Page 41 of Unmask Me My Love

“Mon Dieu, put me down, Hal.” Her stomach began to roil again. “I will be ill again and not care a sou if it is you and not the flowerbed who is baptized.”

“I’m so sorry, love.” He set her down immediately and peered into her face. “Are you all right?”

Gabriella waited to see if her stomach would settle and nodded at last when the volatile sensation ceased. “I think I am fine.” She glared at him. “But you must not do that again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” He cautiously put his arms around her. “Is this all right?”

“Yes, this is fine.” She laid her head against his chest. “And you are pleased we are to have a child?”

“My love, you cannot imagine how much.” He gently squeezed her to him. “I love you so much, Gabriella.”

“I love you too, Hal.” She rubbed her cheek against him, wanting nothing more than to stay like this, enfolded in his embrace. But they must return to the ball. With a sigh, she stepped back. “Much as I wish we could remain here, mon cher, I think we must go back. There is still the unmasking, and Celinda and Lord Finley will be searching for us.”

Hal’s sigh was even deeper than hers. “I wish I could say you were wrong.” He peered through the French doors. “I believe they are making up a country set. Shall we join in the fun?”

Gabriella made a face. “I do not think it would be wise, mon cœur. All the turning and sashaying up and down would likely send me back out here.” She looped her arm through his and started them toward the door. “Let us simply watch the festivities until we unmask at midnight then we can go home for some revels of our own.”

“You make unmasking sound very wicked indeed, my love.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I will be happy for you to unmask me any time.”

“Once was not enough, mon cher?” She glanced up at him, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Never where you are concerned, Gabriella.” Hal tilted her head up so he could stare down at her, love shining in his eyes. “Once with you is never enough.”

THE END

The Ruin of Miss Amelia Burrowes

Chapter 1

London

May 5, 1820

The warm, walnut-paneled library of Lady Hamilton’s townhouse should’ve been comforting. Flickering candles illuminated the chamber just enough to see, while still allowing a lady to conceal herself if necessary—as it was absolutely necessary at this particular moment for Miss Amelia Burrowes. Soft leather cushions on the chairs and chaise invited one to sit and relax, while the red and tan Turkey carpet added a richness that soothed the senses. Altogether, the room exuded a calmness and security Amelia dearly needed in her life. Unfortunately, it couldn’t dispel her growing dread.

Outside the closed door, people laughed loudly, making her jump. Heart racing, she listened keenly for one distinctive voice, her fingernails sinking into the arms of the chair until the expensive upholstery creaked, in danger of permanent harm. She tried to relax her grip but couldn’t stop herself. Without a doubt, Mr. Burke would find her no matter where she hid.

When Mama had first hinted that the family was once again attempting to find a husband for her, Amelia had smiled and tried to look hopeful. Her pretended interest and cooperation had pleased her mother every time the subject had sporadically come up over the past ten years. Each attempt had, however, come to nothing. Amelia’s reputation had sustained irreparable damage in her come out Season when her betrothed, Jonathan, Lord Carrington, had died. Over the years, she’d come to accept her fate as a spinster. Embrace it, even. If she couldn’t have the gentleman she’d truly loved, what was the point of marriage, after all? That had been her stance throughout the years.

Until now.

Next year, her two younger sisters, Caroline and Margaret, were supposed to make their come out. They could only do that if someone sponsored them, and Mama was determined that someone would. After all, Amelia’s reputation could still be repaired by a good marriage. And once Amelia was accepted back into society, her younger sisters would most likely be invited to fashionable events and hopefully catch husbands of their own.

To make certain that happened, Mama had begun a campaign, carried out with military precision, to find a husband for her. It counted little what the man was like, and not at all how Amelia felt about him. Only his willingness to ally himself with a woman who’d acted scandalously mattered in the least.

At last, through a variety of friends and acquaintances, Papa had discovered just such a man—a Mr. Lawrence Burke of Chesterfield in Derbyshire—who was amenable to the idea of marrying her. They would meet in London at the beginning of the Season and, if they thought they might suit, proceed with the settlement of her very large dowry.

From the moment Mama had explained the plan, Amelia had had grave doubts about her re-introduction to Society, especially when told where it would take place. Lady Hamilton, the aunt after whom she’d been named, had agreed, albeit reluctantly, for Amelia to attend her ball, which opened the Season each year. Amelia hadn’t been out in Society for almost ten years. She’d been to several local affairs in Benington during that time—well after the scandal had died down, of course—but hadn’t set foot in London since her betrothed’s death.

To do so now seemed to be tempting fate, but Mama was adamant. Amelia must repair her reputation as much as possible. She must be seen, but only with Mr. Burke, and must under no circumstances dance or flaunt herself. She was not to ride alone with Mr. Burke in any kind of conveyance but could walk beside him in the park for half an hour only. Circumspection was paramount, Mama had said, until after the wedding.

Despite her mother’s confidence, Amelia had doubted this scheme would work from its very inception. The ladies of the ton had notoriously long memories, especially where scandal was concerned. All Amelia would have to do was show her face, and tongues would wag once more. Oh, but she did hate being infamous. It had taken almost a decade for her to be able to walk down the street at home without having people stop and point and whisper. Why must they tempt Fate now? But of course, she knew the answer to that—her sisters. And because she was the one who’d put the family beyond the pale, she was the one who must make the sacrifice and marry the man from whom she was now actively hiding. The man who was supposed to be her salvation.

Earlier in the evening, after dinner, Papa had introduced her to Mr. Burke, who’d seemed rather nice on first acquaintance. A gentleman of one and thirty, not overly tall, with curly brown hair and eyes a shade darker, a full-lipped mouth, and a not-so-prominent chin, Mr. Burke could not be called unhandsome. He’d greeted her pleasantly, talked of generally approved topics—like the weather and boating, of which he seemed extraordinarily fond—then asked to escort her around the room. Their conversation had continued in that general vein until they reached the far end of the room, where no one could hear their lowered remarks.

“I must say, Miss Burrowes, your father’s letter putting forward his desire for our nuptials took me by surprise, but not nearly as much as the amount he’s proposed for your dowry.” He’d smiled, revealing white, predatory teeth. “Much more than my uncle had given me to believe. I understand it is imperative for you to marry.” His eyes darkened, and Amelia repressed a shudder at the hunger in them. “I believe I shall enjoy making the match very much.”

A sickening drop in her stomach made her steps falter. Every gentleman who’d been interested in marrying her over the years had expressed similar sentiments. Luckily, none of the other attempts had borne fruit, for the thought of actually marrying those suitors had, by and large, given her the jim-jams. They would have had no affection for her whatsoever, simply lust for her body and her father’s bank account. Of course, those would be the only reasons a gentleman would desire to marry a fallen woman, but it hurt to think her husband must be one so mercenary.