by Wolf, Bree
“You look different without your spectacles,” Charlaine observed, her own golden gown making her dark eyes glow. She shimmered like a star in the night sky. “You don’t need them, do you?”
Caroline smiled as she met her own gaze in the mirror, her eyes now glistening in a dark blue. “No, I don’t.” Perhaps the last time she’d worn them had already come and gone.
Perhaps it was time not to hide any longer.
“I have a confession to make,” Charlaine told her as they sat in the carriage on their way to the Whithertons’ townhouse. “There is someone I wish to see tonight.”
Caroline’s mouth opened slightly in surprise. “Who is he?”
Charlaine chuckled wholeheartedly, no sign of embarrassment on her lovely features. “Oh, he’s a kind young man who believes the world has nothing left to offer him.” Her brows wiggled devilishly. “I intend to disabuse him of that misconception.”
Caroline laughed, looking at the young woman across from her with unadulterated awe, wondering how she could ever have thought her the villain in this story. Indeed, Charlaine had such a caring and vivacious character that Caroline had no doubt the young gentleman would not stand a chance against such a force of nature. “Thank you for…for sending that message,” Caroline told her, reaching out to grasp her hand. “Thank you for helping me.”
A hint of red darkened Charlaine’s cheeks as she smiled at Caroline. “Oh, we all need someone to turn to. No one can exist on their own.” Sadness misted her eyes, but she blinked it away quickly. “Life is beautiful, and we must not ever allow it to be anything but.”
The strength in the young woman’s gaze overwhelmed Caroline, and she realized how afraid she’d been lately, how consumed by doubts and fears and suspicions. They’d darkened her days and weighed heavily on her heart. Yes, there was a chance that Pierce did not love her the way she loved him, but was there not an even greater chance that he did? Was she not a fool for hesitating to risk her heart to claim his?
More than once, he’d shown her that she mattered to him. More than once had he gone out of his way to ensure her safety. More than once had he confided in her, revealed his vulnerable side, trusting that she would keep it safe.
“Are you ready?” Charlaine asked, her hand gently squeezing Caroline’s as the carriage pulled to a stop outside a large townhouse.
Caroline swallowed, gathering her courage, and then nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
With their masks securely fastened, the two women proceeded to the entrance and then stepped into a foreign world. Although a masquerade was still a ball, a ball with music and dancing, this ball had a distinctly outlandish character to it.
The lights seemed dimmer than usual, casting an eeriness across the large room that sent a chill up and down Caroline’s arms. Masks met her gaze wherever she looked, disguising those underneath, making them all strangers. Men seemed to favor simple black ones while the women’s shone in many different colors, matching the scandalously revealing gowns they’d chosen to wear that night. Music echoed through the crowd, dark and almost foreboding, as the dancers moved across the dance floor, their bodies entwined in a highly indecent manner.
Her parents would have an apoplexy if they knew she was here!
Beside her, Charlaine inhaled a shuddering breath. “I hadn’t expected this,” she confessed, then turned and met Caroline’s gaze with a widening smile. “But I must admit I’m intrigued.”
Swallowing, Caroline nodded for although her pulse thudded wildly in her veins, she knew that there was no way she would turn around and head home. “How do we find them?” she whispered to Charlaine as her eyes once more flew across the faceless crowd.
In that moment, a moment when the music died down and a momentary silence fell over the room, a woman’s voice nearby echoed to her ears, commenting rather shockingly on a man’s presumed sexual prowess. Caroline felt herself turn dark red. It was not solely the comment itself that shocked her, but rather the fact that she recognized the woman’s voice.
If Caroline was not at all mistaken, then the woman was no other than Lady Brockton, the matron of their embroidery circle, a woman who always portrayed herself as the embodiment of propriety and respectability!
For long seconds, Caroline stared at the woman’s blue, feathery mask shimmering in the room’s dim light and realized that while their masks might hide their faces, their voices might still reveal who they were.
“Perhaps we should split up,” Charlaine mumbled as she, too, looked around the room. “We might have more luck going separate ways.” Her gaze met Caroline’s. “And I doubt we’ll have trouble finding each other again in these gowns.”
Caroline smiled, then nodded. “I suppose that’s tru—” Her voice broke off when her gaze fell on a gentleman clad in black, an equally black mask fastened to his face. He was one of many, and yet, Caroline knew in her heart that it was Pierce. After all, she’d seen him like this before.
With a drink in his hand, he stood off to the side, here and there exchanging a word with a rather tense young man beside him. His hand rose and he gestured toward the dance floor where a group of masked ladies stood, chatting and laughing.
A moment later, the other man set off, heading in the group’s direction, his jaw squared as though he were acting against his better instincts. Caroline had to admit that he looked familiar, nevertheless, she couldn’t place him. “Might this be the man you’re looking for?” she whispered to Charlaine.
The other woman moved to look at the man Caroline had gestured to and then stilled, her gaze narrowing. “Why, I do believe you’re right.” A surprised chuckled escaped her. “How on earth did you spot him?”
“I didn’t,” Caroline admitted, and her gaze moved back to the man who’d caught her attention. “I spotted Pierce.”
“I see,” Charlaine whispered teasingly, then once more squeezed Caroline’s hand. “Good luck then. Don’t let him get away.” And with another warm smile, Charlaine disappeared, moving closer to the dance floor and the man she had her eye on.
“May I offer you a drink?” an unfamiliar voice whispered in Caroline’s ear.
Flinching at the feel of another’s warm breath against her skin, Caroline spun around, finding herself face to face with another dark-clad gentleman with a black mask. His gaze swept over her in frank perusal, and she felt a sickening shiver run down her back at the leering look in his eyes.
Only when his hand reached to touch her arm did she snap out of the paralysis that had fallen over her at being addressed in such a manner. “I apologize,” she snapped as her chin rose and she met his gaze with a haughty one of her own. “However, I’m already otherwise engaged.”
“Is that so?” he drawled, clearly disinclined to abandon his intentions.
Caroline held his stare, her hands rising to settle on her hips. “Yes.”
For a moment, he seemed to falter until another man appeared by his side. “What do we have here, Kearsley? Are you on the lookout for a new mistress?”
Shocked by the words so openly exchanged by the two men, Caroline only belatedly realized that the newcomer had addressed his friend by name.
Kearsley. Lord Kearsley?
Caroline wondered why the men were not more careful with their identities, but then recalled that men often did as they pleased, needing to fear very few repercussions while women were faced with an altogether different situation. Indeed, if she were discovered here, she’d be ruined, an outcast of society, not welcomed anywhere. However, if a man like Lord Kearsley were known to have attended this masquerade, very few would take note, let alone be shocked.
It was, indeed, an unfair world, not that Caroline was surprised. After all, she’d known so all along. It had, in fact, been the reason for her own deception.
“Would you care for a dance?” the newcomer asked, all but pushing Kearsley aside as his gaze drifted over her appearance.
His voice was harsh and commanding, and despite the music
lingering over every spoken word, she could not shake the feeling that she’d heard it before.
More than that.
That she knew it.
“I’m afraid I must decline,” Caroline replied, feeling more and more uncomfortable the longer this conversation lasted. All she wanted was to find Pierce and see if he recognized her.
“One dance,” the newcomer said and his hand reached out to take a hold of hers without a moment’s hesitation.
As though she’d agreed.
Anger at his audacity swelled in her chest, and she glared at him, yanking her arm backward in order to free herself.
Without success though.
“I demand that you release me immediately,” Caroline thundered, shocked by the way respectable gentlemen behaved when society’s eye was not on them.
The man chuckled, then all but hauled her into his arms.
Beside him, Kearsley snickered.
Furious, Caroline reminded herself not to make a scene. If she were discovered, all would be lost. Still…
Gritting her jaw, Caroline held the man’s gaze, then lifted her foot and brought her heel hard down onto his toes.
His hands went slack and he drew in a sharp breath, barely suppressing a growl of pain.
Freed from his grasp, Caroline did not hesitate. She spun around and fled in the opposite direction, her gaze immediately looking for Pierce.
Unfortunately, he no longer stood where she’d last seen him.
In the next moment, hands grasped her from behind, cutting short her escape.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
An Unexpected Sight
Pausing in his step, Pierce turned at the sounds of commotion nearby.
His gaze fell on two masked men as they reached for a woman in a dark red gown. She was clearly trying to get away when their hands grasped her, pulling her back.
A few people around them took notice, but instead of interfering, they merely chuckled at the woman’s efforts to free herself from her attackers.
Disgusted with his peers’ behavior, Pierce headed in their direction. Of course, it was foolish of the woman to attend such an event on her own. But that did not mean she was fair game.
“Unhand her!” he commanded, shoving the shorter of the two men aside before facing the one with his hands clasped around her wrists.
At Pierce’s interference, the man’s hands loosened and the woman immediately gave her own a sharp tug, freeing herself.
Moving in-between the men and the woman, Pierce glared down at the lowlifes of high society. “I suggest you find a willing companion,” he snarled, meeting the taller man’s angry glare. Behind him, he could hear the woman’s fast breathing, shock no doubt keeping her rooted to the spot.
“This is none of your concern!” the man snarled and Pierce felt the shock of the man’s voice all the way to his bones.
Coleridge!
Every fiber in his being urged him to wrap his hands around the man’s neck and squeeze the life from him, but then a small hand settled on his back between his shoulder blades and his thoughts immediately went to Caroline and the counsel she’d offered the night he’d nearly done something unwise.
Think of Daphne, she’d said, her blue eyes imploring, reminding him that he was no longer alone in this world. That there were people who depended on him, cared about him. People he would never harm by doing something foolish.
No, Daphne deserved better. She’d finally found a home, had learned to laugh and smile again. And with time, he hoped that her nightmares would become a thing of the past. Remembered, but no longer threatening.
Gritting his teeth, Pierce held himself in check. “Leave. Now.” His hard gaze drilled into the other man. From the way Coleridge pulled back, his eyes widening as they swept over him, Pierce could tell that the other man had seen behind his mask as well.
“We’ll leave,” the shorter man muttered, his gaze fearful as he pulled on Coleridge’s arm.
For a moment, Coleridge resisted, his gaze contemplative, before he gave in and the two men vanished in the crowd, which continued to dance and laugh, all but oblivious to the confrontation that had occurred in their midst.
Pierce closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath, forcing himself to let go of the need for vengeance still pumping through his veins.
“Thank you,” the woman behind him whispered, her hand still resting on his back.
Pierce turned to look at her, relieved to see that she was far from hysterics. Instead, she was smiling at him, her deep blue eyes slightly misted as they looked at him from behind a dark red mask framed in tiny pearls, the same kind of pearls woven into her thick, dark hair.
She was beautiful. In fact, she looked like he’d imagined Caroline would look should she ever choose to…
Pierce’s thoughts jarred to a halt when his gaze fell on that slight curve of her lips, the way the left corner of her mouth drew upward before she briefly dropped her gaze. His own moved from her lips to her eyes, straining to see, looking closer as a familiar longing to reach for her teased him, urged him a step closer.
Awareness barreled into him then, and he saw what had eluded him before.
The tiny green flecks dancing in her blue eyes.
The soft glow of her skin, her cheeks slightly flushed.
The feel of her hand as it had lain on his back.
The strength and determination he’d seen in her eyes countless times.
The proud slope of her chin as she refused to back down.
The warm smile that melted his heart within an instant.
Air escaped his lungs in a rush, and his eyes narrowed, looking harder still, unable to believe what his heart knew to be true. “Caroline?” he croaked, tempted to shake his head to rid himself of this mirage.
Her smile deepened in such a way that he could have groaned. “I was wondering if you’d recognize me,” she whispered and took a step closer, her blue eyes looking up into his. “What do you think of the dress?”
Still staring, Pierce’s gaze swept lower and took note of the absence of her usual high-collared dress. Of course, he’d been aware of the red gown. However, before, he’d not been aware of her.
Now, he was.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Selfish
Caroline shivered at the way Pierce’s gaze raked over her, slid from her eyes and then slowly followed the column of her neck and down over her almost bare shoulders. She all but felt his gaze glide over her skin, like a caress that sent shivers into every fiber of her being.
His eyes darkened as he took in her gown, hugging her body like a second skin. Never had she worn a dress quite like this, and yet, she knew that it barely stretched the limits of what was considered appropriate. The most scandalous thing about it was, in all likelihood, its dark ruby color.
“Well?” she prompted breathlessly and his gaze returned to hers.
“Are you mad?” he growled, and she could see the pulse in his neck hammering like a stampede as his dark gaze drilled into her.
Disappointed to hear an accusation instead of a compliment, Caroline felt the smile slide from her face. “I thought you might…you might be…”
“What?” he snapped as he charged forward, his hand clasping around her left wrist. “Your insanity knows no ends, does it?” The muscles in his jaw were tense to the point of breaking as he glared down at her. “Again, you leave the house in the middle of the night,” a harsh breath left his lips, “and come here of all places,” his gaze dropped to the slight swell of her breasts barely visible considering the comparatively modest neckline of her gown, “dressed like this!”
Caroline’s jaw hardened. “Was it not you who told me never to wear a high collar again?” she demanded, aware that her words were like fuel for the fire raging within him. Still, she could not keep silent, could not allow him to ruin this night for her. After all she’d risked, all she was risking, she deserved…
…something, didn’t she?
His jaw t
ensed as he continued to stare at her, still and rigid like a stone column. And then something inside him snapped, and Caroline found herself being hauled across the room, her wrist caught in his iron grip as he all but dragged her away from the crowd.
The light dimmed farther as they headed down a small corridor, darkness creeping in from all sides, and the noise of the ballroom fell away step by step. Then abruptly, he stopped and pushed open a door. Moonlight filtered into the room through the tall windows at the opposite end, and Caroline could barely make out the dim shapes of a settee and two armchairs situated near an ornate fireplace. Massive shelves lined one side of the room while the other nearer the tall windows held a small writing desk and chair.
Pierce yanked her forward and she stumbled a few steps toward the windows before stilling her feet. His hand left her wrist and the moment she spun around to face him, he pushed the door shut with a loud, angry kick of his boot. “Who do you think you are, dragging me in here like this?” Caroline thundered, hating him so very much in that moment for making her feel this way.
Unwanted.
Pitiful.
Rejected.
“How dare you come here?” he snapped in return as they stood head to head, both furious, both unwilling to back down. “Have you not learned from the past? Have there not been enough close calls?” Gritting his teeth, he raked his hand through his hair. When his fingers touched upon the black mask, he yanked it away from his face and stuffed it inside his jacket, his movements jerky.
“Don’t treat me like a child!” Caroline growled out through gritted teeth as well, feeling her own blood boil and her anger barely under control. All her hopes for this night had been dashed and because of what? Because he couldn’t trust her. Because he couldn’t think of her as an equal. Because—