The Earl's Runaway Bride

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘Yes, I have. It is to be a masked ball, so I may be quite disguised. And I shall leave before the unmasking at midnight.’

  ‘But Rosthorne will be there!’

  ‘I know. That is why I want to go.’

  With a tiny squeal Lydia sat up. ‘Have you run mad?’ she demanded. ‘Do you know the risk you will be running to attend a masquerade?’

  Felicity nodded. ‘I have considered that. But I want to see him again, Lydia.’ She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. ‘It is the perfect opportunity for me to talk to him.’

  ‘But as soon as you speak to him he will recognise you.’

  Felicity shook her head. ‘He will not be expecting to see me there.’ She thought back to their time together in the shrubbery. ‘I doubt he even remembers my voice.’

  ‘This is madness,’ Lydia said again. ‘Think of the danger, Fee. These events can be very…wild.’

  ‘It is no matter,’ said Felicity calmly. ‘All I want is to dance with Nathan. We have never danced together, you see. And I would so like to know how it feels. Just once.’

  Lydia looked at her, tears starting in her blue eyes. ‘Oh, my dear—’

  Felicity quickly put up her hands. ‘No, please, Lydia, do not pity me or I shall start to cry, too. Instead I would like to ask you to help me in another way.’ She fixed her eyes upon her friend. ‘I will need some dancing lessons. Apart from a few country dances at Souden I have not danced, not properly danced, since we were at the Academy together…’

  ‘And you were always such a graceful dancer. I shall ask my old dancing teacher, Signor Bellini, to come here and I shall play for you,’ declared Lydia. ‘Oh, Fee, this is so exciting. And when Rosthorne discovers who you are…’

  ‘You go too fast, Lydia!’ Felicity frowned. ‘I am not at all sure I am ready to reveal myself to him.’

  Lady Souden looked as if she would say more, but after a brief hesitation she merely smiled, and nodded. ‘Very well, my love. Now, let us think of a disguise for you.’

  ‘I thought you might have a domino that I may borrow. And a mask.’

  Lydia sat back and regarded her friend. After a few moments a mischievous little smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. ‘I think I can do much better than that for you, my love.’ She shook her head. ‘No, I will tell you nothing more now, except that you must leave everything to me!’

  Lady Souden refused to say any more.

  Felicity was obliged to curb her curiosity until the very day of Lady Preston’s masquerade, when she accompanied Lydia on another of her shopping sprees. This included the purchase of a pair of scarlet stockings, which Lydia presented to her friend.

  ‘What on earth would I want with these?’ asked Felicity, laughing.

  ‘They will add the finishing touch to your costume this evening.’

  ‘What are you planning for me, Lydia? Do tell!’

  But Lady Souden merely looked mysterious and bade her to wait until the evening.

  ‘How fortunate that dear James could not dine with us tonight,’ remarked Lydia as she took Felicity upstairs to her apartment. ‘I can help you to dress without fear that he will want to know what we are doing.’

  ‘I am becoming mighty anxious about this myself,’ said Felicity as she followed her hostess into the white-and-rose dressing room. ‘The thought of those scarlet stockings is quite alarming.’

  Lydia giggled. ‘Nonsense, they are just right!’ She smiled at her maid, who was standing beside an open trunk. ‘Well, Janet, have you put everything ready, as I instructed?’

  ‘Aye, m’lady.’ She reached into the trunk and with a rustle of tissue paper she pulled forth a gown. Felicity stared.

  ‘Lydia,’ she breathed, ‘I couldn’t…can you not find me a plain domino? That is all I require…’

  ‘Nonsense, you will look wonderful in this. We are very much of a height, so it will fit you very well. I would wear it myself but…’ Lydia smiled and placed her hands on her waist ‘…I would not look my best in it this year.’

  Felicity looked again at the gown the maid was holding up for her inspection. It was a heavy brocade gown with full skirts and a narrow, boned bodice, but it was not the old style that made Felicity’s eyes widen. It was the colour. The gown was a vividly patterned scarlet-and-black, trimmed with black lace.

  ‘Begging your pardon, my lady, but I am not sure this is a suitable gown for Miss Brown,’ offered Janet, eyeing the gown doubtfully.

  ‘Pho, it is for a wager,’ Lydia responded in an airy tone. ‘Come now, we must help Miss Brown to dress. Quickly, Janet, for there is much to do.’

  Felicity submitted meekly to their ministrations. Soon her light, flowing muslin gown had been replaced by pads and hoops and petticoats. She gasped as Janet tugged on the laces of her bodice, fitting it tightly into the curve of her waist. When Lydia sent the maid off to pack away her discarded clothes, Felicity gave a little whimper.

  ‘I can scarce breathe.’ She regarded herself in the mirror. The tight bodice emphasised her tiny waist and the creamy swell of her breasts above the low neckline. As she raised one hand to her throat the black lace ruffles fell back softly from her white arm. ‘Oh dear, Janet is right: I should not be wearing this.’

  ‘You want to dance with Rosthorne, do you not?’ said Lydia, eminently practical. ‘Trust me, he will not be able to resist you in this gown.’ She sighed, a faraway look creeping into her eyes. ‘The modiste named this gown “Temptation”. I remember when I wore it: James could not take his eyes off me.’ Lydia gave another sigh, but as her handmaid came back into the room she recollected herself and said in a very businesslike tone, ‘Now for the headdress. Sit down here, my love, while Janet helps me.’

  A heavy black wig was fitted over Felicity’s soft gold-brown hair and she watched in some consternation as Janet pulled up a side table and began to set out a frightening array of powders and paints.

  ‘Is this really necessary?’ protested Felicity. ‘I am sure—’

  ‘Hush,’ Lydia told her. ‘You must look the part.’

  ‘Why, ’tis no more than a little powder, miss,’ said Janet. ‘Thirty years ago no lady would ever leave her room without painting her face as white as snow.’

  ‘And what is that you are putting on my eyes?’

  ‘Nothing more than a little burnt cork, miss.’

  And so it went on. Felicity stared ahead of her as Lydia and her maid worked their transformation. The daylight faded and was replaced by the soft glow of candles before the maid began to pack away the little pots and brushes.

  ‘Can I look in the mirror now?’

  ‘Just a few more touches,’ said Lydia.

  She handed Felicity a length of black ribbon embroidered with gold thread.

  ‘To tie up your stockings, of course,’ she said in answer to Felicity’s questioning look. ‘And finally, these.’

  She produced a square leather jewel case and lifted from it a heavy ruby necklace. ‘This belonged to my grandmother, but no one wears such things now. There…and the ear-drops…well—’ she caught Felicity’s hands and pulled her up to stand before the long glass ‘—what do you think of yourself?’

  For a long, silent moment Felicity gazed at her reflection. A strange, exotic creature stared back at her. A dark-haired stranger with white skin and light grey eyes framed by long dark lashes.

  ‘Well?’ said Lydia again.

  ‘Even I do not recognise myself.’ Even as she spoke her eyes were fixed upon her mouth: plump, sensuously curving lips painted a vivid red contrasted with the whiteness of her skin.

  Lydia gave a little crow of laughter. ‘That is precisely what we want!’ She handed Felicity a mask, a black-and-gold creation with long black ribbons to fasten around her headdress. ‘Now, you are to sit down and keep still while Janet helps me into my dress. Tonight I shall be Aphrodite, the goddess of love.’ She gave her friend a mischievous smile. ‘Quite appropriate, do you not agree? Goodness, look at the hour! We mu
st be quick, Janet, Sir James will be here any minute and we cannot risk him coming upstairs and finding Miss Brown dressed like this!’

  The maid’s head shot up. ‘Sir James doesn’t know that Miss Brown is attending—?’

  Lydia shushed her maid and waved an impatient hand. ‘I told you it is for a wager. Now not another word from you, Janet, and make haste to help me into my costume!’

  Lydia was giving her golden curls a final pat when word arrived that Sir James was waiting below.

  ‘I must go,’ she said. ‘I have given instructions for your coach to be at the door for you in half an hour. Janet has looked out a domino for you, so your costume will be completely concealed when you leave here.’ She gave her friend a final hug. ‘Do take care, Fee. I will be sure to keep James away from you tonight.’

  ‘Are you afraid he might recognise me?’

  Lydia picked up her mask. ‘No,’ she said, going to the door. ‘I am afraid he might find you too, too attractive.’

  Chapter Four

  Nathan prowled restlessly around Lady Preston’s magnificent ballroom. The walls were covered with swathes of midnight-blue silk that seemed to absorb the light from the huge chandeliers. The colourful costumes lost something of their brilliance as the movement of the dance took the dancers away from the centre of the room and they were eager to push back into the middle of the swirling, swaying mass. Not so Nathan, who took advantage of the shadows to hide himself away against the dark walls or in the shadowy corners of the room. He tugged at his collar: it was very warm, despite the tall windows being thrown wide. Impatiently he fiddled with the strings of his mask and heard a quiet laugh at his shoulder.

  ‘No, no, my lord, it’s not time for the unmasking yet.’

  He turned to find Sir James and Lady Souden beside him.

  ‘Fie upon you, sir, that is no way to address someone at a masquerade.’ The lady was smiling at him through the scrap of lace that served as her mask.

  ‘Well, I’m dashed if I’m going to ask Rosthorne if I know him,’ retorted Sir James. ‘It’s perfectly plain to see who he is. But you don’t look as if you’re enjoying yourself, my boy.’

  Nathan shrugged. ‘I have been here for most of the day, sir. His Highness got wind of the fiasco in the Stinchcombes’ garden and I was despatched to check that the grounds here are secure.’

  ‘Ah, yes. We cannot risk another assassination attempt,’ replied Sir James. ‘That would really put a damper on the celebrations. But having done your duty you are free to enjoy yourself now, Rosthorne.’

  ‘To tell the truth I wish this whole evening was over,’ replied Nathan, grimacing.

  ‘Is it really so bad?’ Lady Souden gave him a sympathetic smile.

  ‘I would be more comfortable in a plain domino, but this—’ Nathan indicated his costume, an over-elaborate variation of a hussar’s uniform in royal blue, red, white and gold.

  Sir James nodded. ‘Garish, ain’t it? And even the mask don’t conceal one’s identity. But his Highness insists. A display of solidarity for his guests, I think.’

  ‘And they haven’t even put in an appearance,’ declared Nathan bitterly.

  ‘But they will.’ Sir James patted him on one heavily gilded shoulder. ‘Bear up, Rosthorne. Prinny and his royals will turn up shortly and depart again even sooner, no doubt. When they have gone you can take your leave.’

  ‘Aye, I’ll go home and change.’ Nathan grinned. ‘I pity those poor fellows in the Prince’s Own if their uniform is anything like this.’

  ‘Well, I think you both look very dashing,’ laughed Lydia as Sir James led her away to join the dancing. ‘Every woman will want to dance with you.’

  And that’s the problem, thought Nathan as he drew back once more into the shadows. It seemed to him that all the matchmaking mothers in London had begged, borrowed or stolen an invitation to this masquerade for no better purpose than to fling their marriageable daughters at his head. Lord, what a conceited fool everyone would think him if he expressed such a view aloud, but it was true Sir James himself had called him—what were his words? The biggest catch on the Marriage Mart. Nathan’s mouth twisted in distaste. When he had been a mere Major Carraway no one had cared about his marital status, but the wealthy Lord Rosthorne was the subject of constant speculation.

  Nathan had not expected to become Earl of Rosthorne, but when he had inherited the title he had thought it his duty to sell out and interest himself in his estates. Now, as he dodged behind a pillar to avoid the gaze of another predatory matron, he began to wish he had remained in the army.

  ‘Do I know you?’ A soft voice at his side uttered the familiar words.

  He looked down to find an exotic, black-haired creature standing beside him. Her silvery eyes glittered through the slits in her black velvet mask and as he met her gaze she looked away, bringing up a black feather fan to hide her face.

  ‘Do I know you?’ he countered.

  Running his eyes over the delightful figure enshrined in the rich scarlet-and-black gown, he could not bring to mind any woman of his acquaintance. As if aware of his appreciative glance at her full, rounded breasts she lowered the fan a little to cover them.

  ‘I am Temptation,’ she murmured. ‘Have you never known me?’

  ‘Not recently,’ he responded, entering into the spirit of the game. A footman walked by with a tray full of glasses and Nathan reached out to seize two of them. ‘Will you take wine with me, madam?’

  Her scarlet lips curved upwards. ‘With pleasure, my lord.’

  ‘Ah, you do know me!’

  She looked at him over the rim of her wineglass. ‘Everyone knows the rich Lord Rosthorne.’

  ‘Then you have the advantage of me, madam, for I cannot put a name to you.’

  ‘I am Temptation,’ she repeated. ‘I exist only for tonight.’

  Her voice was low and slightly breathless. He found the combination very alluring. Nathan leaned closer.

  ‘And are you Temptation for all men, or only for me?’

  The eyes behind the black mask widened slightly. ‘For you alone, sir, if you wish it so.’

  He stared at her, intrigued. There was something vaguely familiar about the woman, in the tilt of her head, the soft cadences of her voice. Those carmined lips belonged to the mouth of a wanton, but her low, musical voice was cultured and there was no suggestion of a bold swagger in her movements, nothing to suggest she was anything but a lady. And yet…

  ‘Tell me—’ He broke off as a female dressed as a milkmaid dashed by, screeching. She was closely followed by two gentlemen in Turkish costume. For a moment he watched their progress. They were heading towards Sir James. He was standing nearby with his wife upon his arm and was obliged to pull Lady Souden out of the way of an imminent collision. Catching Nathan’s eye, he shook his head at him.

  ‘What is it that makes these affairs so dashed boisterous?’ he demanded, coming up. ‘Damme, but my poor Aphrodite already has wine stains upon her skirts!’

  ‘I told you we would be safer dancing,’ remarked Lady Souden, dismissing her spoiled robes with an airy wave of her hand. She pulled Sir James back into the crowd and they were soon lost to sight. Smiling faintly, Nathan looked around for the lady in the scarlet-and-black gown, but she had gone.

  Lady Preston presented a dancing partner to Nathan, a young woman in a pink domino who appeared to have no conversation and even less sense. Nathan led her on to the dance floor, but soon grew tired of trying to talk when the only response to his efforts was a giggle. The music ended and he escorted his partner back to her party, where her effusive mother made every effort to keep him at her side. A flash of scarlet and black caught Nathan’s eye. The dark-haired beauty was moving across the floor almost within arm’s reach. His curt ‘Excuse me’ cut off the matron in mid-sentence but he hardly noticed her indignant gasp for he was already pushing through the crowd.

  He was closing on his quarry when a large be-whiskered cavalier stepped in front of her.
She tried to move around the fellow but he blocked her escape, pushing himself against her and laughing at her attempts to evade him. Nathan did not hesitate. In two strides he was beside her.

  ‘My dance, I think.’ His tone was pleasant, but the savage look he bestowed on the cavalier made the man step back, muttering something that could have been an apology. Triumphant, Nathan put his arm around the lady’s tiny waist to lead her away.

  ‘You are trembling,’ he said.

  ‘Because you are holding me.’

  Her words were quiet, almost lost in the noise and chatter of the room. Almost, but not quite: a bolt of pleasure shot through him. He was unaccountably pleased by her reply. With some reluctance he released her to take her place in the set.

  ‘I thought you were going to tempt only me this evening.’

  She smiled, displaying white even teeth between those luscious scarlet lips. ‘For that I need your company, my lord.’ She reached out for his hand as the music began.

  Nathan had never danced such a measure before. Perhaps it was the wine and the warm, heady atmosphere of the crowded room that had confused his senses. His partner fascinated him; he had to force himself to turn away from those glittering eyes when the movement of the dance demanded that he should do so. The laughter and chatter around him died away, he heard nothing, saw nothing, only her. They danced down the line and separated and he found himself impatient to have her beside him again, resenting the other men who enjoyed her smiles, however brief. The dance brought them back together and as he reached for her hand he felt her fingers tremble in his grasp. His heart leapt; so she felt it too, this attraction. The music was ending, the couples were bowing to each other, walking off the floor. Only Nathan and his partner remained, standing breast to breast, staring at one another. As if in a dream he reached out his hand to her. Slowly, the fingers in their black satin glove came up, slid into his. Pulling her hand on to his arm, he led her through the crowd. He saw Sir James ahead of him, his mask failing to conceal his curiosity as he observed Nathan’s partner. Even as Nathan was wondering how he would introduce his mysterious companion, Lady Souden glanced in his direction, gave a faint smile and with a word to her husband she led him away. Nathan could not be sorry; he wanted nothing to break the spell that surrounded him.