Page 143

A masquerade ball hosted in the gardens—Celia had never quite experienced a sight like this before.

How insightful that the duchess had decided to move the entire affair outside.

And she had to admit, it was quite alluring.

Lanterns were strung from the garden’s towering trees and a tent had been set up for the refreshments along with chairs that beckoned to those who wished to rest. There were even four card tables for more amusement, and masked couples glided across the outdoor dance floor, their merriment infectious.

Celia’s lips curved into a smile. It was the perfect night to find romance.

Beyond the tent, the lake mirrored the night sky, its surface speckled with the reflections of stars and lantern light.

She stepped onto the lawn, fanning herself, as the soft strains of string music struck up.

The heat had become quite intense, even worse than this afternoon.

She almost wanted to run and jump into the water amongst all those silver pinpricks.

It wouldn’t be the real stars, of course, but at least she would be cooler.

She’d told Barnaby she wanted to find a suitor, and that was true. But she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to take such a leap at an event filled with masks. However, masks were perfect for something else.

She wanted to steal a kiss.

Her conversation with her friend earlier in the day had not only struck a nerve but a desire. Besides, a woman should steal a few kisses here and there. Her gaze swept the garden. Speaking of nerves, where was the man? She hadn’t caught a whiff of him so far.

No matter.

Tonight wasn’t about him. It was about her.

She caught a glimpse of a tall figure in the distance conversing with two young ladies. Ah, there was Barnaby. She couldn’t see him clearly, but she would know that tall, sturdy back anywhere.

Well, well, well! Good for you, my friend!

She strode over to the refreshment table, nodding at the all the masked guests she passed. Off to the right, she heard the duchess’s laughter.

She hadn’t yet reached the table before a gentleman approached her, his attire a striking, and rather unfortunate orange. He bowed. “Would this pure vision honor me with a dance?”

Celia blinked at the man.

Did this way of asking honestly work with the ladies?

“I—” Her gaze caught on a lone figure beyond him, and her words halted on a catch.

Tall. Extremely tall. Almost as tall as Barnaby, if not a bit taller.

He wore white trousers with a green waistcoat, and a matching green mask.

Not the sort of green that might be considered in the same garish vein as this fellow’s orange, but a deep green. Was he a latecomer to the house party?

“My lady?”

She glanced back at Mr. Orange Mask. “I beg your pardon, sir, but I’m afraid I have someone that I need to meet.”

Him.

She wanted to steal a kiss from him.

She curtsied and quickly stepped away. She searched for that tall man, but he was gone. Her brow furrowed as she stepped up to a tree shadowing the margin of the garden and leaned against it. Had he been a figment of her imagination?

“You look lost in thought,” a voice said from the shadows.

Celia straightened, startled, and turned to see a man stepping into the moonlight. Him. So, not her imagination, then. He smiled, and though she couldn’t discern his features, his presence was certainly commanding.

“Perhaps I am,” she replied, her voice steady despite her racing heart. Her gaze flicked to guests and back. “And what of you, sir? Are you not partaking in the evening’s festivities?”

He chuckled softly. “Not at the moment.”

“Oh?”

“At the moment I am exactly where I wish to be.”

Be still my heart.

“It seems I am as well,” she said, tilting her head as she studied him. “But I wonder, are you here to enjoy the ball or simply to seek out wandering souls?”

“Perhaps both,” he said, leaning casually to face her against the trunk of a tree beside her own. “And perhaps you are one of the most intriguing souls I’ve found.”

Celia’s cheeks warmed. “You speak as if you’ve known me for years.”

“A mystery as captivating as yours doesn’t require years to appreciate.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re bold, sir.”

“So are you,” he countered smoothly. “Tell me, do you make it a habit to escape grand affairs for moments of solitude, or is this a rare occurrence?”

“Rare,” she admitted. “But sometimes, the stars are more compelling than the crowd. I also find myself in a rather brazen mood.”

“Then if I may be more brazen and ask, how about a dance under those compelling stars?”

Celia glanced around. “Right here?”

He chuckled. “No.” He motioned to the garden’s more secluded edges. The hidden corners. “A spot more private.”

How utterly suggestive! And just what she had in mind.

“Well, I would have to say that is most improper, and perceptive eyes might witness us slipping away.”

The man grinned at her. “Then let us meet each other in a quarter of an hour. That is, if you wish for that private dance.”

Celia stared after him as he strode off deeper into the garden. Just who was this man? But most importantly, could it be that her moment had truly come? Just like that?

*

Barnaby was bored out of his damn mind.

His mother had truly outdone herself, but then, she always did.

But honestly, did she have to litter the trees with lanterns?

A deuced health hazard, if you asked him.

She was certainly outdoing herself with all the hints for him to find a wife, as well.

He wouldn’t be able to avoid the topic forever.

However, he could still avoid it for a decade or so.

On that note, where was Celia? Was she already hunting down her suitor? A hint of annoyance crept between his brows. Why the sudden change? Why did she want to find a husband now? And why at this bloody masquerade?

There weren’t even all that many gentlemen to choose from. In fact, for every man, there must be three women, he mused bitterly. But then, Celia had never been one to shy away from a challenge.

His gaze flicked over all the masked faces. Mask or not, he’d be able to spot her even without a good vantage point.

And then he saw the woman—a mysterious, bewitching vision stepping into the garden. He failed to place her, but dear God. She was breathtaking, which was saying something, given that half her face was hidden by the mask and the shifting play of light and shadow made it difficult to see her fully.

However, the gown she wore shimmered like a moonlit lake, its deep-blue fabric flowing around her as though she were gliding rather than walking. Her gloves, stretched to just above her elbow, drew his gaze to her slender arms before it lifted to the pearls glimmering in her hair.

A goddess for sure.

But that wasn’t what he found captivating.

There was something about her, the way she walked, the way she surveyed the guests, the way she held herself, that made him unable to look away.

A woman on a mission. Yes, that was how he would describe it.

A woman who knew what she wanted.

Who was she? His mother hadn’t hinted at anyone specific he should spare a thought to, not that he would have anyway, but this vision...

He simply couldn’t tear his gaze away.

His eyes followed her across the garden, watching as she exchanged words with an orange patch before making her way over to tree. The corner of his eye twitched as a man, tall and well-dressed, stepped up to her.

Who was he ?

Barnaby leaned in slightly, narrowing his eyes before he caught himself.

A laugh escaped him.

What was he doing? Tracking some woman like a lovesick fool? And for what? To do what ? To talk to her? Bloody absurd.

What would he even say?

But he couldn’t stop himself. It was as though his eyes and his feet, which he found were inching closer to where she was, had their own agenda, one he couldn’t fight.

He watched her again, but there was something nagging at him—a sense of recognition, but from where?

He wasn’t certain. Surely he would have noticed her before now if she’d been one of the guests?

But then again, as Celia had said, he hadn’t been engaging with them all that much.

He clenched his jaw, frustration building.

He needed to stop.

This was nonsense.

Utter nonsense.

And all Celia’s fault. She had put this madness in head somehow. But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he cursed his own foolishness, he couldn’t seem to look away.