by Edith Layton
If Far Isle were in London, the ball would have gone on long after the midnight unmasking, and then the guests would have dragged their weary bodies home at dawn. But it was the countryside, where the local lights blew out their bed lamps long before midnight most nights. Many of the local worthies were yawning as they left the Hall soon after the unmasking. Even the London guests, their day having been filled with riding, walking, or traveling to the Hall, retired to bed before their usual times. The ballroom was deserted by an hour into the new day. No one in the house was abroad by the second hour except, of course, for servants cleaning and clearing.
Fewer guests had been there for the unmasking than at the start of the ball, but that happened in London too. Many an uninvited clever lad or lass had sneaked into a fine affair, in both senses of the word, by attending and then leaving a masquerade before their trickery was discovered. But this time, at midnight, there seemed to be fewer guests than before, an exodus even more marked than at the most crowded London masquerades. Likely, Eve thought, some villagers had managed to get in to rub shoulders with the exotic class that was usually ordering them about.
It didn’t bother Eve. She had better things to worry about than some uninvited guests at her table. She was more fully involved with a new problem. Where was Aubrey? She’d left him only for a few moments to ready herself for bed. She’d gone to the convenience. Trust Aubrey to have indoor plumbing here in the countryside! She’d washed and put on a night rail in her dressing room, dismissed her maid, and come back into their bedchamber again—to find he wasn’t there. His valet, in his dressing room, had no idea of where his master was either. Eve pretended she remembered, laughed and left, to save face. Now she paced, and worried, and wondered. She had so much to talk to him about.
How could Aubrey have neglected to tell her about his sister? She obviously didn’t live that far away if she’d come to the ball. But why hadn’t she been at the wedding? And she was so magnificently beautiful, and yet she didn’t look at all like her brother. They were dark and light, night and day.
All her insecurity returned as Eve paced. The nasty little worm of a thought that the woman mightn’t be his sister at all ate through all Eve’s rational reasonings. Now that promise he’d extracted from her: to never speak to the woman alone, seemed unjust and perhaps sly. How had Arianna heard about the ball if she lived far away? Had Aubrey told her?
Now too all her fears and doubts returned in full force. How had she captured a lover like Aubrey, much less a husband like him: the most beautiful and the brightest man she’d ever known? And she, a simple shadow of a woman, at least, compared to him. Eve remembered his lovemaking and shivered, recalled his words of love and sighed, and saw his face when he’d seen the woman he’d called “sister,” and found tears gathering. She wiped her eyes, angry with herself, not with him, never with him. She loved him, but began to think she’d been a deluded, lovesick fool. But why had he deluded her?
Even more important, here and now, it was two hours into the new day, and where was Aubrey? More important still: where was the woman who’d claimed she was his sister? She’d promised to see them again soon, thanked them for their hospitality and, with some of her still-masked friends, had left the Hall before midnight with a secretive smile on her lovely face. As he’d gone to his bedchamber, a starry-eyed Sherry had told Eve that they’d both see Arianna soon again. That was too soon and too late for Eve. She had to know what happened now, or she’d never sleep easy again. And where could Aubrey be?
Rather than to keep wondering, Eve decided to find out. She threw on a robe, a soft gray one, the color of cobwebs. Then she went silently out of the bedchamber, light-footed, glad for once that she was a mere slip of a brown-haired, brown-eyed girl; easy to ignore, able to melt into the background whenever she chose. She’d discovered long ago that her unspectacular looks made it easy for her to be unnoticed. That was only one of the reasons why Aubrey’s unexpected attentions had shocked her. Like a beggar who turned a limp into his fortune, she’d sometimes used her unremarkable appearance for her own purposes. When she wanted to, she could move like a shadow, and hide herself even in the light. She seldom did, except when she and Sherry were young, in order to give him the occasional sisterly fright of his life by leaping out of closets or doorways at him.
Now she floated down the stair, and drifted through the hall, toward the voices she heard.
There were servants in the ballroom, quietly gossiping as they cleaned. There were servants in the kitchens and the salons too. Though the great hall seemed to sleep, servants ran everywhere, like busy mice, cleaning, clearing, squeaking softly to each other, hurrying so that they too could go to sleep soon.
Tempting as it was to listen to the gossip, most of it scurrilous, Eve ignored them. She had to find the master of the hall. She wound through the rooms, invisible to anyone not expecting to see her, searching for her husband, hoping not to find him if he was with the beautiful woman claiming to be his sister, but expecting to, even so.
She heard voices, and one was the one she’d been searching for. Narrowing her eyes, she went straight toward them like a hound on an invisible trail, moving past furniture and obstacles as though they weren’t there. That was Aubrey’s rich tenor. She’d know it in a raging storm; she would hear it above a cannon’s roar, she’d know it as she heard it in her happiest dreams, as she heard it in her ear when they made love and she was in ecstasy. The dulcet, laughing, bell-like tones that accompanied it were Arianna’s.
Eve never questioned her ability to find them. It was as though she were born to the task. She went to the back door, the one by the kitchens that led to the gardens. She eased it open, and heard them clear. Worse, she opened her eyes and could see them clearly, standing there together in the moonlight like a pair of characters in a play near the footlights on a darkened stage. Arianna’s gauzy gown blew in the slight breeze, Aubrey, as ever, shone even in the faint starlight.
Eve stood, one with the concealing shadows, and listened. She felt guilty, but she was, after all, keeping her promise to Aubrey. She wasn’t going to meet with his sister, alone. She wasn’t meeting with her. She was eavesdropping on her and Aubrey’s conversation. She’d been brought up to believe such a thing was wrong. It wasn’t. If it concerned Aubrey, then she knew it was right.
“And so why didn’t you attend the wedding?” Aubrey was saying.
“I wasn’t invited.” Arianna laughed.
“That never stopped you before,” he said. “Or tonight.”
“I didn’t know who or what she was,” Arianna said lightly. “Then I began to hear things about her, even where I abide. She’s not in your usual style. First of all, she’s very clever. And too, they said she wasn’t a noble, stately, proven beauty of the first water. And so she isn’t that either. How odd, for you. Not that she’s unattractive. Quite the opposite. She’s fey, in a strange way. But not beautiful at all, not exotic, surely never the sort to make a man pant with lust, especially not the sort to appeal to you. And for a wife! I confess myself fascinated.
“But she has something,” Arianna mused. “I don’t know what it is. I intend to find out. You’re particular, Aubrey. I can’t see any particular reason you should have chosen her this time. But I’ll discover it in time. Unless, of course, you make matters easier for yourself and tell me now.”
She impudently put her face up to Aubrey’s and laughed at his expression. Yet he was, so far as Eve could see, expressionless.
“I married her because I needed her,” was all he said.
“Ever more fascinating. Why didn’t you bring her to see me?”
“It’s not yet time. That will be a very, very long time from now,” he said curtly.
“Before you go abroad with her? Ah, I see from your face that’s exactly what you intend, again. You changed the style, but not the content.”
“How could I?”
Eve frowned. She hadn’t any idea of what they were talking about and didn’
t have the time to think about it. They’d lowered their voices and she had to strain to listen.
“And, of course,” Arianna said, “you’ve forbidden her to talk to me. Why? What difference if she knows now or later? Or is that something you refuse to change too?”
“Again,” Aubrey said wearily, “you ask what you know. I can’t and you know it.”
“So,” she said thoughtfully. “This one is special because she’s so unlike every other one. So,” she repeated with real humor in her voice, “I expect her brother is special too. He’d have to be.”
Aubrey stood up straighter. “I have no idea,” he said. “I do know that you are to leave him alone.”
Arianna cocked her head to the side. Her laughter filled the night with bright music. “Ah, brother,” she said. “What’s sauce for the gander is not sauce for the goose? I hardly think so.”
Eve caught her breath and then stifled a sigh of relief. They were brother and sister. Whatever other strange thing there was about this meeting, that, at least, was balm to her soul.
“Leave Sheridan alone,” Aubrey said in a deadly cold voice.
“I may, I may not,” Arianna said lightly. “You can’t forbid me what you feast on. And he so wants me. But let’s not quarrel. How long has it been since we’ve met, by day or night?”
“Not,” Aubrey said, “long enough.”
She laughed again. “Time to remedy that, certainly. Your wife will wonder at the estrangement. The other women never would have, they had little curiosity and never strayed from their proper places. This one, I think, will. Have a care, brother. If you take up with a clever creature you have to face new problems. That’s why I never do. That’s why I like her brother. He’s charming, and not stupid either. He’s just too young and fired with lusts to use his brain. But who needs it? Not I, certainly. Ah. I see I’ve vexed you. Then I will leave you. It’s not seemly for us to quarrel. ’Till next time then, brother. Adieu.”
She backed away, and faded into the darkness.
Aubrey stood there, looking after her, obviously deep in thought.
Eve, deep in the shadows, knew she had to leave too. She backed up and drifted slowly away, not making a sound. She stole back into the house. She fairly flew up the stair to her bedchamber. She closed the door quietly behind her, took off her robe with shaking fingers, and sat on the bed. Then, shivering, she realized her feet were damp with dew. She caught up her robe and used it to dry them before she slipped into bed. She huddled under the covers, shaking with more than the chill of the night.
He’d kept things from her. Important things she couldn’t understand, but she knew they were things she must know. Should she pretend to be sleeping when he returned? Could she face him knowing she’d spied on him? And worse, knowing that he’d spoken of things he’d never told her.
No, she thought, she wouldn’t pretend to be asleep. Because maybe he would tell her now, tonight. She couldn’t wait until morning to talk to him, in any event. So she lay awake, waiting for him to come back to their bed, for him to come back to her and tell her what he surely should have, long before.
But at the last minute, she lacked courage. She watched him through her half-closed eyelashes as he came into the room and took off his robe. She tried not to sigh, as she always did at the sight of his naked body. She lay still, waiting for him to slip into bed beside her.
He surprised her by gathering her into his arms. His hands were as cool as the night outside; his hair was damp with dew, he smelled of ferns and forest, but his breath was warm and sweet on her face as he whispered to her.
“Wake up, Eve. Ah, I knew it,” he said, a smile in his voice as her eyelashes fluttered open. “I knew you couldn’t get to sleep until you knew where I was. No need to pretend otherwise. I’m flattered. Thank you. But I only went for a walk in the cool of the night. I bade good night to my sister too,” he added.
He ran a hand lightly over her body, and each place he stroked peaked and prickled at his touch.
“Parties and balls call for me to be on my highest form,” he said. “It’s a strain to smile when I don’t feel like it. And a host must smile and smile. My head ached too. The musicians were fine, and deserved their fee. But the guests were louder. So I needed time to cool down and collect myself. Getting some exercise always does that for me. I was hoping,” he breathed into her ear, as his lips touched her earlobe to set her shivering, “that you could help me further.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about your sister?” she blurted, amazed that her body could be so willing when her mind was so distressed. He hadn’t lied to her, exactly. But he hadn’t told her about his meeting with his sister. And because she’d been a secret onlooker, neither could Eve tell him that she’d been there. She could tell him, she supposed, and maybe should. But suddenly it seemed a bad idea, precisely because he kept it secret.
“Because she’s someone I like to forget,” he said, interrupting every other word with a breathy kiss on each new place he touched.
“Why?” she persisted, her senses warring with her logical mind.
“All right,” he said, sighing. He drew away from her.
She wanted to pull him back, but pulled herself together instead, and waited for his explanation.
“My sister is a troublemaker,” he said. “She has been since birth. She’s vain and callous, self-serving and clever. And she loves no one, no one, but herself. She can do people injuries and think nothing of it, because she lacks a heart. Or so I’ve always thought. And yet, she must have some family feeling, because as you saw, she manages to keep finding out news about me. Don’t let her disturb you, Eve. I’d give my life for you, if I could, and willingly. I’ll never let her hurt you.”
And now, because of the earnestness in his voice, and because in her love-starved state Eve couldn’t think clearly, she dragged him back into her arms. “You’re cold,” she said, burying her nose in his neck and breathing in the scent of him.
“So warm me,” he whispered, and lifted her so he could kiss her.
She responded to him as always, with her whole heart. But tonight, there was something more, because even in the haze of physical joy he gave her, and even though she loved him utterly, she knew, in some deep place in her heart, that she still didn’t know everything about him; that he should tell her more. But she also knew she couldn’t bear him not touching her.
“This time,” he said, as she kindled in his arms, “we’ll try letting you set our pace. Here,” he said, lifting her higher, and placing her on top of him. “Do you know what to do? Do you feel where I am?”
“How can I not?” she gasped.
“Oh, Eve,” he said on a strained chuckle. “Here, this is how you do it. Ah, yes, right there. Now sink down. Can you, do you wish to?”
She shivered and laughed, and shuddering with newfound sensation, leaned down her head, until her nose touched his. “I can, I do, I will, is there no end to the joys of this?”
“No,” he said, and raised her in his hands only so he could lower her again, until she did it for him, and they forgot the night and the secrets of the night between them, in their pleasure.
“More,” she said later, when their bodies were at last relaxed, and they still lay entwined.
“What have I created?” he laughed. “A degenerate monster that wants nothing but my body? Wonderful,” he said, stretching his long body against hers, so she could tell he was again aroused.
“No,” she said. “Or maybe, yes. But that’s not what I mean. I need to know more about your family. How can it be that you know everything about me, even those things I didn’t know? Like my appetite for you? And yet I know so little about you?”
“Ah,” he said. “What would you know?”
“Everything you haven’t told me.”
He ran his lips down to her left breast, and placed his mouth on the puckered flesh he’d created.
“And you can make love to me ten times more tonight,” she said breat
hlessly, “and in fact, I wish you would. But at the end of it, I still will want to know.”
He stilled, and then slowly disentangled himself from her. He propped himself on one elbow and looked down into her face. “Most women would sleep now. The rest might forget the question in their weariness. Or else, they’d discover they wanted more pleasure, and then they’d sleep. But not you. You’re like a little terrier or hedgehog. You’re tenacious.”
She sat up. “And comparing me to a dog or a hedgehog, complimentary as you might think it, will not make me forget either. Neither will speaking about your past lovers, though that’s rude, but tantalizing, and something I’d usually want to know more about too. Why are you so loathe to tell me about your family?”
“I married you because of that damnable streak of level-headedness,” he said, smiling. “I’ll have to tell you then.”
He lay back, his hands behind his head.
She almost lost her train of thought at the sight of his bared body on the sheets. He was muscled and firm, all in proportion, and beautiful to see. She clenched her hands at her sides, and willed herself to lie down beside him and not on him once again.
He chuckled; as though he knew one more ploy to distract her had failed. “I apologize for speaking of other females,” he said, seriously enough. “It was beyond rude. It was boorish, given our world and your sensibilities. Though some women do enjoy hearing about…I’ll stop right there. I’m only trying to make you laugh. You look so serious I have to keep myself from kissing you into giggles. Don’t get angry. I spoke out of turn, and I’m sorry for it. Not one word about my former lovers shall you hear from me.
“What to tell you then, about my family that you don’t already know? I know my sister was a surprise, and I apologize for that too. My family is a small one, though I’ve many cousins. We are not a prolific troop, to our sorrow. In fact, it’s only my sister and myself on earth now. She has had a husband, and then lovers, but no children. And as you should know, I have none either. I haven’t been a holy monk. But that I would have told you.”