need and his desire. And in an instant, his lips came crashing down on hers in a claiming that was
undeniable.
This was wrong, she tried to tell herself. He didn't love her; he wouldn't marry her; he just wanted her.
But already breathless with anticipation, Riley no longer cared what was right or wrong.
Part of her clung to the belief that his feelings for her weren't that far from hers.
That the very proper Earl of Ashlin loved her with a wild abandon.
As if to prove that very notion, he held her with one arm and swept the table clean of their papers. His
gesture sent the script and all her notes flying up in the air like confetti.
Including some pieces she'd been keeping well concealed.
One of them fluttered down, landing right side up, right before his eyes. He snatched it up before she
could sweep it away.
Did you think you cud hide?
He took a step back from her. Before her eyes she watched his powerful passion turn to outrage.
"When did this arrive?" he demanded, shaking the paper at her. "When?" Since she'd given him all the
notes her enemy had sent the first day she'd come to live at Ashlin House, he really didn't need to hearher answer."Two days ago," Riley whispered, her gaze downcast. Then he realized she wasn't as contrite as she appeared; rather, she was looking around..."This isn't the only one?" His temper exploded. "How many have you received since you came here?""Three," she said, leaning over and picking up two more notes.Three notes? Mason's fury filled the room. "What were you thinking, concealing these?""I didn't want you to get hurt," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.Right now he didn't know if he could trust her-her words or her tears-even though the emotion and fear sounded genuine. His pride was too stung.
"Madame," he said, "I can very well take care of this situation."
She shook her head. "Mason, I've lived in some of the worst neighborhoods of Paris and London, while
you've been sheltered-first here, and then at that college of yours. I didn't want you to get hurt...orkilled. You know nothing about these types of ruffians, or how to-" Her words faltered to a stop.
"How to defend myself?"
"Yes." She didn't even have the decency to look shamefaced about her confession. "You said yourself the day in the alley was nothing more than dumb luck. What if your next meeting with Clyde or someone of his ilk came out differently?"
"I doubt it would.""You don't know that. If it was Hashim-"He took a calming breath. "If it was Hashim, you wouldn't worry, is that it?"She nodded. "If you were good with a sword or even a knife, I wouldn't worry, but Mason...""A knife, you say?" he asked. "How about this?" In one fluid, swift motion, he leaned over and snatched the dagger he always kept concealed in his boot when he was out about town. Before she could even finish the gasp that came issuing forth from her lips, he sent the blade spinning across the room where it stuck in the portrait of the seventh Earl.
Right in his throat.
Her mouth moved, but no sounds came out. "How did you...when did you..."
"Choose your weapon, Riley, and you will find I am quite capable with it. I not only taught military
history, I studied it. All of it-from planning a siege to cannoneering." He took the other notes from her hands and gave them passing glances. "Where did you find these?"
"In my room."
He let out a blistering curse. Apparently, Riley wasn't safe, even in his house, under his protection. This was his fault. He should never have arrogantly thought her enemy would not seek her within his house.
And if the man could get into his house, he could harm not only Riley, but the rest of his family as well.
He knew the solution to that. He strode toward the door. When he got there, he turned to her. "Tell your maid to pack your belongings. Tomorrow you, the girls, and Cousin Felicity go to the country. You'l remain at Sanborn Abbey until I can straighten this out."
"But tomorrow is-" She clamped her mouth shut, her eyes opening wide at her own blundered faux pas.
Mason didn't need to hear the rest to know how Riley had been about to finish her near confession.
Tomorrow is the Everton Masquerade, she meant to say.
So that was it. She had planned to defy him and take the girls to the Everton masquerade. Well, no longer. He held up his hand to stave off her protest. "Not another word. You will go to the country tomorrow and that is my final answer."
Chapter 16.
M ason was as swift and true to his word as when he'd moved Riley to Ashlin Square. In the morning, over breakfast, he announced that they were returning to Sanborn Abbey, posthaste. Over protests and complaints, he held firm, and to his surprise, it had finally been Riley who had calmed the outbursts and instructed the girls to acquiesce to their uncle's orders.
For some reason her acceptance had left him suspicious, but he needn't worry overly much about her- with Hashim guarding them, he knew his family and Riley were by now safely ensconced in the large rambling pile of stone that made up Sanborn Abbey and far from the harm that had threatened her.
Leaving him free to uncover her enemy, and his as well.
He knew there was only one way to protect Riley, and that would be to send her far away-farther than Sanborn Abbey. But that would take money he didn't have.
But he knew how to acquire it, the special license in his pocket weighing his spirits down as much as the thought of never seeing Riley again.
Yes, he told himself, glancing through the plain black domino tied over his face toward his companion for the evening. This was the only way to save Riley.
"What do you think of my costume, Lord Ashlin?" Miss Dahlia Pindar asked. "I spent weeks preparing it."
He forced himself to smile at her shepherdess guise, the frills and ribbons nearly burying the petite girl in a sea of white and china blue clutter. "Quite nice," he managed to say.
Dahlia beamed, while her mother nodded approvingly.
He knew from the carriage ride over, wherein she'd chattered nonstop, that she had designed the costume herself, instructing her modiste on every detail, right down to her shepherd's crook wrapped in blue silk and decorated with white tassels.
Of course, after fifteen minutes of carrying the ridiculous accessory about, she'd demanded he hold it because it had become too burdensome for her delicate constitution.
This was what he had come to-not only was he wearing this infernal mask, he was carrying a tasseled crook. He only hoped Del didn't see him looking like a complete idiot.
He could well imagine what Riley would say at the sight of him. More likely, she wouldn't be able to say anything through a guaranteed fit of laughter.
Worst of all, he suspected that if he were with Riley he wouldn't find the evening such a bore.
And now that the masquerade was building to a crush, Dahlia's fine costume appeared hardly as novel as she had earlier boasted. The room churned with shepherdesses, all stalking about in search of any wayward bachelor they could hook into marriage with their own tasseled crooks.
As another blue and white country lass passed by, Dahlia sniffed at the girl's costume, fluffing her own ribbons and bows as if they were quite superior. "It is so difficult being an Original. Everyone apes you in such an unseemly manner."
Mason knew now he shouldn't have been so hard on Bea for her less than flattering description of the cit 's daughter. His niece had been right: Dahlia had never had an original idea in her life, let alone the fashion sense worthy of copying.
He wondered what Riley would have worn-something daring, something that would have made her an object of desire to every man in the room.
And then he would have escorted her home, jealous of the attentions she'd been paid, and overly proud that she was his and his alone...
But she wasn't his-that position now fell to the girl at his side.
And all that was left was for him to make the appropriate offer and the heiress would be there for the rest of his days.
He glanced down at her and found her looking up at him, her gaze and posture expectant.
She was waiting for him to ask that one simple question.
Will you marry me?
He smiled back at her and then looked away. He could silently practice it all he wanted, but forcing himself to say it out loud was another matter.
Truly, it was only one question, albeit a question that would save his family's future.
As he considered how one did condemn oneself to such a fate, Dahlia gossiped on about this and that, interjecting complaints about the hardships of finding the right lace for another new gown. The girl's self-absorbed prattle continued without any sign of abating, laying Mason's future out before him in a long unending whine.
Evenings not spent in the library reading poetry, arguing Shakespeare, or making up outlandish plots for other plays. Making love in the library, as he would have done with Riley last night, if he hadn't seen those notes.
He stopped himself right there. It wasn't fair to compare Dahlia to Riley, since there was no comparison.
He didn't even try to fool himself that Dahlia would ever be capable of such sensual abandon. Especiallysince Mrs. Pindar had already intimated that she would expect to live with her daughter.Her presence would go far toward diminishing any man's desire or his sanity.Miss Pindar, will you marry me? Mason wondered if any of his ancestors had braved such a frightening prospect, all in the name of securing the Ashlin fortunes, and saving the woman he loved.
"The Ladies Artemis, Athena, and Persephone," the Everton majordomo intoned loudly, announcing the newest arrivals.
A collective gasp stilled the room. The trio paused in a tableau at the top of the stairs, allowing the
moment of silence to interrupt the monotone and continuous announcement of guests.
Very quickly a buzz filled the room until it turned into a groundswell of whispered speculation and betting as to who the beauties behind the masks could be.
If that wasn't bad enough, a rush of young blades, dressed as pirates and cavaliers, and a Romeo or two,
rushed toward the entrance, elbowing each other out of position so they could be the first to claim the trio
's dance cards.Then as the gossips deemed the night couldn't get any better, the trio parted as if on cue, and a fourthlady entered their midst.
"The Lady Aphrodite," the majordomo announced.
Mason froze at the sight of her.
Riley!
A simple gold coronet crowned her unbound wheat-colored hair. Her winter white gown was tied
together at one shoulder, and bound at the waist by a gilt girdle. The silk clung to her body, revealing the splendid shape beneath, while a slit from the floor to her knees offered an indecent peek at her long legs.
Her mask covered her face so effectively that her identity was hidden even from those who rushed forward in unabashed interest to garner a closer look.