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‘I am not,’ Morgan growled. ‘Nobody can make the space needed to dance even if they can hear the orchestral music. Where is everyone supposed to go, eh?’
‘We can open the French doors and let people spill out onto the balcony,’ Mariette offered. ‘It will be fine. You worry too much.’
Morgan muttered a curse and knew that no matter what he said Mariette would always have an argument for it or ignore him. It annoyed the Hell out of him that she just wasn’t listening.
But there is nothing I can do. Without causing a ruckus and sending everyone home without warning, and in doing so cause a scandal, everyone has to stay.
‘Well, enjoy your ball, Mariette, because I can promise you here and now that it is going to be the last you will have in my house.’ He lifted a hand to stop her when she opened her mouth to object. ‘If you want to entertain guests you are to dine with them in the Dowager House. You are no longer at liberty to use my house for any reason, or invite anybody to it, do you understand? If you wish to see people you can go and visit them until you marry and have a house of your own. Then, you can return invitations and entertain people morning, noon, and night, every day of your married life if you want to, with the poor sod who will be your husband beside you throughout it all. I, however, shall not be involved in any of it. This is unacceptable, Mariette. It is poorly managed, makes us look disorganised, and is embarrassing. It isn’t a pleasant evening we should be giving people. It’s foolish.’
Mariette’s mouth fell open but Morgan didn’t give her the opportunity to say anything.
‘I know that as soon as I said you could have a ball here you decided to make the most of it and went about showing off and boasting to all and sundry. However, in doing so you have made it clear to everyone how poor you are at organising such an event. I warn you now that I am not going to tolerate another evening like this. If any of my personal belongings, ornaments, artwork, gets damaged in any way, you will pay for them out of your allowance. If there are any arguments or fights between the guests, you will sort them out. We won’t even discuss how much this lot has cost me but I warn you now that your allowance is going to be reduced to help pay for some of it. I don’t care how isolated you feel, or how many balls or dinner parties your friends have. You are not going to turn my house into bedlam like this again. I don’t care what you do, make sure that lot in there get out of this house before two o’clock. They are not to be here at dawn. I want those guests slowly eased out of the door from midnight and I don’t care if you have to shove their arms up their backs and physically kick them out of the front door to do it.’
It was evident to Morgan that Mariette was furious. Her eyes flashed. Her high cheekbones, so very much like his own, were tinged with florid colour. Her delicate chin was now tilted at a pugnacious angle, so much so he knew she wasn’t going to do anything he had just told her. It incensed him. Shoving a finger under her nose he growled: ‘If you don’t, at two o’clock precisely, I shall make an announcement that the ball has ended and everybody has to go home. That you were remiss not to tell them that it had a definite closure but they are all to leave,’ Morgan added.
‘You won’t do that.’ Mariette’s statement was bold but there was doubt in her eyes.
Morgan heaved a sigh of relief that he might, finally, be getting through to her. ‘Watch me,’ he hissed before slamming out of the kitchen leaving her staring after him with wide, horrified eyes.
The staff in the kitchen all stopped and turned to stare at the master of the house as he marched furiously across the kitchen and straight out of the back door. The loud bang of the door closing behind him retained the silence for several moments until, warily, they returned to work. Mariette crept slowly out of the scullery, more than a little shaken by her brother’s fury.
‘Is everything all right?’ Celeste, her best friend, asked nervously from the doorway.
‘Yes, dear. Morgan is just a little upset, that’s all,’ Mariette replied with a worried look at her brother’s rapidly retreating back through the kitchen window.
‘The orchestra are about to begin,’ Celeste murmured, eyeing Morgan longingly.
Mariette rolled her eyes and nudged Celeste into motion before her. She knew that her friend was completely infatuated with her brother, but also that Morgan really didn’t like Celeste. He found her to be too immature, too simpering, too whiny and clingy. Linking arms with her friend, Mariette dragged Celeste back to the ballroom. Deep inside, she too was getting alarmed by just how many people were turning up to what was, unless she could persuade Morgan otherwise, the last ball the house was going to accommodate for a long time.
CHAPTER TWO
Morgan marched angrily across his garden. He didn’t stop until he reached the pale waters of the lake in the farthest corner of his landscaped lawn. It annoyed the Hell out of him that even so far away he could hear the hideous noise coming from the guests crammed inside his house. As he listened the orchestra signalled that they were about to play. He knew, even without looking, that the crowd would do their best to create a bit of space to allow dancers to gather in the centre of the room. The drinks would continue to flow, people would fall about this way and that, and the orchestra would play regardless of whether anybody was paying attention or not.
‘Some people will have to stumble back out of the front door, some will have to be shoved, others won’t even remember being here. Then this whole damned sorry mess will take place under some other poor sod’s roof at some point in the future,’ Morgan muttered.
Raking a frustrated hand through his hair, he stopped suddenly and propped one broad shoulder against a thick oak tree but only so he could stare moodily across the lake.
‘Penny for them.’
Morgan sighed, and looked over his shoulder at his good friend, Ralph. His lip quirked upward in one corner as he accepted the bottle of brandy off him. One long sip wasn’t anywhere near enough to reduce his temper, but it did warm him through and make him relax a little.
‘If you don’t like them, why do you let her have it?’ Ralph asked without preamble.
‘The ball or the guests?’ Morgan asked dryly.
Ralph grinned. ‘Both.’ He walked past Morgan and slumped down onto the grass with his boots pointing to the edge of the lake. Staring moodily down at the fine leather, he waited, but not for long. Morgan settled down beside him and, together, they stared out across the water in companionable silence. Each man was lost to their thoughts until Morgan broke the silence.
‘You know Mariette. She is far too used to getting her own way. She doesn’t understand the word or meaning of ‘no’.
‘I do fear that she has been frightfully indulged,’ Ralph sighed.
‘Mariette has learnt that she can get what she wants if she nags, pesters, whines, and becomes a pain in the backside. If she doesn’t get anywhere with me, she will moan at Alicia until one of us gives in. Then whoever stands their ground against her finds themselves facing two people not just Mariette. It is hopeless. But it gives her something to do and keeps her out of my hair.’
Ralph looked back at the house. ‘But she is in your hair, and so are about two hundred and fifty strangers, Morgan.’
Morgan bit back a curse and growled loudly in sheer frustration. ‘She needs to find a damned husband, and then she will leave me alone.’
Indeed, he had done everything possible to invite as many single friends as he could just for that purpose in
