The image in his mind, that of the erotic beauty of the Queen of Sheba as she arrived to visit King Solomon, was altered to fit the physical characteristics of Lady Julia in all her golden beauty. Translucent skin, dark eyes, and a form that could summon angels…
*
“Is he staringat me?” Julia asked.
Willa, ever her loyal friend, bravely gazed across the expanse of the drawing room to find the masked man on stage. “I believe he is. And if I am not mistaken, the music was meant for an aria from Rinaldo, not what he is singing now, which is in Italian, not English.”
Slowly, Julia turned her body in the direction of the dais. Could the masked performer be her pretend duke? She scrutinized everything about him: his height, broad shoulders, and even his general build. Most of all, his attractive head of unruly curls.
Admittedly, it could be him. It had to be him! Perhaps she had judged him too harshly. Instead of a liar, he was a half-liar. Honest about what he was, not who. For men of the nobility were not performers.
His tone was otherworldly, revealing, and so powerful. The accompanying instruments trailed off eventually, leaving him to sing alone. With his eyes hidden behind the mask, she could only guess his expression, but there was no doubt where he was looking—at her. Then, as if purposely timed, he sang, “Sei perfetto, divino. Una dea…”
His words were not lost on her. “Thou art perfect, divine. A goddess,” she croaked softly.
“What?” Willa asked, scrunching her nose unattractively. “Did you call me a goddess?”
“No, but perhaps the fake duke did.”
Willa placed her hand on her hip. “Do not be ridiculous, Julia. If anything, the duke is serenading you. What a shame I did not pay better attention to my governess when she tried to teach me Italian.” She sighed and let her attention wander back to him. “Such a potent, mesmerizing voice. Can you not see what he has done to everyone in the audience? They are enraptured.”
Including herself… like a moth to flame, or flies to…
Julia ventured closer to the last row of chairs, finding it necessary to sit down. Every note he sang, every practiced gesture he made, deserved her contemplation.
The woman she sat beside looked at her and smiled. “He is amazing, is he not?”
“Indeed,” Julia admitted. “Do you know his name?”
The older lady stared at her aghast. “Have you never heard the Duke of Pridegate sing before, my dear?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Do not be ashamed of it,” the woman said. “Our own Regent considers him a treasure, so must we.”
Chapter Seven
Atreasure?Julia’sclarity of mind and focus had always been her most valued assets. They were how she managed to absorb information from so many books. But in one fell swoop, the Duke of Pridegate, a man she wished she had never met, much less run into, had left her in a state of confusion. Not only because he had played a cat and mouse game with her, manipulating her into thinking he was something other than a duke, though he claimed to be one. And the fact that he was big and muscled, and extremely pleasing to the eye, did not help her resist his charms.
She wiggled in her chair as the woman next to her spent more time studying her than listening to the duke perform his third aria.
“Forgive my interruption, my dear,” she said. “I believe we have met before.”
Julia offered her a small smile. “My father is the Duke of Craven.”
“Of course,” the woman said. “Lady Julia, I am Lady Mara!” Mara took her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. “I have not had the pleasure of seeing you since you were a child of nine.”
Slowly, the memory of a kindly woman who adored her mother surfaced in her mind. The Countess of Elsmere. “I am so sorry I did not recognize you.”
“How could I expect you to? You were but a girl, and I have been living in Italy for ten years, only recently returned.”
Before Julia could reply, the crowd erupted in applause and gave Alonzo Farrington a standing ovation—something reserved for only the best of performances, especially coming from the rather suppressed passions of an English audience.
Lady Mara even stood, beaming with joy, giving Julia a recriminating look, silently urging her to do the same. Oh, she wanted to heap praise upon the duke, for his voice was the best she had ever heard, but it was his arrogance that gave her pause. And his daring. She had not failed to notice the way he ogled her, and if she had seen it, so had the other guests. To what end, she did not know, but the scandal sheets might reveal it tomorrow. These were the kind of gatherings that the purveyors of such nonsense attended in hopes of catching unsuspecting people in compromising situations.
An innocent look was one thing, but staring unabashedly while he sang an amorous aria about the Queen of Sheba was another. He might as well have recited verses from the Song of Solomon to her!
She watched as the duke bowed and graciously accepted the unending adoration. Many begged for an encore, but Alonzo shook his head with a sly grin, then removed his mask.
