He walked her away to the quietest corner he could find, aware that they were the cynosure of all eyes and that word of his statement was spreading throughout the masquerade. “Do you want me to scotch this, Kitty? I can do it, you know.”
There was that little lift of the chin again, amusing him. She met his gaze squarely. “I should say yes. I should run a mile and then jump into a carriage, drive to Scotland and spend the rest of my life raising sheep.” Her bodice rose and fell on her rapid breaths. “But since I have no idea how to raise sheep, I don’t like haggis and I couldn’t run a mile in these slippers, then all I can say is…I accept your wager.”
Somewhere deep inside Max’s brain a little voice cheered. “You will be my mistress?”
“You will give me pleasure?”
Aroused and secretly thrilled at her response, Max nodded. “More than you can imagine.”
“Then I have nothing to lose.” She glanced around. “The Ridlington name has one more blot on it. But it has survived much worse.” She blinked. “I really should find Hecate, Max.”
“After we’ve drawn our cards, we’ll find her and make plans from there.”
To his surprise, this evening was turning out to be exciting, challenging and arousing. None of which he’d expected when donning his domino for yet another masquerade.
Miss Kitty Ridlington had proven to be a catalyst of sorts for him; from now on he was going to keep her closer than close. Soon he would introduce her to his world of pleasure.
Unless he lost the wager.
He snorted. That would not happen.
~~~~*
Excusing herself briefly, Kitty sought sanctuary in the ladies withdrawing-room. She needed a moment’s respite from the stares, glares and whispers behind the fans.
She’d desired this, she reminded herself. Now nobody would ever ignore her again.
But the full magnitude of her fall from grace became obvious when one or two women walked in, saw her, and left again.
Did it hurt? She asked herself as she rinsed her hands in cool water and splashed a little on her face.
Perhaps.
But the young maid smiled as she offered dry cloths and Kitty allowed her to straighten the bow at the back of the gown. “There you are, Ma’am. Pretty as a picture.”
“Thank you.” Kitty smiled back. “Are you tired? You have to be here until everyone has left, don’t you?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the girl curtseyed. “But it’s me job. So best not to complain.”
“Well done.” Kitty paused. She needed to do something to remind herself that real people cared not one whit about reputations, wagers, or mistresses. So she unclasped the small bracelet she wore. It was a trifle, lavender glass intertwined in metallic scrolls, and worth very little.
She held it out to the maid. “Here, take this. A souvenir of an evening when you helped a fallen woman.”
“Oh, Ma’am.” The girl stared at the jewelry, then up at Kitty. “Really? Fer me?”
“Really. For you.” She took the girl’s hand and put the bracelet in it. “I’m sure it will bring you good luck.”
With that, she left the room, only to walk smack into Aunt Venetia.
“There you are.” Her aunt grabbed her arm, and all but dragged her down a corridor away from the crowd. “What the devil game are you playing Kitty? Are you trying to disgrace us all?” Her eyes were filled with anger mixed with anxiety.
“Of course not, Aunt.” Kitty managed to slip a word in as Venetia took a breath.
“Well you’re doing so,” answered the older woman. “Have you thought about Hecate? She will be shunned, and there goes any chance of her making a good match. Not to mention my household. I shall become a pariah…”
Worried that tears might flow, Kitty took her aunt’s hand and patted it. “Hush now, Aunt. Firstly, I may lose the wager. Secondly, Max Seton-Mowbray isn’t just anyone, you know. Being with him…well, it does carry a certain cachet. Think how many people will come to visit now…knowing there’s a much better chance of running into the scandalous Miss Ridlington and her protector, Mr. Seton-Mowbray.”
That practical comment stilled Aunt Venetia’s obvious distress. “Hmm.” Then her lip trembled again. “But Kitty. To be his acknowledged mistress?”
“Dearest Aunt,” she replied. “I’m a Ridlington. Our family isn’t known for deep or long-lasting relationships. My father outlived three wives and apparently loathed all the children he fathered. None of us are looking for the perfect life, because we know damn well it’s not going to happen.” She paused. “Well, all right, Edmund, Simon and Letitia have been lucky.”
Aunt Venetia remained silent, watching her niece.
“So I never expected to come to town and find a husband. I came looking for the excitement, the thrill of balls and masquerades, just like this one. I’ve met some charming people, and some not so charming ones. I’ve been proposed to once—”
Venetia gasped, but Kitty held up her hand to silence her.
“And I refused that offer, along with a couple more that were not so appropriate. I make my own decisions, Aunt. And I have found something most appealing in Mr. Seton-Mowbray. So I have decided to take this gamble, this wager, and let Fate have the final say as to whether I become his mistress or not. Either way, you will have achieved a certain notoriety which I am assured you will be able to use in the future. Because you are an extraordinary woman in many ways, one of which is in your brilliant manipulation of idiots like those.” She gestured at the ballroom.
Venetia sighed, then let a chuckle escape. “Do you know what your problem is, Kitty?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re about to rectify that situation.”
“You’re too bloody smart for the Ton.” She grinned. “I just hope Max Seton-Mowbray is bright enough to keep up with you.”
Kitty leaned in to hug her. “Oh he is, Aunt. Trust me when I tell you he’s quite amazing in so many ways.”
She couldn’t see the expression on her aunt’s face during their hug, but when Venetia heard her answer, a tiny little grin curved her lips. But all she said was “I’m so glad to hear it, dear. Very glad indeed.”
Chapter Seven
The card room was quite large, which was a good thing, since it appeared that every guest was attempting to cram themselves into it. They failed, of course, but there was more than a little fussing and fidgeting as those who did get inside made sure they could relay information to those who didn’t.
At last, Comte Arnaud DuClos raised his hand for silence. He had taken on the responsibility of acting as host for this scandalous incident, and was fully enjoying the entire episode. After all, he whispered to Max in an aside, he—Arnaud—was French, and therefore unshockable.
“Mesdames et messieurs,” he began. “Ladies and gentlemen. You are all aware of ze wager placed between Monsieur Max Seton-Mowbray and Mademoiselle Kitty of Ridlington.”
There were a few muted chuckles at the odd Frenchified turn of phrase.