How to Marry a Rake by Deb Marlowe Read Free Book Online Page A

room.’
    ‘You forget where we are. It’s Newmarket, man! And you’re as good a judge of horseflesh as any man I’ve ever met. You could talk of nothing else for the entire week and still be thought a sparkling conversationalist.’ He clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Now, let’s introduce you around.’
    * * *
     
    For the next hour Stephen stayed at Matthew’s side, presenting him to all and sundry. It was no easy task. Never in all of his life had he had to work so hard to maintain an air of complacent good humour. For while a few grasped his friend’s scarred hand in easy welcome, it was clear that many others were uncomfortable with, even scornful of, his deformities.
    Stephen wanted to berate every fool who allowed his revulsion to show on his face and he wanted to shake the idiot woman who flatly refused to offer her hand, but fortunately Matthew was in a jovial temper—and he wasn’t above a self-deprecating joke or two. Together with Stephen’s hearty laughter and calm acceptance, they managed to quickly soothe most of the discomfort they encountered.
    But Stephen was beginning to feel stretched too thin. He felt like a juggler with too many balls in the air. He was happy to work to secure Matthew’s acceptance, of course, but at the same time he was watching for an opportunity to re-engage Ryeton. The earl had been about to include him in his party tomorrow. He wanted to give the man the chance to finish the invitation and he wanted to accept it with alacrity.
    And he wanted to forget Mae Halford’s presence. She certainly appeared to have forgotten his. It was almost unnerving, in fact. He could scarcely recall a time when he’d been in the same room as Mae and had
not
been the centre of her formidable attention. He told himself firmly that he was glad of it.
    Yet suddenly she was looking up, as if the weight ofhis regard had been a tap on her shoulder. Their gazes met. The ghost of a smile crossed her face.
    Stephen pivoted away. Matthew was engaged in conversation with a wide-eyed young miss. To hide his confusion he looked about for Ryeton.
    There. The earl and Toswick stood talking just a few feet away. Ryeton met his eye, but quickly averted his gaze, as Stephen had just done to Mae.
    Something scuttled down Stephen’s spine. A warning, perhaps. But he was determined and a little desperate. ‘Come,’ he interrupted Matthew. He smiled an apology at the girl. ‘I must introduce you to the man who is set to fleece us all. I believe the lucky devil’s got a favourite in every damned race. We’ll all end up indebted to him by the end of the week.’ He took a step towards the two men.
    And then it happened—one of those moments that can occur naturally in any crowd. The orchestra wound to a finish. Conversations paused as guests lightly applauded, and the Earl of Ryeton’s words rang out unusually loud over the quiet moment.
    ‘What is he thinking? This is a ball, for God’s sake. It’s the height of poor taste for that man to expose the rest of us to his disgusting abnormalities. And has Manning run mad? To squire the cripple about in good company?’
    Toswick whispered urgently, trying to shush the earl, but Ryeton paid him no mind and suddenly that donkey’s laugh hung in the air. ‘The man’s lucky he wasn’t born a horse. Were he one of my nags I’d have him shot.’
    Time stopped. All around them men stilled andladies gasped. Stephen halted in midstep, caught up in a torrent of icy-cold shock and heated fury. For the fraction of a second, he reached for his usual control, scoured his brain for a jaunty bit of humour that might salvage this horrifying moment. But then he saw the flush of anger and embarrassment spread across Matthew’s face. He thought of the incredible courage it had taken for his friend to show up and act as if his life and his body had not been shattered—and he saw the moment Ryeton realised what had happened, right before his nose tilted up and his expression