grabbed his arm. She could see that Marcus had been delayed by an acquaintance, but he was still watching her with the concentrated attention of a predator. There could be no question that he meant to approach her.
Beth took one last look and hurried out of the box. ‘Yes, by all means! Let us walk! This way!’
She steered her cousin out of the doorway and plunged into the corridor outside, making for the place where the crowd was thickest.
‘Steady on, Beth!’ Kit protested, as he was buffeted on all sides. ‘You’ll have us trampled in the crush!’
It was inevitable that such tactics, whilst they might delay matters, could not put them off forever. It was only a matter of minutes before someone recognised Kit and stopped him for a word, whilst the pressure of the crowd pulled Beth from his side before she had even noticed. Seconds later she looked round and realised that her cousin was nowhere in sight. Marcus Trevithick was, however.
He was leaning against a pillar just a few feet away from her, arms folded, as though he were prepared to stay there all night. His black gaze was watchful and faintly amused. Beth felt her breath catch in her throat. For one moment it seemed as though the press of people would whisk her past him, but then he stretched out one hand in a negligent gesture and caught her arm, pulling her to his side.
‘Well, well! My mystery lady—at last! Have you any idea of the balls and routs I have endured these past few days in the hope of catching sight of you, ma’am?’
There were prying eyes and ears all around them. Beth strove to keep her face blank and give nothing away, though her heart was hammering.
‘Good evening, my lord! I am sorry that you have put yourself to such trouble on my account!’
Marcus gave her a look of brilliant amusement. ‘Thank you! It was worth it, however, for now I have found you again!’ He tucked her hand through the crook of his arm and steered her out into the corridor. The crowd had lessened now and they could stroll along without too much difficulty. Beth looked around for rescue, but none was immediately forthcoming.
‘I only wanted to speak with you, you know,’ Marcus said reproachfully. ‘I was utterly intrigued by your offer and wished to discuss the matter with you—’
‘Is that not why you employ a man of business, my lord?’ Beth asked, keeping her bright social smile in place. ‘To relieve you of such onerous tasks?’
‘Generally. But this would hardly be onerous.’
Beth found the warmth in Marcus’s tone difficult to resist. She glanced up through her lashes and saw that he was smiling at her. It made her feel strangely hot and cold at the same time and she almost shivered. She made an effort to gather her scattered senses.
‘If you had but honoured your wager, my lord, such a situation would not have occurred!’
‘True.’ Marcus bent closer and she felt his breath stir the tendrils of hair by her ear. ‘But that would have defeated my object—of seeing you again, sweetheart!’
Beth stopped dead and glared at him. ‘Do not call me that!’ she hissed. ‘You must know I am no…no lightskirt for your tumbling!’
Marcus grinned. ‘Then why behave like one, ma’am? A dignified request to buy Fairhaven might have elicited a more dignified response!’
Beth could have wept with frustration. What had started as a light-hearted idea—to visit the Cyprians’ Ball—had caused more trouble than she could ever have imagined. She wondered what on earth had possessed her to dance with Marcus Trevithick and to further the masquerade. At the time the opportunity to trick him out of Fairhaven had seemed too good to miss, amusing, clever even. She had congratulated herself on her ingenuity—and on her courage! Now she could see that the wager had been the product of too much wine and excitement. She tightened her lips in exasperation.
‘It was an impulse! Which I now bitterly regret!’
‘Understandably. If you are indeed the lady you pretend to be, what could be worse than a version of the events of that night circulating amongst the ton? Dear me, ma’am, it does not bear thinking about!’
Beth coloured up furiously. ‘You would not do such a thing!’
‘Why not?’
Marcus’s tone was mild, but when she glanced up at his face Beth saw that he was watching her intently. It was exactly the problem that Charlotte had hinted at, the one that Beth had not even anticipated. If the Earl of Trevithick let it be known that he had had an encounter with a lady indecorously disporting herself at the Cyprians’ Ball, no one would believe in her innocence. And yet some instinct told her that he would not do that to her. Her troubled grey gaze scanned his face and she saw the hard lines soften a little as a smile came into his eyes. Suddenly she was acutely aware of him; of the smooth material of his sleeve beneath her fingers and the hard muscle of his arm beneath that, of the warmth of his body so close to hers and the disturbing look in his eyes.
‘Just tell me your name,’ he said softly, persuasively.
‘Beth, my dear! There you are!’ Beth jumped and swung round, tearing her gaze from Marcus. Lady Fanshawe was bearing down on them, her good-natured face wreathed in smiles. Her gaze moved from her goddaughter to the Earl of Trevithick and her smile faltered slightly in surprise, but she recovered herself well.
‘Oh! Lord Trevithick, is it not? How do you do, sir? I had no notion that you knew my goddaughter!’
Beth was aware of a sinking feeling as she watched Marcus bow elegantly over Lady Fanshawe’s hand. She knew that her godmother, voluble as ever, was about to give her identity away completely.
‘It is so delightful to see that the younger generation has ended that tiresome estrangement between the Mostyn and Trevithick families!’ Lady Fanshawe burbled. ‘I have never quite understood the cause of all the trouble, for it was an unconscionably long time ago and over some trifling matter such as a lost battle—’
‘Or perhaps a lost island, ma’am!’ Marcus said smoothly. Beth felt his dark gaze brush her face and deliberately evaded his eyes. ‘In fact, I was hoping that your charming goddaughter—’ there was just a hint of a query in his voice ‘—might tell me more about our family feud, for I confess it fascinates me!’
Lady Fanshawe beamed, accepting Marcus’s other arm as they strolled slowly back towards the box. ‘Oh, well, Beth will be able to tell you the whole story, I dare say! All the Mostyns are steeped in family history from the cradle!’
‘I see,’ Marcus said slowly. Beth could feel him moving closer to his goal, but for some reason she felt powerless to intervene and direct the conversation into other channels. And Lady Fanshawe was so very good-natured, and seemed pleased that the Earl was showing such an interest…
‘You must know the family extremely well, ma’am,’ he continued.
‘Oh, indeed, for Davinia Mostyn, Beth’s mama, was such a dear friend of mine, was she not, Beth, my love? It was such a tragedy when Lord and Lady Mostyn were killed in that horrid accident! But then Kit inherited the title and Beth married Frank Allerton…’
Beth felt Marcus’s arm move beneath her fingers. She caught her breath.
‘You did not tell me that you were Sir Francis’s widow, Lady Allerton,’ Marcus said gently, smiling down at her. She could see the triumph in his eyes. ‘He was a fine man and a great scholar. His treatise on hydrostatics formed part of my university studies. I remember his work well.’
‘Thank you,’ Beth murmured, looking away. ‘Sir Francis was indeed a fine academician.’
They had reached their box now and discovered that the second act of the play was about to start. Kit was already in his seat and looked up, startled, to see both his cousin and Lady Fanshawe escorted by the Earl of Trevithick. The two men exchanged a stiff bow, and then Marcus took Beth’s hand in his.
‘I