My Fake Rake

“Not very sturdy plumage.” He plucked at his cream-colored waistcoat. “Can’t keep out a brisk wind and far from waterproof.”

“As a species, the English aristocrat is very poorly equipped for withstanding variances in climate and habitat.” She tried not to feel too much pride that she’d managed to actually chat with him without sounding completely foolish.

They smiled at each other, and it was strange . . . her heart didn’t precisely throb with pleasure from their conversation. Still, she was left with a soft glow that came only from communicating with a like-minded soul.

But her pleasure held an edge, faintly cutting, and after a moment, she said, “You’ve done your due diligence, so now I liberate you.”

“How do you mean?” He tilted his head.

“Obliging our host. You’ve talked to me for a sufficient length of time, so you’re free to search out other companions.”

Mason’s brow furrowed. “A poor opinion of your company.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Fredericks,” she heard herself say, “but until quite recently, you yourself seemed disinclined to engage with me in any realm outside of the scientific. My opinion of myself is as fixed and assured as ever. Your perception is the only thing that has altered.”

Good God—where had that come from? She almost stammered an apology, taken aback by the sudden vehemence of her words. After all, Mason had only done as he was supposed to.

Yet resentment bubbled up acidly within her. Shouldn’t someone take an interest in her on the basis of who she was, rather than who they believed her to be? Yet that was precisely what she had done, and couldn’t help but feel some regret that she’d set her sights on someone who needed to be shown—by another man—that she was worthwhile.

The machine, however, was in motion, and she’d set out to ease her father’s worry for her future. No turning back now.

“Entirely correct.” Mason lowered his gaze, and a shadow passed over his face. “I must own my foolishness. There is no excuse but my ridiculous blindness. All I can do is ask for your forgiveness now, and pray that you and I might move forward as not just colleagues, but friends.”

Tendrils of her indignation dissolved—though it would take more than a few contrite words to soothe the hurt caused by his disregard.

Still. “We may be friends,” she said.

“Brilliant.” His smile was wide and appeared sincere. “If it isn’t too presumptuous, might I prevail upon you to remember your assurance from the other day that we might share a dance together.”

“I’d be delighted.”

How very curious. She combed through her emotions, hunting down that spinning exhilaration she usually felt whenever she was near Mason. Yet all she could muster was a gentle lift of pleasure—a far cry from the dizzying heights she expected.

What the deuce is wrong with me? I’m getting what I want.

A thrum of excitement went through the room, and while the music and conversation didn’t stop, there was a brief pause as though the guests awaited something truly incredible.

“His Grace, the Duke of Rotherby. Mr. Sebastian Holloway.”

She slowly turned to face the entrance to the ballroom. True to the butler’s announcement, there stood the duke, who was, she supposed, absurdly handsome. But she barely spared Rotherby a glance. Instead, her gaze fixed on Sebastian as if the possibility of looking anywhere else was unbearable.

And there went her heart, pounding as though it meant to leap from her chest, while she nearly stumbled from the force of pleasure at seeing Sebastian in his stark, almost severe, evening attire. His coat was a green so dark as to be nearly black, while the rest of his ensemble was a symphony of cream and white.

I wish he’d stop doing this. Making me giddy just from looking at him.

If he felt any anxiousness from being at the ball and being amongst so many strangers, his expression gave none of that away. She hoped he felt calm and relaxed—most especially for his own sake. She didn’t want him in distress.

“A good chap, that Holloway,” Mason said, clearly unaware of the direction of her thoughts. “Saw him yesterday at the Imperial Theatre and we had a fine chat.”