by Dayna Quince
“Already?” Rigsby frowned and looked at his fob watch. “It’s only a quarter past one?”
“I promised to take Mary and Felicity riding in the morning.”
“Ah.” Rigsby nodded. “Brotherly duty calls. Goodnight then, I’ll catch you at Whites tomorrow.”
Chapter 5
Draven spent two weeks avoiding Anabelle and the general public. He still visited his club and went about his usual business, but when it came to society functions, he played least in sight. He didn’t dance, he would arrive late and leave early, and firmly remained in the card room and billiard room. He felt better, in control even, and determined it was time to test the waters of his attraction in her presence. Rigsby had made comments, but so far, Draven was sure he was in the dark about his feelings for Anabelle.
It was the Casterwall Masquerade, a generally extravagant and entertaining affair. He could be close to her before she even knew it was he masked as he was. The only unexposed part of his face would be his mouth. His mask was that of a ferocious dragon scaled in metallic green and blue with large shiny black horns. His domino was black velvet. When he entered the ballroom, those closest to him turned in wary delight and gave him space. He paid them no mind and proceeded to scan the crowd.
Anabelle had anticipated this night with baited breath. She hugged her white velvet domino closed despite the growing warmth of the ballroom. Her hair was a mass of curls on her head and dangling around her ears and neck. Her mask was the same sea blue and green as her dress with delicate silver swirling accents. Real shells had been pasted to pins and adorned her hair.
Her dress was a marvelous confection. A transparent white ruffle as delicate as sea foam edged her sweetheart bodice. The shimmery blue-green satin hugged her curves until it flared below her hips into layered drapes of tulle as if she walked in a cloud of sea foam. She and her maid had secretly added some extra adornment and done additional fitting. The dress was far tighter than her mother had ever approved. Normally, she would never have done such a thing, but this night was special. This night could be the beginning of the rest of her life.
For the past two weeks, she had narrowed down her list even more as she removed three other candidates for her hand, but also in that time, her acquaintance to Lord Marcus had grown significantly. He claimed a dance at every ball, spent time with her, called on her, and often walked with her in the park. It was time to know him further in Anabelle’s mind. She already knew that he was very kind, considerate, charming, and had a dry wit. He was exceedingly proper, which she admired, but it was time to see beyond the polite mask and see him as a man, as a potential husband whom she would build a life with. She didn’t exactly know what she was looking for. She had no one to ask about love except Heather, but Heather was far from London. She supposed she better pen a letter and ask the most difficult question to ask. What does love feel like? How do you know when one is in love?
Anabelle had no idea. She hoped she would just know, or perhaps it would feel like excitement—a racing heart, warm cheeks. But how did one truly know?
Lord Marcus was tall and broad shouldered, but not unusually so. His hair was blond but not as pale as hers and his eyes a pleasant moss green. He had a wonderful smile and charming cleft in his chin. They had discussed the masquerade a week ago and he would only divulge that he was coming as a mystical beast.
Anabelle smiled as her father departed for the card room, and her mother took a seat amongst her friends. Linking elbows with Hazel, they merged into the crowd after a carefully worded warning from their mother. Masquerades invited a dangerous frivolity amongst its guests, the masks stripping the participants of their identity and sometimes, good judgment. A young lady had to be careful or she might be swept into scandal.
Hazel was dressed as a fairy. Her mask was similar to Anabelle’s but in a soft pink that matched her dress.
“Do you know what Lucy will be dressed as?” Hazel asked as she scanned the crowd.
“I thought she said a swan, but then she said a peacock. I’m not sure she had decided last time we spoke. She was upset about Rose and Charlotte’s sudden departure from London.”
“Both had to leave in the middle of the season?” Hazel said in concern.
“Yes. Rose’s father grew quite ill, and Charlotte was not clear about her reason, but I know it was because of her father as well.”
“That is a shame. I will write to them tomorrow.”
The sisters headed for the refreshment table for glasses of punch and then continued to search for familiar guests. Gentlemen occasionally stopped to make small talk with deviant smiles, but Anabelle was too preoccupied with searching for Lord Marcus to give them any thought. With Hazel’s help, they began to catalog the different costumes. Some were plain and poorly constructed, others were meticulously extravagant, and some were outright scandalous.
There was a commotion around a lady who was dressed as Lady Godiva, complete with a gown with a nude colored bodice and a stuffed horse protruding from her front and rear. Hazel giggled as the lady galloped around in a small circle and then a gentleman tried to mount the rear protrusion of the horse.
Anabelle would not be deterred by the spectacle. Feeling confident that she was far out of sight of her mother, she opened her domino and pushed it over her shoulders like a cape. She could feel many stares, but she refused to meet any unless they were dressed as some sort of mystical beast. So far, she hadn’t seen any mystical creatures.
A devil and an angel stopped before them and merely stood. The devil was giving Anabelle’s costume a thorough examination when the angel elbowed him and spoke. “Kindly put your eyes back in your head, brother dear.”
“Lucy!” Hazel laughed.
Lucy did a pirouette to show off her tiny feather wings. “I thought it would be charmingly ironic.”
Anabelle blushed. “It is very becoming on you.” Rigsby had yet to pull his gaze from her body.
Finally, he pulled himself together. “My apologies, it seems my costume fits me quite well. Has Draven seen you yet?”
Anabelle hesitated. “No? Why?”
Rigsby looked around the crowd. “No reason in particular, just wondering where he might be lurking.”
Anabelle panicked a little. She hadn’t seen Draven since the garden fete. It had been a blessing. She couldn’t focus with him around, and on this night, she needed all her wits about her.
“Shall we mingle some more?” Hazel offered.
Lucy had caught the eye of a knight in full armor, who was noisily making his way towards her. “Yes, we should. Preferably before that knight asks me to dance.”
They shifted into the moving crowd and were instantly lost amongst the revelers. Rigsby disappeared after giving his sister one more warning to behave herself. Anabelle was relieved. His remark about Draven disturbed her, and where ever Rigsby was, Draven would soon be. She still searched the colorful masks for any trace of Lord Marcus but was becoming disheartened. Where was he? Wouldn’t he be searching for her as well? She couldn’t say he had definite intentions towards her, but he had certainly been giving her enough attention to give a girl hope.
They found a reprieve against the press of bodies against a pillar along the wall.
“This is absurd. How will there be any dancing if we can barely walk?”
“The room will clear, I’m sure,” Hazel added, “Did you see the donkey? I think it was Lord Mayhughe. What on earth was he thinking?” Hazel giggled.
“It was better than his wife’s mouse costume. The whiskers suit her a bit too well.”
“What did you find?” Hazel asked Anabelle.
Anabelle shrugged in defeat. “Certainly no mystical beasts,” she mumbled in growing discontent.
“Did I hear someone say mystical beast?”
Anabelle jumped and turned. A figure cloaked entirely by his black domino stepped from behind a pillar. His mask was that of a dragon. The blue and green scales were amazingly vibrant and shimmering under
the candle light. The mask was terrifying and thrilling.
“Dear lord, what a work of art!” Lucy exclaimed. “May I touch it?” She boldly stepped forward.
Anabelle hadn’t moved. Her heart raced inside her chest and she anxiously searched the shadowed hollows of the eyes for something familiar.
“If you wish,” the man said without taking his gaze from Anabelle.
Lucy wasted no time, and Hazel was not shy about appeasing her own curiosity.
“You all look lovely this evening,” the dragon said, though it was clear his attention was drawn towards Anabelle.
“Your mask is remarkable, Lord…” Lucy pressed.
His lean lips smiled slyly in response. “Anonymity is very enticing, but I must say, I am surprised you don’t recognize me.” His gaze moved from Lucy back to Anabelle. She couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, but she could see the glint of them and could feel when they touched on her. Surely, that was a sign.
Lucy raised a dubious brow. Anabelle fervently wished she could be sure it was Lord Marcus. This mysterious playfulness was new for him, but perhaps the mask and disguise drove him to show new depths of himself. She fervently hoped so.
“Are you intending to dance tonight, my lord?” Anabelle asked tentatively.
“Oh, yes… among other things.”
Anabelle felt her skin come alive at his words. This was it. This was exactly what she had been looking for. This excitement, this heart racing giddiness that made her knees weak and her skin hot. It had to be him, she was sure of it now. No other man would dare to be so forward, but Lord Marcus must understand that it was time to take things further, to show her that he was more than a pleasant acquaintance and that he had true intentions to court her and know her romantically.
He offered his arm and she took it. The crowd shifted again and two more gentlemen joined their circle and requested the first dance from Lucy and Hazel. Conversation was rife with innuendo and flirtation, but Lucy and Hazel could hold their own. Anabelle remained quiet, her nerves tingling every time his eyes turned her way.
“Your costume is… riveting,” he finally said. His voice was deeper, raspier than it usually was.
“Thank you. Yours is very impressive. A little frightening, but also majestic.”
He nodded. “May I have the first dance?” he asked.
Anabelle wished to say he could have every dance, but she could never be so bold. “Yes.”
“The dancing should commence soon. Would you like a refreshment beforehand?”
Anabelle smiled. He was always so considerate of her needs. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“Whatever you need, you only have to ask.”
Anabelle smiled and looked away in a sudden burst of shyness. She took a deep breath, stretching the limits of her low cut bodice. She could feel his eyes on her, on the slopes of her breasts. She let him look all he wished. She wanted him to see her as a woman, to see her as his future wife and lover.
She flushed. She couldn’t help it. This was new territory for her and far from her comfort zone. But, if it meant a marriage of love and passion, then it was worth every uncomfortable moment.
The musicians began an intro piece and it was a mad shuffle of bodies before the dance floor appeared. Her dragon led the way and guests parted before him like the red sea. They took up their positions. The music was light and airy, which was at odds with the heavy tension she felt. Every time he touched her, she felt a jolt of energy. By the time the dance was over, she was ready to hand her domino over to a passing footman. She was nervous. She was making an obvious statement with her dress.
The tension between them grew thick it seemed. His attention was rarely not on her and he often stood so close she could feel the brush of his velvet domino against the exposed skin of her arms. It felt tantalizing and wicked. Was she in over her head? Was she conveying more than she wished? She wanted to invite him to want her in a romantic fashion with marriage in mind, not a liaison. His gaze, hidden though it was, felt so intense at times that she was worried he might get the wrong idea. She pushed the thought aside. Lord Marcus would not get the wrong idea. He was the consummate gentleman.
All she wanted was a kiss from him, a kiss to determine if there was something stronger between them, the elusive something that she searched for. She would not marry with anything less.
“Shall we stroll the gardens?” Lucy suggested on the arm of a lion.
Hazel nodded. “It would be a relief from this crush.”
Anabelle and her dragon followed without a word. Her nerves stretched even tighter as the possibilities of the garden offered a chance to allow Lord Marcus liberties. They exited the terrace doors left open for the guests and followed the terrace steps down. It was a topiary garden, strung with lanterns and busy with other strolling guests. It was magical, but hardly the private romantic venue she was searching for. They walked slowly pausing to look at the various animals carved from hedges. Footmen were staged at nearly every turn.
Anabelle was disappointed, but the evening had only just begun. She hoped Lord Marcus was sharing her thoughts. They returned to the terrace but were hesitant to return to the sweltering ballroom.
“There are ices in the drawing room courtesy of Gunter’s,” the lion offered.
“That sounds lovely!” Hazel grinned.
“And refreshing,” Lucy added. She turned to Anabelle. “Are you coming?”
Anabelle hesitated. “I think I will linger out here a bit longer. My slippers are not holding up as well as I hoped.”
“We will bring you one then,” Hazel offered.
Once alone, Anabelle didn’t know what to say. She looked over the garden and hoped Lord Marcus would lead the way.
“Are your slippers hurting you?”
She smiled and turned to him. “No, I just didn’t want to return just yet. It is too stuffy in there, even for ices.”
“I agree. The crowd is bothersome.”
Anabelle looked down and bit her lip. “It’s even crowded out here.”
He was silent for a moment. “There is something I would like to show you,” he suggested. “It’s just around the corner, but we would be alone.”
Anabelle’s breath caught in the excitement. She turned to him. “What is it you want to show me?”
“A fountain.”
“Then show me this fountain.”
Chapter 6
They slipped around the corner and were out of sight in the shadows of the house. They followed a pathway along the house until they reached a gate. It creaked only a little as he lifted the latch and pushed it open. He was holding her hand now. It was the most intimate contact they had ever had outside of dancing.
They were in a small walled courtyard. A set of French doors was opposite the gate. It was dark beyond the doors signaling that the room was not in use. A low hedge bordered the wall broken by small benches for two. Beside the French doors was a padded bench covered by overhanging roses.
But that was not what held Anabelle’s attention. In the center of the courtyard was a fountain with a mermaid at its center sitting in repose upon a rock. A small spot of water erupted from her mouth. She was topless with the details of her nipples apparent even in the dark. Anabelle swallowed. This was the moment. Her dragon was a silent presence beside her, but he led her forward and around the fountain slowly.
She let him lead her, curious to how much further he would take her. Did she trust him? There was only one way to find out. He led her to the padded bench and she sat. He followed her and they both stared at the mermaid in silence. Perhaps he was testing her? To see if she was easily shocked? She tried to relax her hands and shoulders.
“Are you cold?” he asked as his arm moved behind her.
“Actually, no. The evening is rather warm.”
“You look lovely in the moonlight. You are a moon Goddess.”
Anabelle smiled and looked up at him. “You look rather scary, I will admit.”
He
chuckled. “I suppose dragons are not what one wishes to come across in a moonlit garden.”
“As opposed to a moon Goddess?”
“Or a mermaid.” He smiled at her.
That smile made her feel warm, and she mentally tucked that way as another point in his favor. He was different tonight. He was making her feel exactly what she wanted. She wanted to move closer, to feel the hardness of his chest, and to smell the man that he truly was.
Somehow, he must have known, because he brought his hand to her cheek and turned into her.
“May I kiss you, Anabelle?” he said huskily.
Anabelle’s heartbeat tripped over itself. He had never used her given name before, and now he was sweetly asking her permission for a kiss.
“Please,” she said. She couldn’t wait any longer.
His lips slowly descended to hers, their mouths fitting neatly together under his mask. Anabelle tried to remain reticent. After all, she didn’t want him to know that she had been kissed before. But it was hard. She was hungry for the intimacy, eager to feel the excitement she had felt before, and this time for someone who cared for her, who would have every intention of marrying her. He kissed her eagerly and she turned into him, relishing the feel of his strong arms coming around her. At the prodding of his lips, she opened her mouth and his tongue surged in.
That’s when everything changed. She became hyperaware of everything, his taste, his smell, the way he angled his head as he kissed her deeply. It was all too familiar. Funny how something she had only experienced one time could be so recognizable, but it was.
She pushed against his chest and broke the kiss. “Take it off,” she hissed.
He straightened stiffly and did as she asked without a word. He pulled the hood of his domino back and untied the mask slowly revealing his identity.
Anabelle wasted no time. She slapped him with all the force she could muster sitting as she was beside him.