Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage

CHAPTER 41

Kate felt like a fairy princess. Perhaps because she was dressed like one. Her gown was a midnight-blue concoction with wide skirts and two tiers of underskirts, a fitted, nearly indecent bodice and long sleeves. Her mask was just as daring, a demimask also made of midnight-blue satin with two wide feathers, one blue and one black, sweeping above her right eye. Annie and Lily had assured her that she would be unrecognizable in the mask and they’d been right. Except for her hair and eyes of course. She sighed. She supposed she had the element of surprise on her side. Who in the ton would expect the scandalous dowager Duchess of Markingham to be attempting to sneak into a masquerade ball?

Lily was dressed in dashing jade green with an equally impressive matching demimask and Annie wore her favorite pink accented by a pink and white mask.

Lord Ashbourne and Lord Colton were dressed entirely in black. The blackness of Lord Ashbourne’s mask set off the man’s intriguing silver eyes, making him look quite the rogue. Colton wore a silver mask that slightly relieved the darkness of his hair and eyes. Both men and their lovely wives looked positively splendid, Kate thought as their coach pulled to a stop in front of Lady Catherine Eversly’s town house. Lily and Annie had decided their ruse of introducing Kate as their cousin would be more plausible were she to arrive with them, so the two sisters had brought Kate to Annie’s house earlier to prepare for the ball. Now they were returning, all dressed up.

They waited in the seemingly endless line to enter the ball and Kate couldn’t help but rise on tiptoes to see if she recognized James. Lily and Annie hadn’t said a word about James all afternoon. She’d asked them not to speak of him earlier so she could hardly make a show of asking about him now, could she? If he were here, he hadn’t come with his friends. Perhaps he wasn’t invited after all. Oh, she desperately wanted to ask Lily if that were true. But she held her tongue.

If asked, Kate was pretending to be Lily’s cousin Althea. She could only hope that no one looked too closely. Apparently, Lily’s cousin lived in Northumberland and hadn’t been to town in years. Thankfully, she too had red hair. She pinched the inside of her arm. “Courage, courage, courage,” Kate whispered to herself.

Catherine Eversly was dressed entirely in sparkling silver. The beautiful blond woman swept over to their little group soon after their arrival and hugged each of them individually.

“Who have we here?” she whispered conspiratorially, in her lovely, sultry voice. “My, but you all look like a merry band of misfits.”

She turned her crystal-blue gaze toward Kate and winked and Kate was suddenly quite glad to have come after all.

“Thank you very much for the invitation, Lady Catherine,” Kate replied. “I am very honored to have been invited.” And then lower, “And I cannot thank you enough for all you’ve done for me.”

“Yes, well, welcome one and all,” Catherine said. “But beware.” From behind her mask, she arched a brow at Kate. “We have a tradition here. We count down the seconds to the new year and when the clock strikes twelve and the church bells ring, we all remove our masks.”

Kate bit her lip. She’d have to be gone by midnight.

Catherine turned back to Lily and the others. “By the by, your friend Medford is already here. I must say, the man’s drinking more than I’ve ever known him to.” She looked off into the crowd. “He was over by the French doors the last time I looked. If I see him, I’ll send him over. I daresay he’d love to meet your cousin.” She gave Kate a little smile.

Kate’s stomach lurched. James was here? Lily and Annie rocked on their toes and exchanged glances. Kate narrowed her eyes. Why did she have the feeling she was in the middle of a very large and carefully orchestrated conspiracy?

She turned to ask Lily a question and something caught her eye. A flash of red, a laugh, a set of deep-set dark eyes on a woman across from them.

Lady Bettina.

Lily saw her too at nearly the same moment. She squeezed Kate’s hand. “Let’s go,” she said. “I’m sure we can find a more inviting place to stand.”

“No,” Kate insisted, pulling away from Lily’s grasp. “I have something to say to her.”

Lily shook her head. “Kate, you can’t. If she learns who you are, that you’re here—”

“Don’t worry,” Kate added. But she wasn’t even listening to Lily any more. Instead, she found herself moving toward Lady Bettina as if her feet were not under her own control any longer. She walked straight up to the woman but didn’t remove her mask.

“Lady Bettina?”

The dark-haired beauty stopped laughing at whatever the man next to her had said and turned to look at her. “Yes?”

It was clear she didn’t recognize whom she was speaking to. Thank God.

“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about the Duke of Markingham’s death.”

Lady Bettina narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m merely an old friend of the duke’s.”

The gentleman next to her laughed. “Yes, well, it’s too bad that Markingham got shot by his own valet, no less, but his loss is my gain.”

Lady Bettina smiled at that and the man, whom Kate didn’t recognize, leaned down and kissed her on the neck. Kate sucked in her breath. Not only were the man’s words cruel but Lady Bettina had clearly already taken up with a new lover. Here she’d been feeling a bit sorry for her, thinking that she’d truly been in love with George, and all the while she’d been out finding a new protector.

“Oh, you’re bad, Kingston, very bad,” Lady Bettina purred. Turning her attention back to Kate, she said, “Yes, well, dear, I’ve never been much for mourning, as you can see.” And she laughed, took a long sip from her champagne flute, and rubbed her hand possessively over Kingston’s chest.

Kate felt ill. There was no reason to confront this woman, reveal her identity. She felt sorry too, actually, sorry for George. He’d believed the woman loved him and obviously she’d only been using him for his title and money.

Without saying another word, Kate turned away from the sickening pair. She was through with them, through with her old life and everyone in it. Tonight she intended to have fun. She made her way back to Lily’s side. “I want to dance,” she whispered to the marchioness. “I want to dance and dance.”

“Then dance you shall,” Lily said with a smile. She tapped Devon on the shoulder and soon Kate was whirling around the room with the handsome marquis, a glass of champagne in one hand and a smile on her lips. And suddenly it didn’t matter why she was there. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know where James was and that Lady Bettina was detestable. Kate was having fun again. And she intended to have a great deal more of it.

After dancing with three more debonair gentlemen in a row, Kate made her way over to the refreshment table to retrieve another glass of champagne. The crowd had long ago separated her from Lily and Annie and their husbands. And with so many people wearing such elaborate costumes, it was difficult to know just who was who.

She pressed her palm against her stomach. James was here. He was here in the crowd somewhere. But she’d never know him. Never find him. She had no clue how he was dressed. What color was his mask? Oh, it was better this way, not to know. If she knew what to look for, no doubt she’d be constantly scanning the ballroom, looking for him, searching him out, hoping to get a chance to see him, talk to him, hear his voice.

Oh, who was she fooling? She was already looking for him. With every male voice that drifted to her ears, she strained to hear a familiar tone. With every male costume that crossed her path, she scanned the gentleman’s eyes, hoping to see the hazel she knew so well. She tossed back her second glass of champagne. That was it. She had to stop thinking about James. A London New Year’s masquerade ball was something she’d never been to before, and would never attend again. And she intended to enjoy herself.

She turned to leave the refreshment table, to go in search of Lily and Annie, when a snippet of conversation to her right caught her attention.

“I heard the duchess is leaving for the Continent as soon as possible,” said a shrill female voice.

Kate glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t recognize the hefty woman dressed in a horrendous puce color or her older male counterpart dressed in bright peach, but Kate was rooted to the spot.

“Yes, well, it cannot happen quickly enough if you ask me. She should leave this town as soon as possible,” the man answered.

“I’ve heard she’s staying in a hotel,” the woman said in a disgusted tone.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” replied the man. “Some establishments will take in any riffraff.”

The woman took a sip of champagne. “I, for one, shall never believe she didn’t kill him. The valet may have confessed, but I don’t believe it for one moment.”

The man nodded and his jowls shook. “Neither do I.”

Tears of anger stung the backs of Kate’s eyes. She turned to move away from the conversation, not wanting to hear a bit more of it. This was why she couldn’t come into London Society. Ever. Even if she were wearing a disguise. She wasn’t welcome here and she never would be. She would find Lily and Annie and give her regrets, and quietly slip upstairs to her guest chamber. She never should have come.

She took her first step, just as a tall man wearing all black with a dark green mask pushed past her. He addressed his comments to the couple who’d just been speaking.

“Please tell me, Lady Cranberry, that you were not just speaking of Kate, the dowager Duchess of Markingham,” the tall man said in a clipped voice.

Kate’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t move. She knew that voice. Familiar and deep and wonderful. James. She hadn’t recognized him when he’d brushed past her, but now there was no mistaking it. He was here and he appeared to be coming to her defense. She moved to the side of the table again and picked up another glass of champagne, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, but a small crowd had already begun to form around the threesome since James had raised his voice.

“Lord Medford, is that you?” Lady Cranberry straightened to her full height, which wasn’t very high at all.

“It is,” he replied through clenched teeth.

Kate moved into the corner behind a potted palm and clutched her champagne flute, her gaze darting back and forth. The group around the other three was growing and no one was paying a bit of attention to her, thank heavens.

“What if we were speaking of the duchess?” Lord Cranberry cleared his throat. “Do you dare to defend that trollop?”

James took two steps toward the shorter man and towered over him. “Yes. I. Do.” There was no mistaking the tightly controlled anger in his voice.

The crowd was growing larger and larger.

Lord Cranberry straightened his shoulders too. He hefted his girth as if he were trying to suck it in. “Seems you would have learned your lesson, Medford. Harboring her. I’m surprised Lady Catherine let you in the door tonight. She’s clearly not attending to her guest list properly.”

James’s voice was a low growl. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Only that you keep company like that and you get what you deserve,” Lady Cranberry retorted, her nose in the air. “Everyone knows your town house was destroyed because you were harboring that rubbish.”

James’s voice thundered loudly enough for the entire assembled crowd to hear. His feet were braced apart and he shook with unleashed fury. “Know this. The dowager Duchess of Markingham is better than either one of you will ever be. She’s a kind, generous, loving person who was falsely accused and who has since been exonerated.”

Lord Cranberry’s face turned cranberry, and it did not go well with peach. He tugged at his lapels. “She may have been exonerated but that doesn’t prove—”

“Yes. It. Does. You small-minded twit,” James replied. “And if I ever hear you breathe another unkind word about her, you’ll have me to answer to. Do you understand?”

Lord and Lady Cranberry huffed and puffed. They searched around as if looking for friendly faces in the crowd to agree with them. Everyone else seemed suddenly preoccupied with their conversations, as if they hadn’t all just been staring aghast at Medford’s confrontation with the couple.

James turned to the assembled group, his glass of brandy sloshing over his hand. “Does everyone hear that? The same goes for all of you. Anyone who utters a word against the duchess will answer to me.”

Complete silence.

James stalked off then. Pushing through the crowd, he made his way out of the ballroom. The mass of people erupted in a sea of whispers and speculation. The entire ballroom, it seemed, was talking about him. And her. Oh, he’d really gone and done it now. But he’d defended her. Gloriously, wonderfully, heroically defended her.

Kate watched him go, with tears welling in her eyes.