The Harlot Countess (Wicked Deceptions #2)(9)
Not that he would ever allow himself down that path again, but one couldn’t help but notice.
At Maggie’s command, the orchestra struck up a jaunty tune. Three men dressed in rough sailor clothing appeared and began to sing a popular sea tale. The words had been slightly altered to make them more ribald, commenting on the mermaids’ breasts and loose morals.
The guests roared their approval as the song reached a conclusion, with the sailors expiring when the mermaids rejected them. Everyone clapped enthusiastically while the actors bowed—as much as one could bow while encased in a fabric tail. Once the adulation died down, one of the sailors rushed over to Lady Hawkins, then lifted her up and shuffled to the pool. Laughing, she clutched his shoulders as he pretended to drop her into the water. Everyone in the room gasped—save Simon, who was too busy gritting his teeth.
The sailor finally set her down on the ground, and she kicked off her slippers and stepped into the shallow pool. The crowd began hooting and cheering as she performed a few dramatic dance steps, a playful, masked water nymph showing off for the crowd. The idiocy of attending tonight hit Simon with all the subtlety of a wooden mallet. Why the hell was he here?
“I like her,” Julia murmured at his side.
“You would.”
“You liked her once as well,” she continued, her eyes fixed on Maggie. “Or need I remind you?”
No. He could remember only too clearly. But those days had long passed. “I forget the two of you never met. She debuted the year you married Colton.”
Maggie climbed onto a rock recently vacated by a mermaid and bowed. The room broke out into riotous applause. Simon clapped as well, though he’d shown more enthusiasm during a political opponent’s speech.
No one seemed to notice, however. Maggie held the room enthralled, so damn beautiful no one dared look away. Holding her hands up for quiet, she called, “You are too kind. My thanks to our mermaids and sailors. Now we dance!”
The crowd dispersed, with most headed toward the champagne while the orchestra struck up a waltz. A few guests circled around Maggie, but Simon stayed close. Colton fetched fresh glasses of champagne and chatted with his wife while Simon waited.
After what seemed an eternity, Simon saw his opening. The group around Maggie thinned so he moved in to hover at her elbow. She glanced up, the green gaze sharpening behind the mask, and he saw her shoulders stiffen. Blue peacock feathers twitched and bounced as she turned to excuse herself. When her companions departed, she said, “Lord Winchester. This is a surprise.”
“Good evening, Lady Hawkins.” He quickly made the introductions and, despite her apparent displeasure at Simon’s presence, Maggie fussed over the legendary Duke and Duchess of Colton.
“I am so pleased you both came,” Maggie said with an elegant curtsy. “I’ve longed to meet you both for ages.”
“Likewise,” Julia returned. “The performance was inspiring, and I adore your costume. Are you Amphitrite?”
“No. I am the humble Naiad Daphne.”
“Ah, but she gives Apollo a merry chase,” Colton noted. “A formidable woman if there ever was one.”
“All women are formidable, Your Grace—or haven’t you realized yet?”
“He is well aware of that fact. I taught him never to underestimate a woman.” Julia raised her brows at Colton as if daring him to contradict her.
“Quite true, Duchess,” the duke responded with a smirk.
“Who designed your chalk drawings?” Julia motioned toward the dance floor. “They are simply breathtaking.”
“Thank you. They were done by an artist of my acquaintance.”
The group turned to study the drawings now being trampled underfoot by the dancers. “Magnificent,” Julia said. “It’s almost a pity to ruin them.”
Simon shot Colton a look over Julia’s head. Knowing each other since boyhood meant no words were necessary, and Colton instantly offered his arm to his wife. “Well, lovely or not, shall we dance?”
Maggie’s lips curved when the duke and duchess departed. “That was nicely orchestrated, Lord Winchester. Dukes at your command. Parliament at your feet. I am anxious for your next triumph. Shall I call back the crowd?”
“Not very subtle of me, but I did wish to speak with you. If you had not refused to see me this week . . .”
“Yes, I have no doubt this is the last place you wish to find yourself this evening.”
Absolutely correct, though he would never admit it. “You would be wrong. I’ve been quite entertained, in fact.”
“Then I shall consider tonight a success.”
“From what I’m told, all your parties are successful. Is it true you once had actual tigers?”
Her green irises sparkled like emeralds. “A bit of an exaggeration. One tiger and he was quite tame. Most of the guests were disappointed, I think.”
The uniqueness of her beauty struck him, as it always had. Pitch-colored, glossy hair. Creamy skin without a blemish or mark. Full, pink lips. There was no woman on earth like Maggie. He’d known it the first time he clapped eyes on her—as had any number of other men, if the rumors of her numerous affaires were true. “The duchess was correct. You are quite beautiful this evening.” His tone was sharper than it ought to be when paying a compliment, and he nearly winced.