Masquerade Secrets(14)

"It is my path now, Derek. It is what I want."

Her brother searched her features for the truth before taking a deep  breath. "You know that I wish for your happiness. If you would like the  opportunity for anonymity I will not stand in your way. When were you  thinking of holding it?"         

     



 

"In three days time."

"So soon? Can we ready things that quickly?"

She flicked her wrist. "Of course. It won't be a lavish affair, but with  only the guests and a few local gentry, there won't be a need for much  frill. I can easily arrange it."

"If it's what you want, go ahead," he said before turning his attention back to his work.

Blocking out her brother's concern, she made her way to the door. She  couldn't let her brother's words affect her; she had a duke to catch.  "Oh, and one last thing," she said, turning back toward him. "Might I  ask for everyone to wear wigs or powder their hair? It will be so much  more fun that way."

"Of course. Whatever you wish," her brother said without looking up. If  he had, he might have reconsidered his words. The wicked grin that lit  her face was full of plotting.

"Thank you." She turned again to leave the room, pleased that her plans for capturing the duke were underway.

He didn't stand a chance. After all, Wathersby couldn't possibly know  that she knew about his masquerade woman. The few moments of  conversation she had overheard on the terrace were enough to know that  she could fool him into thinking that she was that woman. She would just  have to remain anonymous and get his pledge before he realized who she  was.

It could work. She would make it work.

She was born to be a duchess.





CHAPTER 6



Bradford paced the length of his room. His muscles flexed in  anticipation, barely contained within his starched evening clothes. He  was liked a caged lion, prowling the confines of his prison.

The black mask his valet had procured for him lay on a side table, its crisp ribbons trailing down the side.

Another masquerade.

Thoughts of the masked woman filtered through his mind. He could  remember her so clearly, so accurately, there was no need for a portrait  of her. Her glossy flaxen curls glimmered in the candlelight, her red  lips ripe for his kiss. And her figure-he cursed as he felt his body  responding to the image his mind created.

Would he see her tonight? Would the torment he had felt over the last several weeks finally be at an end?

Since the masquerade had been announced by Lady Victoria three days ago, he hadn't been able to think of anything else.

If she was at Viscount Lawrence's estate, and if she decided to attend,  he would see her again. He had to believe that he would know her the  moment he saw her in another costume.

Regardless of whether or not her hair was powdered.

The frustration that had coursed through him during that announcement  returned. If she was there, he didn't want powder in her hair, he wanted  to see her as she was. He wanted to know her.

Glancing at the clock, he felt adrenaline rush through him. It was almost time to go.

With a deep breath he grabbed the mask before leaving. With every step  he took outside of his room, the caged animal was locked further away as  the duke in him returned. It would do him no good to look like a madman  in front of all the others that he would dance and converse with.

Especially Lady Aubrey.

He stopped in his tracks halfway down the hall. Lady Aubrey.

Why had she popped into his head just then? He needed to be focused.  Focused on finding the masquerade woman. He couldn't be distracted by  anything else at the moment.

But for some reason she wouldn't leave his mind. His mind flooded with  memories of the ride they shared together days ago. The way the sun  shone on her skin, making it look almost translucent. How could he have  been so blind to her beauty all the time he had known her? It was true  that Lady Sera was all that was fashionable: thin, brilliantly blonde,  beautiful. But Lady Aubrey was exactly the type of woman he would want  to take to bed every night. Curvy, womanly, warm. In all honesty, it was  astonishing that she wasn't already married.

Imagining her with another man caused something violent to erupt within  him, making him want to haul her off where only he would be able to be  with her.

"Good Lord. What is wrong with me?" Slightly hunched, he leaned against the wall, trying to regain his balance.

He had had no clue that thoughts of Lady Aubrey were simmering in his  mind, but he needed to purge them now. He had made a promise to another  lady. Promised that he would only ever want her.

And he meant to keep that promise.

Straightening from the wall, he continued on his way to the ballroom  with new purpose. The string instruments from the orchestra wept softly  through the carpeted hall. The masquerade had already begun.

Laughter occasionally rolled up the steps, mingling with the music, making him think of another night, another masquerade.

The excitement he felt to find the woman dimmed after thoughts of Lady  Aubrey. But with one last attempt, he pushed her out of his mind.         

     



 

"His Grace, the Duke of Wathersby," a servant announced him at the ballroom entrance.

All eyes turned to him as they usually did. He had found that when a  duke was announced, especially a young, unmarried duke, most people  turned to watch him.

He greeted the few men by the door and nodded to a few others before skirting to the other side of the floor.

The room was already warm from dancing, and the powder in the women's  hair left a light dusting whenever they turned, mingling with the scent  of their perfume.

If possible, and he really hoped it was, he wanted to stay on the fringe  of the room and observe as many dancing couples as possible. With any  hope, he would spot her.

As another group entered the room, he found it humorous that only the  men were announced. The women's identities were left a mystery.

His lips quirked at the oddity. Perhaps it would help some of the  debutants in their pursuit of marriage since they were unknown and their  reputations would remain intact with their anonymity.

"Bradford."

At the quiet, feminine voice, he glanced around, his heart beating erratically. It was her. It had to be.

"Bradford," she called again. This time he found the source of her  voice. Spying a large potted tree, he moved behind it to find a woman  there, her eyes glimmering. It was too dark to tell, but her eyes must  be green.

"Bradford, I'm so glad you're here," she said, moving her body into his.

With a sigh of relief, he wrapped his arms around her to bring her closer into the shadows, away from the crowd.

A crease between his eyebrows formed. She didn't fit into him like he  remembered. She was an inch taller, making their bodies feel like wrong  pieces in a jigsaw puzzle.

"You knew I would come." Just because he hadn't remembered her perfectly  didn't mean he wasn't glad to hold her again. And just because she  didn't fit him exactly right didn't mean he didn't still want her. "I'll  always come for you."

Her eyes shone in the darkness, looking at him with longing. He wanted  to melt into her, wanted to claim her. But something felt wrong.  Glancing up, he saw the powder in her hair and he wanted to howl that he  couldn't see the beautiful gold in the night.

"I never want to part from you again," she whispered in his ear.

Instead of the sound shooting pleasure down his spine, he felt uneasy.  "Nor I," he said, trying to block out his doubts. This was her. This was  the masquerade woman. The woman he wanted.

But an image of Aubrey came into his mind.

She leaned back and smiled up at him. "Come, let us dance with the others."

"First, tell me who you are."

She tried to pull back a bit more, but his hands curled around her upper  arms. "Does it matter? We are together now. We have the whole night  ahead of us."

"Yes, it does matter. You left once. I need to know who you are," he  said grimly. The thought of never knowing her name didn't sit well with  him.

"After we dance. I promise." She looked at him earnestly. "I promise I will tell you everything after that."

"It's that important to you?" She nodded and he could tell she meant it.

Why should one dance matter to her so much? He wanted to ask her, wanted  to demand answers from her after searching for her for weeks. But he  didn't want to interrogate her. He could wait. She said she would tell  him anything he wanted to know.

"All right then. Let's dance." He offered his arm to her, and she quickly accepted it.

Discreetly leading her to the dance floor, he made sure that no one had noticed that they had been alone together.

With every step he took toward the floor where others were dancing, his  unease increased. He felt as if a trap was being set. But how? He was in  the middle of a room with the woman he had been looking for.

Glancing down at her, he tried to reassure himself that everything was all right, but the feeling only intensified.

His eyes began to move back in front of him, but something dark by her  neck caught his eye. A stray black ribbon on her light gown? It was  almost black against her icy diamonds.