“You mean, not the wreck I usually seem like.”
“Well.” Perhaps she’d said too much. He was still holding her, and she was still holding him. She felt like she’d gone to the dance after all, even though she was wearing her work dress and her apron.
“I got dressed up for someone special,” he said, looking down at himself, maybe making sure he still looked as good as he’d intended. He’d be back in the ballroom soon. Couldn’t disappoint the special person after getting mussed up in the field, could he?
“That was good of you,” Rosie said, although she barely covered the disappointment in her tone. What would it be like to have someone get dressed up special for her? To be wearing a gown and dance with the players upstairs? To stand and watch the orchestra while she and Violet gossiped and drank lemonade?
“I was afraid she’d never notice,” Wyatt said so softly that Rosie hardly heard his words.
“Women are like that,” Rosie said. Maybe men were like that as well, she thought. She hoped Vi wasn’t dancing with Trevelton, that she wouldn’t be seated near him on the transport. That she’d never see him again.
But she knew she couldn’t protect her friend from the pain and heartache that were the only likely result of any further contact with the arrogant marquess. She couldn’t even protect herself, out here behind the manor house, dancing with a man she’d never see again, a man who’d made an effort to spruce up for someone else.
“Does he still love Charlotte?” Rosie said. If she had ammunition, facts, maybe she’d be able to finally convince Vi that Trevelton was the wrong man for her.
The music started again, another waltz, but the couple stood still, holding each other, but not moving.
“Trev?”
“Yes. Because, you know, I’m worried about Vi,” Rosie said.
“He’s in love with her, Miss Rose Beach. You have nothing to be worried about.”
“With Charlotte, you mean,” Rosie said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“With Violet,” Wyatt said.
“Not Vi,” Rosie said as Wyatt started into the waltz, bringing Rosie along with him.
Rosie slipped over a stone and Wyatt righted her.
“You’re not paying attention,” Wyatt said, laughing as he turned her around and around, dipping and rising to the melodic waltz, the three full moons overhead, the rich aroma of cigar smoke on his jacket.
Rosie closed her eyes and threw her head back. Just for another minute, she thought. Let me be the person I dreamed of being. Before, before.
Chapter 121
Lady Katherine Moore was having the experience of her life, the very sort of thing she’d come to the majestic for. The sort of thing that could never happen to her in her actual life, the one where she ran a company with over two hundred thousand employees on three different outworlds.
Where she was known for her strict rules and the ironfisted management techniques that were necessary to keep a company like hers running smoothly. Or as smoothly as possible. And very profitably.
Here, no longer Vivienne York, but Lady Katherine, she was able to flirt with the wildly sexy, aloof Lord Trevelton, forget about next month’s results, put on a mask, and dance with the most erotic man she’d ever dreamed of being with.
And now, out in the garden behind the terrace, she was so taken away with sheer pleasure, that she hoped it would last for hours and hours and not the mere minutes that most of her sexual encounters had lasted.
Frederick was licking behind her ear again while he pushed down her sleeves and exposed her left breast. It was getting chilly, she thought for a moment, but then he lowered his head to her breast and started licking it, and she forgot the temperature.
“Oh, Frederick,” she said, sighing.
“Lady Katherine,” he said, his mouth still on her breast, his hand lifting her skirts.
“Do you always do it outdoors?” she said.
“Always,” he said, “with you.”
She took her mask off then and went to reach for the ribbons on his, but he pushed her hands away. “It’s better like this,” he said as he pushed his hand into her sex.
Lady Katherine gasped, shocked that he would do such a thing without first doing, well, something else, something a bit gentler, something leading up to this.
“Frederick,” she said, moving her hips away from him. “Not yet.”
“You’re more than ready,” he said. Had she thought his eyes looked enticing on the dance floor? Out here in the sharp moonlight, the yellow gleam was turning sinister.
She reached up again to undo his mask. She had to know who this was, to see his entire face.
He bit her nipple, then put a hand around her neck. Was he about to steal her necklace? It was real and had cost a small fortune, but she hadn’t thought he’d lured her out here just to steal it. Now she wondered if his interest had been entirely in the necklace and not in her at all.
“It’s fake, you know,” she said, in case he had designs on it. She cursed herself for bringing something so valuable to 5730 with her. The kind of ill-considered act she’d never let an employee get away with.
He rubbed his hand down onto the necklace, pushing it into her chest.
“Frederick,” she said with all the calm she could summon. “That hurts.” His hand inside her, its rough probing, hurt as well, and he gave no indication that he intended to remove it.
“I knew you’d like that,” he said, his yellow eyes sparkling with pleasure. “You didn’t even have to ask.”
“No, stop that,” she said, pushing at him. This had gone too far. She thought she was out back having a freewheeling sexual romp with a fun stranger, but he was hurting her and, worse, thought she wanted him to.
“I know many women like you,” he said as he bit down harder on her nipple. She cried out, but he immediately covered her mouth with his hand.
“Quiet, Lady Katherine,” he said. “We aren’t alone.”
At least his hand was off her neck, she thought, although it was getting difficult to breathe, the span of his hand covering not just her mouth but her nostrils.
Finally he let go of her mouth and moved his hand back to her neck, where he pressed his thumb into the crevice at its center. She couldn’t speak, but she could move, and she brought up her knee and rammed it into his crotch, surprised to find his pants undone, his swollen cock hanging out.
His hand let go of her neck and moved to protect himself. This was her chance to escape, and she took it, but he grabbed at her ankle as she half turned over to get back on her feet.
“You’re mine,” he said in a pained voice. She hadn’t kneed him hard enough, so now with her free foot, she kicked at him, but missed, and he pulled her down onto the ground, planting his body over hers.
His sex was still engorged, and she was shocked to feel it against her as he roughly pulled up her gown again.
“Stop it!” she shouted, loud enough to be heard over the orchestra.
He put both his hands around her neck. “Shut up, Vivienne,” he said as he started squeezing.
Chapter 122
“You’d think they’d be serving something more intoxicating than lemonade,” Lady Patience said to Violet. The night air was turning chilly, but the two women remained on the bench out on the terrace. They were the only two people there.
“I think they have wine and maybe whiskey,” Violet said. “I saw Baron North with a glass earlier.”
“I don’t know what Vernie sees in him,” Lady Patience said. “He’s the biggest bore here.”
Violet suppressed a laugh. Baron North might have been the biggest bore Violet had ever met, not just at Hollyhock but anywhere.
“I’d been hoping to get that part, my lady,” Violet said.
“Pamela,” Lady Patience said. “We’re alone out here, and I don’t care anymore anyway. And you’re leaving tomorrow, Lettie. I’ll miss you terribly.”
“When I went to the audition, I convinced myself that Mrs. Al
lman would cast me as Vernie Dalston. I thought it would be fun to be a noblewoman’s friend.”
“And yet, we are friends, aren’t we, Lettie?” Pamela grabbed Violet’s hand and squeezed it.
“We are that,” Violet said, surprising herself. “You and Rosie. I don’t remember what my life was like before I’d met either of you.”
“Vernie—Lesley—I’ve known her since we were in school together. But since we’ve been here, we’ve grown apart. It’s funny what can happen at a majestic.” Lady Patience looked out across the terrace.
“Did you hear that?” Lady Patience said, dropping Violet’s hand and twisting her body around to see over the low side wall.
“A waltz, isn’t it?” Violet said. She dared not go back inside. If the yellow-eyed man so much as looked at her . . . And if Trevelton didn’t look at her.
“I mean that noise,” Lady Patience said. “I thought I heard something over across the way.”
“No,” Violet said. She put her hands down beside her on the bench so she could turn around, but a wave of dizziness shot through her and she had to steady herself.
“That man,” Violet said. “I’ve never seen such terrifying eyes on anyone.”
“What man?” Lady Patience said as she turned back around. “Maybe I was imagining it. But, well, anyway.”
“He was dancing in our group before,” Violet said. “Do you think it might have been the mask?” Both Violet and Lady Patience had taken off their masks. They were lying on the bench between them, the ribbons trailing onto the coral and gold terrazzo floor.
“There are certainly some dreadful masks here,” Lady Patience said. “They’re not so much a disguise as a change of mood. They do something to a person’s face. You look lovely in the butterfly, Lettie.”
“Yours is beautiful, too, and you look just right, like a grand, elegant bird. But this man—his mask was terrifying. I’d never seen him before, Pamela. He must be one of the Brixton players.”
“There are a lot of unfamiliar faces here tonight,” Lady Patience said. “I think Jewel Allman must have recruited people not just from Brixton, although I hardly know anyone from there.”
“And those yellow eyes. I thought only animals had yellow eyes. But these weren’t anything like the eyes I once saw on a cat. His eyes were caustic, like a burning acid.”
“Lettie,” Lady Patience said. “Tell me what you said again. I was thinking about what I might have heard. Almost like a woman’s voice, but muffled.”
“And he held me too close,” Violet said. “I’m not afraid of much, but there was something . . . and I had to get away from him.”
“Tell me what he looked like.”
“I can’t say about his face. The mask covered most of it. His lips were very thin, but so red I thought he’d rouged them. His limbs seemed almost too long, and he was quite tall and horribly thin. If he’d taken off his jacket and there was a skeleton beneath, I wouldn’t have been surprised.”
“My God,” Pamela said. “You’re sure his eyes are yellow?”
“Yes, Pamela,” Violet said. “Is something the matter?”
“I have to see the duchess immediately,” Lady Patience said. “Wait here, Lettie. You don’t look too well. I’ll send Trevelton out to sit with you.”
“No, my lady,” Violet said. “Not—”
Lady Patience stood up, then bent over and put her hand on Violet’s cheek, which was bright red. “Lettie, I don’t want to leave you alone. I think you’ve got a fever. But I must see the duchess.”
Violet started to get up, but the effort was too much and she sat back down again. The waltz crescendoed. She caught sight of the crowd of dancers in the ballroom, rising and falling, turning and swaying, and she had to look away before she was overcome with vertigo.
“It’s the yellow-eyed man, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Violet. It is. He’s not supposed to be here. I have to warn the duchess. It’s her husband.”
Lady Patience picked up her mask, hastily tied it on, and walked swiftly back into the ballroom, leaving Violet alone.
“Stop it!” someone shouted, startling Violet and momentarily interrupting the extreme dizziness that she was having a harder and harder time shaking.
Violet forgot everything, left the terrace, and raced toward the voice. Inside the ballroom, the music stopped.
Chapter 123
Clive loved a woman who put up a fight. This was just what he’d always wanted from Marguerite, who would never oblige him but would just lie there impassively, letting him do whatever he wanted to her, giving him no reaction, not even disdain.
But this woman, Vivienne York. This was someone he could spend a marvelous weekend or two with. If only she hadn’t screamed.
He should’ve brought her out to that lake he’d seen on his way over to Hollyhock. No one would’ve heard her from there. The tall woman was lustier than he’d gauged her to be.
He pressed his fingers one last time into her neck, then shoved himself back into his pants, brushed off his clothes, and got up. It didn’t matter. Tonight he’d be in bed with Marguerite anyway. Vivienne was merely a distraction, although a very entertaining one.
He looked down at her, lying there in the grass, her hands cradling her neck, glaring at him with something close to hatred. That was the kind of fire he thrived on. If only she hadn’t screamed, he’d be inside her right now, thinking of Alexander only occasionally as he expelled his anticipation into her.
While he casually walked away from her, she spit at him, making him want to go back and finish what they’d started. But he quickened his pace when he heard the approaching noises of what must have been several people.
“Where are you?” someone called.
Clive disappeared into the bushes, then scurried, unseen, across the grand lawn. He’d go for a walk around the lake path, he thought. By the time he got back to the ballroom, everything would’ve calmed down, except Vivienne, of course. She’d still be hot with desire. Maybe he’d have a chance to take her out to the lake. He hadn’t yet spotted Marguerite, but it was her ball, so she’d have to put in an appearance eventually.
“Over here,” came the hoarse voice. Lady Katherine half sat up, leaning back on her elbows. Her throat hurt and she could hardly speak.
Vernie Dalston was the first to arrive at Lady Katherine’s side, and she knelt down next to her and said, “Lady Katherine!” in a nearly convincingly concerned voice.
“Miss Dalston,” Lady Katherine said in a croak, but while Vernie helped Lady Katherine rearrange her skirts so that she wouldn’t be exposed to the group arriving behind her, Lady Katherine spotted Trevelton, pushed Vernie aside, and struggled to get up.
“Lady Katherine,” Trevelton said. He took her hand in his and helped her to her feet.
He’d never seemed more desirable to Lady Katherine. Maybe it’s because Frederick had me in such a state, she thought, then felt for her throat, reminding herself that he’d hurt her, that he’d meant to hurt her.
“Lord Trevelton,” Lady Katherine said, her hand still on her throat. Trevelton looked at her then, and Lady Katherine knew that finally he was showing an interest in her. She resented that it had taken her near-murder in order to accomplish this, but was nevertheless happy with the results.
“My dear, you must sit down,” said Baron North, who came up just behind Trevelton.
All Lady Katherine could do was cough. Trevelton had his arm around her waist now and was supporting her. She leaned into him and coughed more than she had to.
As the group walked back to the manor house, Violet met them, coming from the other side.
“Oh, you,” Vernie Dalston said. “Go get some water for Lady Katherine. She was attacked.”
“Are you all right?” Violet said to Lady Katherine, who leaned closer into Trevelton’s side and sagged a bit.
“I do need some water,” Lady Katherine said over a series of coughs. She took her hand away from her throat then, showing t
he fierce bruise at its center.
Violet turned and ran back to the manor house. That lady’s maid was no match for either Lady Katherine or Vivienne York, Lady Katherine thought as Trevelton’s former fling scampered away, obeying her better’s orders, as was her duty.
Whatever had Trevelton seen in her? And wasn’t she leaving tomorrow? Lady Katherine would have Trevelton all to herself, starting right this moment.
“Who did this to you?” Trevelton said. He was very serious, Lady Katherine thought, and she’d not seen him this way. It was almost erotic, she thought.
“Let’s not make a fuss about it,” Lady Katherine said. “I’m fine now.”
She needed time to think. She’d gone willingly with Frederick, knowing what he had planned—or most of those plans—and it might end up being his word against hers. She was a large, tall woman and could easily have struck him first. He could claim he made the mark on her neck in self-defense when she attacked him.
But, more than that, she thought as she put her arm around Trevelton’s waist, she didn’t know who Frederick Hollingsworth really was. He could be anybody.
He could be a high-up-there person, someone she might want to conduct business with one day. And Vivienne would never dare do anything to jeopardize her business, which was her only priority.
He hadn’t really harmed her, had he? She’d survived. He hadn’t even fucked her, although she was still sore from his brutal handling. Up to that point, though . . .
But now she was in Trevelton’s arms, where she’d wanted to be since she’d first seen him.
“Someone tried to hurt you, Lady Katherine,” Trevelton said. She stared down at the emerald and diamond pin on his cravat.
“It’s nothing, really,” she said, clearing her throat and putting on her best half smile.
Everything had actually worked out far better than she could’ve imagined. And Frederick was gone now, probably ashamed of what he’d done. Tomorrow at breakfast, when the masks were off, he’d ask for her forgiveness and she’d grant it.
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