repeat, Lady Hannah, your father’s problems are not yours to solve. Does David return your affection?’
‘He will not declare himself out of loyalty to you,’ she said, her face dreamy and, oh, so young.
He smiled again, feeling like Methuselah. But perhaps a new hand had been dealt him, one he might win by losing. ‘My dear Lady Hannah, you may tell David that I am no longer a suitor, and he has my full permission to court you. You may also tell him not to worry over his lack of funds, for I shall attend that as well.’
She gazed up at him, with hope dawning on her face. ‘You can do this for him?’
He smiled. It would give him great pleasure to manipulate his father into giving David his fortune early. ‘I will be delighted to accommodate you both.’
‘Oh, thank you, Mr Sloane!’ She flung her arms around his neck. ‘Wait until I tell David!’
‘Only David,’ he cautioned, extricating himself from her grasp. ‘Do not tell anyone else or I might not be able to manage the affair.’
She nodded, smiling brightly, and ran past him out of the room.
Sloane wandered into the library. He walked over to the globe and spun it absently, waiting a few discreet minutes so it would not be so apparent that he had been with Hannah. He spun the globe again, feeling as if he were Atlas relieved of its weight. Lord Cowdlin would be almost as delighted as Hannah that her marriage—and the rescue of his finances—would be with David Sloane rather than Cyprian.
Sloane turned his thoughts more happily to the golden-eyed woman who would share his carriage on the ride home. How might he contrive some time alone with Morgana? He had much to discuss with her.
He smiled in anticipation of holding her in his arms again.
Morgana happened to be standing by the drawing room door when Hannah walked in, her colour high and eyes bright.
‘Oh, Morgana!’ She gave her cousin’s hand a squeeze. ‘I am so happy. I cannot tell you, for it is a secret, but you shall know soon enough!’
Morgana smiled dutifully, but she could guess what had brought such excitement to her cousin’s face. It had not escaped her that Sloane and Hannah had been absent from the room at the same time. Sloane had caught Hannah alone, undoubtedly, and had finally made his offer.
Hannah skipped over to where Athenia stood with David Sloane sipping tea, but the others did not seem to notice that her usual liveliness was heightened. In contrast, Morgana’s spirits plummeted, though it was nonsensical for them to do so. She had always known he would offer for Hannah.
Still, it seemed as if a door had slammed in her face. All hope was gone that she and Sloane could recapture that intimacy they’d so briefly shared, the one that had led to her coming alive to her passion for him. How was she to bear it?
By the time Sloane walked in the room, Morgana had taken over the pouring of tea from her aunt. It helped for her to have a task to perform. When he walked over to her and she poured for him, knowing precisely how he desired his tea, she sensed the same pent-up excitement in him so evident in Hannah. She dared glance at his face as she handed him his cup. His grey eyes were as warm and soft as smoke.
Would that they could be that warm for her.
Chapter Fifteen
By the time she entered Sloane’s carriage, Morgana felt quite in control of herself. Tears no longer threatened to embarrass her, nor did his lighthearted mood make her heart ache—very much.
Amy had already seated herself in the backward-facing seat, and Sloane took his place beside Morgana, tapping on the roof for the coachman to be off. He sat too close, it seemed, taking away all of Morgana’s air.
‘Did you have a nice visit, Amy?’ she asked. Better to converse with her maid than endure Sloane’s cheerful silence.
‘Oh, yes, miss, a lovely visit,’ Amy responded. ‘And I did not say one word about the masquerade.’
‘The what?’ Sloane’s voice boomed in the small confines of the carriage.
Amy’s hand flew to her mouth and she glanced in alarm at Morgana, who was not in any mood to hear Sloane upbraid her one more time.
She lifted her chin defiantly. ‘The masquerade at the Argyle Rooms tomorrow night. We are to attend. It is to be how we launch the girls.’
She could feel his eyes burn into her, though she could not clearly see them in the dim light of the carriage lamp. ‘Surely you are not seriously considering this?’
She could not explain to him that she agreed to this plan in part for his sake, to extricate him from the courtesan school. If it no longer existed, it could not threaten his happiness—or Hannah’s.
‘They must be set on their way sometime.’ She sounded exactly like Madame Bisou, but she did not care. ‘This masquerade is the perfect opportunity. Harriette Wilson says so.’
‘Harriette Wilson,’ spat Sloane. ‘Damn her for coming to your door.’
Amy gaped at them both.
‘I thought her very charming.’ Morgana’s voice was impudent. ‘In a way, she started the whole idea of the courtesan school. She was the inspiration, you might say. To me, it is fitting we use her idea of attending the masquerade.’
He snatched her hand. ‘Morgana, do not tell me you will attend this masquerade. I forbid it.’
She pulled it out of his grasp.
Forbid it? He had no right to tell her what she should and should not do. She was nothing to him. Nothing. Merely the cousin of his fiancée. ‘Of course I will attend. I am quite looking forward to it.’
He leaned towards her in the darkness, so close she could feel his breath on her face. ‘Morgana, it is bad enough that you allow those young women to become courtesans, but you must not attend this masquerade. You have no idea what happens at such events.’
She shrank back from him, but it was his proximity that disturbed her more than his warning. She knew enough of the world to realise the masquerade would be a raucous affair. She intended to be there to make sure her girls remained safe, that was all. He ought to understand her need to do so. But he could not understand the other emotions swirling inside her, the arousal of her senses caused by just sitting next to him.
‘This is not well done of you at all,’ he went on.
No, it was not well done to fall in love with the man affianced to her cousin. Nor was it well done of her to wish she could do with him all the things that Harriette Wilson and Madame Bisou hinted a woman might do to please a gentlemen.
‘I think it is very well done of me, sir.’ She faced him, anger rising inside her, piling on top of emotions that were no more than a jumble of pain twisting inside her. Loss, desire, loneliness—emotions that drove her to shock him further. ‘In fact, I think you are wrong about my girls becoming courtesans. I am quite convinced that this is
