Madcap Masquerade - Persephone Roth.pdf

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Published by
Dreamspinner Press
4760 Preston Road
Suite 244-149
Frisco, TX 75034
http4//www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Madcap Masquerade
Copyright © 2009 by Persephone Roth
Cover Art by Anne Cain annecain.art@gmail.com
Cover Design by Mara McKennen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information
storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where
permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press,
4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034
http4//www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
ISBN4 978-1-61581-239-4
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition
December 2009
eBook edition available
eBook ISBN4 978-1-61581-240-0
Dedicated with respect and affection
to some talented ladies who
had a big impact on my life.
No need to name them here…
they know who they are.
Madcap Masquerade
1
LOEL WOODBINE, DUKE OF MARCHE, woke at his accustomed
time on the day he learned of his engagement. His valet arrived as
usual, setting down his burdens to pull back a judicious number of
curtains, allowing in just the right amount of light after a late night at
Mrs. Dahlram’s Tearoom. The sun shone from its accustomed seat in
the firmament, several degrees past its zenith. As Marche sat up against
the pillows, the manservant placed the breakfast tray and daily
newspaper over his lap.
“Good morning, Negus,” Marche said. “I trust that it
is
a good
morning.”
“Aye, that it is. Every day in your employ is a good one, sir.”
Marche looked at the man over the top of the
Morning Post.
“Oh
dear, have you been unlucky at cards again? If you need a loan, you
have but to ask.”
“Nay, sir. The cards always do well by me. It is the blasted nags
as have a mind of their own.”
“Ah, I see. Let me rephrase my question. Have you made some
ill-considered wagers?”
“Ill-considered.” Negus repeated the term as though savoring a
mouthful of ale. “Your Grace always has the precise word.”
2
Persephone Roth
Marche frowned, golden brows drawing together over eyes of
dark amber. “You called me ‘Your Grace.’ Just how much money do
you need?”
“Well, sir, I had information from a rascal what I thought was
reliable, bein’ me own baby sister’s husband and all, and I put down a
month’s wages.” Negus shook his head. “And then I made another bet
so as to win back my losses like. As I am known to serve a gentleman
of the highest quality, I was given leave to mark down an amount and
sign my name, which you yourself taught me to do, thankee.”
“I may live to regret it. Since you don’t mention the amount right
away, may I assume it’s more than a month’s wages?”
“I owe more than fifty guineas, sir!” Negus burst out.
“The devil you say!” Silver rattled against china. “I am afraid that
stretches my purse a bit at the moment. Fifty guineas! What were you
thinking, man?”
“It were a powerful good tip, sir.”
“Apparently, it was not all that powerful, or we wouldn’t be
having this conversation. How soon must you make good on your
note?”
“Soon, sir.”
“Well, I don’t see how I can manage it before the week’s end. I
will be attending Lady Bolbracken on Saturday, but until she hands
over my allowance, I’m on the rocks myself. High rank does not, alas,
guarantee ready wealth.”
Negus kept his expression carefully neutral at the mention of the
duke’s great-aunt. Thrice married, thrice widowed, turning a tidy profit
each time, Willamina, Lady Bolbracken, held the strings of a very deep

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