Page 3 of Venus in Disguise

“Good Lord, Ash, she’s just a girl husband-hunting, like all the rest, and she’s the daughter of a duke with a vast dowry. She’s hardly a fortune hunter. What’s got you in such a lather, anyway?”

“Nothing,” Ash muttered, folding his arms.

The dance ended with both Leo and Narcissa laughing, apparently well pleased with each other.

Felix grinned and nudged Ash with his elbow. “Ah, now we shall see for ourselves. Here they come.”

Indeed, they did, and it was too late for Ash to escape without looking as though he was running away. Besides, he wanted to see the girl up close. Likely she was not as beautiful at close range as she was from a distance, or perhaps her voice grated upon the ear. She could not be as perfect as everyone seemed to think.

“Here we are,” Leo said cheerfully, giving Ash a look of such innocence he was tempted to thump him right there in the ballroom. “My dear pals. Lady Narcissa, might I make known to you, Mr Ashton Anson and Mr Felix Knight?”

Felix beamed at the girl and executed an elegant bow over her hand. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

Ash inclined his head slightly, merely acknowledging the introduction, his expression one of boredom.

Lady Narcissa ignored him and focused her attention on Felix.

“But you are Mr Gabriel Knight’s son, I believe?” she asked, and Ash was disconcerted to discover her voice was surprisingly low and mellow. “You must be so very proud of him. I know little of such matters, but I understand he is vastly clever and innovative.”

“Rich too,” Ash murmured, sotto voce.

Felix ignored him and replied hastily, “Indeed, I have a great deal to live up to. As he never ceases to remind me.”

“Oh, no. Indeed, I cannot believe it. I am sure you are following close in his footsteps, Mr Knight,” she said, her expression so grave Ash was hard pressed not to laugh.

“I try my best. However, I feel I should need three lifetimes to equal his achievements,” Felix said with a smile. “I understand a friend of ours is working at your father’s estate at present. Mr De Beauvoir. He has designed a wonderful garden for you, I think.”

“I believe so,” Lady Narcissa replied with a wistful sigh. “And I wish I were there to see it come to life, but my father insisted I must stay in town.”

“Of course you must, or half the male population of the ton would fall into a decline,” Leo replied, grinning at her.

Lady Narcissa laughed, blushing a little, and gazed up at Leo with such patently false admiration Ash had to fight to hold his tongue.

“You flatter too outrageously, sir,” she said, casting her eyes down.

“Oh, surely not,” Ash drawled, losing the battle at last. “Every man here is your slave, is he not?”

Her eyes snapped to his, and he found it impossible to look away, caught in the passionate flicker of anger he saw there. Her voice was sweet and gently enquiring as she replied, however.

“If that were true, I would surely count you among my admirers, sir, yet you have avoided me so assiduously one wonders what it is you are afraid of?”

There was a taut silence as Ash’s mouth curved into a slow smile. “I fear nothing, my sweet. But you ought to. Playing with fire is a bad idea for little debutantes. You don’t want to singe your pretty gown, do you, now?” he drawled, before giving her an insolent bow and sauntering away.

Narcissa made a smothered sound of exclamation, blushing furiously, before remembering where she was and who was watching. Hastily, she rearranged her face and attempted to look as though his words had not cut her to the core. Embarrassment and hurt vied in her heart with the fervent desire to do murder. “I ought not to have provoked him,” she said apologetically, trying to compose herself and unclenching her hands when she would have much preferred to put them about Mr Anson’s neck and throttled the devil, or so she told herself. She ought to be furious with him for his rudeness, and it was foolish to feel so upset when she had goaded him into such a response after all.

“Nonsense,” Mr Hunt replied, exchanging a significant glance with Mr Knight. “Mr Anson is an amiable chap usually, but he’s a little out of sorts this evening. I’m certain he meant no offence.”

Not much, he didn’t, Narcissa thought ruefully. Of all the arrogant, impertinent, outrageous things to say. The urge to follow the wicked man and demand he apologise was hard to resist, but she made herself squash the impulse before she did something awful. She had discovered everything she could about him by eavesdropping shamelessly in the ladies’ retiring room whenever she was there. It wasn’t difficult, as Mr Anson was often the subject of conversation. It appeared he was having an affair with Mrs Crawford, an elegant and sophisticated woman whose far older husband preferred spending his nights at the gambling tables than with his wife. The latest on dits, however, suggested that affair was coming to an end and that Lady Sheridan was tipped to win Mr Anson’s attentions next.

It was vile, the way men could behave with impunity in a manner that would have women labelled trollops. Yet they were given appellations such as ‘rake’ and ‘libertine.’ How strange those words seemed so enticingly wicked, when a lady was—if she were found alone with a man, no matter the circumstances—ruined, worthless, and of no further value. A widow or a wife had a little more leeway, assuming they were discreet, but Narcissa suspected it was a dangerous line to walk. No wonder Mr Anson had no interest in a woman who still had her virtue intact. He might have to marry her. The horror.

“You mustn’t mind Mr Anson,” Mr Knight said kindly, smiling at her. “Especially not when every fellow here would give his right arm to dance with you.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa said, grateful for his solicitude, even as a fire burned in her heart.

She did not understand why the vexing, presumptuous man was so determined to shun her, but she would make him regret being so awful to her if it was the last thing she did.

18th January 1850, The Haymarket Theatre, Suffolk Street, London.