Dangerous Masquerade (Regency Masquerade)

“So you planned for us to meet after the masquerade?”

Another nod.

“Why Lord Arden?”

“We only met a few times, but we moved in similar circles. On the few occasions we did meet, he impressed me.” At her skeptical look, he added, “And everything I have found out about him since confirms my belief that he is suitable.”

“I remember now. In the portrait gallery, he said you looked familiar.” Ria added in a frosty tone, “That was just before you tried to hit him with a vase.”

Things still didn’t make sense. How could Monty have known they would meet again, let alone enter into a liaison? “I still don’t understand. I encountered him by chance in the cemetery; you couldn’t have known that would happen. How did you expect us to meet after the masquerade?”

“That was a fortunate coincidence.” Monty paused, then shook his head. “In some ways. I know you were uncomfortable seeing him so soon, but it happened, so I took advantage of it. I made sure he found out about your movements. However, the original plan was for us to go to London for the season once your mourning period was over. There you would have met him once again.”

Monty ran his fingers through his snow-white hair. “As for whether you would develop a tendre for him—my dear, I am a ghost. I know more than you may think. In the unlikely event I was wrong, well…” Monty shrugged. “There are other gentlemen that would be suitable for you, but I will admit he was my first choice. Not least of all because when you were eleven you said you were going to marry him.” He smiled at her expression, “You thought I’d forgotten that? I hadn’t.”

He looked at her, his gaze piercing and intent. “The main thing is I will not allow you to bury yourself in the country for the rest of your life. Your attendance at the masquerade was part of that plan.”

Before she could respond, Monty asked her, “Why are you so upset? I would have thought you’d be pleased.”

Ria asked herself the same question. Why indeed?

She rubbed her aching neck. Since Monty’s death, she had come to feel more in control of her life, and she enjoyed that feeling. Until now, she had believed Luc had been her choice. Hers alone. Now she found Monty had manipulated events.

Once again she was a puppet with strings attached, albeit invisibly. So much for thinking she had autonomy. Well, she would be a puppet no more. Mentally she snipped the strings.

Sick and tired of shilly-shallying, she made a number of decisions in rapid succession. Not giving herself time to think further, she said. “I think it’s time I admit defeat. I’m going to release the earl from our engagement.

Bracing herself for the argument she knew would follow her next statement, she added, “I won’t be here when he comes. In fact, I won’t even be in the district. I’m going to visit the farm my cousin left me.”

She was surprised to see Monty’s face pale. She hadn’t thought that was possible with a ghost.

“Ria! No! That’s out of the question.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but my mind is made up. I have to go.”

Monty looked at her helplessly. “My dear, I can’t go there. I won’t be able to aid you, to protect you if you should have need.”

As she shook her head, he added desperately, “If you must go away, then go somewhere I have been. What about the London town house? That would suit.”

Again she shook her head. “Sir, there is no need for you to concern yourself about protecting me. Geoffrey has gone to Ireland.”

Seeing the real concern on Monty’s face, she gently told him, “I believe it’s important I go. We have to face the possibility that the earl may realize what I have done. He may not understand and could tell Geoffrey or a magistrate.”

She thought the latter unlikely, but it was possible and she needed to make plans. “If we are fortunate, the ladies and I will be able to live at the farm, and it will be profitable enough to support us. I need to ensure their welfare.”

As Monty began to speak, she held up her hand. “My mind is made up. I am going to forget about the Earl of Arden and get on with my life.”

With that, she walked out of the room, her back ramrod stiff, her steps quick and decisive.

Sighing deeply, Monty watched her leave. “We shall see about that,” he muttered. “I haven’t got this far just to give up.”

Ria watched as her lady’s maid flitted about the room, packing the trunks.

Now she had decided on a course of action, she felt better—somewhat apprehensive but not so miserable. She felt more in control, and having a task to accomplish provided a welcome distraction.

“Mary.”

Her maid looked up at the sound of her name.