Page 72 of Scandalous

Naturally the project had attracted the attention of Lord Ramsay, and the three of them had spent a good portion of the prior weeks in the large drawing room at Davenport House, which Daphne had converted into a ballroom. Daphne played the pianoforte while Lord Ramsay and Sarah danced. Ramsay was an exquisite dancer, particularly for such a large man.

“Years spent on board a ship,” he replied when Sarah complimented his grace.

“Don’t believe him, Sarah,” Daphne called from the pianoforte, over which her fingers were moving smoothly even as she spoke. “He has all the skills of an accomplished rake.”

“My wife would have you believe I did nothing but pursue women and my own pleasure in the years before I met her.”

“I do not need your wife’s word to believe that,” Sarah assured the handsome baron, her acerbic comment drawing his wife’s laughter.

Sarah did not imagine she could ever enjoy a ball as much as she had those afternoons with her two friends.

“You will be the toast of the ball, Sarah,” the baron had assured her this afternoon after her last lesson, a particularly grueling session spent on the waltz.

“That is a well-intentioned exaggeration. Thanks to you and Lady Ramsay, I believe I will not shame myself, which is more than I ever hoped to achieve in such a short time.”

The ball this evening was considered a highlight of the Season. Sarah knew Mies would not be there. Apparently he was busy with some function at Carlton House. Sarah had been relieved to hear it as he’d been spending entirely too much time haunting her uncles’ house—and her.

Even though Mies was being feted by doting mamas and royalty alike, he was still intent on gaining Sarah’s attention. He’d even approached her uncles for permission to court her. Sarah had been furious and had told him so. She was almost five and twenty—she did not need anyone’s permission to marry.

Her uncles, not unnaturally, were thrilled that a member of the Dutch aristocracy wanted to marry their niece. She hated to disappoint them, but she would never marry Mies. She liked him well enough, but she could never admire him. It pained her to think that she had such an unforgiving nature, but she could never overlook his past.

As was always the case when she thought of slavery, or practically any subject of late, a pair of gold eyes flashed into her mind. Sarah tsked in disgust. She should be glad he’d left Davenport House before she made a fool of herself.

Their carriage was one of the first to arrive at the imposing Palladian mansion, and she’d just removed her wrap and handed it to a footman when the tiny Marchioness of Exley came rushing toward her, a taller woman hurrying to keep up with her.

“Sarah, how lovely to see you.” The exuberant woman embraced Sarah as if she were a dear friend.

Sarah blushed at the warm welcome. “Good evening, Lady Exley. This is my aunt, Mrs. Anna Dearing.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Dearing, this is my cousin, Mrs. Rebecca Devane and she is dying to meet you. Do you mind if I steal Sarah away from you for a moment?” Before her aunt could formulate an answer, the smaller woman whisked her away. “I’m sorry if that was rather rude, but I simply must introduce you to my husband and I’m afraid Adam isn’t good for more than one or two introductions per evening, and you will be his second.”

Sarah laughed. “I’m honored, Lady Exley.”

“Do not tell me you mean to stand on ceremony?” the other woman demanded, all but dragging Sarah toward the large drawing room. “We have consumed too much wine together and exchanged naughty secrets. I thought I told you to call me Mia?”

The marchioness was referring to the first time they’d met at Lady Ramsay’s. They had indeed consumed too much wine and exchanged too many confidences. The small redhead was quite irrepressible, and even Daphne, usually the voice of reason, had laughed until tears sprang to her eyes at the marchioness’s amusing gossip.

Mia Exley barely came up to Sarah’s shoulder and was built like a fairy—a very sensual fairy. Her dress clung indecently to her small, shapely form. And she didn’t merely walk; she flowed. Sarah knew she was older than she appeared and that she’d lived for many years in a harem; it was something of an open secret among the ton.

“Adam has been dying to meet you,” Mia said, leading her toward a slim man standing by himself. “Adam, here is Miss Fisher.” Several other guests turned their heads at the sound of her overly loud voice.

Daphne’s description of the Marquess of Exley had been accurate: he looked like a marble statue come to life. He was also the most perfectly dressed and coiffed man she’d ever seen. What Daphne hadn’t shared was how perfectly cold he was. It was easy to see how he’d come by his notorious sobriquet: the Murderous Marquess.

“This is my husband, the Marquess of Exley. But you must call him Adam.” The marchioness smiled up at her husband, her face tilted toward him like a flower. He looked at his wife for a long moment before turning to Sarah. His eyes were an extraordinary pale blue that seemed to flay the flesh from her bones. Sarah wished she’d kept her wrap.

He bowed over her hand. “It is a pleasure, Miss Fisher. I understand you come to us from Africa. No doubt my wife will have much to discuss with you.” As if he, personally, would have nothing to say to her.

“Adam, you are being obtuse.” Mia hit him with her fan. Sarah could have sworn the marquess almost smiled.

“I’m afraid I must persist with my behavior. Exactly how am I being obtuse, my dear?”

“Sarah lived in West Africa; I lived in North Africa. They could not be more different. Also, Sarah lived with her parents, who were missionaries. Don’t you think that sounds fascinating?”

“One can only imagine,” Exley murmured, as if he put such information on a list somewhere between a tooth extraction and a trip to Lady Exley’s milliner. The killing smile he bestowed on his wife would have been enough to make any normal person crawl under a rock. A small dimple appeared in the redhead’s cheek, and Sarah realized she was baiting her austere spouse.

“Oh, look, here is Gabriel.” Lady Exley transferred her attention to the young man who’d just joined them.

“Good evening, Mother.”