Page 19 of The Gilded Masquerade

“She was not. Although she did express a considerable desire to dance with my cousin dressed in his uniform. Do you have any siblings?” he asked.

Prevaricating, she resisted the urge for honesty, instead kept the masquerade. “I have an older brother, the culprit of my fascination with energy.” It was odd to refer to her father as her brother, but it was better than discounting him altogether.

“He has taught you well. I must accredit my tutor as the primary influence.” He smiled thoughtfully.

“I dare not inquire of your home or your intriguing conversation with the mythological siblings, but it appears you may have had a previous acquaintance?”

“Indeed, we have—many years ago when I was just a child.”

“And you wish to remain disguised?”

“The colonel observed something quite astute while we shared the gallopade. He suggested that a masquerade is when people allow themselves to be precisely who they are. I agree. Not that I would make a spectacle of myself, but I should much prefer to remain disguised, lest acquaintances of the past are at hand to judge me in the possibly unguarded present.”

“Particularly those competing in society.”

“Precisely.”

“I daresay, they might discover it difficult to ascertain any failing in your character.”

“Said the kind gentleman to the shameless plunderer of books, unescorted outside of the ballroom.” She laughed.

Stopping abruptly at the small lily pad pond, he released her arm, turning to face her. “Miss, I owe you candor. I must beg your pardon for the exceedingly careless remarks I made when in the library. I assure you, you were not the barely tolerable Yankee to whom I referred.”

“Thank you. I do so hope your opinion has changed regarding the lady in question. We sometimes find ourselves terribly uncomfortable in unfamiliar surroundings and do or say the most unexpected things. Undue liveliness can be our ruination.”

“You are too forgiving. I said many things that were not meant to be overheard.”

“I heard only uncertainty.”

He released a breath. “Then, it is truth you heard.”

“Sir, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I was the intruder and eavesdropper. It is I who should ask for forgiveness.”

He shook his head. “I feel … compelled, as if by invisible force, because I cannot bear if you should consider me arrogant or careless of duty or even unfeeling toward my cousin. She is quite dear to me, but it is a wholly different affection than one of marriageable compatibility.”

She understood more than he could know. Looking down at her clasped hands she softly said, “I have been taught that duty is the highest virtue.”

“As have I. Yet, I cannot deny that perhaps my destiny—and ultimate happiness—lay entirely elsewhere.”

Through their masks, shields meant to conceal their humanness, her gaze met his, stirring her heart.

A throat clearing in the distance alerted her to someone’s presence in the conservatory, reminding her that the world, guests, and merrymaking existed beyond the enchanted Christmas garden. Mr. Darcy’s posture straightened. She could see his brow furrow by the crinkling of his forehead, but he did not step back from her.

“Thank you for trusting me with something so personal,” she said softly, heart overflowing.

“Thank you for receiving it with grace.”

Footsteps sounded down the path. His lips grew taut and he tilted his head. “I regret the invisible hand of time has revealed itself,” he said, dangerously taking her hand in his. “I cannot contain my curiosity. Pray, what is your name?”

“The riddle must go unanswered.”

“Shan’t we, at least, remove our masks?”

“Forgive me … I cannot.” Feeling as though she were about to cry, she felt her heart squeeze. “I am immensely grateful for the delightful walk and discussion.”

Bowing, he kissed her gloved hand, lips barely grazing. He gazed up, smiling tenderly. “I will not soon forget your presence tonight.”

Just then her cavalier, the colonel, turned the corner and Mr. Darcy dropped her hand.