Mary sucked in a breath. It was as if she’d just been hurled into an abyss, arms flailing and all. Her entire body stiffened as the skin on her arms and shoulders tightened with a wash of prickly heat. “I cannot,” she whispered, shaking away a shiver.

“It is the most prudent way forward,” Richard told her calmly. “If Rotridge plans to use the information against you, your aunt will eventually find out. I think that it would be best if she did so from you.”

Mary knew that he was right, but that didn’t seem to diminish her fear in the least. She was terrified of what her aunt would think—of how she would react when she discovered that Mary had lied to her. How much, she had lied to her. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she prayed for strength. When she opened them again, she focused all her attention on her aunt’s curious expression and said, “You know how fond I am of reading?”

Lady Foxworth nodded. “Of course. It is one of your favorite activities. You always go to bed early so that you can have a few hours to yourself with a good book. I have nothing against it personally though it has struck me as somewhat odd that a young lady, such as yourself, would prefer reading to an evening at the theatre.”

Hesitantly chewing on her lower lip, Mary squeezed Richard’s hand. “To be perfectly honest, I must confess that I do not. Prefer reading to an evening at the theatre, that is.”

“What do you mean?” Lady Foxworth’s lips parted in a perfect O, her eyes darting from Mary to Richard and back again.

“I mean that I was not reading when you thought I was. I was singing.” Sucking in a deep breath, Mary plunged forward. “And I was doing so at the opera, in full view of everyone who has ever bought a ticket to see Lucia Cavalani.”

Lady Foxworth blinked, then shook her head. “I do not understand.”

Leaning slightly forward, Mary met her aunt’s eyes. “I am Lucia Cavalani, Aunt. I have been singing at the King’s Theatre for two full seasons now disguised as her, with earnings of five thousand pounds per annum. And that is—”

“Good Lord,” Richard breathed.

“I am speechless,” Lady Foxworth exclaimed. “Positively speechless!”

“And that is without considering the additional profits that I have acquired from occasionally performing by special request or going on tour. If you recall, I did stay with my brother a few times during the off-season.”

“Your brother knew about this?” Lady Foxworth sounded truly appalled now.

“I believe it was to his advantage,” Richard said, “Though I must confess that I had no idea of just how much until this moment.” Turning his head he looked down at Mary with a mixture of admiration and something alarmingly similar to pity. “What was your total income this last year, Mary?”

“Sixteen thousand seven hundred pounds. To be exact.”

“Good grief!” Lady Foxworth curled her hand around the armrest as if to steady herself.

“And how much of that have you given your brother?” Richard asked.

“He needed my help,” Mary said, aware of how the situation probably looked.

“How much?” Richard repeated.

Feeling horribly foolish all of a sudden, Mary dropped her gaze. “Twelve thousand pounds.”

Silence fell upon the room for one long awful moment until Richard quietly said, “I am sorry, but I daresay that he has not been a very good brother to you.”

“I could not agree more,” Lady Foxworth said. “To think that he encouraged you to go behind my back, facilitating this . . . this folly! And for what? You could have been horribly ruined any number of times and in any number of ways too. The people you must have had to associate with . . . Good Lord! It does not bear thinking about, Mary. To say that I am disappointed in you would be a grave understatement. And your poor parents! Just think of—”

“That is quite enough,” Richard cut in. “There is no need to add salt to the wound, Lady Foxworth. Mary knows that what she did was risky, and yet I cannot help but admire her for it nonetheless.”

“Admire her?” Lady Foxworth’s tone reminded Mary of nails on a chalkboard.

“For better or worse, she tried to help her brother overcome a difficult situation when he had no one else to turn to. She did so by transforming her voice into a powerful asset—one that is worth five thousand pounds per annum! Can you imagine how difficult that must have been for her? Just coordinating everything so that nobody would learn the truth about her is a remarkable feat on its own. But if you hear her sing—”

“I have heard her sing, Mr. Heartly,” Lady Foxworth said tightly and with an underlying note of exhaustion. Her nostrils flared. “In fact, it seems that I have had that pleasure repeatedly. At the King’s Theatre.”

“Then you must agree that she has an incredible talent,” Richard insisted.

Lady Foxworth stared back at Mary as if she were seeing her for the very first time, which made Mary feel much like a rare specimen in a glass jar at the Hunterian. It took every ounce of restraint she possessed not to squirm.

Eventually her aunt nodded. “Indeed, there is no denying that.” Mary breathed a sigh of relief, which came a moment too soon since her aunt continued with, “But . . .” She held up a pointed finger to accentuate the word. “That does not mean that I will forgive you for betraying my trust, Mary. Apparently, you are not the person I thought you to be, but someone else entirely, and that is not an easy thing for me to accept. I am sorry.”

If her aunt had struck her, Mary doubted it would have hurt as much as the words that had just been spoken. They fell heavily between them, like thick snow dislodged from a rooftop.

“Nevertheless,” Richard said. Releasing Mary’s hand, he brought his arm around her shoulders instead—an intimate gesture of comfort that was terribly inappropriate, but much appreciated by Mary. “You are not the only one who knows about this. Rotridge does as well.”

“The news just seems to be getting worse and worse,” Lady Foxworth murmured.

“And since he has chosen to tell you about Mary’s association with me, I believe it is only a matter of time before he uses his knowledge about Mary’s career at the opera in an effort to ruin her socially.”

“To what avail?” Lady Foxworth asked. “Because she does not wish to welcome his advances?”

“Partly,” Mary said. “He claims that he is accustomed to getting what he wants and, not only did I tell him that he can never have me, but his efforts at forcing my hand were also repeatedly diverted. I believe he feels humiliated and that he blames me for that. Rotridge wants revenge, and he now has the perfect means by which to get it.”

“Then we must aim to stop him at all cost.” Righting herself on the sofa, Lady Foxworth served Richard a candid stare.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I like the way you think.”

“Do you have a plan?” Mary asked, eager to know how to proceed but also worried about what might happen.

“Nothing concrete—not until I know how Rotridge intends to act. Right now, his power over you has been somewhat diminished since you have told your aunt about Lucia Cavalani. But he might still try to convince others that you and she are one and the same.” Rising. Richard paced back and forth a moment before coming to a halt. “I think the best bet is to deny everything.”

“Of course it is,” Lady Foxworth agreed, to Mary’s amazement. “If any questions are asked, I will vouch for Mary. Indeed, I will tell everyone that she has spent her evenings at home and that I have personally seen her do so.”

Mary gaped. “You would lie for me?”

“Of course I would,” Lady Foxworth said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You are my niece, after all, and I am duty bound to protect you.”

“I scarcely know what to say.” Her aunt’s generosity made her feel even worse, so she did the only thing that she could think of doing in order to make things right again between them, even though she knew that it wouldn’t be nearly enough. Rising, Mary crossed to where her aunt was sitting, leaned down and placed a kiss upon her cheek. “Thank you.”

Lady Foxworth managed a wobbly smile. Her eyes shimmered a little. “Think nothing of it,” she said as she too got to her feet with a bit of a shrug and a nonchalant hand gesture. “Let’s just hope that it works so that we may be rid of that pestering Rotridge for good.”

Mary couldn’t agree more as she accepted the arm that Richard offered and allowed him to escort her from the room.

“I cannot possibly thank you enough,” Mary said as she and Richard made their way down a long hallway shortly after. “It cannot be easy for you to remove the mask and show your face after all this time.”

“No, it is not,” he agreed, noting the Duke of Pinehurst’s startled expression as they passed him, “but it is necessary, not only if we are to save your reputation but if we are to be together. I cannot continue courting you in secret.”

“Although you must admit that our midnight rendezvous have been terribly romantic.”

Chuckling lightly, he tightened his hold on her arm. “There is no denying that.”

A shrill squeal drew Richard’s attention away from Mary, his feet almost taking a step back at the sight of a woman sprinting toward him. He recognized her instantly as his youngest sister, Fiona. “Richard!” His name was joyfully spoken as she flung her arms around his neck, detaching him from Mary who produced a stunned squeak. “I cannot believe that it is really you.”

“And I cannot believe that you would so easily recognize me after all these years.”

“Are you mad?” Pulling back she assessed him carefully from head to toe. “You look exactly the same as when I last saw you.”

He couldn’t help but frown in response to that obvious lie. “Except for this,” he said.

She peered up at him, almost squinting. “If that has been your only reason for hiding away in your bedchamber, I just might throttle you.” She crossed her arms. “And I am bigger now, in case you have not noticed.”

At his right, he heard Mary choke back a laugh. “So you are,” he agreed, pressing his lips together.

“I am serious,” Fiona said. “With all the fuss about you not wanting to see us, I rather expected you to have turned into a troll or some other terrifying creature.” Pouting in much the same way as she’d done when she was little and was being denied a sweet, she added, “I find that I am rather disappointed by how handsome you still are.”

Richard straightened. “Now you exaggerate.”

“Not at all,” Fiona said.

“I agree with her,” Mary said. Her lips pulled slightly at the corners, dimpling her cheeks in an almost mischievous way. “Indeed, I find you to be the most handsome of men.”

Fiona frowned. She took a step back, her eyes darting between them. “Wait a moment . . .” Her head tilted and it clearly seemed as though she was trying to work out a puzzle. “How are the two of you acquainted with each other? I mean, if my brother has just chosen to venture back into public, I find it odd that he would do so with a perfect stranger by his side. Unless of course, you have known each other for some time, in which case”—she shook her head—“I do not understand this.”

It was Richard’s turn to laugh. There was really nothing better than catching his sisters by surprise and pulling the wool over Fiona’s eyes had always been more difficult. “We met at the masquerade,” he confessed, even more amused by the confusion that filled Fiona’s eyes at that remark.

“The masquerade?” Richard and Mary both nodded. “But that was over a week ago!”

“Yes, it was,” Richard agreed.

“I cannot believe that you attended the masquerade without letting your family know.” She paused for a second before saying, “Don’t tell me that Spencer and Papa were aware of your presence and failed to inform the rest of us.”

“No, Fiona. I told no one, but Lady Duncaster insisted that I should participate and after much deliberation I decided that it would be a good opportunity for me to escape my solidarity for an evening.” Bowing his head, he asked, “Do you recall the gentleman who refused to dance with you?”

She nodded, then gasped. “That was you?”

“I hope you can forgive my rudeness, but I knew how hard it would be for me to hold you in my arms without sharing my identity with you. At the time, I was not yet ready to return to Society.” Looking briefly at Mary, he said, “But then I met a woman who would change my life forever. I am in her debt.”

Fiona’s eyes shimmered as she reached for Richard’s hand, enclosing it in her own. “I am so happy for you.” Blinking, she said, “I take it that the two of you have plans?”

Mary nodded. “Your brother has just asked me to marry him and I have accepted.”

“Then you will soon be my sister.” Releasing Richard’s hand, Fiona stepped toward Mary, kissing her lightly on the cheek. Stepping back with the brightest smile in creation, she then said, “Just wait until I tell Mama and Papa!”

Richard stared after Fiona as she hurried away from where he and Mary were still standing. “I suspect my return to Society coupled with our unexpected engagement is about to put the entire house on edge.”

“Your mother will certainly be thrilled,” Mary said. “To marry off three children in less than a month is quite a feat.”

Richard chuckled. “Perhaps she will be able to draw some of the attention away from us.”

“Perhaps,” Mary agreed as she placed her hand upon his arm and allowed him to guide her forward once more.

A feeling of great comfort settled inside his chest. It was one that he looked forward to experiencing every day for the rest of his life with Mary by his side.

“I must say that I am rather relieved to have you back in our midst,” Chadwick said from across the table that evening at dinner, following a toast that Lady Duncaster had made in Richard’s honor. “I thought you were done for. Spencer never said a word!”

“I can assure you that no one is as relieved as I.” Taking a bite of his pheasant, Richard reflected on how wonderful it was to finally be back in Society with the freedom to do something as simple as share a meal with friends. He’d wasted precious time in his self-induced confinement, though it had been for a good reason. A smile touched his lips at the thought of how his foe might react upon realizing that he was not only still alive, but that he’d taken everything from him after years of meticulous planning.

Leaning slightly to his left, Richard whispered in Mary’s ear. “Are you ready to make a public announcement?”

She didn’t turn her head to look at him, her eyes trained on the piece of meat she was cutting, but the blush that rose up her neck and filled her cheeks spoke volumes about the effect he was having on her. “I fear that some may expire from sheer shock since they thought you dead until only half an hour ago.” His return to Society had certainly been met by open-mouthed gapes and a succession of gasps. One lady had even fainted since she’d thought him a ghost. “To announce that you are to be married may be a touch too much.”

“So you think we should wait until tomorrow?” Discreetly, Richard reached beneath the table and placed his hand against her thigh. A devilish grin swept through him when she almost jolted out of her seat, her cutlery clanging loudly against her plate.

“Mind your manners, sir,” she hissed while several curious gazes darted toward them.

“Once our engagement is official, I shall not have to mind them quite as much,” he murmured. “Much less once we are wed.”

She said nothing in response to that, but reached for her wine instead and took a lengthy sip.

“Will you tell us what you and Lady Mary are discussing?” Spencer asked. Leaning forward from across the table, he said in a far more muted tone, “Chadwick is already placing bets on the subject of your interest.”

“And what, pray tell, do you suspect the subject to be, Chadwick?” Richard asked.

A cheeky smile lit Chadwick’s face. “Weeeell . . .” He took a sip of his wine and then returned the glass to the table. “I—”

“Will say nothing further on the matter,” Lady Spencer cut in. Seated between her husband and Chadwick she’d apparently been following the conversation and had decided that it had gone too far.

“Then perhaps I ought to do so instead,” Richard suggested. Turning back to Mary, he asked her plainly, “Are you ready to become the center of attention?”

“If you are,” she said, offering him the loveliest smile in the world, “then so am I.”

Confident that he would have the life that he had always dreamed of, Richard pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. A tremor raced through him and his stomach clenched as he reached for his glass and hit his knife against it, making it chime. The chatter that had filled the dining room just a second earlier, dwindled into silence as everyone turned toward him, giving him their full attention. Richard sucked in a breath, his hand trembling slightly as he set down his glass. He wasn’t used to getting noticed. Not anymore. And the curious looks he was now receiving were setting him on edge.

Briefly, he glanced down at Mary, caught the affection that shone in her eyes, and felt suddenly lighter. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, shifting his gaze to the rest of those present. “I know that many of you are surprised to see me here after so many years—that you thought me forever lost to the world. You may wonder why I chose not to announce my return from Belgium . . . Suffice it to say that I did not feel comfortable, venturing out into public with the wounds that I had sustained, unsure of how I would be greeted.

“The truth is that my injuries have served as something of a handicap. They have made me view myself in a different light. For a long time I thought myself unworthy—of friendship, of respect . . .” He paused briefly before adding, “And of love.”

Reaching for Mary’s hand, he enfolded it in his own as he looked down at her with all the fondness in his heart. “That is no longer the case.” Pausing for emphasis, he said, “It is with the greatest joy that I am able to announce my engagement to Lady Mary. She is everything that I have ever dreamed of, and I cannot wait for the day when she and I are finally wed. So if you would all please rise for a toast in her honor, I would be exceedingly grateful.”

It didn’t take long for all of the guests to get to their feet and pick up their glasses. From across the table, Spencer gave Richard a distinct nod of approval that was mirrored by their father who’d been placed further away. “To Lady Mary,” the guests spoke in unison. “And congratulations to you both,” Lady Duncaster added after everyone had taken a sip of their wine.

“Hear, hear!” Cheers rose up under the ceiling where they hovered above everyone like puffy clouds on a bright summer’s day.

“Richard,” Lady Oakland exclaimed as soon as she had a chance to approach her son later. “I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am for you! Fiona did suggest a possible attachment between the two of you earlier, but having it confirmed is simply wonderful—the very best news I could have hoped for.” Turning toward Mary, she reached for her hands and clasped them between her own as she leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. “Welcome to the family, my dear.”

Mary looked adorably befuddled as she nodded, smiled, and offered her thanks. Belatedly, as if it were an afterthought, she dipped into a curtsy, but Lady Oakland quickly stopped her from completing the gesture, insisting that adhering to such protocol would be completely unnecessary. It seemed as though Richard’s world had somehow managed to find its center of gravity once more. And yet, in spite of the rightness of it all, a niggling feeling seemed to poke him in the shoulder, insisting that the joy he’d been granted was but a mirage that would soon evaporate before him like the fleeting memory of a dream.