“Which is why I have every intention of finding their parents and having a word with them before their daughters get themselves ruined.” Leaning closer to Richard, she whispered, “I may not be as strict or judgmental as most, but I will not stand for naiveté either. Will you excuse me?”
“Of course,” he said, bowing low before her. He did not grant the giggling young ladies a second glance as he walked away, his eyes searching for the only lady who’d captured his interest. Perhaps she’d gone back inside? Pausing, he looked toward the French doors and the blazing light that filled the great hall beyond. It didn’t tempt him in the least, and he decided therefore that he would seek refuge amidst the shadows of the garden instead.
Crossing to the stairs, he snatched a glass of champagne from a nearby footman. Tossing back the drink, he discarded the glass and descended to the graveled path below, his long cape swirling out behind him as he went. There were plenty of revelers here as well, some strolling amidst the flickering lights of torches while others were seated on blankets spread out on the lawn. Some were even enjoying boat rides on the lake while violinists along the lakeside filled the air with music matching the tune being played on the terrace.
Stepping down from the bottom step, Richard breathed in the rich scent of jasmine permeating the air. He was just about to start forward when a lady wearing a purple gown stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Dipping into a slight curtsy, she offered him a broad smile. “My lord,” she said, by way of greeting.
He didn’t bother to correct her error. “Please excuse me,” he said instead, hoping she’d move aside and allow him to pass. Although she was older than when he’d last seen her, he’d immediately recognized her as his younger sister, Fiona. Not even her domino mask made him doubt her identity as she stood before him now, reminding him of the sprite who’d tugged at his coattails when she was little, her hands often sticky from jam as she’d done so. He allowed a sentimental smile—one that he knew she could not see.
“Will you not offer to dance with me?” she asked.
For a second, he considered it. Indeed, his heart ached for her embrace. And yet, he could not allow himself to be tempted. She’d only want more than what he was willing to offer, as would the rest of his sisters, not to mention his mother. In all likelihood, revealing himself to Fiona would only serve to reignite the crying and begging that had taken place beyond his bedroom door when he’d refused to see them after his return from France. Gradually, their voices had faded into silence, though Richard could still hear the awful sound within the confines of his mind. He did not think that he’d be able to bear having to witness their pain again, as would likely be the case if Fiona discovered his attendance this evening.
“Not at present,” he murmured.
For a moment, she looked a little stunned, but then she straightened herself, pressed her lips together and stepped past him. Without another word, she disappeared quietly up the stairs. Turning, Richard watched her until she was out of sight. Again he smiled, pleased by the cut she’d given him in response to his rudeness and comforted by the knowledge that she had grown into the sort of lady who demanded respect.
Taking a moment to assess his surroundings, Richard walked toward the lake where theEndurance—a large frigate that confirmed Lady Duncaster’s fondness for the unusual—provided tables and chairs for the supper that would take place later.
Arriving at the lakeside, he watched as a couple moved hastily toward a copse of trees on the right, disappearing completely between the shadows. He wasn’t surprised. Masquerades were after all designed to cause mischief, which was why so many people disapproved of them even as they couldn’t help but be intrigued.
Turning left, he approached the violinist standing furthest away, his music swirling like stardust through the air. It carried Richard forward, all thought of revenge momentarily forgotten as the notes coursed through him, soothing his soul and calming his heart.
It wasn’t until he’d come within ten paces of the musician that Richard realized that he wasn’t alone. Seated on a stone bench that stood slightly concealed by a neatly trimmed hedge, was the lady he’d seen earlier on the terrace. Instinctively, he froze, his progress halted by the vision she presented. Her eyes were closed behind her mask while a smile of pure pleasure graced her lovely lips. By God, she was stunning, and it was all Richard could do not to fall on his knees before her like a subservient knight to her medieval maiden.
Instead, he studied the delicate curve of her neck and the vast expanse of pale skin below. Sucking in a breath, he forced himself not to stare or to wonder what it might be like to hold her against him... to lay her bare and to... He blinked, aware that his heart was thumping loudly against his chest. It couldn’t be helped. She was perfect in every way—curved in just the right places.Christ!His abstinence was clearly trying to knock the gentleman right out of him in favor of welcoming a scoundrel.
He glanced toward the lake, momentarily wondering if he ought to jump in it. Probably, though the idea of getting wet did not appeal. Of course, he could simply walk away. But he did neither. Instead, he ignored what heshoulddo in favor of what hewantedto do, and took a step forward, the gravel crunching lightly beneath his feet as he did so.
The lady opened her eyes, her lips parting slightly in surprise as she ran her gaze over him. Their eyes met, and as they did so, Richard felt some invisible part of him reach out toward her. “My apologies,” he said, the words tripping over each other so hastily that he had to make a deliberate effort to slow them. “I did not mean to—”
Placing her finger against her lips, she urged him into silence, and for a moment, they just stared at each other while the music swirled around them, rising and falling in easy tones. When she patted the seat beside her and gestured for him to join her, he did not hesitate for a second, but neither did he speak. Instead, he gave himself up to the pleasure of sharing this wondrous moment with a perfect stranger while moonlight spilled across the water and stars winked at them from above. Astonishingly, it did not feel awkward in any way, but rather comfortable and... right.
Not until the violinist ceased playing, did Richard turn toward his companion. He had no idea of how much time had passed. “Thank you for letting me join you,” he said, his words sticking together like rubber. Curling his hand around the edge of the bench, he swore a silent oath. Surely he could do better than this!
She turned to look at him, her eyes meeting his once more. They were just as sharp as they’d been earlier, but he noted now that they were also vibrant and kind. “I was not expecting company, but it does please me to know that I am not the only one enjoying the music this evening. It is impossible to listen to it properly on the terrace though. That is why I came down here, so that I could pay proper attention to it.”
Nodding, he tried to think of a good response. “I am sure Vivaldi would be pleased if he were still alive and present.” Dipping her chin, she encouraged him to continue. “As for me, I completely understand your reasoning. Music ought to be savored and listened to rather than heard.”Much better.
“Precisely.” The word was softly spoken and contained a hint of curiosity, or perhaps even suspicion. “Is that why you came down here as well?”
“Not exactly,” he said. “I simply wished to be alone.”
Her eyes widened. “Then you must forgive me. I did not mean to impose.” She started to rise.
“No.” The word punctured the air between them, halting her just as he’d intended. “Stay,” he told her softly and with a nod toward the bench. She lowered herself back down. “If anything,Ishould be the one to leave. You were here first.”
“I know, but perhaps you are in greater need of this bench than I.”
The way in which she spoke, with a degree of consideration he’d rarely encountered before, set her apart from any other lady he’d ever met. “Who are you?” he asked.
Her lips curved to form a partial smile. “I thought the whole idea behind a masquerade was to remain anonymous.”
“Fair enough.” He considered her a moment. “But I would like to ensure that you are not married, affianced, or otherwise attached. Duels can be most inconvenient, you see, which is why I do my best to avoid them at all cost.”
A soft melodious laugh broke from between her lips. “You need not fear then, for I am not attached to any gentleman in any way, nor am I the sort of lady who inspires gentlemen to resort to such drastic measures.”
Her self-deprecation startled him. “Why would you say that?”
