The circle of people he’d just left remained, but standing about wasn’t going to do much to lift his spirits at present, and he wasn’t about to waste this evening pondering over his many duties and tasks. The Tates’ masquerade was too special an evening. Now was the time to dance.
Chapter 5
Adjusting his hat and mask so that they were properly situated, and righting his coat, David glanced around for a partner. He still hadn’t secured his dance with Miss Leigh, and she was bound to lift his spirits. Her humor and teasing were bound to set his mood to rights.
Yet as he searched her usual haunts, she was nowhere to be seen.
His fingers drummed an unhappy rhythm against the hem of his trousers, his brows furrowing as he scoured the scene once more. The only thing that kept that slight unease from turning into a proper fret was discovering Mr. Mowbry buzzing about some other poor lady; if Miss Leigh was free of him, then she couldn’t be in dire straits, which was a comfort.
As this was her sister’s house, she’d likely escaped into one of the family’s private rooms, leaving him unable to follow. Perhaps she would resurface again, allowing him the chance to stand up with her, but there was nothing else he could do but hope and pray. The realization settled heavily upon his heart, dimming the candlelight burning above.
But despite it all, David’s feet still itched to dance, and so he turned his attention to the ladies scattered among the edges, overlooked and forgotten. Why gentlemen ignored the wallflowers was a mystery to him. Nothing livened the spirits quite like standing up with one of their ranks; their expectations for the evening were low, so any partner was like manna from heaven, and it was thrilling to see their joy blossom at the unexpected invitation.
Tucking his hands behind him, David allowed his gaze to drift along the edges of the room and nearly overlooked one lady standing with her back against the wall. Whilst many in the company employed enough of a mask to meet the requirements of a costume, others embraced the mystery and had their faces entirely covered. David certainly thought the latter much more enjoyable, and surely this lady did as well, for her identity was entirely obscured.
Her frock was on the plain side, but that made the shawl draped about her head and shoulders all the more interesting. It was of fine quality, and though the base matched the cream-colored muslin gown, there was an explosion of deep blue embroidery across the edges that took the piece from ordinary to extraordinary. Even from his distant location, it was easy to see the fine craftsmanship that had gone into the piece.
More than that, it shrouded her in shadow, giving her an air of mystery that was quite at home at a masquerade. And when the lady turned, the edge pulled back just enough to show a flash of a mask affixed to her face. It was a simple covering, blending into the black of the shadows so that only her lips and chin showed in the darkness.
A simple costume, to be certain, but far more interesting than Miss Peck’s explosion of feathers and silks. Smiling, David stalked forward and drew out his pistols.
“Stand and deliver,” he said, affecting his most thrilling highwayman timbre. “The daring Dick Turpin is here to relieve you of your valuables.”
“Oh, dear me. Whatever am I to do?” she asked with a stilted tone that held more than a hint of humor.
“No need to worry, lass. Hand over your money and jewels, and no harm shall come to you.”
“Am I to take the word of a brigand?”
“Ah, but I am an honorable brigand,” he said, freeing his hand by tucking one pistol in his sash before placing it over his heart.
“Quite the contradiction.” Her voice was low, and one corner of her lips quirked upward. “No doubt, other ladies would swoon at the thought. After all, so many of the Gothic heroes are sinful and broken, giving females everywhere the hope that they might inspire a fallen angel back into his heavenly realm as only their love and beauty can lure him away from his immoral life and heal his fractured soul.”
David fought back a grin and tried to affect a serious demeanor, though it was difficult. How many times had he heard his mother and sisters sigh over just such a character?
“And you do not?” he asked.
“Call me a fool, but I think it better to win the heart of a tedious banker or unremarkable tradesman than to believe someone so prone to wickedness will be content with a quiet life. Inevitably, they will return to their ways, and then the lady is forever bound to a bounder. Dull is better than having a husband with a wandering eye or a careless purse.”
Somehow they’d ventured into quite the serious subject, and David found himself blinking at the lady, wondering how that had happened, though her tone was as light as ever.
“So, a brigand doesn’t impress, but what if I said I was like Robin Hood of old, stealing from the rich to aid others?” Even though she couldn’t see it, David found himself arching his brow in a teasing challenge.
And despite her face being hidden from view, it was easy to hear her own arched brow in her tone. “As I haven’t any jewels or money to offer you, I am hardly rich. That makes you a highwayman, plain and simple, you brigand.”
“Stuff and nonsense. That is a mighty fine dress, lass. Clearly, you are a lady of means, so give up your jewels before I’m forced to take more drastic measures.” David nodded at the broach anchoring her shawl. “Like that bit of sparkly. And the shawl—that is worth a pretty penny.”
The Mystery Lady laughed. “You are a poor thief if you cannot discern paste from real gems. But I fear neither it nor the shawl are mine. A friend lent them to me for the evening, and I shan’t surrender them to a halfhearted robber.”
“Then keep your baubles, but as recompense, you must dance with me.”
She paused, and David longed to pull back the mask and see the emotions playing out across her face. Though her lips were visible, they showed so little, but there was something so animated about her conversation that he couldn’t imagine her outward expression being stoic or unreadable. Yet there was a wryness to her teasing that had him questioning that assertion.
Who was she? David stared at her mask, searching for some sign. The lady stood alone like a wallflower, but there was a fire to her that belied the usually quiet demeanor found amongst those ladies.
“A bit of gallantry from the roguish Dick Turpin? Are you certain your reputation will survive?” she asked in a low tone that quickened David’s pulse.
Clearing his throat, he tried to waggle his brows, though it was difficult to do the movement justice with the mask across his eyes.
