The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(162)

"How did you know it was me?" she asked breathlessly.



His face was as inscrutable as ever, especially with the black silk mask. "Your raven curls, of course, and that gown. I can't wait to see what the rest of it looks like at midnight. You're like a goddess. Your perfume, your walk, the way you hold your head. The curve of your neck. The lilt of you voice. Your dainty hands and feet. The way you fit to me when we are dancing. Your remarkable blue eyes. Do you need me to go on?"



She felt herself blushing as he led her on the floor. "No indeed. Thank you. You've never said-"



"Words often fail me. I have not Parks' gift for flattery. Or rather, not flattery, but facility with words."



"Yet Stewart says you know much poetry by heart."



"Very well, I shall give you a love poem, shall I?" he asked with a teasing smile which showed whitely against his black velvet mask.



"Certainly," she said, feeling a heated flush of pleasure tinge her cheeks.





"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun



Coral is far more red than her lips' red:



If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;



If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.



I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,



But no such roses see I in her cheeks;



And in some perfumes is there more delight



Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.



I love to hear her speak, yet well I know



That music hath a far more pleasing sound:



I grant I never saw a goddess go,



My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground."





"Oh, very pretty indeed," she said, slightly piqued.



"No, not quite, apart from your hair, of course, which is dark. But don't forget the concluding couplet.



"And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare



As any she belied with false compare."



"That's true. I'm not hurt and offended any more," she said with a laugh. "Very witty."



"It was never my intention to wound you, my dear. I shall give you another, then, more in keeping with your own personality. I know just the one.





"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?



Thou art more lovely and more temperate:



Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,



And summer's lease hath all too short a date:



Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,



And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;



And every fair from fair sometime declines,



By chance, or nature's changing course untrimm'd;



But thy eternal summer shall not fade,



Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,



Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,



When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;



So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,



So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."





"My you are most certainly a man of many impressive talents. Why do you always hide, even in company?"



"Do I?" he asked tonelessly.



"Well, perhaps hide isn't quite the right word. Just never let anyone see what a caring and deeply, well, passionate man you are."



He sucked in a breath, which she fortunately did not catch due to the volume of the musicians. "Passionate. An interesting word. Any reason for your choosing it?"



She shrugged. "I've seen you play with the children, discuss important things with your friends. Most of the time you are so impassive. Occasionally, though, I can see what lies beneath. A spark, a fire…"



"Parks says the same of you."



"Does he, indeed?" she said with a blush. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about his friend. "I must thank him then for seeing my potential."



"You are quite remarkable. He would be a fool not to see it."



"And you?"



"I am no fool, Lady Elizabeth. However, I appreciate you as a man appreciates a lovely painting in a museum. With admiration, but hardly any notion of having the luck to possess it myself. Or indeed any woman after everything which happened to me in the war."



"But surely-" she started to protest.



Just then, the dance came to an end, and he bowed, effectively silencing her.



She half-hoped he would keep hold of her hand for another dance.



But now Fitzsimmons hove into view and took her arm, leading her away from Will, who turned away as if the matter were not the least important to him.



Yet his words of a few moments before had been so warm and admiring…



After a few moments' conversation, he laughed and said, "Ah, you see, Lady Elizabeth, you cannot fool me."



"How did you know?"



"Your accent, of course."