Lord Harry's Folly by Catherine Coulter (read this if .txt) 📕

him over the head with a potted palm. Damn him. Her enjoyment of her first ball was fading rapidly. The black domino knew who she was. Others might know also. Her voice couldn’t be that different from the dowdy Miss Henrietta Rolland’s voice or, for that matter, Lord Harry’s.

A high, trilling laugh drew her up short at the perimeter of a boisterously gay group of gentlemen. In their midst stood Melissande, her lustrous red hair piled high upon her head and a daring expanse of white bosom revealed by the extreme low cut of her green velvet gown. She looked utterly delicious. Hetty felt her heart start to thump fast and hard. If Melissande was here, then Lord Oberlon was here, too. She scanned the knot of gentlemen but didn’t see him.

She wanted nothing but to leave. Where were Jack and Louisa? She walked toward the edge of the crowded ballroom, hoping to position herself where she would see them. She slipped behind a huge potted fern to avoid an amorous-looking fellow, too deep in his cups, she thought, not to make a scene were she to refuse to dance with him. Wretched men. Lord Harry wouldn’t have to put up with such nonsense. She nearly laughed at that.

She suddenly saw Jack, leaning negligently against a curtained wall, in laughing conversation with another man. She stepped forward, then froze in her tracks. It was the black domino.

She ducked quickly behind the potted fern again. She simply couldn’t approach Jack while that man was there. For that matter, she couldn’t very well hide behind this ridiculous plant for the rest of the evening. What she needed was a very good excuse to remove herself from the ballroom. Her young lady’s repertoire wasn’t very impressive. She leaned down and gave a vicious tug on her domino, but the velvet was too strong for her fingers. She raised it to her mouth and bit into the hem with her white teeth. She felt it obligingly rip, and without thought to the beauty of the garment, pulled it away in a jagged circular tear. There, she thought with satisfaction, that should keep me from the dance floor for the remainder of the evening. She soon found Louisa conversing with Lady Ranleagh herself, and slipped quietly beside her.

“Louisa, I’ve ruined my domino and must go see to repairs.”

“My dear child,” Lady Ranleagh said, leaning over to inspect the gaping tear. “It looks like your partner was a clumsy oaf. Such a pity.”

Hetty fervently agreed. Then, as she’d hoped, Lady Ranleagh directed her to a large dressing room at the top of the stairs, where, she was informed, Lady Ranleagh’s maid, Celeste, would mend her costume. Louisa prepared to accompany her, but Hetty, having no wish for Louisa to see her dally away the rest of the evening, said, “Oh no, Louisa, I’ll be fine. A stupid accident and it was my fault, not a gentleman’s. Go dance with Jack. He looked too relaxed and rested.”

She’d nearly made good her escape when she heard Jack’s deep, booming voice behind her. “Hetty, wait a moment. Where are you off to, little sister?”

She turned reluctantly, fearing to see the black domino with her brother, but Jack was alone. “I just tore my domino. I’ll see you later, Jack. I have a few words I have to say to you, you interfering sod.”

“It’s probably just as well you take yourself out of commission for a while.” He grinned, took off his mask and rubbed his cheek. “You’ve got so many young bucks trailing after you, the ladies are beginning to plan your murder.”

She wanted to tell him to go take a good look at Melissande, but she managed to keep quiet.

“Go dance with Louisa,” she said, turned and set her foot upon the wide staircase. “Oh, Jack,” she said, turning, “who is that gentleman you were talking to in the black domino and black mask? The tall man with a very nice laugh?”

Jack gave a bark of laughter and gazed at her, a deep twinkle in his blue eyes. “I believe you must have enjoyed the fellow’s company, Hetty. Didn’t you waltz with him twice?”

“When he wasn’t laughing, which was nice, he was rude and arrogant, and quite amusing. Still, I didn’t like him.”

“Well, Hetty, I did put a word in the fellow’s ear you know, to stay clear of you but he is always one to tempt the fates.”

“You told him who I was. That wasn’t fair of you, Jack, damn you. Now, who is he?”

Sir John lifted a fair eyebrow and said in a voice so bland she wanted to scream, “He’s none other than your arch enemy, Hetty, the Marquess of Oberlon.” He turned about and waved to her impishly over his shoulder. His booming laughter rang in her ears.

Hetty clutched at the banister, staring after her laughing brother. No wonder the man’s voice had sounded so familiar to her. She forced herself to draw a deep breath. Obviously, his grace hadn’t recognized her. If he had, everything would have been lost. Thank the heavens for something. She would kill Jack, however.

“Had you continued to dance with me, Miss Rolland, I’m sure your domino wouldn’t now be in tatters.”

Hetty whirled about and very nearly tripped on her skirt at the sound of that shiftless drawl. The marquess stood but a few feet lower than her on the stairs. He was looking up at her, grinning widely.

“You.” There was nothing she could say. He might recognize her voice. She hated it, but she had no choice. She gathered up her skirts and fled up the stairs.

“An arrogant and rude man, I grant you, Miss Rolland,” he called after her. “But you quite like my laugh and find me amusing? You are a discerning young lady.” Rich, deep humor sounded in his voice. Without looking at him, she knew he was grinning like a gambler in a roomful of vicars.

Chapter Eighteen

Lord Harry rose to kick a