Page 68 of Scandalous

She was speaking with Lord Ramsay and one of his cousins when she felt a light tap on her shoulder and turned to find Mies.

“Good evening, Sarah.” The Dutchman must have visited Bond Street as he was now dressed in well-tailored black-and-white evening clothes.

“Mies! What are you doing here?” she asked rather rudely.

He grinned. “I am likely to pop up anywhere now that I am no longer under house arrest.”

“Yes, of course. But tell me, how was your meeting with Lord Bathurst?”

Mies glanced around the box. “Did Bouchard not tell you?”

“He moved out of Lord Ramsay’s house yesterday.”

Mies shrugged and held his hands out, palm up. “Well, you are now looking at a free man.”

“I am glad for you, Mies.” While Sarah could never approve of what he’d done, she did not approve of incarceration either. “Will you be going home soon?”

“I thought I should stay and experience the London Season while I am here. Also, I am scheduled to meet the regent and Princess Charlotte. Apparently they are determined to show me every kindness even though Her Royal Highness gave my cousin William the boot.”

“What a horrible thing to say,” she said, laughing.

“It is the truth. It seems they do not realize my father has long been estranged from his royal relations. In any case, I am the beneficiary of that ignorance, so I will stay for the introduction. Perhaps our paths will cross and we will be able to dance?”

“You wouldn’t enjoy it, I can promise you that. I’m afraid I don’t know a single dance.”

He seemed to find that a welcome piece of news. “Perhaps Lady Ramsay will allow me to offer lessons—with the correct supervision, of course.”

“I’m sure you have much more important things to do.”

“I can’t think of anything more important to me.” His expression was dangerously earnest, and Sarah was glad the baron picked that moment to introduce her to one of his acquaintances.

Sarah found Mies’s interest in her embarrassing. She’d understood his infatuation while they’d been aboard the Golden Scythe. After all, she’d been the only woman onboard. But she’d hoped his feelings for her would dissipate when they left the ship.

She supposed she could not be so lucky. After all, her interest in Martín had not diminished with her increased exposure to new and interesting people. On the contrary, every handsome man she met just served to make Martín more attractive to her.

* * *

Pounding, agonizing pain. At first Martín thought the pounding was only inside his skull, just as it had been every morning for the past two weeks, but then he realized somebody was knocking on his door. He looked at the clock on the nightstand; it was almost noon. He felt the bed next to him and realized it was empty.

“What?” he croaked, the sound of his voice causing his head to ache even worse.

“Captain Bouchard, you have a visitor downstairs.”

It sounded like Mrs. Hensleigh, or Venetia as he now called her. The door opened, and the diminutive madam entered. Her blurry form advanced on the bed. “You have a visitor,” she repeated. “A rather impressive visitor. Six and a half feet, one eye?”

“Merde.” Martín gripped his forehead with one hand, squeezing like a vise.

She chuckled. “I should not like to have him come and fetch me. He looks pleasant enough right now, but he has given you an hour to join him in the drawing room. I will try to keep him entertained, although he has already made it plain he is not interested in conducting any business.”

Martín couldn’t resist laughing even though it was agony. “He is besotted with his wife and only gets worse every day.”

“Mmm, how wonderful for them both,” she said wistfully. “I’ve ordered a bath, and Nicole and Francie will be along to help you. You will do as I ask, won’t you, darling? I’d hate for the giant downstairs to come looking for you.”

Martín grunted.

Taking that for an assent, she left him alone.

Martín lay back on the bed; he would get up when the two women arrived to help him. God knew he was paying them enough for little other than bathing, dressing, and undressing him every day. And for keeping mum about what did not go on in his suite every night. He suppressed the urge to weep like a little girl as he considered his predicament.