Free The Madcap Masquerade by Nadine Miller

countess would permit her son’s mistress to be invited to Ravenswood for any occasion, much less one as important as his engagement ball. It had to have been the earl, himself, who made up the guest list, which meant he was an even more insensitive lout than she had imagined.
    Things were certainly done differently in the country than in London society. The same admirers who’d fawned over Lily at the Cyprians’ Balls and entertained her in their private boxes at the theatre had cut her dead if they met her in Hyde Park with their “proper” ladies on their arms.
    But, Maeve reminded herself, who was she to judge anyone on a lack of propriety? At least Lynley didn’t represent himself to be someone he was not. In her own way, she was even more despicable than he—a hired imposter who had demanded an obscene amount of money for a sordid piece of work. The only innocent in this whole miserable fiasco was her sister, and Maeve made herself a solemn vow that no matter what it cost her, she would save Meg from the unhappy fate the squire and the earl had planned for her.
    With that in mind, she managed a somewhat strained smile when the earl concluded his artful piece of claptrap and raised her fingers to his lips. Luckily, she was not called upon to converse with the handsome hypocrite or with her gloating father. She was instantly deluged with well-wishers, most of whom made it all too clear they were utterly amazed that the Earl of Lynley would consider marrying a plain-faced commoner like Meg Barrington. Furthermore, from the venomous looks the Dowager cast in her direction, it was plain she agreed with them.
    Maeve survived the hour or so of backhanded congratulations with stoic indifference, but once the crowd around her thinned, she decided she’d had enough.
    “I’m tired and I want to go home,” she said to her father. The squire looked at her as if she’d just sprouted an extra head. “Ye’re daft. The party’s just getting interesting and I’ve no intention of leaving.”
    “You may live to regret that decision, sir,” Maeve said, aware the earl could hear every word of their conversation. “If I have to listen to one more person tell me how fortunate I am to have won the admiration of the Earl of Lynley, I swear I shall scream. Are these people all as idiotic as they appear or is it a deep, dark secret that he must marry an heiress to save his precious Ravenswood?”
    The squire’s face contorted with rage. “Demme it, girl, keep a civil tongue in yere head. I’ll not have ye mucking up me plans.”
    “I can understand your fatigue, Miss Barrington; I, too, am tired of standing in one spot.” The smile the earl turned on Maeve was the same amicable one he had worn for the past hour, but the look in his eyes was murderous. “I hear the musicians tuning up for another waltz. Shall we dance?”
    “No thank you, my lord. I do not feel the least inclined toward dancing.”
    “To be perfectly truthful, neither do I, Miss Barrington. But for the sake of propriety, we must keep up appearances.” Without further ado, he grasped Maeve’s elbow in a vice-like grip and propelled her through the crowd of watching guests and onto the dance floor.
    “Propriety!” Maeve gasped. “How can you have the gall to mention the word? Or are you so ignorant of social custom you consider it appropriate to invite your mistress to the ball at which you announce your engagement?”
    Theo swallowed hard. He could see he’d made a serious error in judgment where his intended was concerned. She was neither as naive nor as reticent to speak her mind as he’d been led to believe. There was no point in trying to lie his way out of this one. She had him dead to rights.
    “If you are referring to Mrs. Whitcomb, it was all a mistake and none of my doing,” he explained with the same careful patience he normally reserved for his mother when she was being her most difficult. “My man-of-affairs sent a card to everyone of