When it was over, he opened his eyes and looked at her. Her expression was dazed, as if she’d been to another universe, and he felt the same. Each time they were together it was more spectacular than the last. And he realized that he couldn’t hold back his feelings for her any longer.
“I love you, Constance. I think I have from the first moment I laid eyes on you.” Her breathing halted, but he didn’t pause. “I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted to hear right now, perhaps ever, but I can’t keep silent any longer. I want you in my life from now until the end of our days, until eternity dares to try to part us.”
Tears stung Constance’s eyes. Her heart was shattering, but for the first time in her life, it wasn’t from pain or anguish, but pure, unadulterated… joy. She never imagined that she would be lucky enough to find someone who would dare to love Constance Freewater, the woman beneath the shell of the courtesan, but with Devin she had found, not only love, but everything she’d ever wanted.
“Devin, I—”
There was a brisk knock at the door and she cursed whoever dared to intrude on this intimate moment.
Devin, on the other hand, instantly sobered. “It could be the maid.”
He carefully lifted her and stood. He shook his skirts back into place and walked over to don his wig and mask once more. He glanced back at her and now that her trousers were set back to rights, she joined him and put the rest of her costume back in place. He nodded at her and she called out, “Yes?”
No answer.
She cleared her throat and said a bit more loudly, “Is anyone there?”
Nothing.
Devin moved over to take his place behind the door, as Constance moved forward. She unlatched the door and pulled it open. She glanced out into the hall, but after checking both ways, it was empty. “It must have been someone playing a prank,” she muttered. She glanced at Devin, where he had moved to stand beside her, but by the muscle ticking in his jaw, she didn’t think he felt the same.
“Do you want me to head back to the ballroom first?”
He seemed to be arguing with himself, as he finally gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. “No, I’ll go.” He glanced at her. “But if you don’t arrive in ten minutes, I’m coming back.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He snorted in reply and headed toward the direction they had come from. Constance waited until his gown was out of sight, and then began to follow suit.
As she passed a shadowed alcove, prickles of warning crawled up her spine—just before she was attacked from behind.
A sharp pain split through her head as she crumpled.
Devin tapped his foot and glanced anxiously at the ormolu clock on the mantel. Several “gentleman” had already approached him with girlish giggles as they eyed him, but he had spurned their hopeful advances with a curt wave of his hand. The disappointment on their faces didn’t even register. The only thing he had on his mind was that it had already been ten minutes and Constance had yet to reappear in the ballroom.
He was about to head down the hall and drag her back by her ever loving cravat when a movement near the terrace caught his gaze. A lone figure wearing simple black and white men’s clothing with a white domino was staring in his direction. However, when he made eye contact, the “man” quickly slipped outside.
Uttering a curse, he would bet everything he had this was the maid who wished to meet with Madame Corressa. Debating whether he should give chase to her or check on Constance, he regrettably chose the latter. He didn’t feel as though anything could befall Constance with so many people about, and although he wouldn’t put a single bad deed past Sir Isaacson, he had yet to see him make an appearance.
He strode onto the terrace and scanned the dimly lit area. It was empty. Exhaling heavily, he heard the snap of a twig below him. He quickly descended the steps and turned—at the exact same moment he stared down the barrel of a pistol.
Devin held up his palms to show that he wasn’t a threat as he faced his opponent. But even in the dark he could see the slight tremble of the feminine hand as she held the gun in her grasp. “I know that you don’t trust me,” he began slowly. “But I can assure you I’m not here to hurt you. In fact, we have a mutual enemy in the baronet.”
She didn’t reply for a moment, but after a time, she said shakily, “Y…you’re Blackmore?”
“I am,” he returned gently, as if soothing a spooked horse. “Did Brutus tell you about me?”
She hesitated, but then nodded. Then, as if the weight of the world was finally too much for her, her grip on the gun wavered. “I’m tired of hiding,” she whispered brokenly.
“I can protect you, but you have to trust me. I intend to deal with Sir Isaacson, as he killed a very dear friend of mine, but I need your help to do that.” He paused to allow his words to sink in. “If you will only lower your weapon and talk to me, reveal the information that you have, I promise that you will be free.”
He waited several minutes for her to make a decision, each moment chipping away at his patience and his concern for Constance, wondering if she had yet returned to the ballroom.
Finally, the gun was lowered, although Devin noted the maid didn’t tuck it away. “I saw you sneak away with Madame Corressa earlier, so I know you two are close.”
“Yes.” He wasn’t about to deny the truth. He even took it one step further and revealed his feelings. “I love her.”
Her mouth twisted and her tone held a touch of melancholy. “I wish that I could have found the same.”
