Page 2 of Venus in Disguise

Dear Diary,

I don’t know how long I can keep this up. My father is so pleased with me, and it is such a relief to have him in this happy state after all the upset over whatever it was Fidelia did to infuriate him so. He returned to Hardacre last week, though, and my cousin, Mrs Chandler, has the unenviable task of chaperoning me about town. Now that his grace is no longer watching my every move, I am bound to go astray. It is much less of an effort to behave as I ought when I know he is watching every move I make. But now I have only Mrs Chandler and she is more interested in gossiping with her friends and flirting with her cicisbeos than keeping me out of trouble.

I am to go to yet another ball this evening, and I swear if that dreadful man ignores me again, I shall… Well, I have not yet decided quite what I shall do. I swear I am not so horribly vain as to expect every man I see to fall at my feet, but he makes such a point of ignoring me it is obviously done to provoke me, and I do not understand why. What can I have done to give him a disgust of me when we have never even been introduced? It is just so very peculiar when every other man is so very attentive. Too attentive to be honest. I am so weary of hearing my eyes compared to ‘fathomless pools of blue’ what nonsense, and if I must endure the reading of another mawkish sonnet to my beauty and innocence, I may just vomit.

I ought to hurry and choose a husband and get it done with. Then I need not endure this farce any longer. I long for a home of my own where I may find a little peace without my father’s constant expectations of how I ought to behave and his never-ending cutting remarks. His standards are too impossibly high and surely a husband would be kinder to me if I choose well. Mr Winslow seems a sweet sort of fellow. No title but from an excellent family and vastly wealthy. I know his grace will not approve the match, but maybe if I push hard enough, I could wear him down. Winslow is the kind of man I might find something resembling contentment with, at least. He’d be an amiable husband who would not bother me overmuch. I know he’s desperate to propose, but he’s too spineless, the poor dear. I shall simply have to give him a nudge.

―Excerpt of a diary entry by Lady Narcissa Ponsonby.

15th January 1850, The Countess St Clair’s New Year’s Ball, St James’s, London.

Ash watched as the carriage rumbled away, taking Baron Childe to the sanatorium, where he would likely spend the rest of his days. Thorn had finally freed his beloved Miss Fortesque of her vile brother, and the way she had gazed at Thorn had made an odd sensation stir in Ash’s chest.

“Well, that went as it ought, then,” Leo said cheerfully, clapping Ash on the back.

“Hmph,” Ash replied glumly.

“Oh, cheer up. There’s no point in sulking just because you didn’t get to knock the fellow down. It was Thorn’s turn to play the hero. He did it very nicely too,” Leo said with a grin. “Come along, the ball is still in full swing, and I want a drink.”

“Fine,” Ash grumbled, following Leo back inside. He felt irritable and out of sorts for reasons he did not wish to examine too closely. He didn’t think it was because he’d missed out on a fight, either. Well, not entirely.

Leo snagged a couple of glasses from a passing server and handed one to Ash. There was a lively polka in progress. Couples whirled about the floor, the ladies’ gowns swishing. Despite his intention to continue ignoring her, Ash’s gaze travelled unerringly across the twirling melee and found Lady Narcissa. The gown was blue this evening, no doubt ensuring she had received many compliments about her astonishing blue eyes. A pity her wit was not as bright as those glittering orbs. Ash had heard her chatter inanely as her acolytes feigned fascination, all the while staring at her cleavage. Why she continued to bother him, he did not know. He found no interest in pretty little ninnies. Ash liked intelligent women, lovers who challenged his intellect as much as his more intimate skills, and so his continued curiosity about her was out of character. Yet he could not tear his gaze away.

Finally, the dance ended, and Lady Narcissa turned from her partner and discovered Ash watching her. He raised his glass, his usual mocking smile firmly in place. The glare she shot his way could have etched glass. Ash grinned, knowing he had pricked her vanity by refusing to add to the ranks of her disciples. This was the first time he had even acknowledged her existence. She might have every other man here on his knees for the crook of her finger, but not him. He followed her progress as she left the dance floor, back to her admirers.

“Lovely, isn’t she?” Leo mused.

Ash frowned, returning his attention to his friend to find Leo’s gaze was following the same path.

“If you like that sort of thing.” He turned to regard Leo. “You’ve no interest there, surely?”

“I’ve secured the next dance with her,” Leo replied with a shrug.

“Why?”

Leo turned and gave Ash an odd look. “Why? Whyever not? She’s gorgeous and rich and I shall enjoy holding her in my arms for the duration of the waltz. I’m not proposing to her.”

Ash frowned. “I should think not,” he muttered, annoyed for no good reason he could think of.

“Want me to put in a good word?” Leo offered, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Do, and I shall meet you in the ring tomorrow,” Ash replied coolly.

Leo chuckled and pressed his glass into Ash’s hand. “Hold this, then. I’m going to show the girl how it’s done.”

Ash’s jaw tightened with irritation as Leo strode off. A moment later, his friend escorted the lady onto the dance floor and took her in his arms. They made the perfect couple. Leo, tall, broad shouldered and blond, holding his delicate female counterpart in his arms. They ought to be made of porcelain and set on a mantelpiece, Ash thought sourly, and then chided himself for his ill humour. But he could not help but presume the young woman would echo her father’s opinion of his mixed blood and the idea made resentment burn in his chest.

He watched with growing antipathy as Lady Narcissa stared up at Leo with an adoring gaze that made Ash want to throw up. Insincere little baggage. Everyone knew she wanted a title and a fortune and Leo didn’t fit. Oh, he was wealthy enough, but his father owned a nightclub, and Leo was a major shareholder in the Sons of Hades. No, no, dear, Ash thought with irritation. You’re barking up the wrong tree there. She must know it too, which meant that treacly look of besotted fascination was nothing but a façade. He only hoped Leo wasn’t fool enough to be taken in by it. Lesser men than him had been caught by such tricks.

“A pretty pair of turtle doves,” murmured a sardonic voice beside him.

Ash turned to discover Felix Knight watching Leo and his companion, too.

“One of them is more of a vulture,” Ash replied with a snort.

“And her a little wren, I suppose?” Felix mused, pondering this.

“No! She’s the vulture,” Ash replied in frustration. “Why can no one else see this?”