Masquerade Read Online Free Page B

throwing away Dora’s cap and apron?
    “Whoa …” Dora said.
    The horse complied, and a stableboy ran forward to take it by the bit while a footman stepped forward to help the ladies out.
    Lady. Just Lottie. Belatedly, Lottie realized the awkward situation she’d created by bringing Dora along. Dora had no reason to enter the Smythe home.
    “I’ll wait here,” Dora said. “You won’t be long, will you?”
    “Hopefully not.”
    It was awkward leaving Dora in the carriage, but the girl couldn’t very well step down and sit upon the front step.
    The butler greeted Lottie at the door. She tried to tuck in the most offending strands of hair and said, “Good afternoon, Walters. I’d like to see Mr. Smythe, please.”
    “I …”
    “Please, Walters. Is he available?”
    Ralph walked out of the drawing room. “Miss Gleason. Please come in.”
    Miss Gleason? They were a hairsbreadth away from being engaged. They’d even shared a clandestine kiss.
    Lottie entered the drawing room and was surprised when Ralph closed the double doors behind them. Yet she was glad for it, because her anger had returned.
    “Where were you?”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    She wagged a finger at him. “Don’t start with me, Ralph. Suzanna showed up long enough to inform me that no one was coming to my party. Not even you.”
    He moved to a safe place behind a chair. “I … I couldn’t come, Lottie.”
    At least he didn’t call me Miss Gleason.
    She sat on the settee where their one and only kiss had occurred and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m waiting.”
    His fingers pulled across the carving at the top of the chair. “Father wouldn’t let me come.”
    “Since when do you do what your father says?”
    “I’m the heir, Lottie. I have a responsibility to listen to the dictates of my parents.”
    “Again I ask, ‘Since when?’ And beyond that, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    A furrow formed on his brow. He hesitated, then with a burst of movement went to a drawer in a bureau. He removed a book that had a ribbon tied around it. “Birthday greetings, Lottie.”
    It was a copy of An Old-Fashioned Girl.
    “It’s by Louisa May Alcott. It’s about a country girl who goes to the city and—”
    Lottie liked the gift very much, and yet … “Why didn’t you bring it yourself? And why didn’t you send word you weren’t coming? Why did I hear it from—?”
    “I did send word. I sent a note of regret.”
    “It was never received.”
    His face revealed an inner conflict that seemed so genuine she knew he had sent a note.
    Suddenly an image from that morning came to her. That of a stack of letters in her mother’s possession, her mother opening a single note and dismissing the rest. Had others sent their regrets as well?
    “You know why I couldn’t come, Lottie. Don’t make me say it.”
    But I don’t know! She felt like throwing the book at him. Instead, she set the book beside her on the settee and laid a hand upon it, staking claim. “I’m afraid you have no choice, Ralph. I’m not leaving until I hear the truth, whatever it may be.”
    He retreated to his place behind the chair. “For one, your family’s financial situation has become an issue.”
    She was shocked for but a moment. Snippets said by her parents that very morning—and before—came back to her, hints and innuendosabout something amiss. Whatever the “situation” was, Ralph wasn’t making it up. “Tell me what you mean.”
    He looked confused. “Surely you know as much as I do.”
    “I know nothing! Just tell me. Now.”
    His face revealed his reluctance—which gave her some comfort. At least he wasn’t taking pleasure in it. “My parents and the other families in the county have heard talk of fiscal impropriety on your father’s part. I don’t know the details, but the fact remains that society will not condone such indiscretions.”
    What has Father done? “I have nothing to do with the financial interests of the