“I’m a highwayman,” he said.
Her grin grew. “Naturally. Brilliant. How creative you are. I daresay, you’re the only one about.” Leaning toward him, she whispered, “You appear to be very dangerous.”
“Because I am.” His lips quirked up sensually. “But only to you.”
Why was it he could so easily cause her entire body to melt, her mind to lose its sharpness? “I’m Marie Antoinette, in case you didn’t know. She was the queen—”
“I know who she was.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to always question your education.”
“I saw her in Madame Tussaud’s exhibit. You’re much prettier.”
“Than a wax figurine? I daresay, I should hope so.”
“Have you saved me a dance?” he asked.
She nodded. “You promised to learn how to waltz. Did you manage to work in some lessons?”
“I watched while you danced with that last bloke. It seems easy enough.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Awhile.”
“Why didn’t you approach me sooner?”
“Because I didn’t want to catch anyone’s attention, so I took some time blending in. You’re quite popular.”
His tone implied he might be bothered by that knowledge. “It’s my family’s ball, so ladies feel obligated to speak with me and men to dance with me. It doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”
“Do you not?”
“So much is done out of duty. You’re here because you want to be, because you wanted to please me.” Although it was ill-advised, she reached out, grabbed his gloved hand, and squeezed. “It means the world to me that you came. Did you clamber over the wall?”
He chuckled low. “No, I used the gate. I didn’t want to risk messing up my disguise.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Looking past him, she saw a gentleman approaching. “I have to dance the quadrille with Lord Dearwood. Your waltz is after that. Wait here for me.” Since she hadn’t given any thought to how she would introduce him to anyone, she left him there and met Dearwood on his way to her.
The entire time they danced, she was aware of Finn watching her, studying her, his gaze never leaving her. He cared about no one other than her. He was here simply for her. He made her feel special, unique, cherished. When the dance finally ended, she was grateful to be headed back toward him. Dearwood fell into step beside her. “You don’t need to see me off the dance floor.”
“Of course I do, my lady. I am a gentleman after all.”
She tried to detour them around some other couples and arrive at the edge of the dance floor away from Finn, but it seemed both men had caught each other’s attention because Dearwood sought to steer her where Finn was, and Finn had left his spot to meet her. She cursed men and their stubborn natures and jealousies even as she couldn’t help but secretly gloat that Finn was determined to claim her.
When they were finally off the dance floor, Finn stepped up. Dearwood angled his head in a way that reminded her of a confused dog. “I’m not certain I know who you are, sir.”
“Dick Turpin,” Finn said smoothly, his diction not straying from the manner in which he usually spoke, and Lavinia knew a moment of panic, fearing he would be discovered.
Dearwood laughed, but the chortling didn’t contain any true amusement. “Clever, sir. However, I was referring to your true identity, not your costume.”
“I thought the entire purpose behind a masquerade ball was, for one night, to be someone other than who we truly are.” Now, with his words perfectly pronounced, he spoke haughtily, as though he were a king addressing a subject with whom he found fault. In his profession, he no doubt frequently dealt with posh people and had learned to mimic them. Dearwood would think his earlier diction merely part of the role he was playing. Finn bowed slightly toward Lavinia. “Marie Antoinette, I believe the next dance is mine.”
Ah, yes, he could definitely be mistaken for an aristocrat. Without hesitation, she placed her hand on his offered arm. “Thank you for the dance, Lord Dearwood.” And she was ever so grateful to be escorted away from the prying man. “He’s a friend of my brother’s. A rather curious one, it seems.”
“I think he has his eye on you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She almost told him she was spoken for but didn’t want to ruin the magic of the night. Separated from others, they waited at the edge of the dance floor for the cotillion to end. “You handled him well. It occurred to me too late we should have given you a moniker—Lord something or other.”
