Francesca Read Free Page B

this boast without even considering it, since she wore no ring. It was odd she admitted to being older. Devane said, “Take off your mask.”It was a politely worded command, and such was the force of his personality that her hand actually moved to do as he bid.
    She checked herself, however. “A lady in my position shouldn’t be here, in a place like this. It was foolish of me to come.”
    “We all act the fool from time to time. I am feeling foolish tonight myself. Shall we have a dance?”
    “I really should be going.”
    “You can’t go home alone.”
    “I have a friend here.”She looked around the room and spotted Selby at his post, watching her with glum foreboding. She waved to him. Devane looked, and caught a glimpse of two women at the doorway near Selby.
    Her bland mention of being with a friend was all the confirmation he needed that she was a lightskirt. They traveled to such places as this in pairs or groups if they were not escorted by a patron. “You see now why I refused your offer of wine. I wished to keep you in my debt. Come now, a lady always repays her debts. I have rescued you. You owe me one dance.”
    “Well, just one,”she said, and rose, eager to have it over with. It had been a dreadful evening. Mrs. Denver would be happy to see her home early, for once.
    They were playing a waltz. Waltzes featured prominently at the Pantheon, to allow the patrons greater freedom. In fact, so many of the couples were inebriated that the formality of a minuet or cotillion would be beyond them. Devane led her to the floor, where jostling and rowdy customers elbowed them mercilessly. It seemed like a sort of gentlemanly protection when Devane held her closely in his arms.
    But as the dance neared its end, the idea that he was any sort of protector at all was banished. “Why don’t we get out of here and go someplace where we can be alone?”he said bluntly.
    She stiffened in his arms. “I really must go!”she said, and darted from the floor. She ran back to their table to grab her reticule. He was hot at her heels. “Are you feeling ill?”He had noticed her drinking her wine too quickly, unless she was a confirmed drinker so early in her career.
    “I must go!”she repeated.
    “What’s the matter? Do you already have a patron?”he asked baldly.
    Although she was familiar with the word, it was confusing to hear it used in connection with herself. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, are you already spoken for?”
    “No—that is, I told you I am a widow.”
    “Then, what is the problem, Mrs. Wilson? We’ll go to a quiet, private inn. I know of a place on the Chelsea Road.”
    There was no longer any possibility of misunderstanding his meaning. He had mistaken her for a lightskirt. Selby had often warned her of that possibility, but she never paid him any heed. She felt thoroughly ashamed, and was too modest to be angry. Her only wish was to escape before he learned her identity. This Devane was persistent, however, and highly effectual. She would have to use guile to be rid of him.
    “Well then, why don’t you have your carriage brought around while I powder my nose,”she said with an enticing smile.
    She received an answering smile of triumph. “Five minutes, at the front door.”He left, and Francesca beckoned to Selby, who immediately joined her.
    “Get me out of here! Devane is having his carriage sent around. He thinks I am going with him.”
    “Does he know who you are?”
    “No.”
    “Good! Come with me.”
    Mr. Caine took her hand and they skirted the room till they found a corridor leading to the rear of the building. They left by a side door, and walked along till they met a hansom cab. As they drove home, he took the opportunity to give her a stern lecture. He was doubly miffed that he would have to come back later and recover his chaise.
    “What happened with the major?”
    “He took the stupid idea he wanted to marry me, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Devane sent him