Dread crawled through Maryann at the vicious spite that settled on Lady Sophie’s face. She waited until Louisa was close enough, then Sophie stuck out her delicate foot and tripped her.
“Oh no!” Maryann pressed a hand to her mouth when Louisa crashed to the floor in a very indecorous sprawl. Her pink dress was rumpled and one of the flounces was torn at the hem.
The orchestra’s violins faltered, the dancers performing the minuet stopped, and the silence in the ballroom was awful and resounding. No one hurried to help the young lady who might be hurt, and to Maryann’s disgust, Sophie and her cronies merely tittered.
That seemed to encourage those eager for her admiration and approval to lift their fans to their mouths and cast poor Miss Louisa disparaging glances. She tried to stand, but in her mortified haste somehow slipped once more. Thankfully, a young man whom Maryann did not recognize hurried to help her up. Louisa covered her face and rushed from the ballroom.
Maryann’s temper sparked. “Do you now understand why I must act in the manner I am about to? Lady Sophie is full of spite!”
Maryann was acquainted with the underbelly of cruelty that existed in the glittering world of the ton. How easily with words and deeds they could ruin someone’s reputation or remind society of a scandal that had long been buried. Maryann had watched Sophie turn her spite on many—even herself for the last two seasons—and had done nothing. No more, she thought darkly.
“We must be patient,” she whispered, grabbing his arm and tugging him farther into the shadows. “Lady Sophie will make her way to this window, and then we must act.”
They waited in silence, and she cast him a few worried glances. “You are uncommonly quiet tonight; is your throat still bothering you?” she fretted, tucking away a note in her mind to summon Dr. Gervase in the morning.
The manner in which he turned his head to stare at her felt unfamiliar and oddly intimidating. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but she found herself shuffling back, noting how Crispin had perfectly cloaked himself in the shadows so that she was barely able to discern his features.
Still, the golden mask he had donned for this clandestine meeting was familiar. They had agreed that even if they were skulking around in their own home, it was best to do so with a measure of protection. “Do you prefer not to talk?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Are you still feeling under the weather?”
Another nod.
Worry curled through Maryann. But before she could probe further, Lady Sophie said, her voice carrying clearly, “Did you see how perfectly humiliated that sweet Miss Louisa was?”
Maryann shuffled closer, her heart jolting. “Bring the bucket, Crispin,” she whispered.
The bucket was pushed to her, and she peered at it, aghast. “I cannot do it. I am afraid of snakes.”
His lips curved slightly, and the oddest sensation fluttered in her belly. Before she could assess the strangeness of the feeling and why it happened, her brother crept forward, and she turned back to the ballroom.
“She is almost here. Pour them out quickly!” Mama, forgive me for the commotion.
He complied and poured the bucket full of small snakes and other dreadful crawlies through the window to splat on the parquet floor of the ballroom. Astonishingly, no one noticed. Least of all Sophie, who would soon be upon them. Perhaps the well-placed potted plants hid the invasion. Maryann almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
“Oh no, I think she is about to make her way over to Phineas Hadley! She won’t—”
An ear-splitting scream lifted, and then madness descended. In her haste to get away from the slithering mess she had stepped on, Sophie jumped into the arms of a gentleman, refusing to put her feet on the ground. He wobbled under her unexpected weight. In truth, the flustered gentleman seemed as if he had no notion of what to do with the lady holding on to him and sobbing hysterically. He grabbed her hips—how shockingly improper—and she then turned her wrath on him, slapping his cheek with her folded fan. They both tumbled to the floor…into a few terrified snakes.
Maryann never imagined anyone could scream so loudly. A few of Lady Sophie’s clique hurried to help her up, while some had the temerity to laugh. Sophie’s glare threatened retribution before her lower lip trembled, and her face crumpled.
Ignoring the confusion erupting inside, Maryann grabbed Crispin’s elbow and urged him to run with her from the scene of the crime. She started laughing only a few steps away. They hurried toward the hidden garden alcove they had often played in as children.
The memory of Sophie’s horror just now sobered Maryann briefly. But only briefly. Once in the deepest part of the gardens, she wheeled toward her brother. “Justice was served!”
He stepped back, pressing against the shadows of the neatly clipped high-hedged maze. Shrugging the coat from her shoulders, she dropped it to the soft verdant grass and lowered herself to the ground.
Lifting a hand in the air, she began dramatically, “If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, do we not revenge?”
Maryann sighed. “Crispin, I do feel wretched but also glorious that she has been given a taste of her own bitter medicine. I am certain tonight’s incident will be in tomorrow’s scandal sheet and on the lips of everyone for weeks. We know how fickle society is about what they consider news.”
Lifting her face to the cloud-shrouded sky, she asked, “What do you think? Dare I hope that tonight might show Sophie the errors of her ways, or at least let her reflect on the torment she has afflicted on other ladies who have done nothing more than bravely wade out in the ton to attempt to secure their bit of happiness? Or do you think I might have to be more extreme with my lesson?”
She hoped she would not have to be more ruthless. For the satisfaction she had felt in seeing Lady Sophie shrieking and then staring at her giggling friends in horror was hollow. It took a lot to compromise her values of kindness and forgiveness, even as she felt satisfied that she had done something.
He slowly lowered himself to sit on the grass, his back pressed against the architectural base of a moss-covered statue showing Venus carrying a vase. Once again, he had picked a spot that perfectly ensconced him in shadows. One long leg was stretched out, while the other was drawn up, his sole flat against the grass. His feet seemed unusually larger.
Maryann frowned. “Perhaps I should have met with her and given her a severe tongue lashing, instead of acting in such a childish manner.” She sighed. “Now I’ve gotten that out of the way, I must contrive of a brilliant plan that will allow me to escape marriage to Lord Stanhope. Mama is being frightfully persistent, Crispin, and I am on the brink of doing something most scandalous.”
Another long silence. Maryann peered at her brother. She had expected him to splutter his outrage at the mere mention of scandal and their family. And her plan involved convincing him to help her deter their mother from her infuriating machination. Had her brother always been this…still? There was something about him she could not quite put her finger on. “Crispin? What do you think?”