She gulped and accepted the offering. With her chin thrust upward, she allowed herself to be led past the footmen and into the broad hallway. Music filtered from the rooms below and she found herself desirous of swaying.
They reached the top stair and she peered over the crowd. Her heart fluttered erratically in her chest and she squeezed Roland’s arm.
“Do not worry, my lady.”
“Roland, you surprise me. I didn’t expect you to allow me to attend.”
“The ball was ordered by the baron, therefore his wife must be in attendance.”
She nodded and gnawed at her lip. “Where is my husband? I do not see him.”
“The baron will arrive in due time.”
****
Luke blinked rapidly. To have the luxury of staring at Brigitta as she stood above him caused his gut to twist and his palms to sweat. The costume, of almost transparent silk, clung to her feminine curves. Candlelight hit the creation and the material sparkled.
Slowly his gaze roved from her slippered feet to her striking visage. Her expression of wonder and delight morphed into one of confusion.
She released Roland’s arm and leaned to his ear with what appeared to be an angry whisper. He held his hands out in surrender and once again grabbed her arm. Together they descended the curved staircase. When they reached the lower landing, Roland released her and she was absorbed by the curious crowd.
Luke remained on the fringes, awaiting his opportunity. The mask hid his appearance and Roland sauntered by without even a questioning glance.
Brigitta mingled. A smile tilted her lips and her laughter filled the foyer. With the appearance of felicity, she glided with the crowd toward the ballroom. Hushed whispers echoed as she passed. Stopping just outside the ballroom entrance, she allowed visitors to introduce themselves.
Ladies sauntered forward, fans fluttering rapidly. One curtsied and introduced herself. “I’m Lady Vonda. It is so nice to finally make your acquaintance.”
Brigitta bowed her head at the bold Lady Vonda before walking on. Luke assimilated himself into different small groups and listened in on the gossip.
“I find her pleasant enough.”
“As do I. But you wouldn’t know it from the tours. Trust me, I have firsthand knowledge.”
“Oh, he does indeed. Every time he visits Stockport he makes a point to tour the estate and, well, you tell them, dear.”
“Of course I will. Each time the behavior is the same. Why Baroness Stockport is positively atrocious to her husband. He can barely correct her before she is flying off in a terrible fit of temper and he is forced to send her to her rooms.”
“And this happens every time?” asked an elderly gentleman as he sipped from his glass.
“Indeed, it does. That is one reason for my return visits. I thought perhaps that her behavior was a onetime incident, but I can safely say that is not the case. The young baroness is tried and true, that is, with her bad humor, at least.”
The group laughed and Luke moved away to join another group, encouraging the same speech.
“Do you believe they allowed Baroness Stockport to come to the ball alone? Why, I would be horribly afraid she would embarrass the entire area.”
“I heard the baron hadn’t a choice. She is his wife, after all.”
“Well, I heard he never planned the ball at all, but it was the baroness’ idea. They say she is locked in a dungeon most days and this was their concession. Why, I heard they even deny her wood!”
“Preposterous! The townsfolk would never put up with the baroness being mistreated. I would say this conjecture is highly unlikely and downright false. We would be better served to find a partner and swing about the dance floor than to stand here and spread this rubbish.”
Luke nodded his head in agreement with the last speaker and the disgruntled group disbanded. After a few more stops amongst the crowd, he was convinced the consensus was in. Brigitta was not seen in a favorable light.
The poor woman had been labeled as a spoilt child who had to be constantly corrected by a loving and faithful husband. If the people knew the truth, how would they feel? Being duped would no doubt affect their pleasant attitudes.
Musicians struck a lively tune and men stepped forward to claim their previously promised dances. Luke had been careful. He had only committed to dance with one woman, and then only once. To dance with the same woman more than once could signify an interest he did not have.
The dance began and Lady Ruth joined him. Less than graceful, Lady Ruth sucked her lower lip in concentration. Her head constantly peered downward, which was against ballroom etiquette. Frequent apologies were offered as she tromped on his feet during their lead down the middle and subsequent move into the second place slot.
He nodded in acceptance and prayed the dance would end soon.
Chapter Twelve
Brigitta never wanted the dance to end. Each musical note prolonged her freedom.
With the baron’s continued absence, she remained without a partner. Several men looked her way, took a step forward, only to draw back. Roland didn’t stand behind her, or to the side, so there should be no fear of reprisal. What kept them at bay?
Brigitta sipped her drink. She tilted her chin and studied the intricate designs painted on the high arching ceiling. Light from a candelabrum reflected on the gold-painted scrolls. No doubt someone had had to lay on his back for hours, his neck in a strain, to create such a portrait of beauty and color.
The walls of the oval shaped hall shone like white silk. The fibers sparkled and the golden accents twinkled. Thick drapes blocked the outside as Brigitta watched the dancers. Married couples moved with a unique rhythm while mere acquaintances struggled. Particularly one couple. The lady, who had introduced herself as Lady Ruth, gritted her teeth as she pounced on her masked partner’s toes multiple times.
Brigitta hid her laughter and tried to look away but the actions were of such hilarity that she found herself inadvertently drawn back to them.
The dance finally ended and the gentleman slid off the floor. Lady Ruth tried to assist, but he waved her away and politely said, “I merely need to rest for a moment.”
Brigitta knew that voice. She straightened as she struggled to remember where they had met. Could it have been in the village? She didn’t think so. He appeared to be of the nobility. His tight, knee-length breeches were tucked neatly into his silk stockings. His long coat forked at the tail. And he carried a cane with an air of the aristocracy.
For certain he had not been introduced to her this night, for if he had she would have remembered that, as well.
Without further thought, Brigitta rose and strolled to his table. Lady Ruth continued to apologize and Brigitta, assuming her time was up, interrupted. “Do I know you?”
Both Lady Ruth and the stranger stood and stared at her. Embarrassed by her rude behavior, Brigitta said, “Forgive my intrusion, but you seem very familiar. I was wondering, do I know you?”
“But of course you do, my lady. I’m Lady Ruth. I just introduced myself about an hour ago.”
Brigitta forced her tone to remain even. “Pardon me for not directing my question more pointedly, but I was addressing the gentleman.”
“Oh, but of course, forgive me, my lady. Excuse me.” Lady Ruth lifted her hand in a wave and skittered away to let another dance partner find her.
“I don’t envy him,” said the gentleman.
Brigitta smiled. “Nor do I. I’m surprised you have the ability to walk at all.”
“Saw that, did you?”
“Indeed. The way she destroyed that dance, as well as your appendages, was a hard thing to miss.”
“I suppose you can do better.”
Brigitta shrugged.
He held out his open palm and she stared at it. A shiver of anticipation raced along her spine. The invitation was there. She wanted to accept it. Should she?
“Go ahead, you know you want to.”
“Hmm. While t
he offer is tempting, there must be a reason everyone else has avoided dancing with me. Do you think this reason could be detrimental to you, as well?”
“I’ll take my chances,” he said.
She gulped and took his hand. He led her onto the dance floor. Gasps echoed as couples moved aside and allowed them to take the head of the line. The musicians stared in awe and didn’t strike a chord until Roland nodded in their direction.
A slow mournful tune wrapped around them as he held her aloft. The crowd relaxed as the music played and eventually others joined in. Brigitta sighed.
“That’s better. You are way too tense,” he said.
“Forgive me, but I dislike being on display.”
He cocked a brow.
“Perhaps you should explain your skeptical expression.”
He laughed. “Perhaps I should. From what I hear, you are quite often on display.”
She frowned and gnawed her lip. Was he hinting at her participation in the tours?
“Am I to presume that, when you are the center of attention, you don’t enjoy it?” he asked.
“You presume correctly.” She stared at his chest, unwilling to meet his eyes, as a wave of heat settled over her rouged cheeks.
“Then why do you continue?”
“Why do I…” The last word was drawn from her and she realized she was at a loss for what to say.
“Yes, why do you continue if you dislike it?”
“Have you ever been in the middle of something which you could not control?” Thoughts of her failed marriage raced through her mind.
“Yes,” he said.
She lifted her chin and looked in his eyes. The bronze color reflected through the eye holes of his mask, and she drew in a swift breath. Fury tightened her chest, and she attempted to shove him away. Fortuitously, the gentlemen in attendance had been required to wear a mask and she wouldn’t be caught in the arms of her rogue brother-in-law.
He held her more firmly, his fingers closing over hers. “Don’t do that.”
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“I’m here to make sure you have a wonderful evening.”
“But—”
He placed his finger across her lips. “Don’t ask questions. Just dance. Tonight is for you.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the feel of his fingers on the soft flesh of her lips. She swallowed and leaned in closer, the heat of his body flooding over her.
The dance ended and he escorted her to her seat. She thought he meant to join her, but instead he sauntered away to the buffet tables.
In the candlelight with the mask covering half his face, the man looked less like her husband. Perhaps her initial assessment of her brother-in-law had been incorrect. Perhaps he wasn’t quite the rogue everyone thought him to be. She sipped at her drink and watched his movements from under veiled lashes.
****
Chadwick slipped into the ballroom. The last-minute costume fit snugly and he jerked the accursed tailcoat into place.
A cursory look about the ballroom revealed frequent visitors from the tours and he smiled at their continued patronage.
He grabbed a glass of port from a passing tray, sipped, and studied the guests. Couples danced across the floor. Some congregated in groups and chatted. Still others, choosing not to dance, played games of whist in the green parlor, visible through the open doors. Quite a boring game, but something with which he could pass the time if nothing else presented itself.
Chadwick headed to the gaming tables. On the way, he heard a familiar voice. Brigitta glided across the dance floor with a gentleman. Securing a spot against the wall, he studied them. Arrayed in a gown of the sheerest material, Brigitta outshone all the other ladies in attendance. Auburn curls lay like a caress against her exposed neck. Her pale blue eyes gleamed beneath the candlelight.
The couple seemed engaged in a titillating conversation. They pressed closer and Chadwick narrowed his eyes. The man placed his finger across her lips. Red hue dotted Brigitta’s cheeks.
Chadwick balled his fists at his sides. The man’s audacity could not go without comment. As he approached the couple, the music ended and they parted company. Brigitta returned to her table, stroked her glass, and stared at the man’s retreating form.
Forgetting his desire to pummel the man who had danced so shamelessly with his wife, Chadwick stepped forward. “Baroness Stockport, may I have this dance?”
She drew her gaze away from the stranger and glanced at him with a glazed look. “Excuse me?”
“Dance. May I have this dance?”
Her vision cleared but no recognition showed in her expression as she rose, took his hand, and they joined the dancers. He pursed his lips, fighting jealousy. How had she not recognized his voice? His eyes? The lushness of his lips? He was stocked with substantial qualities. It was inconceivable that Brigitta could miss them all.
Adjusting his voice, he asked, “How are you enjoying the ball, my lady?”
“Very well, thank you. And you?”
“I find all forms of entertainment pleasurable.”
They pranced about the floor to the Commodore’s Return. The music demanded they advance, and he concealed his voice and whispered in her ear, “You are the most beautiful woman in attendance.”
She blushed. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“Where is your husband?”
She frowned. “He has yet to arrive.”
“Do you not feel bad about enjoying the evening without him? What if he has contained himself in his room because of illness?”
Moving with the other couples, they retired and crossed over. Jewel-toned skirts flashed around him, candlelight flickered on jewelry, warmth exuded from the flames. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. Perhaps his greatest role had yet to be played. If he could fool Brigitta, then could he not fool anyone?
When the music drew them together again, she said, “I do not believe his situation is so dire.”
“You do not?”
“I do not. Rather, I believe if he stayed in his room, it is because his attitude of contrariness demands it.”
“Attitude of contrariness?” He snickered. “What makes you believe he has an attitude of contrariness?”
“Pardon me, kind sir, but I don’t believe it would be prudent to discuss my beliefs with a stranger.”
He stifled a laugh and forced his head not to shake. Indeed, he should find a local troupe and offer his dramatic services.
The dance ended and he bowed. Escorting her back to her table, he said, “Thank you for the dance. It has been a pleasure meeting someone of your inclinations.”
****
Luke frowned as a stranger escorted Brigitta onto the dance floor. Even while she danced in another man’s arms, she glanced over her partner’s shoulder and sent Luke a heated glance. She watched his every movement, as did Roland. Several times Roland had attempted to get close enough to identify him, but so far Luke knew he had eluded detection.
The food on the buffet tables carried a heavy aroma. He grabbed two plates and filled them with delicacies.
While they’d danced, he had seen the recognition in Brigitta’s eyes. The journey of remembering he was her brother-in-law and the man from the garden, who had led her through the tunnels and back into the house. He was the man who had returned her to her prison.
The moment when she’d pulled away had felt like a punch to the gut. Determined to never experience that pain again, he decided to explain his behavior. Soon, very soon.
The dance ended, and the gentleman escorted Brigitta to her table and left her alone. Forlorn, she rested her elbows on the white tablecloth and cradled her chin. Luke carried the plates to her, settled hers in front of her, and flared his tails behind him as he sat. Brigitta narrowed her gaze in his direction.
“I wonder what you’re up to.”
He stalled the bite of stewed damsons halfway between the plate and his mouth.
“You lead me back in
to the estate then disappear, and now you show up here, at the ball, in costume.”
The fork with the prunes clattered to his plate as he leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankles underneath the table. Smiling, he said, “Perhaps I am the black sheep of the family. A rogue. Or perhaps I don’t truly belong to the family, but stole your master’s clothes and masquerade as something I’m not.”
She tapped a finger on the side of her face. “I don’t think so. No, your air, your bearing, is regal, noble. You hail from nobility, just as you claimed. I believe you speak the truth when you say you are the baron’s brother. What I cannot see is besides appearance what you two have in common, for he has a most foul personality.”
Luke stifled his mirth and cleared his throat. “Your opinion of your husband is exceedingly low.”
“I’m afraid there is very little to endear me to him.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Have you?” she asked, plucking a bright red strawberry from his plate and plopping it into her mouth.
Luke swallowed and glanced around to see if anyone noticed her unorthodox behavior. The guests seemed preoccupied. To continue in the same vein of thought, he said, “It is almost all the guests can speak of.” His focus centered on her smacking lips as she licked her fingers.
She smiled. “Are you sure? From the rumors I hear, they talk mostly of my ill disposition.”
“Well, I—” he stuttered.
She laughed. “You shouldn’t lie when the truth is so obvious.”
He nodded. “You are correct. I apologize.”
“Please don’t. I find it quite attractive that you would lie to assuage my feelings.”
She leaned in closer. Luke started to lean toward her, enchanted by the conversation and by her. Prickles of intense sensation raced along his spine. Quickly, he sat up straight, feeling naughty at publicly flirting with his brother’s wife. The attention he afforded her could become an issue.
To lighten the mood, he said, “Since you ate half my plate as well as your own, maybe you should find a dance partner?”
“I’d be delighted,” she said, holding out her hand.
Andrews Brothers 01 - The Ruse Page 8