Never Trust a Rebel(17)

‘My dance, I think.’

His voice was scarcely more than a gravelly whisper as he led her to join a set that was forming. The flickering candles cast heavy shadows and his face was nothing more than a pale blur beneath the enveloping hood. It did not matter, it was only a country dance and her partner proved to be an excellent dancer. As the music ended he held on to her hand, his grip tightening when she tried to pull away.

‘Two dances is the norm, I believe.’

Again that breathy murmur. She glanced down at his long fingers wrapped about her hand. Frothy lace ruffles covered his wrist and she noted the wide velvet cuff on his sleeve. No country tailor had made that coat. She tried a little smile.

‘Thank you, good sir, but I think I would rather not.’

She gave a little tug but his grip was like iron.

‘Two dances, madam.’

The voice was faint but implacable. The musicians were striking up again. He would have to release her at some point in the dance, but to run off then would only bring the sort of attention she needed to avoid if she was to maintain her anonymity. With a little shrug she gave herself up to the dance, but as they skipped and turned she kept glancing up into the darkness of that hood, trying to see the face beneath. As last she was rewarded as a movement of the dance coincided with a flare of candlelight that pierced the black shadows, but it only showed her that he was wearing a Venetian mask, white and featureless.

Quickly Elyse averted her eyes. She wished now she had never looked at him, for the mask covered his whole face save for the eyes, which gleamed out at her in a manner she could only describe as predatory. She missed her step and he caught her around the waist, pulling her to him when she would have fallen. He was solid as a rock. She should have been grateful that he had supported her, instead she felt an uncomfortable sense of danger in being so close to this stranger. The crowd around them roared their approval and Elyse’s face flamed. She tried not to listen to the bawdy remarks, nor to notice the lewd winks and grins of the men.

Silently her partner set her back in her place and they finished the dance. This time she was ready. Even before the last note faded she snatched her hand away, made him a hasty curtsy and slipped off into the crowd.

She thought she might leave, but too many people barred her way, too many gentlemen wanted to dance with her. As the evening progressed Elyse became more uneasy. Her partners began to squeeze her fingers, leaning closer until their wine-sodden breath could not be avoided and placing their hands on her back as they danced. And all the time she was aware of the figure in the black domino. Whenever she looked up he was there, watching the dancers. He seemed to be shadowing her. She had the irrational thought that he was like some bird of prey, waiting to strike. Her only recourse was to keep dancing.

That was not difficult, for there was no lack of partners, but the company was becoming ever more rowdy and the gentlemen much more free with their lascivious comments. Some were even inclined to follow her off the floor so that she was obliged to accept another invitation to dance, just to avoid them. This worked for a while, until her partner refused to give her up to the next gentleman. From their loud, indecorous language she feared both gentlemen had imbibed far too freely of the wine. Her partner tightened his grip.

‘No, no, sir, the lady is promised to me for a second dance, is that not so, madam?’

He clung to her fingers with one hand while the other clasped her around the waist in a very proprietorial manner.

‘Damn your eyes, sir, I say she will dance with me!’ declared his rival in a bluff, angry voice. ‘Come, madam.’

The man grabbed her free hand. She noticed that his short, stubby fingers were brown with snuff stains and his ragged fingernails rimed with dirt. Elyse was beginning to feel seriously alarmed, especially since no one seemed to be taking any notice of what was going on. Certainly no one was coming to her aid.

She managed to say with a fair assumption of amusement, ‘La, sirs, I beg you will both unhand me, or I fear you will pull me in two.’

Her protest was ignored as the two men glared at each other.

‘Let her go, sirrah, she is mine!’ cried the man with dirty fingernails.

‘Never!’ declared his rival, his arm tightening around Elyse. ‘She will dance with me!’

‘I fear you are both to be disappointed, gentlemen. The lady is promised to me.’

The two men looked up, surprised outrage on both their faces. The words were spoken in a soft drawl, the tone slightly bored, but with sufficient steel in it to give them pause. Looking over her shoulder, Elyse’s alarm increased when she saw the black domino close behind her. She was not at all surprised to find herself released by her tormentors. They backed away, scowling, and Elyse was left with only the black domino at her side. He took her hand and drew her closer. Suddenly she felt very tired and she could no longer subdue her panic. She gave a little sob.

‘Oh, no more, sir, I beg of you.’

‘I thought you loved nothing better than to dance.’

The words were spoken softly, but in a very different voice. She looked up quickly.

‘D-Drew?’

Elyse did not know whether to smile in relief or shrink away from him, for his voice was chill and he towered over her in a very menacing way.

‘Of course. Now, do you want to dance?’

She shook her head, saying meekly, ‘If you please, I think I have had enough dancing for one evening.’

‘Then we shall go.’

He pulled her fingers on to his sleeve and escorted her from the ballroom. They abandoned their masks in the lobby, Elyse called to Kitty to follow them and they made their way in silence back across the wide market street to the inn. They were greeted by a sleepy waiter who asked if they required any refreshment.

‘Brandy and ratafia, in our private parlour.’ Drew rapped out the order then turned to Elyse. ‘From what I saw of your room it will need to be cleared before you can go to bed. Give your key to the maid and she can tidy it while you take a glass of wine with me.’

Elyse did as he bade her, then she followed him into the private parlour, pushing back her hood and saying as the door closed, ‘You have every right to be cross with me, Drew, I—’

‘You little fool.’ He rounded on her, his eyes blazing with cold blue fire. ‘Did you not realise where your recklessness might lead? You are a child playing a woman’s games. To attend a country dance, unchaperoned—by heaven, it could only end one way, with your ruin.’

‘Then I am truly grateful to you for coming to my rescue.’

‘I should have left you to your fate.’

He broke off as the waiter came in and placed a tray upon the table. Elyse turned away, struggling with the knotted strings of her domino. It did not help that her eyes were full of tears. She heard the waiter go out again but she did not turn around. A rogue tear spilled over and she dashed it away.

‘To have abandoned me would have been no more than I deserved,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I should not have disobeyed you and gone out. I am sorry I am such a burden to you.’



Drew sighed and closed his eyes. All the angry words he had conjured when he had found her missing faded from his mind when he heard the humble note of contrition in her voice. She had her back to him, but he saw her hand brush her cheek and guessed she was crying.

‘Your father left you to my care. Once I knew where you had gone I had to come after you.’ He stepped closer and held out his handkerchief. ‘Here.’

She wiped her eyes. ‘I thought taking Kitty with me would be sufficient protection.’

‘That shows how little you know about the world. It is full of villains and adventurers.’

‘Such as yourself?’

He stiffened immediately, but felt a wry smile tugging at his mouth. She could not resist challenging him, even now.

‘Such as myself.’ As if determined not to look at him, she fumbled again with the ties of her domino. He reached out to her. ‘Let me.’



Elyse quickly stepped away.

‘No.’ If he touched her she would fall to pieces. ‘I—I think I shall keep it on, after all.’

‘Are you cold, shall I rekindle the fire?’

‘Can you do so?’ she asked, momentarily diverted.

‘An adventurer has to turn his hand to many things, Miss Salforde.’

‘I suppose he does.’ She gave a sigh. ‘But to answer your question, no, I am not cold, not really.’

‘Then what is it?’

‘I deserve that you should give me the most tremendous scold.’

‘You do, but I am not going to scold you any more than I have done already.’ He handed her a glass of ratafia. ‘I hope you have learned a valuable lesson.’

‘Oh?’

He went back to the table to pour himself a glass of brandy, saying over his shoulder, ‘That a pretty young lady should never venture into society without someone to look out for her.’

Elyse sipped at the ratafia and its sweet warmth put heart into her. She felt confident enough to dispute this.

‘But they could not know whether I was pretty, for I was hidden beneath the domino and the mask.’

He turned and Elyse tried and failed to meet his glance, her fragile spirit shying away from the disapproval she feared she would see there.

‘Do you think any gentleman of experience would be fooled by such a disguise?’ He put down his glass and came closer. ‘To begin with, your hood had slipped back a little to reveal dark curls.’ He caught one between his fingers. ‘They are so glossy and luxurious they could only belong to a young woman. Then there is your figure. Since the domino is only fastened by a string at the neck it falls open to show the creamy smooth skin above the lace at your breast—another sign of a woman in high bloom. And your tiny waist is perfectly obvious, too. Then, of course, your neat ankles are displayed to great advantage when you skip through a dance.’