Free The Forsaken Love of a Lord by Kristin Vayden Page A

secret conversation.” A grin broke through her stern words as Mr. Sheppard hitched a shoulder.
    “Alas, I was dearly hoping you were talking about me, I must admit,” he said with a grin.
    “Now you shall never know,” Maria replied, a saucy smile aimed in his direction.
    “You wound me!” Mr. Sheppard made like an arrow had pierced his heart.
    “Not likely.” Olivia giggled.
    “Well, then if it wasn’t me, then whom were you whispering about?” He glanced around.
    “Him.” Maria gestured with her chin in the direction of the gentleman in question.
    “Who? Oh.” Mr. Sheppard scanned the direction Maria had indicated.
    Olivia turned to glance at the gentleman once again.
    Peculiar.
    He was meeting Mr. Sheppard’s gaze, grinning, and lifted his glass and saluted him.
    Mr. Shepphard’s eyes widened then narrowed. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, then seemed to remember himself. “My sincerest apologies, ladies. That was utterly ungentlemanly of me. If you’ll excuse me.” Without a glance back, he strode across the ballroom toward the other gentleman.
    But once Mr. Sheppard had started toward him, the mysterious man in question turned to his left and asked a woman to dance.
    Escorting her to the floor, he’d cleverly avoided the confrontation Mr. Sheppard clearly had in mind.
    Which meant that Mr. Sheppard knew who he was.
    Olivia started toward him, only to be held back by her friend.
    “Wait,” Maria whispered as Mr. Sheppard paused and asked a nearby lady to dance as well.
    He took the accepting lady to the dance floor and took up position near the mysterious gentleman. Mr. Sheppard began speaking to him, and Olivia would have given a year’s pin money to hear what was being said.
    The gentleman was speaking back, but, by the looks of things, it appeared as if neither man was happy with the other.
    “Strange.”
    “Indeed,” Maria whispered back.
    A dance couldn’t last forever, and as soon as it ended, Olivia meant to find out just who was behind the mask. Surely Mr. Sheppard would tell her.
    After all, it couldn’t be that big of a secret.
    Could it?
     

     
    Edward was enjoying himself immensely; that was, until Curtis took on the expression of a thundercloud and threatened to rain on his carefully laid-out plans.
    “When we spoke last and you said you had plans, never did I think you’d stoop this low,” Curtis bit out as they stood in line waiting for their turn in the reel.
    “I have no idea to which you are referring,” Edward bit back.
    “You are being utterly dishonorable.” Curtis spoke sharply.
    “How? It’s a bloody masquerade. I’m in a mask. Is it my fault that no one has recognized me?” Edward replied with little patience, though he affixed a grin to his face.
    “I recognize you.” Curtis spoke with deathly calm.
    Edward turned toward his friend, eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat?”
    “That it is, indeed. If you hurt her, if you are using this as some misbegotten way of exacting your revenge over Mary—“
    “Don’t you mention her name,” Edward spat with venom.
    “Exactly.” Curtis sneered then pasted a smile to his face and took a turn with his partner.
    Edward breathed in through his nose, trying to calm his anger. It would do no good to yell at his friend. In a way, he was right. He did have a purpose, just not how Curtis expected. He needed to know, needed to see for himself if Olivia truly was as Curtis had depicted her with his stories.
    And truthfully, Edward wasn’t sure if he was praying for him to be correct or wrong. For if Curtis was wrong, it would severely wound his friend, as Edward was quite certain he had become fond of Olivia.
    Perhaps too fond.
    But he wouldn’t allow himself to focus on that subject.
    And if Curtis was right, then everything Edward had believed, had wanted to believe about Marybelle’s family, was potentially incorrect.
    And the seeds of hatred, anger, and bitterness that he had fostered were no longer valid.
    What