But if she stepped out from behind her pillar, not a single one of them would realize she didn’t belong there.
Tiffany swept by at that moment, laughing gaily. Her partner was dressed as a knight, but seemed to dance and move freely enough. Through his visor, even Ember could see he was smiling as he spoke to her stepsister.
And then…the knight—whom Ember was beginning to suspect might be the second Oliphant brother: the charmer—spun Tiffany to a stop very near Ember’s hiding spot. It was clear, from the way he placed his hand against Tiffany’s lower back and steered her toward the shadow of the potted tree, that he was looking for some privacy.
As Ember slipped around to the other side of the pillar, she overheard the knight say to her stepsister, “Please, lass. Imustken yer name!”
Tiffany giggled flirtatiously and brushed her gloved fingertips against the edge of her pink mask. “Does that not defeat the purpose, milord?”
“The purpose?” he murmured, leaning closer.
Ember’s stepsister didn’t seem to mind. “The purpose of a masquerade, milord. We could be anyone beneath these masks. You could be a stable boy or the Duke of Cashard.”
The knight leaned closer to murmur, “The Duke is not attending tonight’s ball. He didnae want to attend the house party at all, but his mother insisted he escort his sister and her. But while they’re here, he apparently drew the line at masquerades.”
Ember watched her stepsister’s expression, but to her surprise, Tiffany didn’t seem particularly heartbroken that she wouldn’t get to dance with the Duke tonight. Either she was very good at play-acting, or she was truly enamored of the man in the knight’s costume.
“Well then, milordIcould be anyone, could I not? A princess, or a serving maid.”
“Whoever ye are, sweet lady, ye are beautiful.” The knight lifted Tiffany’s hand, but instead of placing a kiss on it, cupped her palm to his cheek, which made her sigh with pleasure. “I would ken yer name, so I might find ye again.”
It seemed to Ember it took her sister a few times to get her mouth working, and she understood why. If this was indeed Lysander Oliphant, he was certainly the charmer everyone had claimed.
“I—I am an Oliphant, milord.” Tiffany’s voice was breathless, as she leaned toward him. “You can find me at the inn.”
“The Oliphant Inn. Excellent,” he murmured. And then he stepped forward, forcing Tiffany to step back or risk plastering herself against him, and soon enough,bothof them were now behind the potted tree.
An excellent position for hanky-panky, if that’s what they were up to, but not ideal for Ember. In desperation, she slipped around the other side of the pillar, trying not to be caught back there with her sister and her new beau.
Howawkward. And crowded.
So she stepped out from the shadows, lifted her chin, and met the eyes of the cowboy.
That sounds quite exciting, does it no’?
But they weren’t in the wilds of America; they were in a ballroom in the heart of civilization. And although he was dressed as a cowboy, Mr. DeVille was a wealthy manager, come to set the factory to rights.
And the man who could help her by agreeing to produce the shoes which would give her back her freedom.
So when he took a step toward her, she didn’t turn and run; not that she could, in these fancy shoes. Instead, she lifted her chin, took a deep breath, and tried to remember how to be charming.
“Would you care to dance?” the cowboy asked her in a deep drawl. His expression, under the plain mask he wore, was serious, but he held his hand out to her as if he never expected a denial.
So she placed her hand in his and allowed him to sweep her into a waltz.
He held her stiffly—either he was completely proper or was as unaccustomed to dancing as she was—and kept his attention on the music. Still, dancing with the guest of honor made Ember feel almost giddy, and also, quite warm. Her hand and back tingled where he touched her, but that was likely because of the excitement of the moment.
“They are all looking at me,” she said suddenly, then pressed her lips together in embarrassment.
Behind his mask, his dark eyes seemed to soften at the edges as he glanced down at her for the first time. “And why wouldn’t they? You’re the prettiest lady in the room.” The way he stated it, so assuredly, made her warmer still. “I couldn’t believe you didn’t have a partner already; that’s why I had to scoop you up.”
“How positivelyAmericanof you,” she murmured.
He chuckled, a warm deep sound, which made him seem more human and less like a refined businessman.
“I like you,” he drawled, as they swept into another turn. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me your name?”
Remembering the way Tiffany had demurred and knowing the repercussions which would come if her stepmother ever learned she’d been at the ball against the woman’s wishes, Ember lowered her chin. “That would defeat the purpose of the mask, would it not?”
