“Alex said I looked quite fierce,” Tanner said, almost daring his friend to laugh out loud.
“Oh, you do,” said Kenna quickly, reminding Rhys of his manners by giving him a poke in the ribs. “Doesn’t he, Rhys?”
The plume in Rhys’s hat wavered as he nodded and bit back his smile. “Quite fierce.”
There was laughter in the emerald depths of Tanner’s eyes as he turned his attention to Kenna. “And you, my lovely queen, are radiant.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.
Kenna fluttered her darkened lashes at Rhys over Tanner’s bent head. “So gallant, my lord.” She laughed gaily as Rhys pretended to prepare to draw his sword.
Tanner caught Rhys’s feint out of the corner of his eyes and straightened quickly. “As lovely as you are, Kenna, I am not prepared to fight a duel for you.”
“Very wise,” said Rhys. “And where is your wife? I have a mind to ask her to dance.”
Tanner laughed and pointed to the pirate dancing with a lovely, dark-haired woman dressed as the Greek goddess Hera. “Don’t spoil her fun by asking her to dance, Rhys. Only a few people realize it’s Alex under all that black and they’ve sworn secrecy. That’s my sister Emma she’s dancing with now.”
Rhys and Kenna could not help staring at Alexis. She was wearing a loose fitting black silk shirt and dark breeches which concealed her feminine curves. Her golden hair was covered by a black bandana and her face, with the exception of her striking amber eyes, was hidden beneath a cloth mask the color of midnight. She threw back her head and laughed huskily at something her partner said.
“Nowshelooks fierce,” Rhys said admiringly.
“Oh, the dark lady is,” agreed Tanner. “And please don’t tempt her into a mock duel. She knows how to use the rapier at her side.”
“I believe you,” he said feelingly.
Tanner chuckled. “Come with me. I want you to meet our guests from New Orleans. We met them several years ago when Alex and I were running blockade at the port. We were married in their home. Their presence is the reason we’re hosting this masque.” He led them across the floor, skirting the dancers, and brought them to a couple watching the dancing from the sidelines with obvious enjoyment.
Tanner’s guests had at least a score of years on him but their welcoming smiles were young. The woman’s silver hair was attractively arranged high on her head and adorned with tiny powder blue bows. The bodice of her dainty flowered gown was laced with ribbon of the same color and a white apron slanted across her hips. In one hand she held a staff, decorated at its crook by a large blue ribbon.
Kenna held back a smile, thinking that there would always be shepherdesses at masquerades, and looked from the woman to her companion. The gentleman was dressed as a 17th century courtier and he made a handsome leg as Kenna approached.
Tanner took a step toward the couple, taking the shepherdess’s hand. “Mr. and Mrs. Canning, I would like you to meet—” He never finished his sentence. Much to his surprise the Comtesse Lescaut tore free of his hand and launched herself at Rhys.
“My dear, dear boy!” She hugged him, pushed at his shoulders to look at him, then hugged him a second time. “I never, never thought to see you again. Oh, this is delightful! Wonderful!” She turned to her husband. “Do you see who it is, Etienne? It is Rhys. Rhys Canning!”
“I see very well, my dear,” said the Comte. As his wife stepped aside he took Rhys firmly by the shoulders and kissed first one cheek, then the other. “This is indeed a pleasure!” There was a faint sheen of tears in his eyes as he stepped back, studying Rhys from head to toe. “A pleasure!”
Tanner was feeling a trifle superfluous. “You know each other?” he asked finally.
“Of course we do,” the Comtesse answered. “This is our dear Rhys Canning!”
“I know who he is, Madeline, but how is it that you know him?”
Madeline looked at Tanner as if she could not understand his confusion. “We told you about him, I’m certain of it. This is the young man who helped us flee France!”
“You never mentioned his name,” said Tanner. His eyes were faintly accusing as he looked at Rhys as if to say, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew the Lescauts?” then he remembered he had failed to tell Rhys the name of his guests.
“Didn’t I? How careless of me.” She gave a beautiful Gallic shrug. “Well, this is he! And a friend of yours, too!C’est incroyable! Rhys, you must meet Michael. Michael Devereaux. Do you remember him?”
“I do,” Rhys said, smiling. “I thought he was still in London.”
“He came to New Orleans not long ago. He’s been staying with us and Tanner was kind enough to include him in the invitation to visit Boston. Oh, he will be delighted to see you!”
The comte’s attention shifted from Rhys to Kenna who had been watching the proceedings with stunned pleasure. “You must introduce me to your lovely companion, Rhys. Dare I hope she is your wife?”
“She is.”
Kenna found her voice at last, sweeping into an elegant curtsy for the comte, and the comtesse. “Do you not remember me, Uncle Etienne? Aunt Madeline?”
“Uncle?” sputtered Etienne, his brows knitting together. “I have no niece.”
