Page 63 of Masquerading with the Duke
‘Don’t judge everyone by your own low standards,’ she said with an imperious toss of her head. He had probably assumed that she would be terrified but she could tell by his sharp intake of breath that her dismissive response had both surprised and infuriated him.
‘You really are getting ideas above your station,’ he seethed, ‘but I shall soon bring you down to earth. No one turns their back on me without living to rue the day. No one. Especially a common little whore who has a high opinion of her questionable charms and a total lack of gratitude.’
‘Well, you would know all about questionable charms.’ She’d had enough of his taunts. He clearly thought she was a weakling, scared of her own shadow and she welcomed the chance to demonstrate the error of his ways. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her elbow back hard in the vicinity of his groin. He howled and released her waist immediately. ‘I don’t like you, I am not impressed by you and I want never to have anything to do with you.’ His face had turned deathly white. Martina assumed that her aim must have been spot on and that her elbow had caught him in his most sensitive place, as evidence by his obvious desire to clutch the affected area. ‘Oh,’ she added innocently. ‘Did I accidentally deposit my elbow in yourcojones?Always assuming you have any, which is questionable. I do hope it’s exquisitely painful.’
‘Why, you little…’ Martina wondered if she had made an error in being quite so confrontational. But it felt so good to let him know that she was no shrinking violet and that no man would ever use her against her will. ‘But still, you have spirit.’ A rictus smile spread across his face. ‘My revenge will be that much sweeter once I tame that wild spirit of yours. You won’t know when to expect me, so that will give you something to look forward to, but don’t worry, I shall not keep you in frustration for long.’
He backed away and was swallowed up by the crowd. Shaking now that the interlude had passed, Martina took a moment to collect herself, determined that Redrow would not spoil her pleasure in the day. The tug-of-war was over, she noticed, and the boys came scampering back to her.
‘The villagers won,’ Leo said, sounding disappointed. ‘But we cheered them anyway, because that’s the sporting thing to do.’
‘Come along then. Shall we see if all the ice cream has melted or if any can be found for you two. Then it will be time for the cricket.’
Both suggestions met with youthful approval. She provided ice cream for the boys and it was with sticky fingers and grimy mouths that Martina steered them in the direction of the shaded terrace, where the ladies of the family and the gentlemen not participating in the cricket had gathered.
‘You look as though you’ve had fun,’ the duchess said, eyeing the grubby state of their skeleton suits with resigned amusement.
‘Oh yes, the best possible time, Aunt Frankie,’ Josh said enthusiastically. ‘And Martina had done everything with us.’
‘She can’t throw very well though,’ Leo said. ‘But that’s because she’s a girl, so we made allowances for her, like we have to with Charlotte.’
‘You do not!’ Charlotte, seated several rows back with Ariana, poked her tongue out at her brother and cousin.
The duchess laughed as the boys sat cross-legged on the terrace in front of her. Martina joined her sister and they watched as the duke’s team was narrowly defeated in a viciously competitive game of cricket. Martina didn’t understand the rules, even though several of the ladies attempted to explain them to her. But she did think that Jared looked rather splendid in his shirtsleeves, throwing…no, bowling the ball exceedingly fast and with pinpoint accuracy.
Her duty done, she slipped away and went up to her room before the players returned to the terrace. She was still shaken by the interlude with Redrow, and if Jared singled her out, she suspected that she wouldn’t be able to conceal just how much it had overset her. Jared had his own problems with Redrow and Martina didn’t want to distract him from the more serious matter of clearing his name and exposing Redrow’s traitorous ways.
Her own differences with the odious man were far less significant. Besides, it was important that she fight her own battles without any man taking up the cudgels on her behalf.
Chapter Seventeen
Aware that Martina was watching the cricket inspired Jared to heights of physical exertion in the hopes of impressing her. He was unaware whether he achieved that ambition since when the game came to an end she had disappeared, presumably to take the children back to the nursery. He was disappointed not to have managed another private word with her, but at least had the satisfaction of knowing that she had not come to any harm at Redrow’s conniving hands.
As the majority of the guests slowly made their way home, the raucous villagers rowdily expressing their pleasure at having won the cricket match, Lord Romsey pulled Jared aside.
‘Redrow didn’t take the bait,’ he said without preamble.
‘He did not, damn it. I was so sure that he would…’ Jared, still in shirtsleeves, hot and not in the best of moods, ran a hand through his tangled hair. ‘What are we supposed to do now. I would welcome your suggestions.’
‘We tried, but I still urgently need your help with the French delegation.’
‘Just a damned minute! I said I would help you if and when my name was cleared, which it has not been.’
Romsey remained implacably calm in the face of Jared’s justifiable anger. ‘Sorry, but this is about more than just your reputation, which I fully intend to see restored. We must prioritise. Need I remind you that someone—to wit Redrow—is on the brink of ruining the fragile trust that exists between us and our French allies?’
Jared grunted, privately conceding that Romsey had a duty to put British interests first.
‘I had a quiet word in Redrow’s ear just before he left.’
‘Presumably, this is where I ask you what you told him,’ Jared said with a note of sarcasm in his voice. He knew he was behaving like a spoiled child deprived of a promised treat but couldn’t seem to help himself. He’d been wronged repeatedly and the strain of living under constant suspicion had begun to tell on his nerves.
Romsey chuckled, but there was little humour invested in the gesture. ‘I might just have mentioned that certain letters had come to the attention of my department that finally gave irrefutable proof as to the traitor’s identity.’
Jared gave up pretending not to want to know what game Romsey was playing, well aware that he was incapable of deceiving the wily diplomat by pretending a disinterest that didn’t exist. ‘How did he respond?’
‘He looked suitably grave, asked what the letters contained and what he could do to help flush the man out. I told him he would be needed in Whitehall next week where all would be revealed. His minister had specifically asked for him. He looked damned smug, and I so wanted to wipe that evil smile off his face.’ Romsey looked uncharacteristically ruffled. ‘I told him I hadn’t seen the letters but had been told they were such an amateurish attempt to divert suspicion that the person they had been intended to incriminate had been absolved of all wrongdoing.’ Romsey allowed himself the suggestion of a smile. ‘That had the desired effect and he no longer looked quite so pleased with himself.’
‘You think he will go to Whitehall, if only to convince his minister that he’s not the guilty party?’
