The Earl's Runaway Bride. Sarah Mallory

      ‘Fie upon you, sir, that is no way to address someone at a masquerade.’ The lady was smiling at him through the scrap of lace that served as her mask.

      ‘Well, I’m dashed if I’m going to ask Rosthorne if I know him,’ retorted Sir James. ‘It’s perfectly plain to see who he is. But you don’t look as if you’re enjoying yourself, my boy.’

      Nathan shrugged. ‘I have been here for most of the day, sir. His Highness got wind of the fiasco in the Stinchcombes’ garden and I was despatched to check that the grounds here are secure.’

      ‘Ah, yes. We cannot risk another assassination attempt,’ replied Sir James. ‘That would really put a damper on the celebrations. But having done your duty you are free to enjoy yourself now, Rosthorne.’

      ‘To tell the truth I wish this whole evening was over,’ replied Nathan, grimacing.

      ‘Is it really so bad?’ Lady Souden gave him a sympathetic smile.

      ‘I would be more comfortable in a plain domino, but this—’ Nathan indicated his costume, an over-elaborate variation of a hussar’s uniform in royal blue, red, white and gold.

      Sir James nodded. ‘Garish, ain’t it? And even the mask don’t conceal one’s identity. But his Highness insists. A display of solidarity for his guests, I think.’

      ‘And they haven’t even put in an appearance,’ declared Nathan bitterly.

      ‘But they will.’ Sir James patted him on one heavily gilded shoulder. ‘Bear up, Rosthorne. Prinny and his royals will turn up shortly and depart again even sooner, no doubt. When they have gone you can take your leave.’

      ‘Aye, I’ll go home and change.’ Nathan grinned. ‘I pity those poor fellows in the Prince’s Own if their uniform is anything like this.’

      ‘Well, I think you both look very dashing,’ laughed Lydia as Sir James led her away to join the dancing. ‘Every woman will want to dance with you.’

      And that’s the problem, thought Nathan as he drew back once more into the shadows. It seemed to him that all the matchmaking mothers in London had begged, borrowed or stolen an invitation to this masquerade for no better purpose than to fling their marriageable daughters at his head. Lord, what a conceited fool everyone would think him if he expressed such a view aloud, but it was true Sir James himself had called him—what were his words? The biggest catch on the Marriage Mart. Nathan’s mouth twisted in distaste. When he had been a mere Major Carraway no one had cared about his marital status, but the wealthy Lord Rosthorne was the subject of constant speculation.

      Nathan had not expected to become Earl of Rosthorne, but when he had inherited the title he had thought it his duty to sell out and interest himself in his estates. Now, as he dodged behind a pillar to avoid the gaze of another predatory matron, he began to wish he had remained in the army.