Passion for the Game

Chapter 9

As they waited in the line of carriages approaching the Campion manse, Maria breathed in and out with a measured rhythm. Every bump in the road brought her such pain she felt nauseous. The constriction of her corset did not help matters and the weight of her elaborate hair arrangement made her neck ache.

Simon sat across from her, his garments far more casual, his gaze glittering in the semidarkness created by the turned-down carriage lamps.

“I will be waiting for you,” he murmured.

“Thank you.”

“Despite the circumstances, you look ravishing.”

She managed a wan smile. “Thankfully, Welton and I never speak for long. I anticipate a half hour, though the actual assignation may take up a bit more time than that.”

“I will send a footman after you if an hour passes. You will be called away. Say it is St. John who seeks your company.”

“Lovely.”

The carriage rattled over the cobblestones of the circular drive and then stopped again. This time the door was pulled open and her footman extended his hand to assist her down. He was careful, but not obviously so. Maria rewarded his concern with a soft smile, then she took the steps and entered the manse.

The subsequent wait in the receiving line was torture, as was managing to sound gay when speaking to the beaming Campions. It was with great relief that she was freed from the formalities, and with a quick adjustment of her feathered half-mask, she entered the crowded ballroom.

Her lovely gown of pale pink with its silver ribbons and lace was hidden beneath her black domino. Nothing she owned was capable of hiding her injury, leaving her no other recourse. Because of her lack of options, Maria wore her garments with aplomb, but kept a discreet profile. She moved carefully around the perimeter of the room, weaving between guests, sending out a silent signal to stay away that, thankfully, was effective.

Her gaze drifted from one side of the vast space to the other, searching for Welton. Overhead, three massive chandeliers were ablaze with countless candles, lighting up the ornate ceiling with its elaborate moldings and colorful murals. The orchestra played and guests spun about on the dance floor in a profusion of lace, impressively styled coiffures, and floral fabrics. Numerous conversations coalesced into a single hum of sound, the noise somewhat soothing because it meant that no one was paying attention to her.

Maria was beginning to think she might survive the excursion when she was bumped by a careless guest. Pain lanced down her left side and she gasped, her body turning away in self-defense.

“Forgive me,” a low voice said behind her.

Spinning to face the offending person, she found herself standing before a man whose eyes widened as if he knew her.

“Sedgewick!” a portly man called out. Maria knew him to be Lord Pearson, a man who spoke and imbibed far too much. Since she had no wish to speak to him or to be delayed by an introduction to the graceless Sedgewick, she hurried away.

It was then that she saw him, her faithless paramour, his golden hair glinting beneath the candlelight, his powerful form resplendent in cream silk accented by beautiful embroidery. Despite the mask that hid his features, she knew it was Christopher. He was leaning over a dark-haired woman attentively, his pose betraying his affection.

His promise of exclusive use was a lie.

The throbbing in her shoulder faded as a different feeling of hurt took over.

“Ah, there you are.” Welton’s voice behind her made her stiffen. “Must I send the modiste to you again?” he asked as she turned to face him. “Have you nothing more fetching to wear?”

“What do you want?”

“And why are you so bloody pale?”

“New powder. You do not find it attractive?” She batted her lashes at him. “I think it shows my patches and rouge to better advantage.”

He snorted. “No, I do not like it. Throw it out. You look sickly.”

“You wound me.”

Welton’s glare spoke volumes. “Your worth in this world is based entirely upon your appearance. I would not be so quick to devalue it.”

His insult affected her not at all. “What do you want?” she repeated.

“To make an introduction.” His smile made her skin crawl. “Come along.” He collected her right hand and led her away.

After a few moments of silence while traversing through the crush, Maria found the courage to ask, “How is Amelia?”

The examining glance he threw over his shoulder revealed a great deal. He did not discount her as a possible instigator of the recent attack. “Wonderful.”

She hadn’t truly expected that he would rule her involvement out. Still, her spirits plummeted as she realized how he would respond. Security would be tighter, his movements more wary. Her work to find her sister would be harder.

“Ah,” Welton murmured, his tone smug. “There he is.” He jerked his chin toward the man who stood a few feet away. Maria knew to whom he referred despite the crowd because of the intensity of the stare directed at her from the eyes of the mask. The man leaned insolently against the wall, his long legs crossed at the ankle, his pose seductively arrogant.

“The Earl of Eddington,” she breathed. A libertine of the first water. Handsome, wealthy, titled, and reputed to be quite accomplished in every activity he set his mind to-including bedsport.

Coming to an abrupt halt, Maria released Welton’s arm and turned to face him with a scowl. “What the devil do you want with him?”

“He asked for an introduction.”

“You know very well what he wants.”

Welton’s smile widened. “And he would pay handsomely for it. If you decide to indulge, it would line your purse nicely.”

“Have you fallen into debt so soon?” she snapped.

“No, no. But my expenditures are about to increase, which means your allotted share of Winter’s settlement is about to decrease. I thought you would appreciate my assistance in shoring up your finances.”

Stepping closer, she lowered her voice, a gambit that did nothing to hide her revulsion. “I appreciate nothing about you.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, ungrateful child,” he said smoothly. He lifted his hands in mock defensiveness, but nothing could add warmth to those vacuous eyes. “I am facilitating an introduction, not a tryst.”

She glanced at Eddington and he bowed slightly, his mouth curved in a smile that had brought ruin to many women. Besides making her teeth grit together, it did nothing for her. “You pulled me away from St. John for this?”

“I saw St. John,” he dismissed. “He is besotted. A night without you will only increase his enchantment.”

Snorting, Maria applauded St. John’s ability to deceive. Of course, Welton preferred to see things in the most beneficial light, which was not always the way things actually were.

“Do not glare at me,” he admonished. “It is not attractive.” He sighed as if dealing with an unreasonable child. “It is the hint of your unavailability and insatiability that makes you so sought after. Why do you think I allow you to keep that Irish lover of yours? If he did not increase your appeal I would have rid you of him long ago.”

It took her a moment to rein in the fury that gripped her at his carelessly tossed threat to Simon. Finally, she was able to say, “Shall we move along with this, then? I’ve no wish to be here all night.”

“You truly must learn to enjoy yourself more,” Welton murmured, reclaiming her hand.

“I will enjoy myself well enough when you are dead,” she retorted.

Her stepfather viscount threw his head back and laughed.

“This is a palace,” Angelica whispered, her eyes wide behind her mask.

“The peerage lives well,” Christopher agreed, searching the room for Sedgewick.

“You are wealthier than most.”

He looked at her with a slight smile. “Are you suggesting a man with my proclivities live in something so ostentatious?”

“Perhaps it is not the most practical-”

He lifted a hand to cut her off. “Coin can be put to much worthier uses. What use have I for ballrooms? More ships and lackeys would benefit us better.”

Angelica sighed and shook her head. “You should try to enjoy life more. You work too much.”

“That is why I am wealthier than most.” He pulled her to the edge of the room and began to stroll. “I appreciate how unique this evening is for you, but we are wasting too much time. The longer we dally, the higher the risk of discovery.”

They were attracting attention he did not want. There was no help for it. Angelica was lovely, and he had mistakenly attended without a wig. He had hoped the lack would facilitate Sedgewick finding him. Instead, he feared everyone recognized him except for the one man he sought.

As his gaze continued to roam across the room, Christopher noted those who shielded their identities with dominos and wished he had done the same. Of course, what he truly wished for was to be elsewhere. Anywhere but here, but most especially with Maria.

He paused a moment, his attention caught by Lord Welton and the female with whom he conversed. Her shoulders were set rigidly, her chin lifted high. Whatever they were discussing, it was not pleasing to her.

Philip was actively searching the viscount’s past, but such inquiries took time. Christopher could be supremely patient when necessary. However, this time, he felt a peculiar urgency to know all that he could about his current paramour.

“Beth says Lord Welton is charming, though he is sometimes too rough with her.” Angelica’s gaze followed his.

“Welton is self-centered in all things, love. I’ve spoken with Bernadette. She will see to it that Welton takes his darker urges away from our Beth.”

“She told me you gave her leave to be done with him.”

Christopher shrugged. “I am not a purveyor of flesh, as you well know. I will ask for favors, but I will not force them. If Beth is unhappy, I would not want her to remain that way.” He looked back at the man in question and then paused midstep, the hairs on his nape rippling with awareness.

The woman speaking with the viscount struck a deep chord of recognition. She was of familiar stature. The glossy, upswept hair and determined cant of her bearing made his heart rate pick up.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, inwardly certain that Welton was speaking with Maria. He was, however, a man who required absolute proof.

He stepped forward again, his pace as rapid as the crush would allow. He ceased looking for Sedgewick, instead focusing on finding the best viewing angle to confirm his suspicions. Welton began moving forward again, pulling the woman with him, leading her toward…

Christopher looked ahead of them slightly and found a man who stared boldly at the pair. The Earl of Eddington. A man widely pursued by women of all ages for both his title and lauded fine features.

By God, was it Maria’s intent to speak with him? Was that who she intended to lure to the altar? Eddington was a perennial bachelor, but Maria could tempt a monk to break his vows. Her allure was a point of wager, with many freely admitting that the excitement of marriage to such a woman would outweigh the risks to their longevity.

The thought made his jaw tighten.

Increasing his pace further, Christopher was nearly plunging through the thick crowd, Angelica bringing up the rear and clinging desperately to his hand. He was almost close enough to attempt a proper identification when his path was suddenly blocked.

“Move,” he growled, craning his neck to keep Welton in view.

“In a rush?” Sedgewick drawled.

Christopher cursed under his breath, watching Eddington lift the woman’s gloved hand to his lips before leading her away.

Leaving Christopher and his desperate curiosity behind.

“Lady Winter,” Eddington murmured, his dark eyes locked to Maria’s as he kissed the back of her hand. “A pleasure.”

She managed a brief smile. “Lord Eddington.”

“How is it that we have not managed to speak before now?”

“You are quite sought after, my lord, leaving you scarcely any time to waste on one such as me.”

“Time with a woman so lovely could never be a waste.” He studied her carefully. “If you would indulge me a moment, I wish to speak with you in private.”

Maria shook her head. “I cannot think of anything we would say to each other that could not be said here.”

“You think I mean to ravish you?” he asked with a half smile that was quite charming. “What if I promise to stand arm’s distance away?”

“I am still declining.”

He leaned closer and his voice lowered to a whisper. “The agency has become quite interested in you, Lady Winter.” His face was impassive as if he had commented on nothing more shocking than the weather.

Maria’s gaze narrowed.

“Would you consent to speak privately with me now?” he asked.

Unable to do otherwise, she nodded and allowed him to lead her out of the ballroom and down a long hall. They passed a number of guests as they went, but the crowd thinned the farther away they traveled. Finally, they turned a corner and with a quickly tossed glance over his shoulder to be certain they weren’t followed, Eddington pulled her into a darkened room.

It took a moment for Maria’s eyes to adjust to the reduced light. Once she could see, she realized they were in a large sitting room populated with a number of settees, chairs, and side tables.

“What are you?” she asked, turning to face him as he shut the door with a soft click of the latch. His pearl gray garments melded in and out of the shadows, but his eyes caught the pale moonlight and glittered dangerously.

“After the deaths of agents Dayton and Winter,” he said, ignoring her question, “you came under suspicion of treason.”

Swallowing hard, Maria was grateful for the darkness that hid any telltale sign of guilt. “I know.”

“And you remain a suspect,” he continued.

“What do you want?” She lowered into a nearby wingback chair.

“I was speaking with Lady Smythe-Gleason last evening. She briefly mentioned seeing you conversing with Christopher St. John at a recent gathering at Harwick House.”

“Oh? I converse with many people. I forget most of them.”

“She said the heat between you was palpable.”

Maria snorted.

Eddington took the seat opposite her. “The disappearance of the witness against St. John precipitated his release. The agency suspects St. John is to blame, but I think it was someone within. An agent either aligned with the pirate, or one who wished to use the informant as a leverage. The man was too well guarded. St. John is accomplished, but even he has his limits.”

“If the agency suspects St. John, may I assume that you are alone in your suspicions about another agent?”

“You should worry less about my interests and more about your own.”

“What are you saying?”

“You could use a…friend within the agency. And I could use a friend of St. John’s. That makes us uniquely suited.”

“You wish to use me to learn information from St. John?” she asked incredulously. “Are you jesting?”

“At the moment, you and St. John are the two most closely examined individuals on the agency’s list of most wanted criminals-you for the suspected killings of two well-respected agents, and the pirate for a variety of sins.”

Maria could not decide whether she wished to laugh or cry. How had her life come to this? What would her parents think if they could see how far she had fallen?

Eddington leaned forward, setting his forearms on his knees. “Welton arranged both of your marriages, and saw a marked increase in his fortunes after your husbands’ deaths. He was quick to introduce you to me after I settled his markers the other evening. Your stepfather has quite a mercenary interest in you. Winter said the same to me once.”

“I fail to see why that is of any interest to you.”

“You know what I believe?” he said softly. “I believe Welton has something he is holding against you, something he has used to gain your cooperation. I can free you from him. I do not expect you to help me without any benefit.”

“Why me?” she asked herself wearily, her gloved hands stroking absentmindedly along the edge of her domino. “What have I done to deserve this misery?”

“The question, I believe, is what haven’t you done?”

How true that was.

“Ascertain what happened to the witness,” he urged, “and I will secure your freedom from both the agency and Welton.”

“Perhaps my soul is black as sin, and I will sell word of your curiosity to the men you seek.” Sometimes, she wished she had no soul. She suspected her life would be much easier if she were as conscienceless as the men who used her.

“It is a risk I am willing to take.”

The earl waited a moment and then rose to his feet. He held out his hand to her. “Think on it. I will call on you tomorrow as an ardent swain and you may give me your answer then.”

Resigned, Maria placed her hand in his.

“My lord,” Christopher greeted tightly. “Lady Winter, may I present to you Lord Sedgewick. My lord, the incomparable Lady Winter.”

Angelica dipped into a lovely curtsy as Sedgewick bowed.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” the viscount said. “I apologize again for my carelessness earlier.”

Christopher stilled a brief moment. What were the odds?

“Please forgive me,” Sedgewick continued when Angelica said nothing.

Maintaining his composure, Christopher lifted a finger to his lips in a gesture that conveyed silence. “Lady Winter is incognito this evening, my lord. You understand, perhaps, how that enlivens the festivities.”

“Ah, of course.” Sedgewick’s smile was broad and smug, his shoulders held back with cocky pride. “I applaud your decision to discard the domino, my lady. A gown as lovely as yours should not be hidden.”

Maria was here. “If you will excuse us, my lord.”

Sedgewick lifted Angelica’s hand to his lips, said some platitudes to which Christopher paid no mind, and then the viscount stepped out of the way.

Freed from his lone duty for the evening, Christopher pulled Angelica out of the ballroom and strode swiftly down a long hall. He had no notion if he was heading in the right direction to find the woman in the black domino or not, but it was the way to the rear garden. From there, Angelica could skirt the house to the front, where she would await him in the coach.

“Thank you, love,” he said, kissing her cheek before seeing her out a set of French doors. He whistled low, calling his men who surrounded the perimeter of the manse to watch her safely to his carriage. Then he turned about…

…in time to see Welton’s companion emerge from a room with Lord Eddington exiting directly behind her. That they’d had a liaison was obvious.

More secrets. Would there be more lies?

Christopher took a risk and called out. “Maria.”

The woman lifted her chin and untied her mask, revealing the features he craved to look upon. She met his gaze directly.

“Enjoying your evening?” she asked coldly, every inch the Wintry Widow.

Apparently, she had seen him with Angelica and did not like it. Good.

He removed his own mask, allowing her an unhindered view of his own displeasure. He waited for her explanation.

Instead, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Enraged, he gave chase.