Ring of Secrets by Roseanna M. White Page A

epaulette now resided. But her blink was empty. “I can never keep these things straight. But congratulations, sir. Mr. Lane, I cannot believe my good fortune, getting to greet you twice in one day.”
    Confound it, his tongue felt verifiably twisted. “I…yes…that is…the fortune is mine.”
    She wore cosmetics tonight, more than he had ever seen on her before. Perhaps she had, in the past, dusted her nose with rice powder, but he had never seen her wear rouge. Indeed, when he bent over her hand in salutation, he caught a whiff of the beet juice used to color the powder for cheeks and lard for lips.
    Her smile was small and halted rather abruptly. Pain flashed through her eyes, though it was quickly doused.
    His gaze focused on her right cheek again. Was it swollen? Without question—and the rouge did not quite cover an edge of bruising.
    As the rest of the party moved to the furniture, a few of the knots smoothed out within him, though a couple of different ones took up residence. He did not release her hand. “Would you take a turn about the room with me, Miss Reeves?”
    â€œVery well, sir.” She sounded far from enthusiastic and moved to his right side. Undoubtedly so that hers was turned away from him. “I trust you passed a pleasant afternoon?”
    He kept his gaze upon her as he led her to the edge of the chamber so that they might walk its perimeter as far from their families as possible. In a low voice he said, “More pleasant than yours, from the looks of it. What is wrong with your cheek, Miss Reeves?”
    She turned wide eyes on him, filled with outrage and a grain of amusement. “Mr. Lane, perhaps you are yet unaccustomed to seeing ladies wearing paint, but I assure you, ’tis the height of fashion. I resent being told it looks wrong.”
    He may have been tempted to smile, had it not been a matter of her welfare. “It is not the rouge to which I refer, Miss Reeves, as you well know.”
    â€œIn which case I have no idea…” Her gaze shifted beyond him, and her smile went completely false and stunningly beautiful. “Lieutenant.”
    His brother stiffened. “Major.”
    â€œOh! Yes, do forgive me.” Her lashes fluttered, but to Ben’s eyes she looked far from repentant.
    It made a man wonder what had passed between Miss Reeves and Archie before Ben returned to New York. Knowing his brother’s habits with females as he did…well, whatever it was, Miss Reeves seemed to know how to handle him.
    Still. “Archie, I am about to say something with all fraternal love.” Ben smiled too and clapped a hand to his brother’s shoulder. “Go away.”
    The major laughed. “Nay, I cannot. Having conversed separately with both of you, I cannot resist listening in on what you talk about together. I mean only to lighten the discussion for Miss Reeves, as shecannot possibly find anything of import in your talk of scientists and philosophers, Benny.”
    She joined her hands together on Ben’s arm and moved a fraction closer to his side. She had that look of amused stupidity on her face again. “Oh, you are most correct, Lieutenant. Your brother never speaks with me of imports, neither of jams from England nor silk from Europe. Yet I know not how I could ever survive without them. Can you imagine an existence with only fresh produce?”
    â€œâ€™Tis ‘major.’” He put a bit more rebuke in the correction this time. Then his lips melted back into their usual smile. “And prithee, brother, how could you have neglected such riveting conversation with the lovely Miss Reeves? You must bore her to tears.”
    Her grip on his arm tightened a bit and then relaxed. “Not at all, sir. I find your brother’s company quite singular. He is the only person I have ever met who called me clever.”
    â€œDid he?” Genuine confusion joined the mirth in the gaze Archie