Jeremy realized that his mouth was dry. He licked his lips, picking up a full wine glass that he had not touched since he had arrived. He took a swallow.
Something made her look up.
Perhaps the movement of his arm reaching for the glass.
Her eyes met his.
It was like an arrow passing through him. It was too far to detect the color of her eyes, but close enough that he could see they were not dark. Jeremy stared back at her, seeing her freeze just as he had.
Then someone passed between them, breaking their connection.
“Who is that?” he asked his two companions.
“Anything to distract from a losing hand,” Nash tutted, pushing his chair back. Reuben drained his glass and joined Jeremy at the balcony too.
“Who?” he asked.
Jeremy turned back to the ballroom, but the raven had been swallowed up by the crowd. He looked around, searching for any hint of black amid the brightly colored ladies and gentlemen. He could not see her.
“She has disappeared, but I will wager my purse that it was my French beauty. So, you two can keep your cards and this vinegar,” he pushed his wine into Reuben’s hand, “and I will go to my adventure. Enjoy your dancing.”
He grinned insolently, tossing a coin onto the table to cover Nash's wager and flipping his cards over. Nash ground his teeth as he looked back at his own and saw that he had been beaten. Jeremy didn't care. He laughed. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that the raven temptress was indeed Mademoiselle de Rouvroy.
Who else would be so bold as to wear dark colors to a July ball? Only a French woman with all the sense of style and daring that went with that nationality. And were the French not typically dark of hair?
In his coat pocket, something clinked metallically. He tossed the small set of keys on his palm and thought of the use he intendedto put the small, metal objects to. There would be time later to show his respectability.
Now was the time for adventure and pleasure.
CHAPTER THREE
Harriet exchanged glances with Jane as they walked towards the open doors of the ballroom. So far, Chelmsford Manor had proved a palace to Harriet's eyes. She was conscious of the many well-dressed and sophisticated-seeming men and women around her, none of whom seemed to be paying any attention to the house.
I do not want to seem like a gawping debutante. But there is so much to see! And so beautiful. Everyone is beautiful. Bright and colorful! I feel quite drab by comparison...
Jane's costume was a yellow rose with the flower forming her mask. Her golden hair was an extra layer of petals. Harriet could not see many ladies wearing the dark colors that she had chosen. Jane squeezed her hand.
“Your costume is stunning. Very striking. You should not be self-conscious,” she whispered.
“That is easy to say,” Harriet whispered back.
“Pretend we are the only people here. There is no-one looking at you. Behave as we do when we are alone. I promise that when the young men see the Harriet I know, they will all come toppling over each other.”
“Again, easily said,” Harriet murmured, swallowing as they stepped into the ballroom.
She felt as though she were stepping into the middle of a hollowed-out precious stone. A room made of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. Chandeliers glittered and threw off bright sparks of light that reflected from the jewelry of the gathered ladies. Mirrors gave the large room a sense of being even larger, giving it the dimensions of a cathedral. Lamps and candles cast a warm light that softened edges and picked out flattering highlights in hair and on skin.
Harriet forgot herself as she tried to take in everything, looking around with a smile of wonder on her face. A movement above drew her eye, and she stopped dead. A man was looking down from a balcony above. He had the mask of a black wolf and was the only person Harriet had seen wearing dark colors.
He is staring at me! No, I must be mistaken. He is probably looking at someone just behind me, or at... no, he is looking at me!
She could not look away. Her breathing came in quick pants, and her mouth went dry. A thrill ran through her body, makingthe hairs on the back of her neck stand up. That gaze was like a physical caress. Harriet could almost feel it. A hand that stroked through her hair, down her neck and spine. Her heart was attempting to break out of her chest, hammering.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Raven.”
The contact was broken. Harriet looked away to the man who had spoken to her. A crowd of ladies and gentlemen swept by, and when she looked back, she could not see the balcony.
“A pleasure to meet you, Master... Lion,” Harriet stammered.
