Chapter Five
The sight of the tall man in the black domino sent a bolt of awareness through Kitty that she had to work hard to conceal. She’d known he would attend, but a little part of her had hoped he wouldn’t. The reaction his presence caused was starting to become noticeable and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it or how to respond to it.
The tiny nod of acknowledgement she’d received after intercepting his glance—it had been enough to make her suppress a shiver. It was part excitement and part something else she had yet to define.
But as he walked toward her, ignoring those around him, she was reminded of a prince or a conqueror making his way through an irrelevant throng. His focus was on her and she could feel it…a palpable brush of invisible fingers on her neck.
His bearing was autocratic, his expression unreadable, and she found herself eagerly awaiting his arrival, just to see what his first words would be. Something along the lines of “come with me to my castle” would seem appropriate. He was so…so…dominant.
Sadly, his greeting befitted a ballroom rather than a king’s chamber. “Good evening, Miss Ridlington. I trust you are enjoying the masquerade?” His bow was elegant and faultless.
She dropped a slight curtsey, allowing her lips to curve into what she hoped was a polite smile. “I am indeed, sir. A most colourful and delightful event.”
“Speaking of colourful…” he eyed her cloak. “Stolen from a peacock or two?”
She smiled. “Now why didn’t I think of that? A peacock feather mask would have been the perfect accessory.” She took the arm he offered and allowed him to walk her around the perimeter of the room. “You have an eye for fashion, Mr. Seton-Mowbray. I am impressed.”
“I have other things even more impressive, Miss Ridlington. I would enjoy showing you.”
She noted the wicked gleam in his eyes and answered it with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sure you would. But would I enjoy seeing them?”
He responded in kind. “I would very much hope so. Every gentleman cherishes the wish that ladies will respond positively to such an exhibition.”
Heads turned at the burst of laughter Kitty couldn’t restrain. “Max, you are quite outrageous,” she choked. “I ought to be shocked.”
“But you’re not. Which is why you’re on my arm and we’re about to head into a darkened passageway, thus encouraging even more gossip.”
Suiting words to deeds, he led her into a dimly lit corridor and walked them both to the end where he turned to open a door.
Kitty gasped. “Oh my. How delightful.”
She was staring into a conservatory, lit only by the light of the moon as it made its way past the grime and mist clouding the glass dome. The plants around her were surprisingly lush, and she recognized ferns and a couple of small fruit trees, but most were shrouded in darkness. It smelled…green. And she said so. “This place—like being in a forest at night. It even smells right. Damp and leafy…” She touched a frond of something that draped gracefully over the path they strolled together.
“It’s quite a surprise, isn’t it? I had no idea it was here until a few years ago, before the DuClos moved in. I will admit to a fondness for it.”
She glanced at the pale patch of light that was his mouth and chin. His mask still concealed his eyes. “You’re rooted in the country, aren’t you? Your home…surrounded by land, not houses. And now this…” Unlinking her arm from his, she walked to a flowering shrub and gently touched a bloom.
“You have uncovered one of my secrets, Kitty. Now you must swear not to reveal it. Imagine how my reputation as an aloof and unattainable gentleman of fashion would suffer were it known I have a weakness for foliage.”
Kitty laughed again, this time listening as the sound echoed around the glass enclosure, to be muffled by the leaves. “It’s magic. Who could blame you for your weakness?” She wandered toward what seemed to be the center, knowing he followed.
“I have other weaknesses as well, you know.”
A tree trunk stayed her steps and she reached out to touch it. “As do we all, I’m sure.” She ran her hand over the bark. “A large trunk for a small space.”
“Yes. I have no idea what species it is, so don’t ask me.”
She turned to find him close. “I won’t, but I will confess to some curiosity in relation to your previous comment. The poised Mr. Seton-Mowbray confessing to his Achilles heel? One has to wonder…”
He came even closer, close enough that she could smell a touch of something masculine, maybe sandalwood, mixed with wool and a touch of leather. It was unique and utterly perfect for him.
He tugged off his mask and reached downward, capturing her hands and sliding his fingers to her wrists. He held them in place, his grip firm. “Are you sure you want to know my weakness, Kitty?” He freed one hand and slid her mask off as well.
She lifted her head, letting the hood of her domino fall behind her down her back. “Yes. I should very much like to know…”
“All right.”
She stilled as his grip on her wrists tightened and she found her arms rising as he lifted them, higher and higher above her head until he could press them back against the rough bark of the tree.
