Unmasking the Duke's Mistress (Gentlemen of Disrepute #1)(53)

Beside her she heard the prince raise a toast to Dominic’s and her future happiness. She was obliged to curtsy her acknowledgement to him and take the glass of champagne from the footman who appeared by her side, so that she might raise it in response. And when she looked again to find the face that had so distressed her, it had gone and so had Misbourne’s. Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the men, but there was not one sign of them.


And then the cheering began, and although Dominic was smiling she could see the darkness in his eyes, and she was smiling even more to hide her unhappiness and discomfort. The band began to play again and people pressed forwards to offer their congratulations. But Arabella’s eyes were still searching for the man and, although she took every step to mask it, the unease that he elicited remained. And it seemed that in the background of all the laughter and music that surrounded her she could hear a whisper of foreboding.

Chapter Sixteen



Hunter made no mention of his and Dominic’s disagreement over the marriage as the two men rode together in St James’s Park a few mornings later.

‘How goes the word amongst the ton?’ Dominic asked. ‘Any suspicions?’

‘Not a one,’ said Hunter. ‘There are a few queries as to whether you have rid yourself of Miss Noir or are just being discreet because of your forthcoming marriage. The consensus of opinion seems to be in favour of the latter.’

‘I am glad that they think so highly of me,’ said Dominic sarcastically.

‘You can hardly complain, Dominic, when you have spent the last few years in our dissolute company proving yourself a rake.’

‘I suppose not,’ he said drily.

‘Are you sure that you wish me as your best man? I mean, now that you are trying to clean up your image.’ Hunter was not joking, he realised, judging from the serious expression on his friend’s face.

‘Of course I want you. Who else would I ask?’

‘True.’ Hunter gave a sniff and a shrug of his shoulders. ‘Not much choice when all your friends are rakes. I suppose if you really wanted to be a bastard about it you might ask Misbourne or Linwood. They would certainly get the message that you did not wish to marry their precious Lady Marianne then.’

‘I think they already have that message, Sebastian. Why else do you think I invited them to the ball?’

‘You should have told Misbourne in no uncertain terms at the very start that you had no intention of marrying the chit.’

‘I did, on several occasions.’

Hunter arched an eyebrow.

‘But Misbourne is persistent to say the least. He feels his claim is justified and I have no wish to injure his pride any more than I already have. He owns most of the newspapers in London and he is as sly as a snake in the grass.’

‘Why you do not cut him dead mystifies me,’ said Hunter.

‘We are obliged to work together on political matters; besides, you have heard the saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer still.’

‘All the more reason to have called him out and put a ball in the rogue’s shoulder,’ said Hunter.

‘With Misbourne it would have to be a ball in the heart. Otherwise he would just keep coming back. Remember what he did to Blandford?’

Hunter gave a murmur of disapproval. ‘Poor old Blandford.’

‘And I would not just be able to walk away having murdered a fellow peer.’

‘Trip to the Continent called for,’ said Hunter.

‘A bit more than that. And I will not have Misbourne dictate the course of my life. Besides, the matter is settled now. He might not like the fact that I am about to marry Arabella, rather than his daughter, but there is not a damnable thing he can do about it.’



For Arabella the week that followed Dominic’s ball was a whirl of activity and she was glad of it, for it gave her little time to think about the way things lay between them and their marriage that lay ahead. She played a role, went through the motions and was careful to concentrate at all times lest she allow something of their secret to slip.

Arabella, Dominic and her mother attended a musical evening at Lady Carruthers’s on Monday, a rout at Lady Filchingham’s on Tuesday evening, a showing of Shakespeare’s Hamlet at the King’s Theatre on Wednesday, a ball at Lord Royston’s on Thursday, and a visit to the opera on Friday. On top of that she had received three sets of afternoon visitors in Curzon Street. It was now Saturday morning and they were due to attend yet another ball that evening.

Mrs Tatton was yawning and half-dozing in the armchair by the fire, while Arabella was teaching Archie a card game at the little green baize covered table.

‘I win!’ Archie shouted triumphantly and spread his cards for Arabella to see.

‘Hush, you rascally boy,’ she whispered with a laugh. ‘You will wake your grandmama.’

‘I am not sleeping,’ Mrs Tatton muttered, ‘just resting my eyes for five minutes while I have the chance.’ Her voice trailed off and her breathing reverted to the regular heavy breaths of sleep with the slight snore that her mother always made.

Archie giggled. ‘She is sleeping. Listen, Mama.’ And then he laughed again as Mrs Tatton made a soft snoring sound right on cue.

The rat-a-tat-tat of the brass knocker on the front door sounded loudly, making both Arabella and Archie start and wakening Mrs Tatton.