Her heart rate increased as he gave her a half smile. Something cocksure and a little smug. She should have been turned away from such an expression, surely she had refused many a man of her class in the past because of his smirk. But that wasn’t what she wanted to do now.
“Good evening,” he said, his voice low and rough in the din around them.
There went breath again. She could only hope she would remember how to form coherent sentences a bit more easily.
“Good evening,” she returned, and hated that her voice cracked a little.
He arched a brow. She saw the movement beneath the leather, and for a moment, she felt a sense of familiarity. But that wasn’t possible. She didn’t know this man. She couldn’t.
“I couldn’t help but notice your entry into the hall,” he purred as he grasped two glasses of wine from a passing footman’s tray. He held out one and she took it with shaking hands. When she did so, his fingers brushed against hers. By design, she thought, but that didn’t reduce the effect of him touching her.
It was like fire under her skin. She sipped the drink to soothe her dry throat and try to regroup. “Thank you?”
He chuckled at the question in her tone. “But I can’t help but wonder if you know what you came for.”
She jerked her face toward him. He had a touch of mockery to his voice now. Her spine straightened in response. She had never been the one in her family to fight—that was her sister Anne—but right now Juliana felt like channeling that strength to defend herself.
“I came here for what everyone comes here for,” she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Perhaps it isyouwho is confused if you must ask me what that is.”
She sounded far braver than she felt, and for that she was pleased. He, on the other hand, looked less than happy. His full lips pursed a fraction—was it in annoyance? She couldn’t tell without a full view of his expression. And in that moment, she realized just what a dangerous position she’d put herself in. She didn’t know this man or his intentions or motives. He could be of a cruel bent. He could be the kind of man who didn’t accept no as an answer. Or who reacted with violence when challenged as she had just challenged him.
She swallowed hard, waiting for him to say something, do something. Then he cocked his head.
“I beg your pardon, my lady. I think I have offended you. I didn’t intend it.”
“You didn’t offend,” she said softly, carefully. She glanced around them, the spell broken for a fraction of a moment. There was a couple at a table just to her left who were passionately kissing. The woman was perched in the man’s lap, grinding down on him as their tongues tangled.
She darted her gaze away as a gasp left her lips and her body jolted with awareness. Gods, what had she done by coming to this place?
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” he said.
She turned her attention back to him, wishing she didn’t feel so hot and achy when he was standing so near. She nodded. “What is it?”
“Whyareyou here?” He motioned his head toward the kissing couple. “Your shocked expression when you see them touch each other, it says to me that you aren’t a bawd as you might wish to be seen.”
She lifted her hand and touched her mask. It covered the scar that sliced her cheek. She couldn’t feel it beneath the fabric, but she knew it was there.
Memories returned to her in a wave. Of a man who’d taken her because he thought she was her sister. As one of a set of triplets, that was a common mistake, but this time it had nearly proved deadly. The man had attacked when he wasn’t given what he wanted.
And she was left…damaged. She saw it in the mirror every day. She knew what it would do to her future, especially when combined with the shocking actions of her sisters as they’d found their true loves in the past weeks.
“I’m here because I don’t want to…”
She bent her head. This man was a stranger; she owed him no explanation. And yet with the masks, telling him some version of the truth felt easier.
“Want to?” he encouraged, almost gently.
She worried her lip with her teeth. “I want to feel something good,” she said. “I want to feel something just for me.”
He was silent for a long moment, holding his gaze on hers. It felt like an eternity passed by, like they were suspended in their own bubble amidst the shocking debauchery of the room around them. Then to her surprise, he held out a hand.
“Come with me to the back room.” His voice was even rougher now. It seemed to dance up her spine, and she shivered against her will. “And I can make you feel something. That thing you want to feel.”
She stared at his outstretched hand. Ungloved, strong, lean fingers, a scar across the top of the second and third knuckles, a fresher one on his palm. She let her stare slide up the man’s forearm, hidden under black wool, to the bicep that strained against the same, to broad shoulders that spoke of strength caged beneath propriety.
And finally she let her gaze settle on his lips. Thiswaswhat she’d come for, wasn’t it? This moment where a man would choose her, would guide her to some quiet room and take her. Take the thing she had been guarding her whole life, and for what?
She didn’t want her innocence anymore. She wanted to feel alive.
