Sincerely,
Beatrice Brown
She was sincere all right…a sincere pain in his arse.
As determined as she was, he wasmoreso. Inch by inch, he climbed her wall. At one point, he made the mistake of looking down; his hat slipped off, tumbling into the brush before hitting the ground with a thud. Clenching his jaw, he trained his gaze upward again, grasping onto stone and mortar until his hand closed around the iron railing at the top. Avoiding the spiked metal tips, he swung himself over to the other side.
“Hold it right there!” a female voice demanded.
Startled, he lost his grip. He cursed as he fell through the air. Muscles braced for impact, he grunted when his back hit bushes. He tried to catch his breath whilst disentangling himself from leaves and branches. Rolling inelegantly to the ground, he stumbled to his feet…and found himself staring at the barrel of a pistol.
His gaze travelled past the firm grip of the slender fingers. Past the billowing blue sleeves. Up to the face of the blonde staring at him.
* * *
Dear heavens, it’s the stranger…from the masquerade.
Astonished, Bea lowered her pistol, waving down Zeus who was growling, ready to attack. She gawked at the man who’d scaled her wall. What in God’s name was he doing here?
Shock and some strange, giddy emotion coalesced, fueling the mad thumping of her heart.
He was even more magnificent in the sunlight. The dimness of the study had hidden the richness of his chestnut hair, the sun-kissed gilt threaded through its thick waves. His impossibly handsome face looked as if it had been chiseled by a master hand, and his eyes…they weren’t brown, but an extraordinary shade of hazel. A bronze starburst surrounded his pupils, melding into irises of a deep forest green.
His beauty was…mesmerizing.
Then his gaze strayed from hers, shifting to her right cheek—to her scar. His heavy eyelids lifted, his pupils darkening, his expression turning into one of shock.
The spell shattered, shards of anguish lodging inside her.
How could I have forgotten…?
Her pain and humiliation deepened as she saw the lines that creased his perfect face. Disgust, no doubt. Her fingers twitched to pull her ringlets over her cheek. But she refused to give into the instinct to cover herself. To give into shame. It was too late, anyway. What was seen could not be unseen, and the light of day revealed everything. Now he knew what lay behind the mask—
Then the realization struck her.He might not know who I am.
The mask she’d worn had concealed her face. And the bold, loose red curls of her wig had been nothing like her own white-gold hair, at present secured in a top knot, with dangling ringlets in the front. Last night, she’d worn a loose black gown designed to facilitate amorous activities; it bore no resemblance to her current blue frock, with its fitted bodice, full Bishop’s sleeves, and skirts that draped over several layers of petticoats.
She was not the same woman she’d been last night. She clung to that thought like a drowning person to a piece of driftwood. To the fervent hope that her lover would not recognize that he’d slept with her. With Lady Beastly.
She drew up her shoulders. “Who are you, sir, and what are you doing here?”
She was proud of how detached and imperious she sounded. Exactly as one would sound when encountering a stranger trespassing upon one’s land. And not the way a woman would address the man who’d taken her virginity during a steamy night of pleasure.
His gaze met hers. “I might ask the same of you.”
She prayed that the candlelight had hidden the color of her eyes as it had his.
“This is my estate. I live here,” she said.
“Youare Miss Beatrice Brown?”
Surprise lanced through her.How does he know my name?There was a sudden edge to his tone that she didn’t like.
Fancy didn’t like it either, apparently. She stepped forward, a determined look on her heart-shaped face. Despite her natural shyness in social situations, the tinker’s daughter knew how to deal with troublemakers, having encountered her fair share on her travels.
“It’s no business o’ yours who she is.” Fancy pulled herself up to her full height…which, unfortunately, was a full foot shorter than the gentleman’s. “You be trespassing on private property. Best you climb back o’er that wall afore we ’ave Gentleman Henderson throw you out!”
The stranger didn’t look intimidated. Instead, he quirked a brow. “Would Gentleman Henderson be the giant who slammed the manor door in my face?”
