Read Online The Madcap Masquerade by Nadine Miller - Free Book Online Page A

happy to see you, as well, my lord.” Sentimental tears puddled in Sophie’s huge, brown eyes. “I can’t tell you how pleased—and surprised—I was to receive your gracious invitation.”
    Invitation! Theo stared at her, mouth agape. He’d left the compiling of the guest list to his efficient man-of-affairs with instructions that cards should be directed to everyone of consequence within a twenty-mile radius. He groaned. Now that he thought of it, the widow of a county alderman would be one of those favored individuals.
    Why hadn’t he thought to check that list before the invitations were delivered? More to the point, why hadn’t Sophie had the sense to decline an invitation which was obviously issued by mistake? Damn the woman! This embarrassing bumblebroth was all her fault.
    With sinking heart, he saw the squire approaching—a smile on his florid face, his daughter on his arm. There was naught for it but to pretend nothing was amiss and make the proper introductions. Theo cleared his throat. “Miss Barrington—Squire, may I present Mrs. Sophie Whitcomb, the widow of our late alderman.”
    The squire turned a baleful eye on Sophie. “Already met the silly chit a hundred times in the village, ye looby,” he grumbled. “This ain’t London, ye know.”
    Miss Barrington was a bit more gracious. Her smile was sweetness itself. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, Mrs. Whitcomb, since I rarely visit the village.” Her remarkable cat eyes narrowed. “However, I’ve heard so much about you, I feel as if I know you very well.”
    Theo held his breath as Sophie made a sound halfway between a nervous giggle and a hiccup. “Don’t believe all you hear, Miss Barrington. People around here are given to exaggeration.”
    “As are people everywhere,” Miss Barrington agreed, with a sage nod of her head. “You must come for tea at Barrington Hall some day soon, Mrs. Whitcomb. I am certain we would find much of interest to chat about.”
    The roses in Sophie’s cheeks instantly paled to a sickly white and Theo felt the color drain from his own face as well, until it occurred to him that Miss Barrington must not know who Sophie was. No proper young lady would invite her betrothed’s mistress, or indeed any man’s mistress, to drink tea with her.
    The squire, on the other hand, turned an angry purple that rivaled Sophie’s outlandish dress. “Invite the jade to tea? In a pig’s eye,” he muttered and seizing his daughter by the arm, headed for the pre-arranged spot near the musicians’ platform where the engagement announcement was to be made.
    Theo watched Miss Barrington’s rigid, emerald-clad figure disappear into the crowd ringing the dance floor and found himself struck by a sobering thought. The two most colorfully—and inappropriately—gowned females in the entire room were his current mistress and his future wife. He wondered if that said something about his taste in women.
    “I’ll speak to you later, Sophie,” he said grimly. “I have other business I must attend to right now.”
    “Oh! Well, if you must.” Her plump, white fingers clutched at his sleeve. “I was hoping to have one dance with you, Theo. I should like it ever so much.” The roses bloomed again in her cheeks. “We’ve done just about everything else together, but we’ve never danced.”
    The idea was so preposterous, Theo couldn’t bring himself to dignify it with an answer. He simply turned his back on his soon to be ex-mistress and walked away. He could feel her puzzled gaze follow him as he collected his mother and wound his way through the crowd to where the squire and Miss Barrington waited. Determinedly, he shrugged off his brief twinge of guilt at the thought of her apparent bewilderment. If Sophie chose to be dense, she would simply have to live with the consequences.
     
    Maeve had always had a quick temper, but she couldn’t remember ever having felt a rage equal to that which consumed her at the