Page 11

“M y dear, look at this!” said Daphne, sorting invitations beside her breakfast plate.

“It’s from Lady Ashford. Such fun! Her ladyship begs the company of Lady Holbrook and Miss Watson to watch the fireworks in Vauxhall Gardens on Friday next at eight o’clock.

All guests are to wear masks and dominos.

..” Daphne looked up with her eyes sparkling.

“My dear, in my day such entertainments were a little improper, but today they are much more respectable. I wonder who will be in Lady Ashford’s party? ”

Sarah looked up from her correspondence, “Weren’t we going to Lady Partridge’s ball on Friday?”

“I shall write at once and beg off—this is an opportunity not to be missed. The fireworks are splendid and the gardens very pretty. You may be sure, Lady Ashford’s request to wear masks is to protect the identities of all concerned.

Because, while they are much tamer than in my day, public masquerades are still not quite the thing, my dear. ”

“If they weren’t the thing, how did you come to attend one, Daphne?” asked Sarah, highly amused.

Daphne blushed. “My sister and I sneaked out and went with our cousins Leopold and Gerald. It was most reprehensible, but such fun. Mama never found out, thank goodness, and the boys took good care of us, I promise you. But if we had been caught and unmasked, we would have been ruined. On no account should you remove your mask for the duration of the event, Sarah.”

Sarah frowned. “Should I go? Would Papa approve?”

Daphne pursed her lips. “Probably not, but do not let that put a damper on your spirits, Sarah. You will do nothing untoward. Lady Ashford’s guests will not cross the line, and you may be sure you will be perfectly safe, or I would not countenance it.”

The presence of Viscount Ashford in the party reassured Sarah. He at least she felt safe with. It occurred to her to wonder if the duke would also be in the party. Ashford was a friend of his, she knew that. But surely the duke is too stuffy to attend a public masquerade? Even in disguise?

As it transpired, that Friday, the Ashfords collected them by carriage.

“The rest of the party will meet us there. We have booked a box on the second tier away from the hoi polloi,” said Lady Ashford, looking perfectly splendid in a white and silver gown beneath a black velvet domino, which set her strawberry-blonde curls aflame.

Sarah was also dressed in white, but she had to admit that her ensemble was plain by comparison with Caroline’s.

The blaze of light from the thousands of colored lamps strung among the trees, temples, and pavilions of the gardens took Sarah’s breath away, and she was glad that she had come, despite her misgivings.

Daphne squeezed her arm and murmured in her ear, “I told you it was splendid!”

The Ashfords led the way to their box in the pavilion, where an orchestra was playing and couples were dancing beneath the trees. In the box they found two gentlemen awaiting them in masks and dominos.

“Lady Holbrook, Miss Watson, I would like to present the Marquess of Ravenshaw, and I believe you are already acquainted with the Duke of Troubridge,” said Lady Ashford, her green eyes dancing behind her mask and a broad smile on her lips.

Seeing Ravenshaw beside the duke, he was slightly shorter and had much darker hair, a sleek ebony color. He smiled, bowed with inestimable grace and kissed first Daphne’s then Sarah’s hand. It was rapidly obvious that Ravenshaw had been invited to monopolize Daphne and leave Sarah to the duke.

Could the duke have asked Lady Ashford to organize this party just for me? Surely not.

Yet it appeared that was indeed the case.

A little thrill ran through her at the notion.

She needed to remember that he was in pursuit of her fortune.

But for him to exert this much effort to please her, particularly after the insults they had exchanged in their last encounter?

At the very least, it argued for persistence on his part.

Each couple had a table in the box, and Sarah was conscious of a shiver of excitement when he held her chair for her and smiled, his eyes glinting through his mask. Even knowing who he was, the mask gave him an air of mystery that was intriguing.

“Am I forgiven for my rudeness the other day, Miss Watson?” he asked, passing her a plate of ham and salad and pouring her a glass of champagne.

He spoke in a light tone, almost teasing for him. He was different tonight, and it encouraged her to tease back. He did seem bent on charming her. She wasn’t sure that she was proof against a charming duke.

“Perhaps. What will you do to earn my good graces?” she asked, sipping the champagne.

“I will turn that back upon you and ask you how I may do so, for if past behavior is any indication, I have a poor success rate. I must confess you throw me off balance, Miss Watson. I am not accustomed to it.”

“In days of yore, it was the custom for knights to perform acts of valor for their ladies,” she said whimsically. Is it wearing a mask that is making me act this way, or is it the champagne? Or both?

“I see. Will you set me a quest, my lady?”

Hugely enjoying herself, Sarah said, “I think I shall. See that lantern over there, the blue one in that huge tree? Will you fetch it for me?”

He followed the line of her pointing finger and bowed, “As my lady wishes.”

He left the box, and, in a moment, she saw him reaching up to detach the blue lantern from the branch on which it was suspended.

It was done in a trice, and he was back with his trophy.

Which he presented to her on bended knee.

Hugely tickled, she laughed and accepted it, placing it on their table where its flickering light threw blue shadows over the tablecloth.

She then held out her hand. “Sir Knight, you are forgiven.”

He took her hand and kissed it before rising to his feet and resuming his seat.

She placed her hand in her lap, trying to pretend that a little tingle hadn’t travelled up her arm from the touch of his lips upon the back of it.

“Now I am restored to your good graces, my lady, I must endeavor to stay there. There will be a display of fireworks later. Have you seen such a spectacle before?”

“No, I have not. I am most excited to see it,” she confessed, sampling a mouthful of the wafer-thin ham. It melted on her tongue, its salty flavor a nice contrast with the sweetness of the honey glaze. She sipped more champagne, a warm glow filtering through her body.

She glanced sideways at Daphne who was blushing at something Ravenshaw said to her and rapping his knuckles with her fan. The Ashfords had left the box to dance.

“Would you care to dance, Miss Watson?” he asked as if divining her thoughts.

“Very well, Your Grace” She removed her napkin from her lap and took his hand as he conducted her from the box down to the dance floor.

Less formal than Almack’s or a ball, couples joined and left the dance floor when they chose, and the orchestra continued to play.

Currently, their choice seemed to be the waltz.

Sarah’s heart skipped and thudded as he slid his arm round her waist and drew her close against him, closer than he had done at Almack’s.

Between the rush of warm heat from his proximity, the champagne, and the general giddiness of the moment, she felt lighter than air as he led off.

Their cloaks swirled outward with the movement of the dance as they circled the floor, and she found his eyes holding hers in a compelling fashion that she could not look away from.

Intoxicating.

She nearly held her breath wanting to hang onto this moment of perfection forever.

She could almost believe she had stumbled into a fairy tale.

For the first time in their acquaintance, she felt an accord with him, as if the rhythm of the dance had got into her blood and her heart.

She had been dazzled by his good looks from the first, but this, this was something altogether different and more powerful than the girlish infatuation she had previously nurtured.

She felt herself in serious danger of plunging headlong off a precipice.

And the worst part about it was that she desperately wanted to.

As the eldest of eight children, and Papa’s favorite, she had always been a good girl, the responsible one, the one everyone relied on, the one who gave for the benefit of others.

She was the one who put her own needs, wants, and desires behind those of her loved ones.

It was second nature to her to do this, and she didn’t resent it, but just in this moment, she felt the temptation to reach for something for herself.

Something that perhaps Papa would not approve of?

The duke’s arm tightened around her, bringing her closer against the hard heat of his body, and a pulse of a different kind thrummed through her. He bent his head and murmured in her ear, “There is something very freeing about wearing a mask, I find. Do you agree, Miss Watson?”

She nodded. “Yes,” she said softly. A shiver provoked by the warmth of his breath against her ear skated down her spine.

A heat was building low in her belly that she had never felt before, and it was making her breathless and reckless.

She felt wicked for the first time in her life.

And contrary to her expectation, it felt delicious.

His mouth lingered near her ear, and he murmured, “Your scent is intoxicating.”

She shivered with delight, and a soft breath escaped her in a sigh. The champagne must be making her giddy. So wicked. So delicious.

“Would you care to take a walk with me amongst the trees before the fireworks?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” she breathed, quite convinced she was going to combust with wickedness.