the spell of Georgina's delicate features and fluttering lashes.

“May we join you for a game?” he asked, extending his arm to Georgina.

Miranda sighed again. There was no graceful way out of the request.

They situated themselves at the table. Miranda sat across from Mr. McCrae with Georgina on her left and Ryland on her right. The cards were dealt and the first two tricks played in silence.

Ryland tapped his cards against the table, and Miranda felt his eyes on her as she slid the ten of clubs across the table. His gaze moved to the card. “Fishing for something, are you?”

“I beg your pardon!” Miranda sat up straighter in her chair, outraged. The fact that she was actually hoping someone would play the ace so that her king would be the high card in the suit was irrelevant.

“You aren't supposed to discuss the cards, Your Grace.” Georgina smiled at him, clearly more interested in drawing his attention than in reprimanding him. She slid the eight under Miranda's ten.

“My apologies.” Ryland watched the cards as Mr. McCrae slid the knave onto the pile. “I was simply guessing that your sister was using a bit of an underhanded play to look for something that might improve the standing of her hand.”

Miranda cut her eyes to look at him askance. Was that how he justified his actions? The good of the country made everything worthwhile? Service to England was admirable, of course, but he'd spent a decade deceiving people. How could he compare that to her playing a game of cards? “I am not playing underhandedly, Your Grace.”

Ryland considered his cards for a while and then flicked the ace onto the table, sending it sliding into Miranda's lap. “Oh, I'm not complaining. There's nothing wrong with what you've done. I'm sure that's not the best club you have in your hand, though. You presented something lower than your best in order to find something else. Well played.”

Miranda felt two spots of heat form on her cheeks as Georgina gathered up the trick. The man was insufferable! How dare he compare her card-playing gambit to his heinous subterfuge? She ran her tongue around her teeth, determined that he not come ahead in this little battle of wits.