Masquerade Secrets(7)

He was truly stunned when she had told him that they had danced so many times together that she couldn't even count the number.

What would he have said if she had told him who she was? He would be  shocked, most likely scandalized. Here was the best friend of the woman  he had wanted to marry. The woman in the mask, the woman he had kissed,  was the same lady he had faithfully danced with to make his almost  fiancée feel more comfortable.

But what if he had been telling her the truth? What if he didn't care  who she was? Was it possible that their past wouldn't matter to him?

Her heart lurched with hope at the possibility. There had been something  between them, something undeniable. Would those feelings be enough to  suppress the scandal that would occur if he were to propose to her too  quickly?

She inhaled sharply, frustration marring her brow.

When had she become so uncertain, so timid? It wasn't like her to run  away from something like this, and she didn't like that she had. Why was  she so afraid to take a chance on this? The duke was an honorable man,  someone she had always admired. If he said that knowing her identity  wouldn't change his feelings for her, then she had to believe him.

The band around her heart began to loosen. There was a chance for  happiness with him. If what she had felt between them was just a taste  of what they could share together, she would take the chance.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow at the musicale she would hint at who she was. Surely  after the kiss they shared he would recognize her. Wouldn't he?

The next morning went by quickly, at least it did for Aubrey. Her mother  and sister seemed as if nothing of importance had happened beyond whom  Charlotte had danced with.

Her world had been turned upside down, but it continued on like normal for everyone else.

"Are you sure you are well enough for tonight's musicale, Aubrey? You  looked quite unwell last evening." Her mother looked her over slowly for  any signs of sickness. However, in the new cream gown that had been  delivered that morning, Aubrey knew she looked the epitome of health.

"I shall be fine, mother."

The peacock feather attached to her mother's hair wobbled as she nodded.  "Very well, but I expect you to take it easy so that you do not  relapse."

Seeing that her mother expected her agreement, she smiled reassuringly. "I will make every effort."         

     



 

"Excellent." Her mother looked to Charlotte to make sure she looked  presentable. "Well, let us be off then. I suspect that we will be in the  second half of the arrivals. Plenty of people to see us enter."

After taking her seat in the carriage, Aubrey looked out the window. She  didn't want her mother to think she was feeling unwell, but she was  excited about tonight.

Closing her eyes on a deep breath, she let her entire body relax. The  tingles she had felt the previous evening were there again, but lighter.  It was like they had never left, they were only different. Was that  because she was no longer disguised? She would be Lady Aubrey again this  evening, the wallflower that tended not to dance very often, the woman  that attracted the attention of friendly matrons at parties rather than  dashing suitors.

Would he recognize her? The thought seemed to torment her.

What would he say to her? Would he hold her hand? Seek a moment of privacy with her?

There was no way to know how he would react. The only thing she did know  was that she couldn't wait to see the look in his eyes when he saw her.  That look of desire, of hunger from the previous night, was more than  she had ever dreamed of seeing, and she hoped to see it again.

Remembering it, an answering knot of passion curled low in her belly.  She had only been kissed once in her life, and that kiss had occurred  last night. Her friend, Lady Sera, had been kissed a few times before  her husband, and had described most of them as a sloppy, unpleasant  pursing of lips. But she couldn't use any of those negative words to  describe what she had experienced while kissing Bradford. It had been  heavenly, magical. Every part of her body had warmed, wanting to curl  into him for more.

A flush crested her cheeks. Would he kiss her tonight?

"We're here. Everything in place?" her mother asked, startling Aubrey  out of her wanton thoughts. Nodding her answer, Aubrey was grateful that  the movement seemed to clear her mind.

Her mother led, knowing her two daughters would follow, up the front  steps and into the house. Always efficient, the servants led them  through the house with ease.

With so many bodies crammed into the music room, Aubrey was grateful the  fabric of her gown was so thin. She had only to walk through the  doorway before she felt completely stifled. Still with her family,  Aubrey nodded her greetings to a few acquaintances before scanning the  room for him.

Many people had begun taking their seats in preparation for the  performance. It wasn't often that the performer had true talent, but in  this case, Lady Elinor had a fantastic talent for both singing and  pianoforte.

With every person she scanned, her heart began to drop, realizing  Bradford wasn't there. Could he be running late or would he not show up  this evening?

"Let's take our seats," her mother decided.

Opening her fan, Aubrey made of point of fanning her face as she sat,  hoping to hide her disappointment. Tonight wasn't going exactly as she  had planned, but there was still time for his arrival.

A few moments after relaxing into her seat, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. He was here. He had to be.

The room quieted a bit as he entered, the women fluttered their fans a  touch faster to attract his attention, the men eyed him to see how they  might get closer to him.

None of that mattered to her. All that mattered was him. Her heart  beating louder, she couldn't help but watch him as he scanned the room,  seeming to take everyone and everything in.

Her breath caught in her lungs. He was looking for her. The realization slammed through her as her pulse raced.

Would he recognize her as the woman from last night? He must. There had  been such a pull between them. She was aware of him as she had never  been with any other person.

Still watching, she saw a man approach him, apparently asking him to  join their party but was put off with a polite decline. Instead, he  stayed against the wall, eyeing the growing crowd.

His eyes began to wander toward her and her heart lurched. He would see  her now. He would finally realize who she was. His eyes fell on her and  she smiled, waving her greeting to him. She hoped he couldn't tell how  nervous she was.

The smile froze on her face.

After a quick nod in greeting, he continued to look through the rest of the crowd.

Like ice, the smile slowly melted, her heart crashed in her chest. He  didn't recognize her. Had barely given her a look in passing. How could  he not know? How could he not feel the overwhelming pull to her as she  felt to him?

Turning away, she made a point to give her attention to the stage. She  had been so sure that he would know her, but she had been very wrong.  She knew who he was, knew how to find him. He had no clue how to do the  same. It was unlikely he would guess that the woman he was so attracted  to the night before was a well-known wallflower. She certainly hadn't  behaved as one last night.         

     



 

More people began to file into the rows of chairs, knowing the  performance would soon start. With three extra seats beside hers, she  knew she would have to converse with someone, but she did not look  forward to the task.

When picking her seat, she had hoped that Bradford would come to her,  would want to sit next to her and chat quietly throughout the  performance.

What a fool she was.

Glancing up, she saw Lady Victoria and her brother, Viscount Lawrence,  enter the room, her nemesis' brother grinning in genuine pleasure to see  the duke. She was too far away from them to hear what was said when  they approached Bradford, but she could tell that he was happy to see  them.

Forcing her gaze away, she focused all her attention on flicking a piece  of lint off her dress, trying to conceal the disappointment she felt.

He was the Duke of Wathersby, and she wasn't a diamond of the first  water. She had been right not to tell him her identity. It would have  only ended up hurting her more.

At least now she could keep her dignity. And her dreams.

But they were a cold comfort.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the music will begin shortly. Please take your  seats," their hostess, the rather plump Lady Penfield, announced.

Loud applause followed the lady's request, and the remaining people standing moved toward their seats.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw three people moving into her row to fill the empty chairs.

Her training would get her through this. It had to. She needed to be the  perfect companion to whoever sat next to her. She couldn't let her  unhappiness interfere with her duty.

Fixing a bright smile onto her face, she looked to her new companion, gasping as she stared into smiling hazel eyes.

Bradford was sitting next to her, just as she had dreamed, but it was  all wrong. She wanted to close her eyes and weep. He wasn't sitting next  to her because he wanted to be close to her, to whisper words of  longing. He sat next to her because it had been convenient.