The Dangerous Mr. Ryder

‘But in the case I knew of, the man married to get an heir.’

‘Charles has lived, secluded on his Northumberland estate, for eight years, very happily with his lover who, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, is his steward.’

‘Ah.’ Eva thought about it. ‘That makes no difference to me, the thought of the title.’

‘Good.’ Bel beamed back. ‘But it might to Sebastian, don’t you think? Only he would never mention it, because he is so loyal to Charles.’

‘So you think I should just find him and…propose?’ It sounded the most frightening thing she had ever done. She could not imagine what it would feel like if he said yes.

‘I think that I will inveigle him into escorting me to Lady Letheringsett’s masked ball the day after tomorrow, and if you cannot find an excuse to carry him off and do the deed, then I wash my hands of the pair of you.’

‘But I am not invited…’ Bel with a plan was proving every bit as hard to resist as her brother.

‘Then come and let me present her to you. She’ll have arrived by now, I have no doubt. She’ll invite you, never fear.’

‘But if Jack finds out, he won’t come.’

‘Trust me.’ Bel grinned. ‘I will tell him at length how disappointed I am that the fascinating Grand Duchess Eva has declined! He will feel quite safe. Now, let’s see if we can fix your feathers.’

‘Don’t you have to dress up?’ Freddie enquired, obviously disappointed. He was perched on the edge of Eva’s bed, watching while Fettersham dressed her hair to accommodate the half-mask she was to wear.

‘No, just masks. It isn’t a masquerade with fancy dress, but there will be a grand unmasking at midnight.’

The mask was pretty, she decided, holding it up so the dresser could thread the ribbons back into her coiffure to hold it securely. It was covered in tiny golden brown feathers, making her eyes seem a richer, deeper brown in its shadows.

Her gown was amber gauze over bronze silk, the neckline swooping low to expose the swell of her breasts and a generous décolletage. Eva was dressing for Jack tonight. Since that first night he had never seen her in anything but practical clothes. This was going to be a revelation.

‘Jewellery, ma’am?’ Fettersham proffered the selection the jewellers had sent. Diamonds, of course, or citrines or amber to match the dress. Eva hesitated, then chose diamonds set in gold with a diamond aigrette for her hair. She glowed, as she intended to, an offering to a man whose scruples must be overcome. She had seduced him once, on his own turf, now, on hers, the world of ballrooms and etiquette, she felt her confidence building. He would say yes, she had to believe it.

‘Mr Ryder will like that gown,’ Freddie said confidently. ‘I think you look very pretty.’

‘Why, thank you.’ Eva stared at her son as his words penetrated. ‘Why do you think Mr Ryder will be there to see it?’

Freddie sucked his cheeks in and managed to look like a cheeky angel. ‘You are all fluttery, Mama.’

‘Impudent child,’ she scolded. ‘Off to bed with you!’

Fluttery, indeed! The little wretch could read her like a book, even if he did not know the first thing about the relationships between men and women. Just like his papa, she thought. Louis had always been able to read her mind—except when he chose not to for his own ends, like that dreadful day in the vaults. She sincerely hoped her innocent son had not the slightest inkling of the sort of things that flitted through her mind when she thought of Jack.

‘What a fabulous gown!’ Lady Bel pounced on Eva as soon as she had entered the ballroom. ‘And such a lovely mask—I wouldn’t have known it was you if I hadn’t been looking out very carefully. It is so nice to be out of mourning, although I shall be in such trouble if Mama finds out. I have four more weeks to go, really.’ She swept Eva down one side of the crowded ballroom, ignoring the chattering throng, the men with their quizzing glasses scrutinising every masked lady, the towering floral displays and the glittering lights.

‘Is this not a brilliant idea of mine?’ Bel congratulated herself as they arrived in a slightly quieter semi-alcove. ‘Because of the masks, no one is announced, so he will not have the slightest suspicion.’

‘Where is he?’ Eva craned to see. It appeared hopeless, then the crowd moved and there, leaning one shoulder against the pillar opposite, was a tall, dark-haired man in severe evening black, his mask a plain black slash across his face, his white linen the only relief from the starkness. She would have known him anywhere, and known, too, that, despite the relaxed half-smile on his lips, the casual attitude, he did not want to be here, that this evening was a penance undertaken to give his sister pleasure.

‘I left him there and made him swear to wait for me,’ Bel explained. ‘There is a retiring room right behind that curtain, and the key is in the lock.’

‘Do you know the location of every retiring room in London?’ Eva asked, amused despite her tension. ‘You make me suspect you have numerous outrageous flirtations.’

Bel coloured. ‘I am boringly chaste—and unchased,’ she said lightly. ‘Go on, he is all yours. And good luck!’

Eva skirted round to approach Jack from behind. She paused, studying him. His hair had been cut since he got back; she could glimpse the whiter skin at his nape, and the memory of how that skin had felt under her fingers, against her mouth, took her breath.

There was so much noise with voices raised in conversation and the orchestra just trying its first few chords that she knew he could not have heard the soft tap of her slippers on the parquet floor, but as she reached the point where she could have stretched out and touched him, he pushed himself away from the wall and turned.

‘You.’ He kept his voice low, but it reached her none the less. His whole body was poised to move, the tension she had sensed on the quayside in Lyon was vibrating through him. He had hardly had to look at her and he knew her.

‘Jack…’ Eva held out her hand, but he did not take it. ‘I need to talk with you.’