by Ashley March
A lex hummed a little under his breath, happy. A h, revenge. She would be the A lex hummed a little under his breath, happy. A h, revenge. She would be the one fooled into thinking she was wanted tonight. “You, my Lady Diamonds, are not someone to be flirted with one moment and discarded the next, nor someone with whom men should exchange illicit whisperings while you dance. When your hand touches mine, it should be because I am bowing before you. I would take you for afternoon strolls and rides through the park. We would converse about the things that amuse you—” He paused thoughtfully. “What things do amuse you? Painting? The pianoforte and the like?”
She was silent for a moment, studying him. “I’d prefer to know which hobbies you prefer.”
He recognized this, the way she turned the reins of conversations over to men.
How she made them speak the most, how she played their egos as skillfully as instruments. “A h, but I asked you first.”
She gave a small sigh, a touch of impatience to the sound. “Languages. Though I paint a very good blob, and my talent at the pianoforte has nearly reached the level of a two-year-old.”
“A very prodigious two-year-old, I would imagine,” he said, smiling as he took note of her weaknesses. “Very well, then. We would converse about languages and even do so in different languages. I speak French, Italian, and German. You?” She gave a shrug—one that seemed almost Gallic. A lex narrowed his eyes. This must be the reason why he hadn’t recognized her fully before. The Gallic shrug, the perfect British accent: she was a master of disguises.
“A few,” she said, then: “What makes you believe I am the sort of woman who prefers to be courted instead of kissed?”
He remembered the first time he’d ever seen her, how the air had seemed to sparkle with the radiance of her smile. Not seductive, not sinfully provocative, but clean. He was a man who’d been raised among the worst sort of filth—a description to fit both the people and the streets—and she had reminded him of sunshine on the best of days and rain that washed it all away on the worst.
“You have an air of innocence about you,” he replied, realizing it was something she must have cultivated well: more lie than perception, more perception than truth. His fault for once believing it. He stared deep into her eyes—soulfully, as he knew women with ideas of romance preferred. He doubted Willa Stratton had a romantic bone in her body.
A t this statement she laughed, but finally—curiously—he noticed the darkening of her cheeks below her mask. What sort of woman blushed when accused of being innocent but gave no indication of embarrassment when she spoke of kissing, when he spoke of her delectable ears?
“You’re the one who is blushing now,” he said softly.
When she looked up at him again, her eyes seemed brighter than before. The rose of her cheeks might have been becoming if she were someone else. “The waltz is almost over,” she murmured.
His hand tightened even as a Thank God! rolled through his mind.
“I’ve never danced three waltzes with the same woman in one evening,” he said.
“I’ve never danced three waltzes with the same woman in one evening,” he said.
“Should I prepare myself to soon be scandalized?”
“No one is watching us. They are all concerned with their own affairs.”
“Still, I would know something else about you, the woman who might become my affianced if the gossips discover our three-dance perfidy.” A t the humorous and dreadful thought of actually marrying her, a cog in his brain whirled A lex from the past and his desire for revenge to the present.
Specifically, to Willa Stratton’s presence in London, when she should have been in A merica. Or somewhere else in the world luring another investor for her father’s company. Not here, not with him, and certainly not among the ton, where he intended to make connections through marriage and search out the creator of the Madonna dye.
He sucked in a breath, the air hissing through his teeth. “I’ll begin with something about me,” he managed to say, studying every nuance of her expression closely. “I came here tonight because I wish to see my sisters married, and even though it’s a masquerade, it’s also the first event of the Season.” He was careful not to truly reveal anything about himself or his own motives. “A nd you, my Lady in Diamonds? Why did you come to the Winstead masquerade?”
“Oh, that’s simple,” she said, dimpling. Not even pausing to consider her words.
“To find you, Mr. Midnight.”
He nearly growled. Jo would have applauded.
The waltz ended. Though he was tempted to find a reason to keep her by his side until midnight, until he could discover her true reasons for being in London, A lex escorted her off the dance floor. “Minx,” he murmured in her ear, then turned and walked away.
Chapter 4
Willa held her palms to her cheeks. “He told me he wanted to kiss me,” she said to Jo, though that wasn’t the cause for her blush, and she’d been the one to bring up the kissing part. But Jo didn’t need to know that.
“Oh, he did?” Jo’s gaze snapped across the ballroom.
Willa nodded. She wished he hadn’t called her innocent, though. She’d done things in the past that had left her conscience black. Or perhaps more of a grayish color, but certainly not white enough for her to be described as anything close to innocent. She’d far have preferred to continue talking about kissing and wicked things. He would be good at kissing. He had a nice mouth, Mr. Midnight did, such a mouth that she had a difficult time focusing on anything beyond the sphere of his arms when he spoke.
A nd when she did try to turn the conversation and learn more about him, he’d deftly maneuvered it back to her. Clever man.
He’d said she deserved to be courted, that she wasn’t a woman to be flirted with casually. But her previous interactions with men were required to be nothing more than casual, part of the role she played. She excelled at flirtation, at acting the charmer, at opening investors’ pockets and inspiring trust.
“Well, are you going to kiss him?” Jo asked.
“Kiss? What did I miss?” Thea asked, pushing forward with three glasses of punch.
“Mr. Midnight.” She willed herself not to look behind her. She knew he was there, somewhere. Perhaps watching her, perhaps not. But she shouldn’t look.
Truthfully, she shouldn’t even remain at the masquerade any longer. She should return to her rooms at Mivart’s Hotel and prepare more plans for how she was going to find Woolstone and the Madonna dye. A nd, if it was true A lex Laurie had gotten to him first, how she was going to get the dye away from him.
Eight months. Nearly eight months she’d spent searching out clues for the identity of the Madonna dye’s creator—a dye which could bring the owner a massive amount of wealth and which would be the key to her freedom. Eight months, only to discover the possibility that A lex Laurie might have swooped in before she could meet with Woolstone. Excessively galling and infuriating, that’s what it was. She could only hope she was wrong and that Woolstone had gone missing for an entirely different reason. Not because he was murdered—that wouldn’t have been good, either . . . although at least she wouldn’t have lost to A lex then.
Willa felt her conscience turning a darker shade of gray. No, of course she Willa felt her conscience turning a darker shade of gray. No, of course she wouldn’t prefer for Woolstone to be murdered. Even she wasn’t that focused on winning. Perhaps.
Besides, if Woolstone was murdered, she might never find the dye, and then she’d have to marry Eichel after all. Somehow this still felt entirely too selfish.
“I liked Mr. Midnight earlier,” Thea said, frowning.
A t this mention of the dashing Mr. Midnight, Willa swiftly sent up a plea that Woolstone was alive and far, far away from A lex Laurie, then returned her attention to her companions.
“Why do you not like him now?” she asked.
“Because then I saw him speaking with Lunsford. A nd anyone who willingly speaks to Lunsford m
ust be reconsidered, I believe. Even if he is very nice, and even if he does have a very nice mouth and wants to kiss you.” She didn’t like the thought of Thea noticing Mr. Midnight’s mouth. A lthough it was difficult to notice anything else at the masquerade, she wanted to hide him away for her own pleasure. She alone would be able to look at his mouth and have him hold her in his arms while they danced and then tell her nice things like she was an innocent who deserved to be courted.
“Perhaps . . . ,” she began, then hesitated. Charming women was just as useful as charming men, and it wouldn’t do well to offend her new friend. “Perhaps Mr.
Lunsford only reacts badly in your presence. There’s a possibility he’s usually as nice and decent as Mr. Midnight.”
“Oh, I’m certain Lunsford behaves poorly specifically around me and nicely to others. It’s a pretense he’s perfected, and one he knows that I’ve seen thr—”
“No, thank you.”
Willa glanced toward Jo, who was glaring at a man wearing a navy cape lined beneath with silver, a matching navy and silver mask tied around his head. The man currently had Jo’s hand lifted halfway to his mouth.
Jo tugged at her hand. “Let me go.”
“I don’t see why she came to the masquerade if she doesn’t intend to dance with anyone,” Thea murmured to Willa.
Jo gave them an exasperated glance, then stomped on the man’s foot. Thea gasped.
“Bloody hell,” he cursed, immediately dropping her hand. He backed away, matching her glare.
Jo turned and shrugged. “He shouldn’t touch people’s hands when they haven’t given him permission to do so.”
A corner of Willa’s mouth tugged upward. “I’m sure he’ll think better of it next time.”
“Jo . . . I believe you just tried to maim none other than the Duke of A ulburn,” Thea said.
A ll of the blood leached from Jo’s face. “A d-duke?” she whispered.
Thea nodded. “Everyone knows who he is,” she said, drawing her finger along the right side of her cheek, past her mask to the tip of her jaw. “The scar. Most the right side of her cheek, past her mask to the tip of her jaw. “The scar. Most certainly the Duke of A ulburn.”
A mutinous glint lit Jo’s eyes, her chin firming. “I don’t care who he is. He shouldn’t have touched me.”
“I will be sure to not make that mistake in the future, fair lady, lest my toes too become in danger of being crushed.”
Willa’s heart leapt to her throat when she spied Mr. Lunsford. She lifted to her toes and peeked over his shoulder, searching for Mr. Midnight, but he wasn’t anywhere nearby. With her heart sinking to its appropriate location once again, she smiled in due form when Mr. Lunsford shifted his gaze from Jo to Thea—his mouth gave a tic at the corner as he scanned past her—then to Willa.
“Here we meet again, my Lady Diamonds.”
She nodded. “I’m glad you found me. We were discussing the fine qualities of your chin, if I recall correctly.”
Thea snorted.
The tic showed itself again, but he otherwise ignored her. “No matter. Those can be discussed another day.”
From behind his back he withdrew a bouquet of flowers—well, in truth, it actually appeared to be a branch from a purple begonia plant—and extended his arm toward her. “From Mr. Midnight.”
Willa accepted the branch hesitantly, holding it as far away as possible. There were still bits of soil hanging from the petals and leaves. “He couldn’t bring it himself?” She felt something . . . familiar.
“A h, but it’s all in the anticipation,” Lunsford replied. Then he shrugged.
“Besides, it was the perfect opportunity to visit the area of the ballroom where evil doth reside.” He wagged his fingers in greeting at Thea. “Lady A lthea.” A fter Willa had won Contarini as an investor, A lex Laurie gave her flowers.
“Oh, my dear Mr. Lunsford!” Thea said brightly, smiling wide. Then her brows lowered and she scowled. “Please don’t feel inclined to stay any longer on my behalf. Please, go. Go now,” she said, shooing him with her hands.
No, he hadn’t given her flowers. He’d asked Contarini to give her the flowers at the ball the last evening in Italy. She’d seen him do it. From another man it would have been a sign of admiration. A s she’d taken the flowers from her new investor, Willa couldn’t help but think that A lex Laurie was trying to kill her. She’d told him, early in their stay, of her reactions to flowers when he suggested a walk in the villa’s gardens.
Willa’s head snapped up from the begonia. She searched the ballroom, but she couldn’t find him.
“A pleasure, as always. Your lovely countenance warms the cockles of my heart,” Lunsford was telling Thea.
Jo extended her arm toward him as he backed away, holding her glass by her fingertips. “I’ve finished with my punch.”
Thea laughed and linked her arm through Jo’s. “Yes, you’re right. Though I’m certain that is the only use he has, I doubt he—”
certain that is the only use he has, I doubt he—”
Lunsford held up his hand. “Now as you well know, I do have many other uses, Lady A lthea.” He gave her a narrow smile when she stiffened. Then, with a bow, he ignored the glass and turned away.
Willa caught his eye as he left. “Please be certain to thank Mr. Midnight for the kind gift,” she said. Then, with her nose itching, she promptly searched for a place to dispose of the amputated begonia flowers.
A lex and Lunsford covertly stared at the trio of Willa Stratton, Jo, and Lady A lthea.
“I really don’t like that woman,” Lunsford muttered as he sipped from a new cup of punch.
“Lady Diamonds, Lunsford,” A lex repeated for the third time. He hadn’t yet revealed her identity to Lunsford. He wanted to keep that information to himself for now. But he had employed Lunsford in the delivery of the begonia branch, a gesture meant to keep her interested in him and to toy with her a little before the next waltz. The final waltz.
He’d expected Lunsford to be back before he finished checking on his mother and Kat—they were fine, grudgingly admitting they were enjoying themselves—
but it had taken Lunsford an eternity to return from his mission. A fter speaking with Willa, apparently he’d stopped at the refreshment table and then proceeded to flirt with half the women in the ballroom on his way back. He seemed especially enamored of one of the unicorns. “What did the Lady in Diamonds say?”
“Oh, her.” Lunsford waved his hand. “She said thank you and wanted to know why you didn’t bring them yourself.”
Lunsford obviously didn’t know that when A lex asked what she said, he also wanted to know how she’d appeared. Had her eyes lit with pleasure? Had her mouth curved? Did any of it help to foretell the extent of her dismay when his identity was finally revealed? He knew, of course, she would have no reason to reveal the truth about her attendance at the masquerade that evening.
“What did you tell her?”
“Some nonsense about anticipation.” Lunsford glanced behind them to the now much less healthier-looking potted begonia. “Has anyone noticed anything amiss with the plant yet?”
“No, but I was just thinking it might be best to move to another part of the room.”
“Good idea.”
Several minutes later they stood at the far end of the ballroom, still opposite Willa, Lady A lthea, and Jo. Jo was staring at him. A lex inclined his head, and she looked away. For the first time, he became concerned that she stood beside Willa.
Surely Jo wouldn’t tell her who he was. She must not have identified Willa as their enemy, since she continued speaking with her.
But then . . . then Jo turned back and smiled at him.
But then . . . then Jo turned back and smiled at him.
No, he mouthed. Dear God, he knew that smile, part satisfaction and part mischief.
He shook his head.
She shrugged her shoulders, as if telling him that she had no idea what his gesture meant. For t
he next few minutes he watched as she continued speaking to Willa, but nothing amiss came about. Willa went on smiling and laughing, and A lex let out a little sigh.
Lunsford took another sip of his drink, his gaze flicking to something beyond A lex’s shoulder. “If you’re curious, there’s Woolstone’s sister, Lady Marianna, to your left, just beyond the corner of the dancing.”
A lex shifted his attention toward a black-haired woman dressed in bright, rose pink silk. Her mask was pink as well, complementing her lily-of-the-valley skin. He returned his gaze to Lunsford. “Need I know about Lady Marianna?” Lunsford shrugged. “Need to know? No. I, however, make it a habit to take time to appreciate all things beautiful when they come my way. A nd Lady Marianna happens to be exquisitely beautiful.” He paused, cast another glance her way, then sighed. “But she is of no importance. Woolstone is the one with the dye. However, if you do wish to hear more about her, I included her on Jo’s guest list—” A lex nodded, his attention slipping. He was keenly aware that the next dance was the third waltz, and the pleasure at seeing Willa appear the fool when their masks were revealed began to lessen as he continued considering her reasons for attending the masquerade.
She could be here to marry a title, as other A mericans had crossed the A tlantic to do. That reason seemed the most obvious and unfortunately did not bring A lex any peace. For if Willa Stratton intended to marry into the aristocracy, then that meant she might legitimize her father’s company in their eyes, too. She might make connections and new investors that otherwise would have been his.
A s he remembered her flirting with Lunsford earlier, A lex scowled. He’d been thinking about his potential investors, but she might also try to steal his current investors away.