Read Online Midnight Masquerade by Joan Smith - Free Book Online

nothing but persuasions brought to bear on her, she twitched guiltily. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”
    “I’m afraid I do not.”
    “How could I refuse when—when I . . .”
    “When you are well over twenty, and no one else offered, you mean?” he goaded.
    “That’s not true! I had plenty of offers my first season.”
    ‘‘But that was many seasons ago.”
    “Plenty since too! Twombley offered last season. And never mind saying he’s an old man, Belami. He’s only ten years older than you.”
    “Yes, dear heart, but I already am ten years your senior, nearly.”
    “Seven years.
    “Seven and a half. Did you have anything to do with this curst robbery? Did you arrange it to embarrass me because I didn’t come to the party?”
    “Certainly not! I was delighted you stayed away.”
    “I would have been here if I’d had the least suspicion of this robbery.”
    “Of course you would. The least aroma of crime or any indecent behavior will always draw you like a fly to carrion, whereas common courtesy to your fiancée and your family are neglected. Birds of a feather roost together,” she finished, flouncing her shoulders.
    Belami listened punctiliously, his face showing no emotion but boredom. When she finished, he asked, “Why does Bidwell dislike his uncle Carswell, do you happen to know?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “The relationship, if I recall aright, is on Lady Carswell’s side. Lady Carswell used to be a Bidwell. She’s dead, of course. Why would Bidwell think he is to get Carswell’s money? Only an in-law sort of relationship.”
    “Pronto knows more about it than I do. Why don’t you ask him? When he’s finished verifying that your mother is still sound asleep, I mean.”
    “You don’t want to marry me, Deirdre, and I don’t want to marry you. That is why I put about the story I was dipped, to call Charney off.”
    “Then why did you offer for me?”
    “Why did you accept?”
    “I claim temporary insanity,” she said. “I have no objection to your sharing the excuse. We are both sane now, however.”
    “You’ve had three weeks of studious neglect. It was enough reason to return you to sanity before now.”
    “I couldn’t jilt you. It would look horrid.”
    “No, it would not much tarnish the glow of rectitude that enshrouds you. Your reputation would benefit from a suggestion of levity, my dear, whereas a gentleman can less easily call off.”
    “Yes, especially when he already has a string of jiltees to his discredit.”
    “I never jilted anyone. A misunderstanding arose between me and Miss Mersey.”
    “The misunderstanding being that she thought a fiancé would call upon her occasionally, and not call on quite so many other ladies.”
    “I meant to be here before midnight last night,” he said in a mildly apologetic tone.
    “Midnight? You knew we arrived three days ago! You should have been waiting for us, as you did not see fit to offer us your escort.”
    “I offered to accompany you.”
    “You knew my aunt wouldn’t let me come alone in a curricle with you. That’s the only reason you offered.”
    “If I am such a dangerous fellow that I couldn’t control my base impulses for a half day in an open carriage, why did she encourage me to dangle after you?”
    “Because she thought a good wife would cure you of your . . . ways.”
    “I am touched by this solicitude on Her Grace’s part, and on your own, as I am left to assume you shared her views. It is misguided solicitude. I have no intention of changing my ways. A ‘good wife’ rarely drives a man to anything but distraction, but I suppose one must appear to accept that you actually believed that bit of impertinent nonsense. I wonder if your concern would have been as great if the sinner did not come with a fortune and title.”
    “Believe what you like—it is immaterial to me—but I tell you now that despite the fortune and the title, I will not marry you. My turning you off at this moment is