Chapter One
The Duke of Foxhaven’s Masquerade Ball
Even in the dull flicker of candlelight, the domino Andrew wore could not hide his well-defined features, strong jaw, and sculpted cheekbones like those found on Greek marble statutes at the British Museum. Hope swelled deep within Miranda as she took a step toward him. Years had passed since she had been so close to him. She had often spotted him in the distance when he rode through town, and, like all of those times, his gaze passed over her. But, then, it would; to him, she was simply a name. A name on a contract.
Why she let his dismissal of her upset her every time, she didn’t know. Theirs was to be an arranged marriage, an arrangement between two families. She’d grown up more than aware there would be no love match for her, but one would think, in the last twenty years, his lordship could have taken the time even once to visit his future countess. Perhaps have sent a gift on her birthday or offered to escort her when she had been presented to the regent upon her coming out.
She hadn’t had a season, hadn’t needed one since she had already been betrothed. Unfortunately, knowing that hadn’t kept her heart from yearning. Miranda wanted to go to parties; she wanted the thrill of someone signing her dance card. Hell, she wanted to feel what it was like to be a part of his world. Instead, she’d been kept in the country to learn her French, perfect the pianoforte, practice her numbers, and prepare to run her future husband’s household. Only one word described her life: boring.
When the invitation inviting her to the masquerade ball had come, it had been an opportunity she would not pass up. No one could identify Miranda, and it gave her a chance to observe Andrew from afar, as always, or perhaps she might actually approach him for once. So far, however, he hadn’t done anything of note. He’d strolled around, chatted briefly with a few people. And other than the tall man who commanded the room—who she assumed had to be the infamous Duke of Foxhaven—no one had held Andrew’s attention longer than a moment. He had glanced at his watch twice in as many minutes, and, if she planned to make a move, she didn’t have any time to lose.
But why did it feel her feet were nailed to the floor? Why would walking across the room to a man she’d spent countless years training to be a perfect wife for frighten her? Because, although she had been trained to please him in almost every way, it terrified her he would find her wanting.
He chose that very moment to look up and meet her gaze. Damn. Caught staring, she averted her eyes. Steadying herself, she looked up again to find him gone. Of course he had taken off, since an insane Little Red Riding Hood had stared at him like he was the Big Bad Wolf. Convinced her life couldn’t get any more disappointing, Miranda went in search of her Aunt Sarah and then to call the carriage to take her home. The following day, Miranda would send a note to her brother, informing him she would be returning to the country house, where she would simply go back to waiting for her fiancé to claim her. She certainly wasn’t about to introduce herself now.
“Where are you running to, Red?” Andrew’s voice washed over her, forcing her to stop. “Heading to Grandma’s house?”
She faced her earl. “No, my aunt’s.” Does he recognize me?
“Must you leave? The ball is only beginning.”
Silly how her nerves acted up when she had the one thing she’d wanted for years—his undivided attention. “I should check on her.”
“I am sure your aunt is having a fine time and not ready to depart yet.” He took her gloved hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Why not take a stroll in the gardens with me first?”
She bit her lip. A proper lady never went anywhere with a gentleman, but he was her betrothed and therefore they were granted some freedoms most couples weren’t. Even if he didn’t appear to have the slightest idea of who she was, yet. “That sounds wonderful, milord.”
“Follow me.” He placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “This way. There is a side entrance to the gardens.”
If Miranda needed to find her way back, she would be out of luck, for her attention rested squarely on the man next to her rather than the hallways and rooms they passed through.
“You seem familiar with this house,” she said.
The earl nodded. “His grace is one of my closest friends. I spent most of my younger years here, as his mother and mine were best friends.” His smile lit his face and sent warmth to places a lady shouldn’t think about, and Miranda was glad the rooms were dark enough to hide the heat on her face. Her embarrassment faded as they exited the house, however, when the fragrance of the rose garden filled her nose. Chinese lanterns draped from poles around the immaculate plot cast a pale light over the grounds. “It is beautiful.”