Felicity leaned forward to view his card.
“Mr. West and Lord Wickstone win this round, my lady,” The dealer said.
Felicity stared at the cards, her senses dulling. She couldn’t feel the chair beneath her anymore. Was she floating? A hand touched her shoulder.
“You don’t have to do it,” Tristan said in her ear.
“I do. I agreed to it.”
“I’ll deal with it.”
She didn’t realize she’d reached for his hand and was squeezing his fingers in... shock.
Everyone was staring at her. The weight of their expectation was pressing in on her and there truly was only one way out of this. She knew it. She let go of his hand and pushed to her feet. Tristan held out his hand, intent to lead her away. But Felicity reached for the ties of the mask and pulled the knot free, lifting the mask from her face. She was blushing madly, she knew. It couldn’t be helped. She didn’t think she was exceptionally attractive, and it only occurred to her right now, in this excruciatingly humble moment, that these gentlemen might be disappointed she wasn’t a great beauty.
Sir Elliot stood and bowed dramatically. The crowed clapped and some even whistled. Felicity smiled nervously at everyone, but she didn’t know what to do with herself now. Murmurs spread and she overheard that her identity had been bet on, and she lived up to none of the wagers—opera dancers, notorious widows, even a Russian ballerina.
“Well, I think I’ve reached the pinnacle of my evening, gentlemen. I bid you goodnight.
“So soon?” Mr. West said.
She felt Tristan press close to her back.
“I’m afraid so. My day was busier than usual.”
A man turned toward them, locking eyes on her. He put a hand on Mr. West’s shoulder.
“West, would you care to introduce me to your acquaintance?”
Tristan cursed softly behind her.
Felicity studied the man. He had light brown hair, a clean-shaven square jaw, and light green eyes. He had a bit of silver around the temples, but his face was still youthful.
“Lady Luck, I’d like to introduce Lord Hugstead. Lord Hugstead, the ever-enchanting Lady Luck. We’ve had the pleasure of hermysterious company for nigh on a week and now she has revealed her lovely face.”
Felicity dipped her head. “Thank you for the complimentary introduction, Mr. West.”
“To what do we owe the pleasure, Hugstead?” Sir Elliot asked. “I wasn’t aware you were a member.”
“I was issued a special invitation by the widow this morning,” Lord Hugstead said.
“Lady Luck, when will you reveal your true name?” Wickstone asked.
“Likely never,” Felicity said, trying not to stare at Lord Hugstead. This was him. The man Mrs. Dove-Lyon deemed a perfect match, and Felicity had to admit she might agree. He had a calmer, serious aspect that drew her. Did he know who she was already? He had a fine face and nice form. He stood taller than her, a little taller than Tristan, and had a slender frame. She didn’t want to like him, but of all the gentleman she’d met thus far, he was just the right fit for her. She could sense it, but she wanted to reject him immediately because he had one fatal flaw: He wasn’t Tristan.
She could continue to extricate herself and leave, but she knew Mrs. Dove-Lyon was watching and she was expected to make conversation with him and judge his character.
“What do you normally do for enjoyment, my lord?” she asked.
“I’m afraid I’m rather boring. I work too much, and in what little time I have I usually read or ride my horse.”
Felicity smiled demurely.
“Would you like to sit and share a glass of wine with me?” he asked.
Felicity hesitated, her stomach balling into a rock. “Yes, thank you, my lord.”
“Good evening, Sir Elliot, Mr. West, Wickstone.” She left them staring after her, likely curious why all of a sudden Lord Hugstead wasallowed her undivided attention. Lord Hugstead offered his arm, and she placed her hand there, just barely touching him, as if doing so would be the beginning of betraying Tristan. She could sense him behind her, a dark cloud of silent jealousy.
