Page 6

Chapter Six

Baiting the Trap

“T hat man is terrifyingly handsome. And, in truth, just terrifying,” Charlotte whispered as they ducked into an alcove to avoid being spotted by Mr. Nutter.

“If he’s so terrifying why in heaven’s name did you throw my dance card at his feet?” Marina demanded, her tone perhaps a bit sharper than it ought to have been. The man unsettled her. Although that was a bit like saying the night was dark. He more than unsettled her. Much more. It had been in the way he looked at her, yes, but also in the way her breath had caught when she looked at him. It was all very peculiar.

“His handsomeness overshadowed how terrifying he was for just a moment… and he’s not terrifying for you, but for me. You have always been the more bold of us,” Charlotte explained. “Do you deny that you find him intriguing?”

Marina remained silent. If she’d said no, it would have been an outright lie. But not even Charlotte knew why it was that she’d removed herself so firmly from the marriage mart. She’d never disclosed to anyone the horrible things she’d heard Stanford say to his unknown paramour. It was too humiliating to admit that she’d been so easily duped by him. It was also too humiliating to admit that she no longer trusted her own judgment. Her ability to determine whether or not a gentleman had honorable intentions for her was something she could not accurately predict and the cost of being wrong was simply far too great.

“I am not looking for a husband, Charlotte,” she finally said. “I am quite content to settle into spinsterhood without a backward glance.”

“I do not understand it! You have refused more offers of marriage than most young women will ever receive!”

Marina rolled her eyes. “I’ve accepted one then changed my mind. I’ve refused two others outright, though those were before Stanford. Still, that’s hardly an enormous number.”

“And how many men have you discouraged so that they would not ask?” her friend challenged.

“Not as many as you might think,” Marina said softly. They had not been legitimate offers. They had been men who only wanted her fortune or a connection to her illustrious family. None of it had been about her.

As if summoned by her thoughts, she heard a familiar and quite grating voice. It wasn’t that the timbre of his voice was displeasing but rather everything he said simply preyed upon her already limited patience with the man. Mr. Roger Nutter was a plague upon her, and he was far too close for her peace of mind. “Let’s go… quickly. While we can still play convincingly that we have not seen him!”

Charlotte needed no further prompting. Emerging from the alcove, they moved quickly to the exit and hurried from the ballroom. They didn’t slow down so they reached the corridor to the ladies’ retiring room in record time.

Once inside the retiring room, Marina breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that she disliked Mr. Nutter, so much, or that there was anything truly objectionable about him beyond his dogged determination to woo her. It was rather that she did not wish for him to have hopes where no good outcome could be had. She had elected, after her first disappointment, never to marry at all. If she were ever tempted to take such a step, it surely would not come about solely out of desperation to shed her spinster status without any love or feelings of fondness. So many people told her that she was being a hopeless and silly romantic, a foolish young woman with schoolgirl dreams. Others told her still that she read too many romantic novels. But they didn’t know the truth and she couldn’t share it. Nor would she. That was her shameful secret to keep and keep it she would even in the face of their concern for her marital state. The final bit of wisdom, offered up by everyone, was that with one broken engagement behind her, and with multiple proposals refused or prevented entirely, forthcoming offers would be scarce. The implication being that Mr. Nutter’s offer, should she ever be unable to evade him, would be her last and final chance. Perhaps it was that which encouraged him to continue tilting at that particular windmill.

“Miss Ashton and Miss Hamilton… keeping one another company as you sit out yet another dance?”

Marina did not quite succeed in biting back the groan. Of course, Elizabeth had followed them. Naturally. How else could the evening get worse?

Turning, she acknowledged the other woman coolly. “Miss Whitmore. I don’t believe I’ve seen you wearing out your dancing slippers tonight.”

“I suppose,” Elizabeth continued, ignoring the rather pointed barb that Marina had landed, “that when you are too scandalous to catch husbands, the company of friends is the best one can hope for. No gentleman of note will risk the inevitable rejection by paying court to you. And now that Mr. Stanford Williams has returned to town—fresh out of mourning for his departed wife—I imagine speculation will run rampant about the possibility of you two reigniting that old flame.”

The words hit her like a physical blow. And the implications of all that had been said and unsaid swarmed her. Fresh out of mourning. Had he murdered his bride? Had she, by not being forthcoming, been complicit in the young woman’s death?

Elizabeth’s grating laugh filled the room. “Oh, dear! You hadn’t heard, had you? I suppose that effectively squashes any hope of a reconciliation, doesn’t it? Obviously, if he’d intended to repair your broken relationship, you’d have been the first person he contacted upon his return.”

“Miss Whitmore, is there some purpose in all of this?” Charlotte asked. “You did feel compelled to follow us here, after all. I cannot image that, even for you, leaving behind the gaiety of the ball just to trade barbs with us would have been an irresistible temptation!”

“You’d hardly know anything of irresistible temptations, Miss Hamilton. At least Miss Ashton has had proposals.”

Feeling Charlotte stiffen at her side, knowing that Elizabeth’s verbal arrow had found its very sensitive mark, Marina managed to shake off the gloomy thoughts that had claimed her attention so fully. “Ignore her, Charlotte. She’s simply a malcontent—always miserable and looking to make others share in it with her.”

Elizabeth’s eyes flashed with barely controlled fury. “Such a pity you squandered all those proposals. Dowdy, poor relation that she is, at least Miss Hamilton is a true companion to you.” Then she smirked. “Perhaps you can use whatever annuity your relations choose to settle on you and share a small cottage by the sea… Just two crones growing older and uglier together every single day. Though I daresay that won’t matter in Miss Hamilton’s case.”

Marina bristled at that. It was one thing for Elizabeth to take aim at her. It was quite another for her to start in on Charlotte, who was not at all a poor relation. She and Charlotte were in the same boat, being raised by doting aunts and uncles who were impossibly generous. But Marina felt much more secure in her station than Charlotte did, or at the very least she could don that facade. And Elizabeth knew that. She’d taken aim where it would cut the deepest.

In defense of her friend, Marina’s tone was sharp. “I haven’t exactly noted any prospective suitors beating a hasty path to your side, Elizabeth. Indeed, I think your dance card far more empty than mine or my dear friend’s here. As for Charlotte, she is neither dowdy nor a poor relation to anyone. Your nasty and covetous nature will give you wrinkles from all the scowling you do.”

Elizabeth merely smirked in response. “I’m not the one frowning at every man who dares to flirt with me. Like that new fellow in town… the Earl of St. Aiden. I saw you speaking with him after Miss Hamilton’s ham-fisted attempt to incite a flirtation between the two of you. Heaven knows it failed miserably. Why the man couldn’t get away from you fast enough!”

That hadn’t been the way of it at all, Marina thought. He’d expressed interest. She’d even consented to an introduction presuming that Valentine would be willing to facilitate it. Not that she held out much hope of anything coming of it. “You speak of things you know nothing of, Miss Whitmore. Though I daresay that is quite the habit with you. The earl was quite attentive and very complimentary. Not that it should concern you in the least.”

“It might be for the best if you simply retreated to the countryside,” Elizabeth continued. “Perhaps when your cousins marry and have families of their own, they’ll take you on as a governess… unless, of course, you’ve decided to put yourself back into the marriage mart fully?”

Marina didn’t answer. She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. So Elizabeth continued.

“I’ll make a wager with you, Miss Ashton, unless of course you are too afraid to do so?”

“What sort of wager?” The question popped out before Marina even recognized she was speaking. Elizabeth Whitmore goaded her like no one else.

Elizabeth smiled like a cat who’d gotten the canary. “Whichever of us does not marry before the Season is out will owe the other a public mea culpa, indeed, one of utter humility and obsequiousness. Every nasty thing said about one by the other should be owned up to as a falsehood. Maybe such a painful prospect will finally propel you to the altar!” Her chin lifted as her eyes swept up and down Marina, as if finding her lacking in some way. “Unless, of course, that you are so certain of your poor outcome that you are afraid to accept such a wager.”

“I accept.” Even as the words escaped her, Marina wanted to call them back. She’d allowed Elizabeth to goad her into making a wager she had absolutely no hope of winning. Not unless she wished to throw herself upon the questionable mercy of Mr. Nutter. In addition, it was a wager she didn’t truly want to win! She did not wish to marry. Except that if Stanford Williams truly had returned, was he a danger to her? Would the presence of a betrothed gentleman deter any schemes he might be hatching?

Elizabeth’s smirk spread into a full-blown smile. She beamed with evil intent, if such were possible. “Excellent. And Miss Hamilton may serve as our witness. She has so little to recommend her beyond her honesty, after all.”

As their nemesis breezily sailed out of the retiring room, the two of them were left alone. Marina wanted to scream in frustration. Charlotte was ever more practical. “You must beg off this wager, Marina,” her friend insisted. “You have no reasonable prospects. The public humiliation of dancing attendance on that odious creature will be your undoing!”

Marina’s stomach churned. “I cannot beg off! Not yet at any rate. I would never hear the end of it… and there are other considerations, as well. Besides, Elizabeth will tell everyone about the wager and if I renege, she will crow far and wide about how I was so uncertain of my own ability to carry through with an engagement or simply so certain of my impending spinsterhood that I refused to rise to the challenge. I cannot publicly kowtow to that awful woman… But to find a suitable gentleman and get myself betrothed in the length of time allotted? Oh, Charlotte. This is dreadful. Just dreadful.”

“What will you do?”

Marina shook her head. “I do not know. For now, my nerves are too jangled to even contemplate returning to the ballroom. And no doubt Mr. Nutter has not yet given up the chase. I would just as soon avoid him lest Elizabeth Whitmore assume that I am capitulating to his suit out of desperation.”

“Would it be worse to marry him or to publicly shower her with false praise and admissions of guilt where none exists?”

Marina shuddered with distaste. “They are both equally abhorrent. Go back to the ballroom and tell Aunt Willa I have a megrim. Ask her to have the carriage fetched. I’ll go home and try to discern some way out of this awful tangle I’ve allowed myself to be backed into.”

Charlotte nodded and quickly departed the room. Marina was left alone with her own anxious thoughts and a tight ball of nerves twisting in her stomach.