A Poisoned Season by TASHA ALEXANDER Read Free Book Online

sure Mrs. Brandon is up to the task. What do you say? Will you give a ball? Thursday next would be convenient, I think.”
    “I—” Ivy hesitated. She would barely have time to come up with a menu, let alone arrange for an orchestra, flowers, and all the rest of the planning a ball required. Robert stepped in.
    “Give her more time, Lord Fortescue, and she’ll prepare the greatest masquerade ball London has ever seen.”

    “Very well, then. I will count on you, Mrs. Brandon.” Ivy managed a weak smile. “Send me your guest list. I want to make sure you haven’t forgot anyone.”
    Lord Fortescue was a clear example of why no man should have too much power. Small things, like checking over a guest list, were meant to remind a gentleman in Robert’s position where his allegiance had better lie. Mr. Berry showed little interest in any of this. He was looking me over very carefully, evidently pleased with what he saw.
    “I want to ride with you, Lady Ashton. Will you join me?” I quickly assessed the situation and decided that, of the two, Mr. Berry was preferable to Lord Fortescue. We walked our horses slowly and had not gone more than a hundred feet before I began to regret my choice.
    “There is something about you that brings to mind Madame de Pompadour,” he said. “I find myself most drawn to you.”
    “I warn you, Mr. Berry, that I am not susceptible to flattery.” I pushed a stray curl back up into my hat.
    “Your modesty does not fool me. Do you know that I may have a court of my own before long?”
    “In England?” I wondered how he could afford such a thing. From what I understood, he had very little fortune.
    “Initially, yes. But later—” He stopped. “I say too much. Suffice it to say that I shall count on your coming to me there. I don’t think you will be disappointed.”
    I wondered if I ought to be affronted that he never dangled the queenship in front of me, the way he did with so many other young ladies. He had suggested even to Margaret that she might find herself in the happy position of wearing a crown. Perhaps he was familiar with my views on marriage. This thought made me smile.
    “Lady Ashton! Mr. Berry!” Lady Elinor called. “What a surprise to find you here together!” Our horses, whose speed had increased gradually during our conversation, were about to overtake the carriage she shared with her daughter. She immediately focused on Mr. Berry and, good mother that she was, did all she could to draw him into conversation with Isabelle. The girl gave him a halfhearted smile, then sat quietly, scanning the park.
    “Where is Mr. Hargreaves this afternoon?” Lady Elinor asked. “You remember Mr. Hargreaves, of course, Mr. Berry? Such an excellent gentleman! And quite devoted to our Lady Ashton.”
    “Hargreaves is a capital fellow. I was out far too late with him last night,” Mr. Berry said, and I wondered what they had been doing. “It’s easy to see why he’s taken with my riding companion.” Lady Elinor was quick to move the discussion in another direction, and once she had succeeded in commanding Mr. Berry’s attention, I excused myself, hoping that Isabelle hadn’t been searching the park for another gentleman. Her mother’s intentions for her were all too clear.
     
    I saw Isabelle again two days later. Cécile and I were in the library, waiting for Margaret to join us, when the girl appeared, making no attempt to hide the fact that she had been crying. Given the amount of time our families had spent together over the years, it did not surprise me that she would come to me when she was upset. Before her father’s death, her parents had traveled a great deal, and Isabelle often stayed with us while they were gone. The difference in our ages, which had seemed so great just a few years ago, was less noticeable now, but I still pictured her as a little girl, butting in when Ivy and I wanted to trade private observations regarding the gentlemen of our