Read Online Regency Masquerade by Joan Smith - Free Book Online

female. And if that were not enough to confuse Solomon, she had apologized after and asked if he still wanted to see her tomorrow. He decided he must be as mad as Lady Crieff—because he was eager for their date.
    After Hartly had thought about that odd episode, he began to feel some concern for Ponsonby, who had been bragging about his full pockets. Stanby might relieve him of that thousand pounds.
    Mott came to the door of the adjoining room. “Well, what happened?” he asked.
    Hartly had to think a moment before he realized Mott was inquiring about Stanby.
    “He let me win a few pounds tonight,” he replied. “We have a private game fixed for tomorrow night. That is when we’ll make our move. A fellow called Ponsonby arrived. He was completely foxed.” He told Mott about the man, adding his concern that Stanby might fleece him.
    “I shall take a nip down and see he is all right,” Mott said. “This troublesome master of mine wants a posset at half past midnight. A valet’s work is never done.”
    He was just about to open the door when he heard someone walking briskly down the hall. He let the man pass, then opened the door a crack. Hartly went to take a peek as well. It was Ponsonby. He was not drunk at all but walking in a straight, purposeful way. Hartly was seized with the notion that he was heading for Lady Crieff’s room. He watched, but Ponsonby continued past her door to his own room. Another mysterious guest at the Owl House Inn.
     

Chapter Six
     
    By morning, word of Lady Crieff’s interesting history had begun to seep out. Moira did not see how it was possible, for the maids had not been in to read the clippings, but she knew it as soon as they entered the Great Room for breakfast. All eyes turned to her; after the first telltale hush, a low murmur broke out.
    Major Stanby, who was just leaving the room, bowed and said, “Good morning, Lady Crieff, Sir David,” with a new warmth. “A lovely day. I hear Bullion is having a small rout party this evening here in the Great Room. Not what you are accustomed to at Penworth, but perhaps you will honor us with your presence?”
    “A party! I should love it, of all things!” she replied.
    “You will save a dance for me?”
    “But of course, Major. I look forward to it.”
    “Can I go?” Jonathon asked eagerly. “You know Papa said I could when I turned sixteen, Lady Crieff.”
    “Lawks, you are much too young. But then there will be no one here to see. Oh, Major! How shocking of me. You will be here,” she said, simpering. “But you will forgive me if I am a trifle lenient with the lad. We have both had such a dull scald of it since Sir Aubrey died that we are eager for a little fling.”
    “No harm in it.” The major smiled leniently. “With such rakes as Ponsonby present, you will require Sir David as a chaperon.”
    “I ain’t a chaperon!” Jonathon exclaimed. “That is ladies’ work. I am Lady Crieff’s escort.” On that bold speech he took Moira’s arm and led her to the table.
    Mr. Ponsonby was not slow to approach them. “I come hanging my head in shame, Lady Crieff,” he said. His head was indeed lowered humbly, but his bold lips were grinning. “I have it from all quarters that I behaved abominably last evening.”
    “So you did, sir,” she replied, with a pert glance. “You called me a wench!”
    “It was the brandy speaking. I place half the blame in your own dish. No lady has the right to be so deuced pretty.”
    “Take care, sir,” she replied, peering at him from the corners of her eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
    “I do not wish to be anywhere—except at your feet.”
    She gave a careless laugh. “Run along, Mr. Ponsonby. Every dog has his bite. You are forgiven this time, but I shall expect you to behave yourself in future.”
    He lifted her hand and placed an ardent kiss on her fingers. “An angel—merciful as well as beautiful. Dare I push my luck further and ask if you will give me a