As the Devil Dares (Capturing the Carlisles #3)(21)

His mother ignored him, having long ago learned not to encourage her sons’ improper behavior by acknowledging it. “You do dance, though, do you not?”

“Oh yes!” Mariah smiled, and a genuine warmth radiated from her as her face lit up. Grudgingly, Robert had to acknowledge that she could be quite beautiful. When she wasn’t being infuriating. “I enjoy dancing very much.”

The duchess breathed a loud sigh of relief. “Thank goodness for that! Then we’ll start making plans right away for your debut ball.”

Mariah paled. “My debut ball?”

“Of course. Every young lady should be presented at a ball.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “But I’ve been out for six seasons already, Your Grace.”

“As far as I’m concerned, those seasons never happened.” She patted Mariah’s hand. “And I see no reason why we shouldn’t start preparations right away. I’m certain Madame Bernaise can fit you in tomorrow for a consultation. She’s the best mantua-maker in England.”

“I’m sorry, but I already have a commitment for tomorrow.” Mariah hesitated, then ventured carefully, as if she wasn’t certain yet how much she could trust his mother, “You see, I’m a patroness for the Gatewell School for Orphans of the Sea. I’d planned to work at the school, and I’m afraid it’s going to take all day.”

“You’re a patroness for a school for orphans?” His mother seemed as surprised by that bit of news as Robert.

His suspicious gaze raked over Mariah, but he found nothing in her that indicated she was lying. And she’d damned well better not be. Not when it came to orphans. Not with his family.

Mariah nodded. Encouraged by his mother’s interest, she explained, “We provide practical education for children who have lost their fathers in the shipping industry. It isn’t a very large school, but we do all we can.” She bit her lip uncertainly. Then, as if deciding she could trust his mother with this private part of her life, she offered, “Of course, if you’d ever like to visit the school, I’d be honored to give you a tour.”

“I would like that.” Mother smiled affectionately, her eyes glistening. “Very much.”

If there were any doubts that the duchess might give up on Mariah and pull out of the season, they all vanished. As far as Robert could tell, Mariah wasn’t even aware of her coup as she returned his mother’s smile, a faint bewilderment furrowing her brow.

“Perhaps, Your Grace, we could visit your dressmaker the following day instead?” Mariah offered.

“Of course.” She gave Mariah’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “And please, call me Elizabeth. I insist.”

A grand coup, indeed.

Mariah set her cup aside as his mother busily described her plans for the ball and how she counted on involving the Countess of St James and his sister, Josephine, in the festivities. Robert was unable to decipher the expression on Mariah’s face, whether she was happy about her season or furious that she was being force-marched into it. Either one made no difference to him. But his mother was a miracle worker, and he had no doubt that Mariah would be enjoying herself thoroughly by February and engaged by April.

Without pausing in her long list of preparations, his mother slowly rose to her feet and gently led Mariah to hers. Which forced Robert to his. Yet it also meant that tea was over and that the aggravating minx was leaving. Good. After today, he hoped never to have to deal directly with her again.

“Thank you so much for a wonderful afternoon, Your Grace—I mean, Elizabeth.” Mariah smiled warmly at the duchess. Then she turned to him and coldly bobbed a half-hearted attempt at a disdainful curtsy as she muttered, “Lord Robert.”

His lips tightened. Only Mariah Winslow could turn his name into an accusation. “Miss Winslow.” He inclined his head. “Good day.” And good riddance.

She turned to leave, assuring his mother that she could see herself out.

But just as she reached the doorway, she stopped. Then she turned slowly to look back. Not at him or his mother, but to let her gaze drift curiously around the room. The grand space was garishly decorated in a riot of gold gilding, with naked cherubs frolicking across the painted ceiling, and he didn’t blame her for being a bit stunned by it.

“Hmm.” She tilted her head and mumbled contemplatively, “I’m beginning to think that all those stories I’ve heard about Park Place must be apocryphal.”

“Oh?” his mother asked, perplexed. “Why is that?”

With a smile aimed directly at Robert and the intent to cause as much trouble for him as possible, she announced, “I simply don’t think it’s possible that an elephant could have fit into the gardens!”

Then she slipped out the door.

His mother slid her imperious gaze sideways at him. “Robert Spenser Carlisle, what does she mean?”

His patience snapped. Biting back a curse, he charged after her.

*



Laughing to herself, Mariah bounced down the hallway toward the front door. Oh, the look on Carlisle’s face—priceless. Whitby was right, she could hardly believe it. An elephant! She would have admired Carlisle for his audacity if she didn’t dislike him so—

A strong hand closed over her elbow and propelled her into a side room before she could protest. The door slammed shut with a bang.