Read Online Lady in the Stray by Maggie MacKeever - Free Book Online Page B

waiter to serve the wines, an ex-pugilist to soothe any gentleman grown peevish as result of his ill luck?
    None of the gentlemen flocked around Minette were peevish, at any rate, which had more to do with that damsel herself than with the spin of the E.O. stand. Minette had done an excellent job this evening of complying with current fashion, the general aim of which was to seem as near-naked as possible, as result of which Paris this winter had been stricken with an epidemic of influenza known commonly as the “muslin disease.” The skirt of her classical gown boasted a flounce, the bodice a low neckline and high waist, and there was precious little in between. Her dark hair was frizzed lightly on front and sides, the remainder twisted round the back of her head in a double chignon and fastened with a comb. Minette looked positively delicious, and deserved every speck of the attention she received.
    Gratifying as that attention was, Minette didn’t allow it to go to her head. Even as she watched the gyrations of the little E.O ball, Minette was aware of what went on around her. There were no Greeks at Mountjoy House, or Captain Sharps, or fuzzed cards. Even Marmaduke himself, despite his myriad sins, had never been accused of fleecing unfledged ensigns of the Guards or French émigrés.
    Minette was particularly aware of Lord Stirling, who was one of the new faces to appear upon the reopening of the gaming rooms. A handsome face it was, if most often contorted into a grimace evocative of thunderstorm.
    Minette could only conjecture as to what had brought Stirling to Mountjoy House. His purpose seemed more certain. From the determination and skill with which he played, she concluded he meant to break the faro bank.
    As Minette pondered how to avert this disaster, she glimpsed a figure and countenance much more familiar than she liked. She gestured to a servant to take over the E.O. stand and, amid a disappointed male chorus, fled.
    Flight availed her little, save that he accosted her in the hallway instead of in a crowded room. Minette winced as his hand fell upon her arm. “La vache! Is it necessary that you startle me half out of my wits, Edouard?”
    He was a slender, pale man, effete in appearance, with hooded eyes and hair as dark as her own. “So I startled you, petite? A thousand pardons. I had the oddest notion that you sought to avoid me—foolish, was it not? Of course I was in error. You could not have cause to avoid the sole remaining member of your family, no?”
    She wrinkled her mischievous little nose. “I don’t know what you are talking about. You’re hurting my arm, Edouard.”
    Though he did not release her, the force of his grip eased. “You are in looks, ma cocotte. I confess it pleases me beyond measure to find you are still here. I was concerned as to what would become of you following the so-untimely demise of your benefactor.” His lips drew back into a humorless smile. “How tragic, had you been cast out. But as usual you contrive to feather your nest. What a very enterprising family ours is, to be sure.”
    “Mais oui,” Minette responded drily. “As evidenced by yourself. It was your enterprise from which Marmaduke rescued me, if you have forgot. Now that he is dead, you make free of his house.”
    Still Edouard wore that strangely chilling smile. “Did you expect that your benefactor would arise from his grave to deny me his door? Ungrateful Minette! You wound me with your suspicions. I came only to assure myself that you are well.”
    Minette didn’t argue, although she knew beyond question that no concern for her welfare had brought Edouard to Mountjoy House. Edouard’s concern was wholly for himself, his only use for others his own potential gain.
    Through narrowed eyes, Minette viewed her kinsman, who was resplendent in coat and waistcoat and breeches of, respectively, black and white and sage green. His coat was smartly cut, with high collar and scarcely any skirts; his very