Rules of Passion Read Free Page B

thing is, Max loves his boyhood home, and of course he now has to deal with the shame of his birth, and the despoiling of his mother’s memory in the eyes of the world. He’s feeling a little lost.”
    “It seems cruel and unnecessary of his father to let everyone know. Such a scandal is normally hushed up. In my own family my uncle has gone to greatlengths to hide the slightest whiff of disgrace.” That was true enough, Uncle William Tremaine had been appalled when he learned of Gerard Jones and how gleefully the London gossips had taken to the story. He hadn’t spoken to her since, but she had heard that he’d declared her “her mother’s daughter well and truly.”
    Marietta edged closer to Max, and he looked at her as if he would much rather she stayed away. But Marietta didn’t let that stop her, and in a moment she was sitting beside him in the basket, her arm bumping against him as a stronger gust shook them. He stared down with that haughty lift of his eyebrows, but she had never been easily intimidated and she wasn’t now. Clearly Max was in need of some good advice, and Marietta knew she was just the person to give it.
    “Can your real father help you?” she asked him candidly. “Perhaps he is not even aware yet that he has been blessed with a son.”
    Max gave a nasty laugh. “Perhaps he took to his heels and left my mother with no choice but to marry another man to cover her shame.”
    Marietta sighed. “I am so sorry…Max. I am in a similar situation myself, you know, so I understand a little of what you must feel. I do not know who my father is either.”
    Max stared at her as if he had wandered into a nightmare and could not find his way out. Marietta felt her face color. She hadn’t meant to tell him that, and her words had sounded odd, but she had been trying to comfort him. And anyway it was the truth; she didn’t know who her father was. Her mother, the courtesan Aphrodite, knew, but she hadn’t spoken ofit, and besides, Marietta wasn’t sure she wanted to meet him. More than likely her father would want to avoid her, just like everyone else.
    “I think,” Max said at last, in a weary voice, “that you are trying to be kind. I beg you not to be. I do not want your kindness. Despite what Ian believes, I just want to be left alone.”
    “To wallow in your bad fortune?” Marietta asked, and had the satisfaction of seeing that angry sparkle return to his eyes. “Max, don’t you know that we make our own fortune, good and bad? That is what I intend to do—”
    The wind had been growing stronger, and now there was a violent gust. Beneath them treetops swayed, and a herd of cows mooed and tried to flee from the balloon. Mr. Keith had been going about the important work of controlling his balloon, but Marietta had been aware of him listening to their conversation with interest. Now he glanced at her and nodded his head, as if keen to egg her on. But Marietta had said all she had to say. If Max wanted to revel in his bad fortune, then she was content to let him.
    There was another sharp gust—the basket swayed. “I’m going to start our descent,” Mr. Keith said. “The wind is stronger than I anticipated, so be warned: our landing may not be a gentle one.”
    Max frowned at him, and Marietta sensed the unspoken anxiety in their exchanged looks. She swallowed, and peering over the side, knew she had no desire to tumble to earth from this height.
    “You must brace yourself, Miss Greentree.” Mr. Keith was brisk. “The basket may well fall over whenwe land, but if you hang on tightly you will not be cast out of it. Max?”
    Marietta turned blindly toward her brooding companion and saw him nod. Whatever Mr. Keith had asked of his friend had been agreed upon. And then they were descending, and rather quickly.
    The silk flapped overhead, and the basket swayed alarmingly. The wind was even stronger down here, and the aeronaught cast a worried glance at the farmer’s field below—what