Page 4 of Unmask Me My Love

“Whiskers.” Hal stroked his smooth cheeks, side whiskers being one of fashion’s affectations he particularly disliked.

“Ah, c’est lui.” She nodded then peered at the duke and frowned. “He is very old, n’est-il pas?”

Hal laughed softly. “Dukes have a habit of doing that.” His own father was still hearty at fifty-five. “Some are much younger.” He scanned the crowd. “There, the man in the black coat and white breeches?”

“Which one?” She stared at the groups, searching. “There are so many.”

Damn. How to describe a man dressed like every other one? “He’s wearing quite a large, jeweled pin in his cravat. A diamond. It’s sparkling.”

“The very handsome one, next to the lady in the dark pink stripes?”

“Exactly.” Hal stepped back, still unwilling to be seen. “Well, he is also a duke. The Duke of Rother.”

“Oh!” Gabriella clutched the railing and leaned over. “That is he? He is très beau.”

“Whoa.” Hal grabbed her about the waist and pulled her back. “You don’t want them to see you, do you?”

“Non.” She gazed longingly at the duke then stepped back from the railing. “Le duc de Rother.” When she finally turned to Hal, her eyes sparkled as brightly as the duke’s jewel.

“Merci, merci beaucoup, monsieur…my pardon, what is your name?”

****

The young man flushed, and Gabriella smiled to herself. He was likely a servant she’d caught taking his ease from his duties. It meant nothing to her, of course. She was doing the same thing, although la comtesse, who she’d seen dancing below, would not need her for some time, if she were lucky. The English, however, always seemed embarrassed about taking time to rest. Ah, well, she would feel no such thing. Such a difficult race, l’Anglais.

“Can you tell me your name, monsieur? I would like to thank you properly.” She batted her eyelashes at the handsome man. Flirting always broke the ice.

“H…Horace, mademoiselle. Horace Carpenter. I am valet to the Marquess of Halford.” He glanced down at his feet.

Ah, as she’d suspected. Of course, the man should not be here any more than she. That could be the cause for his shyness. “Then merci beaucoup, Monsieur Carpenter. You have been most kind to me.” She smiled, sincerely this time. Such a very attractive man. And she was grateful for his help. If she were lucky, he could further aid her in her quest. The assistance of someone in society would be necessary to carry out her plan, and this man worked for a powerful man—a marquess, no less.

Like a gift from a beneficent God sent to her.

She laid a hand on his arm, drawing him back to the railing. “You have shown me the Duke of Rother, so you or your master must know him, non?”

“Uh, oui. Yes. My master, the marquess, knows him very well. That is how I knew him…to point him out to you.” Monsieur Carpenter started and struggled, as if he did not quite know how to speak English himself.

Had her flirting affected him so badly? She had not meant to fluster the man so much that he could not speak. Still, Maman had always told her she would make the men mad with passion.

Ah, well, she would cease her little dalliance, and hope he would still be of help to her.

“I wonder, monsieur, since you know very well the ways of the English aristocracy, if there is a way for me to meet this duke?”

His arm beneath her hand stiffened. “Why would you want to meet a duke?”

“Oh, it would be très excitant, to meet so powerful a man, ne serait-il?” She squeezed his arm and gave a little laugh. If he could help her, she would truly be grateful; however, she did not want him to displease his master.

“Perhaps, although he may prove more tedious than you think.” He furrowed his brows almost comically. “Wouldn’t a marquess be just as exciting? I am sure I could arrange a meeting between you and my master.”

Gabriella sighed. She had a specific reason for wanting to meet this particular duke, which she could not divulge to this stranger, no matter how nice he seemed. But how to put that delicately?

“I am certain your marquess is a man redoutable, monsieur. Mais, I have set my heart on meeting a duke.” She smiled up at him again and clasped his arm tighter. “You will think it is just the silly whim of a young, foolish girl.”

“Tell me.” His eyes searched her face, and she met their gaze without hesitation. She would tell him as much of the truth as possible.

“From the time I was a very small girl, I have had one particular dream. To meet a duke. An English duke, in fact. My mother met such a man once. She told me all about it, how it changed her life. Ever since then, I have hoped and prayed for this to happen.” She glanced at the man again, now laughing with a lady in blue. “I am so close to attaining this happiness. Can you not help me?”

“A duke.” Monsieur Carpenter put a hand to his head, rubbing his temple as though struck with a pain. “Can it be any duke?”