Christopher took a risk and called out. “Maria.”
The woman lifted her chin and untied her mask, revealing the features he craved to look upon. She met his gaze directly.
“Enjoying your evening?” she asked coldly, every inch the Wintry Widow.
Apparently, she had seen him with Angelica and did not like it. Good.
He removed his own mask, allowing her an unhindered view of his own displeasure. He waited for her explanation.
Instead, she turned on her heel and walked away.
Enraged, he gave chase.
Chapter 10
Maria heard Christopher exchange curt words with Eddington as she fled down the hallway. She stepped up her pace. It hurt to run and she quickly grew dizzy, but her carriage was waiting. With haste she could reach it and make her escape.
“Departing so early, my lady?”
Startled, she slowed and turned her head to see the man Lord Pearson had identified as “Sedgewick” approaching from an opposite hallway.
He frowned and looked over her shoulder. “Where is your companion?”
She blinked, her steps faltering.
“Ah, there he is,” Sedgewick murmured.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Christopher approaching with rapid strides. Lacking the luxury of time to puzzle out the cryptic comments, she resumed her flight.
Her footsteps padded softly along the runner and then grew louder as she crossed the marble-lined foyer. Brushing past a startled footman and several late arrivals, she descended the front steps to the crowded drive and weaved between the many carriages, her gaze darting amongst the liveried drivers and footmen in search of her own.
“Maria!”
The call came from before and behind her, the two male voices distinctive in accent and tone-one clipped and angry, the other lower and urgent. She turned quickly to the right, rushing headlong toward Simon, who caught the elbow of her uninjured arm and thrust her into the waiting carriage.
“Better luck next time, old chap!” he crowed to Christopher and then he vaulted up behind her as the equipage lurched into motion.
Christopher’s string of curses made her smile grimly. She hated that the sight of him with another woman had affected her so strongly, and she relished the tiny victory of thwarting his attempt at excuses. That he had hovered over the silver-clad figure so affectionately and kissed her so chastely spoke of much care and also reminded Maria of his recent visit to her home. He had displayed similar affection for her, though his kisses had been far from chaste.
“Care to explain?” Simon asked, studying her intently.
Maria relayed the events.
“Good God,” he muttered when she finished. “What are the odds that you would land in this predicament with Eddington?”
“Has my life not always been a series of unfortunate events?” Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the squabs.
“And Sedgewick’s behavior is a puzzle?”
“Delve into him. He approached me as if we had met at some point, yet I’m certain I have never made his acquaintance. Did he mistake St. John’s companion for me? Also he appeared unconcerned to find the pirate in attendance. Very odd.”
“I will investigate both peers.” There was a pause, and then Simon said softly, “Eddington’s offer-if it is sincere-would be a godsend,
“How can I trust him beyond a doubt? Eddington desires two things-the capture of St. John and the identity of the killer responsible for the deaths of Dayton and Winter. He is ambitious. What a coup it would be for him to capture me in the bargain, yes?”
Simon tapped one booted foot restlessly against the floorboards. “I agree. I feel as if a net is closing around you, yet I can do nothing.”
She felt the same.
The ride to Mayfair was lamentably long, and after the night’s exertions, her injury throbbed and tormented her. Battered by her roiling thoughts and confusion, her equanimity was askew. Once again, she was reminded that she was a pawn and valued only for her usefulness. But one day she would be rid of all of the people who chose to exploit her. She and Amelia would leave, start anew, find happiness.
Once they reached home, Simon escorted her up the stairs. He dismissed Sarah, preferring to undress Maria himself, his large hands gentle and mindful of the ache the permeated every cell in her body. He tucked her gently into bed and then changed her dressings, murmuring his concern at the fresh blood that stained the cloths.
“At least it is a clean wound,” she whispered, her eyes closing in relief as she settled back into the down- stuffed pillows.
“Here.”
A spoon was placed at her lips and a moment later laudanum slipped down her throat. It was quickly washed down with water, and soon the potent effects were evident by the easing of the pain that plagued her.
“How do you feel,
“Grateful for you.” Her words slurred together, ending in a soft purr as his lips brushed across hers. She inhaled deeply, absorbing the beloved scent of his skin deep into her lungs. Her hand caught his and squeezed.
“Rest now,” he admonished, “so you can heal. I need you well.”
She nodded, and drifted into sleep.
Her dreams were unpleasant, her heart racing with distress as she chased after an elusive Amelia while Welton’s laughter echoed through her mind. Maria thrashed, which aggravated her shoulder. With a whimper, she awoke.
“Easy,” rasped a voice beside her.
Turning her head, she found her cheek pressed to a warm, nude chest. Coarse hair cushioned her head and strong arms held her as immobile as possible without hurting her further. Moonlight poured in through the windows, revealing the one sash that was pushed upward, inviting in a cool evening breeze-as it had apparently invited in the man who shared her bed.
“Christopher,” she breathed, finding comfort in the familiarity of his embrace.
He exhaled as if the sound of his name affected him, his chest falling and then rising beneath her. The room was dark, and though she could not see the clock, she knew that hours had passed since she’d first fallen asleep.
“Why are you here?”
He was silent for a long moment, then, “I don’t know.”
“How did you slip past my men?”
“With great difficulty, but obviously, I managed the task.”
“Obviously,” she said dryly. Her fist, which rested over the taut cords of his stomach, relaxed, opening to press her palm against his skin. Her touch slid downward, reaching his waistband.
“So you are not entirely undressed,” she noted.
“Would you wish me to be?”
“I admit the thought of you caught without your breeches does have its amusements.”
“Bloodthirsty vixen.” His raspy voice was tinged with affection. He pressed a hard kiss to her forehead and pulled the dislodged counterpane over her injured shoulder. “I came to berate you for leaving me as you did. My
