“Father is dead.” The words were delivered more harshly than any slap Jereym might have ever given her.
“How could you?” Sabrina hated the fresh tears that stung her eyes. After five years, she thought she’d become accustomed to this. But she hadn’t, not really.
A shadow of doubt passed over Jereym’s face, but it quickly vanished. “Go to your room. I don’t wish to see you at dinner.”
Sabrina rushed up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door so hard that it rattled in the frame. Then she threw herself upon her bed and buried her face in the blankets. A long time later, when she lay exhausted, she could hear voices downstairs. The house’s thin walls were her allies, it seemed. They always warned her of danger. Jereym and Prudence were somewhere one floor below, speaking.
“I thought we were to attend the ball at Lady Germain’s tonight,” Prudence whined.
“Not tonight. I am in a foul mood,” Jereym growled.
“But my dear, it is a masquerade. You know how I enjoy those . . .”
The conversation died out as Jereym and Prudence moved out of her hearing. But it didn’t matter. Sabrina had found a way out. She’d thought at first to simply run away, but now she had a way to make sure that tomorrow morning she would not have her precious maidenhead and Mr. Booker would leave her alone for good.
She slid out of bed and once more opened her armoire. She had one gown worthy of a masquerade, her mother’s court gown. It was silver silk and pearls with a silver-threaded embroidered bodice. She pulled on the bell cord to summon Louisa. When the maid arrived, she clasped the girl’s hands in her own.
“Louisa, I need your help. I must leave tonight for a few hours. If my brother or Prudence asks after me, can you tell them that I am ill?”
“Yes,” Louisa said.
She embraced the maid. “Thank you.”
“Now, let me help you change, miss.” Louisa assisted Sabrina as she changed into the silver satin gown. Sabrina was lucky enough to have a masquerade mask that had also belonged to her mother. It was a gold-and-silver glittering thing that had exquisite decorations painted on it. It also covered most of her face except for her mouth and chin. A perfect disguise.
Once she was ready to leave, Louisa kept watch in the corridor so that Sabrina could escape to the front door of the cottage and leave. It would be a long walk to the Germain estate, but if she left early enough she should reach the grand manor house just in time for the ball to start.
2
Peregrine Ashby was incredibly grateful for the protection of his domino as he watched the crowds flow across the ballroom in Lady Germain’s grand manor house. The mask allowed him to move through the well-dressed people with more anonymity than he’d had in the last few weeks.
As the new Earl of Rutland, he’d risen from a somewhat obscure gentleman to a man with far too much popularity, in his opinion. Most of it had to do with the Lady Society column posted in the Quizzing Glass Gazette. She’d told the unmarried ladies of London far too much about him, despite her attempt not to name him directly.
After his great-uncle Frederick had died, the earldom had passed to him. It was entirely unexpected. There had been at least three other gentlemen ahead of him, yet all of those men had also died in the last year. All three of them had been together on a small cutter ship that had sunk off the coast of Egypt, and all lives were lost.
Now at thirty years of age, Peregrine had opportunities in abundance. He had moved out of his cramped bachelor residence in a rough part of London and into his great-uncle’s townhouse in Grosvenor Square. He’d also inherited the family estate, Ashbridge Heath, in the Cotswolds, and though he had not visited it yet, he’d been corresponding with the butler and housekeeper there. He hoped to see it in a few weeks’ time, but until then, he was enjoying himself here as much as he could.
“Ashby? That you?” a familiar voice greeted him. He saw a tall blond-haired man wearing a dark-blue domino striding toward him through the crowd. Despite the mask, Peregrine recognized his friend. Those bright-blue eyes were unmistakable, along with that wicked smirk that promised trouble.
“Lennox, keep your voice down,” Peregrine said as Rafe Lennox joined him at the back of the crowded ballroom.
“What? Afraid someone will recognize you?” Rafe asked.
“Yes, exactly,” Peregrine grumbled. For the last three weeks, it seemed he had dodged every young female and scheming mother in London and the surrounding boroughs. That was not an easy thing to do, but he was determined to avoid marriage, at least for the time being. He was in no hurry to get leg-shackled. He’d only just been given a new life, and if he was burdened with a wife, he feared he would be obliged to stay at home, or at the least feel duty-bound to stay home. He was also wary of English society for the moment. He’d been at the bottom of society for many years and had been treated poorly. Now he was out of his depth in his new position, and he needed to take the time to sort out the good from the bad in the upper echelons of the ton.
When he did eventually have to marry, he wanted to marry someone he could tolerate. Until then, he just wanted his freedom, and marriage was the opposite of that. At least, it had been for his parents. Neither of them had liked each other, and they’d lived much of their lives as far apart as possible, even while under the same roof. And given how little money his father had had to support them, this had been most of the time.
It became easier when his mother died, because his father’s temperament had softened a little. But he had died not long thereafter, leaving Peregrine entirely alone.
Rafe jovially put an arm around Peregrine’s shoulder and hollered at the people nearby. “We’ve got Lord Rutland here.” He pointed at a gaggle of girls. “You lot, line up and be ready to dance with him.”
Peregrine rammed an elbow none too gently into Rafe’s stomach.
Rafe doubled over, his breath escaping in a rush. “Bloody hell, man. I was only teasing.”
“Yes, well, now you’ve outed me, and those ladies look ready to hunt me down and mount my head on their mantels.”
The young women Rafe had so recklessly shouted at were now huddled together, their fans flapping and their heads bent as they whispered to each other. Occasionally one girl would glance at Peregrine over her shoulder.
“Christ, they do look rather serious, don’t they?” Rafe smoothed his waistcoat out as he now eyed the ladies in return with no small amount of trepidation.
“I think, given how you’re raising that adorable little ward of yours, that you should be the one to get married, Lennox.”
“What? The devil take you, man. Marriage is not for me. The world is full of women in need of a proper kiss, and it is my solemn duty to provide myself to them. Besides,” Rafe chuckled, “Isla would never be content to share her new papa with any woman.”
It never ceased to amaze Peregrine that Rafe, a man known for his devil-may-care attitude, had returned from visiting Scotland with a small child in tow. More surprising was the fact that she was not his by blood, but he’d taken her in as his daughter all the same. Fatherhood had wrought many positive changes in the notorious rogue, but he would always be a brave and irresponsible troublemaker as well as a damned loyal friend.