My Lady Rival

by Ashley March

  She should have been distressed at offending him. He could be her key to A lex Laurie and any connection he had with the dye. A nd yet . . . for once Willa didn’t want to have to think about all the reasons she shouldn’t do something she wanted. Getting the dye was something she had to do. Dancing with a handsome man who made her heart beat faster was much more appealing than spending the rest of the evening trying to avoid Lunsford’s amorous interest. If she didn’t come up with an alternative plan to find Woolstone in the morning, she could speak with him again. A fter all, she knew where he lived and dined and raced, all of the invitations he’d accepted for the next month. Mr. Lunsford would be the easiest invitations he’d accepted for the next month. Mr. Lunsford would be the easiest man to locate in all of England if she wanted to; the stranger in the black mask would not.

  She peered at Lunsford over her shoulder and lied. “I apologize, sir, but I did promise him the next dance. I’ll see you again soon, I hope. I’d very much like to continue our discussion.”

  She was placating him. She couldn’t even remember the topic of their conversation. A nd he knew she was placating him. But instead of becoming offended or dismissing her as easily as she had him, Lunsford only smiled and then waved them away.

  He—the man she wanted to spend the rest of the evening with—took her hand in his. She thrilled at this, knowing enough of English Society to understand it was a forward gesture. Her toes even curled in her slippers, and only as a result of the touch of his gloved fingers. Perhaps later, if he were to invite her to the ballroom terrace for a breath of air, she wouldn’t refuse him as she had Mr. Lunsford. A nd if he accidentally bumped into her again in the dark of night, she might also allow him to steal a kiss. Or two.

  For now he drew her to where other couples waited for the beginning of the music. The first notes of a waltz lifted in the air. He clasped her hand and settled the other at her waist, and she became his captive once more.

  A lex liked the way she fit in his arms, more natural than a stranger should have.

  Had they danced together before?

  “Do I know you?” he asked.

  The Lady in Diamonds laughed and her head tipped back—not far enough to be immodest, but enough to hint at abandonment. The movement drew his gaze to the slender length of her neck, teased his imagination with the thought of her head tipped the same way in his bed, her mouth parted in pleasure instead of laughter.

  He normally didn’t indulge in such lascivious thoughts. Interesting that she should be the exception.

  “No, my lord, this is my first Season in London.”

  My lord. Clearly she didn’t know who he was, either. He could have been mistaken . . . or perhaps she simply reminded him of someone else.

  “But I feel as if I should know you also.” She paused, angled her chin to the side; a blond curl grazed the side of her neck. She pursed her lips, revealing a dimple hidden at the side of her mouth. “Perhaps this is a sign that we are kindred spirits, that we are meant to become friends.”

  A lex smiled and bent his head toward her, creating an intimate space he knew from his dancing lessons to be as improper as taking her hand instead of offering his arm. He wanted her to remember him. “I should like very much to be your friend, then.”

  A nd more. The unspoken words echoed between them.

  Like her shoulders, her hand was small yet strong in his, her touch warm Like her shoulders, her hand was small yet strong in his, her touch warm through their gloves. A nd her ears—those were delicate, feminine, perfect for a man to shape his mouth around as he tugged at her lobe.

  Her hair was dressed intricately: a pile of golden locks held together by a violet ribbon, its ends woven throughout the strands and disappearing somewhere mysterious beneath. With her head angled to the side, he realized that the ribbon in her hair was the same one holding her mask in place.

  Clever, she was, for she must know this made a man wish to be the one who revealed her identity by removing both the mask and the ribbon from her hair.

  A lex wanted to be that man, imagining even now how the golden locks would feel threaded through his fingers.

  Though the mask she wore glittered with diamonds, her violet gown was as plain in style and decoration as the mask was ornate. The contrast fascinated him; the mask and its ribbons begged for a man’s touch to unravel her, while the gown alluded to a woman of chastity and reserve.

  The shadow of memory loomed again, and A lex knew she couldn’t be anyone Lunsford had pointed out in their drives about Town, when Lunsford attempted to identify those he should know before the Season began. Even if he recognized the shape of her face or a certain way she moved, there was something else about the Lady in Diamonds that resonated inside him. Many women were beautiful, many women were charming, but this particular woman was both of these as well as achingly familiar. He had spoken with her before, had danced with her . . .

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  She smiled up at him. Her lips were as lovely as every other part: a ripe, dark pink. Not thin and not too full, they were lips of action, shaped as if she spoke often, laughed often . . . His thoughts wandered further, and he wished to know the intimacy of her lips as they moved beneath his own.

  She studied him for several moments. “I’ll tell you my name after we dance.” He grinned. “You’re teasing, aren’t you?”

  “Perhaps.” Her lips pressed together, as if suppressing another smile. “Will you tell me your name also? You didn’t offer, but I assume you meant to do so. A name for a name is only fair.”

  “I can tell you my name now.” He leaned in close as they turned. “Mr. Midnight.” Her head tipped back again as she laughed. A lex wanted to plant his mouth against her throat, to feel the sound as it moved through her. “Mr. Midnight, you say? Not my Lord Midnight? I’m not sure why, but I believed you to be very lordlike.”

  A lex shrugged and pulled her closer still—much closer than Mr. Doiseau would have approved. “It was a name given to me by another woman earlier this evening. Because of the black mask, I believe.”

  “A nother woman? Shouldn’t you be aware, Mr. Midnight, that you’re not supposed to speak of other women while we waltz? You’re only to speak of me, to think of me, and rain down compliments upon my greedy ears.” A lex tilted his head—to one side, then the other. “Your ears don’t appear very A lex tilted his head—to one side, then the other. “Your ears don’t appear very greedy to me. In fact, they appear quite delectable.”

  Her reaction left him more curious than regretful over the scandalous comment, wondering when a blush failed to paint her cheeks below the edges of her mask.

  Instead, she mimicked his movements, tilting her head from one side to the other as she evaluated his ears. Those same ears burned—damn it, and his cheeks. He was blushing.

  “You’re blushing,” she said, smiling. “Oh, how delightful! I’ve never made a man blush before.”

  “You were looking at my ears,” he muttered.

  “Yes, I was,” she agreed solemnly. “A nd they’re very fine, masculine ears, I might add.”

  “Masculine?”

  “Yes.” She tugged her hand from his and touched his left ear, drawing a finger over the shell’s arch. A hot flush ran down A lex’s spine. “They’re larger than mine, of course, but beautiful. A nd you have this little sharp point at the curve—” A lex covered her hand with his and returned it to its proper place—shoulder-level beside their bodies, far away from his ears and every other masculine extremity.

  “Don’t touch my ears,” he said, and she laughed again.

  Willa liked him. She liked him very much. A nd his ears were quite adorable—as adorable as ears could be, at least.

  He danced as if he needed to protect her: his touch strong and supportive, the hand at her waist and the one clasped around her fingers like anchors as they swept from one corner of the dancing square to the next.

  His eyes were steady on hers, watching her
through each step. A s if she was a curious toy—unpredictable and fascinating. She liked the idea that he was fascinated by her; it had taken only a short while, but she’d already become thoroughly enchanted by him.

  “I have a confession to make,” she said.

  “I do hope you’re not retracting the statement about my ears. It’s a compliment I intend to take with me to the grave.”

  “Earlier, when I crashed into you, it wasn’t by accident.” A moment passed. “It wasn’t?” A new deepening of his voice hinted of his pleasure at this admission.

  “Oh, no. It was very deliberate. I wanted to meet you, you see.”

  “I’ve underestimated myself, then. How irresistible I must be to make you risk bodily injury in order to gain an introduction, even if it is a nameless one for the moment.” His dark brown eyes gleamed. A nother woman’s skirts brushed hers as he led her backward.

  “It’s not something I do all the time, you understand.”

  “No? Then I must know—in what way was I irresistible? Is it my fine figure?

  The allure of the lower portion of my face? Perhaps you heard me speaking and The allure of the lower portion of my face? Perhaps you heard me speaking and were impressed by my obvious intelligence?”

  Willa bit her lip.

  “Come now, my lady, you must tell me the truth.”

  “The truth? A re you certain?”

  “Very.”

  “You were . . . there.”

  She’d been searching for Mr. Lunsford among the ball attendees when a woman shouted. Willa’s head had jerked toward the sound and then he was there, pushing through the crowd with another woman, who, from their similar coloring and chins and difference in ages, she assumed was his mother. He’d held on to her tightly, as if she needed to be protected from something dangerous and unknown. Until Willa had seen him, she hadn’t known how much she yearned for someone to hold on to, for someone to protect her from monsters if need be. Or at least, she hadn’t admitted it to herself yet.

  “I was . . . there?”

  Willa nodded. “In my path.”

  “A random man in your path. Not very irresistible after all.” His thumb circled the back of her hand. His lips curved in a half smile. “Shame on you, my lady, for teasing my vanity.”

  “I would never tease your vanity, sir. For after I saw you, I was unable to turn away. You were very striking.” She said too much, even in flirtation. He watched her carefully, as if seeking out the truth in her words.

  “Then I count myself fortunate,” he murmured after a moment. “A lthough I don’t advise you to accost random men at future balls simply because they appear in your path.”

  “Of course not. I promise to accost only you.”

  They smiled at each other and he led her forward. She purposely stepped amiss, curious to see his reaction at having his toes crushed.

  Oh, very well—she was desirous of having a reason for their bodies to brush against each other again.

  He muffled a startled oomph as the ball of her foot came down, and then his eyes widened when she lurched into him, her breasts pushing against his chest.

  But he was a perfect gentleman, otherwise; he didn’t point out her mistake, nor did he offer a subtly suggestive comment.

  “Oh, I beg your pardon.” Willa lowered her gaze to the end of his nose, just visible below his mask; to the firm, subtle curves of his mouth; the hard line of his jaw. Then she looked up again. “I must admit that I also did that deliberately.”

  “You stumbled on purpose?”

  “I did.”

  He laughed, a sound that shouldn’t have pleased her as much as it did. It also made her pulse leap.

  She knew his laugh.

  She’d heard it before. Not here, at the Winstead masquerade, but somewhere She’d heard it before. Not here, at the Winstead masquerade, but somewhere else.

  “A re you always this forthright, my lady? Or is it the mask speaking and acting for you tonight?”

  Willa’s heart raced. Like he’d done earlier, she wanted to ask how she knew him.

  For a moment she considered the possibility that he was . . .

  But no. A lex Laurie didn’t usually move among the ton circles. Even if he did have the wealth to ingratiate himself, and even if his friend and investor Lunsford could have arranged for invitations . . .

  Flustered, she admitted, “I wanted to lean against you again.”

  “I see.” The hand clasping hers shifted, loosening, then tightening, as if he wasn’t certain whether to keep her captive or let her go—

  His hand stilled. His eyes lowered to her mouth, then rose again. A h then, he’d decided to keep her. Willa was tempted to smile. No, he couldn’t be A lex Laurie.

  Despite some of his improper words, his reactions seemed almost modest. A nd A lex was certainly not the modest sort; he’d known her for only a few hours in Italy before kissing her.

  “I find your honesty intriguing, my lady. Most people aren’t as willing to expose their true motives. Why not have me believe that the stumbling was an accident?

  Why not allow me to think our meeting a happy coincidence?” It took a moment for her to make sense of his words. In her mind, she was running down a list of the cities and countries she’d visited since she began working for her father seven years ago. There were dozens, at least forty.

  A nd she’d met plenty of Englishmen in her travels abroad . . . although there was an oddness to the way he spoke. She’d dismissed it earlier as an aristocrat’s dialect from another part of the country, but now she considered that he could be a foreigner who’d studied the speech of the nobility as he studied the English language.

  “My lady?”

  “Do you not tire of the facade we make for ourselves? The half-truths, the flattery, the elaborate presentations we make for others’ benefit?” Who are you behind this current facade?

  She hoped he wasn’t one of her father’s investors whose advances she’d been forced to reject in the past.

  Mr. Midnight’s mouth slowly curved. It was a wicked curve, his bottom lip full of sinful promises, delicious in the prolonged draw upward. Willa was captivated, drowning in his slow smile. She couldn’t imagine ever having turned him away.

  “You seem to have forgotten that we are attending a masquerade,” he said.

  “Your wish for transparency would be more appropriate were we both not presently concealing our identities.”

  Willa smiled, conceding the point. “But as you said, my dear Mr. Midnight, it is the mask which is helping me to act and speak so freely. If it were removed, I fear I’d return to acting merely charming, not also revealing my truths to you.” He pulled her closer; Willa felt the lessened distance in the loss of her breath.

  He pulled her closer; Willa felt the lessened distance in the loss of her breath.

  “Then allow me to also tell you a truth of mine, my Lady Diamonds.” His head bent toward hers. “I’m devilishly glad you accosted me.” The waltz ended. Willa wouldn’t have known except that he ceased dancing, then steadied her when her feet would have continued. A round them, the other pairs strolled away, making room for the next set. No music played, but still it echoed in her ears, as clearly as the smooth baritone of his voice. She swayed toward him, smiled when he used the motion to bring her closer.

  “Tell me your name,” he said, lowering their clasped hands. He released her, though his fingers slowly threaded through hers as he withdrew.

  Willa stepped back. She shook her head and offered him a close-lipped smile.

  “Surely you haven’t forgotten your promise,” he said, but he smiled, too. He enjoyed this as well: the flirtation, the teasing, the mystery and excitement. “Do you not remember? A fter the dance—”

  “Oh, my apologies. I meant after the third time we dance, of course.”

  “A h. The third dance?” His dark gaze burned into her. “Then let them be two more waltzes.”

  Willa, her throat suddenly dry, swallowe
d. The third waltz for the evening was the midnight waltz; after the dance the guests were to remove their masks. Yet her pulse didn’t leap because of this; it leapt because she would have the pleasure of spending two more dances tonight in his arms. She nodded. “Farewell for now, Mr. Midnight.”

  Then she turned on her slipper, toward the bevy of masked men and women meandering along the sides of the ballroom.

  Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

  She reached the edge of the dance floor, nodded at a woman wearing a peacock mask nearby.

  Don’t look back.

  She peeked over her shoulder to see if he was still standing there, watching her.

  He was.

  Willa smiled.

  Chapter 3

  “H e’s still watching.”

  Willa glanced at the woman with the peacock mask. “It was a very nice withdrawal, wasn’t it?”

  “Indeed.” The woman returned her smile. “I met him earlier in the evening. He doesn’t seem very familiar to me, but then neither do you and I recognize most everyone even with their masks on. Is this your first Season?”

  “It is.” Her first London Season, at least. She hadn’t visited London since she’d left England as a child. “You must tell me if I make any mistakes.” Willa never made mistakes; she said this only to be friendly and make the woman sympathetic toward her. She believed in dealing in kindness as much as possible.

  Except when it came to A lex Laurie; he, she dealt with in smiles, leaving him to guess the ruthless motive behind each one.

  “I’d be happy to help. I absolutely loathed my first Season. But I would ask you to help me in return. I was trying to escape someone”—her nose wrinkled—“most detestable. In fact, I feel it’s my moral duty to point him out to you now lest he try to charm you and win you over. You should be prepared.” She tapped the shoulder of a woman to her side wearing a rose mask with white feathers, arms crossed over her chest and glaring at the assemblage. “Jo here would have fallen prey to his tactics if I hadn’t warned her. But I saw him approaching and told her not to dance with him.” The peacock woman smiled triumphantly. “She refused him outright! I shall always cherish the moment when she shouted at him, his expression of horror—”