Masquerade

by Sarita Leone

  In an evening filled with romance, she struggled to return the sentiment. The words could not be given lightly, and he was in principle no more than a casual acquaintance.

  She settled on, “And to you.”

  “You look lovely in scarlet.” The noise outside grew, making it difficult to hear him so Sophie leaned closer. He added, slightly louder, “It is different than the dark green—more exotic, I think—but no less enchanting.”

  So, he hadn’t happened in on her randomly! He recognized her, despite the drastic change in her appearance. With her hair done the way Wendy suggested and the abrupt change in her style, as well as color, of gown, Sophie had wondered if anyone would take her for the same woman who walked these halls on New Year’s.

  “You know who I am?”

  He turned to the door, which had been pushed wider four more inches by a shoulder passing in the hallway. Crossing the floor to the now-nearly-open door, he said, “Of course I do. I recognized you the instant I saw you.”

  Silence fell between them when the door closed. The sounds of the party were dim but not altogether gone. Sophie knew she should request, for propriety’s sake, that the door be left slightly ajar but leaving the din beyond the wood panel seemed preferable to worrying about her reputation. Besides, they weren’t doing anything behind the closed door that she wouldn’t do had the door been thrown wide, so why allow society to dictate every nuance of life?

  The assurance made her smile. It was flattering to hear, but she could not unquestioningly believe the words.

  “I find that difficult to accept as true.”

  “You would call me a liar?”

  “Of course not,” she said quickly. He stood with his back against the closed door, a hand still on the doorknob. Sophie didn’t want him to leave, so she hurried to add, “It’s just that I’m so drastically altered since we last met.” She swept a hand in front of her from her head to her waist. “Hair…gown…even the style of presentation is completely different, yet you say you recognized me straight off. Why, I don’t wish to call you false, but I do believe that had my own mother not seen me without my mask she wouldn’t be able to recognize me.”

  He chuckled, the sound sending a thrill as sharp as lightning up Sophie’s spine. The sound was remarkably familiar. Could she have held it so closely in her memory all these weeks that it felt incredibly well known?

  “But I’m not your mother.” He drew closer, but not as close as he had been earlier. Standing just beyond the settee, in a shadowy spot, he was the embodiment of sophistication. A straight profile, wide shoulders, and chin tilted at just the right angle all worked to show him to his best—although Sophie doubted a man of his social standing had any side aside from a “best” side.

  “But…” She faltered. What could she say?

  “And I could be blindfolded and still pick you out of a roomful of women.” One tiny step closer brought him partially from the shadows but not close enough. Sophie would have moved toward him, but he held a hand up, stopping her before she moved her toes more than six inches away from the firelight. “Please, stay as you are. I’m entranced watching the firelight dance along the drape of your skirt. You are, as I said, entirely ravishing.”

  As much as the man flattered, Sophie couldn’t allow him to continue. She placed a hand over her heart, for it galloped in her chest, and said, “May I remind you that we are just casual acquaintances? It is hardly fitting that you speak so…” Words tumbled rapidly through her mind. Each was regarded, and then dismissed. The one that felt most suitable was “intimately” but the word itself felt out of place. At a loss, she stared at him for a moment. Then, she said, “It isn’t proper for you to address me so. We don’t know each other well enough.”

  For a full minute, he stared at her, and she wondered if he would speak again or just leave the room as suddenly as he had entered it. Then, he inhaled deeply, sending his shoulders high and bringing his jacket tight across his arms. She was reminded of the muscles she had felt when they danced, the ones that hid beneath the superior cut of his dress clothes.

  His next statement was a surprise.

  “I see your Valentine’s Day wishes have come true.”

  Sophie’s eyes widened. He remembered!

  “Pardon?” She gulped. Could he recall every bit of their conversation?

  “Your three wishes,” he said with a chuckle. “You have a new gown—a beautiful new gown—and I am here, so you have an admiring suitor who would gladly fill your dance card.” He tilted his head, studying her so thoroughly she felt nearly beneath a quizzing glass at his contemplation. Then he added in a low voice, “The only thing other thing you wished for was a man to steal your heart. Have you found that yet, Sophie?”

  Sophie. He called her by name!

  “How do you know my name?”

  “I told you I would recognize you anywhere.” He took his time coming around the settee. All the while she watched, her gaze riveted to his progress. When he stood directly in front of her, he asked, “Don’t you recognize me?”

  Now that the party noises were left in the background, the voice behind the mask was even more familiar. It tugged at her heart, sending it beating so she could barely breathe.

  His mask came off in a swift motion. It dangled from his hand before he dropped it to the floor.

  “Colin…”

  Sophie couldn’t help herself. She flew into his arms, crushing her mask awkwardly against his cheek. With another fast movement, Colin untied the ribbons that held it in place and pulled it away.

  “I didn’t think you were coming,” she gasped. Her heart felt like it might explode in her chest and her breath came in ragged gulps, as if she had been running. “I thought—you were—when we spoke—”

  Colin brought his lips down, covering hers and effectively silencing her. The hodgepodge of words and images that dashed through her mind evaporated like a morning mist, and she gave herself to the sensation of finally feeling some measure of peace.

  The kiss was too brief, and when Colin broke it Sophie felt the loss of contact profoundly. She would have leaned in to kiss him, but he saved her the embarrassment of following her heart without thought for convention by putting her at arm’s length.

  “It was you? On New Year’s?”

  He nodded. “It was. Are you angry?”

  Colin hadn’t released his hold on her upper arms, something for which Sophie was grateful. Her knees were wobbly, and she wondered if this might be, finally, the moment she would actually swoon.

  Confusion, followed by a desire for explanations, kept her upright.

  “I’m not sure what game you’re playing, but no, I’m not angry.” When she took a step back, Colin dropped his arms to his sides. The space between them made it easier for her to think, although she missed his touch. What a contradiction! Looking into his eyes with the hope of finding answers, she asked, “Colin, what is going on? Why did you pretend to be someone you aren’t?”

  He rubbed a palm across his cheek before he replied. “I didn’t pretend. Well, not exactly. You see, I got stuck at John’s house the day of the last dance so I wore his clothes.”

  “John?”

  Colin nodded. “John Turnball, the Duke of Leicester. He is dancing with Rachel this very minute. He met her at the last dance, and is, I assure you, totally taken with her.” When Sophie opened her mouth to speak, he went on, “No, don’t be alarmed. John is a complete gentleman, and wouldn’t do our Rachel a false turn. She’s safe with him. If my instincts are correct, I’m fairly certain your family will be seeing a great deal of John in the future.”

  Happiness for her sister’s sake bloomed within Sophie. Having a duke as a brother-in-law would be just fine with her.

  “Why didn’t you identify yourself? When you arrived, wearing the duke’s clothes, why didn’t you just tell me who you were?”

  “It was a masked dance, remember? And, to be perfectly frank, I couldn’t believe you didn’t recognize me
, Sophie. As I said, I would find you with my eyes closed—anytime, anywhere, and in any size crowd. Yet you didn’t know me, even when I held you in my arms.”

  It was true. How could she not have known?

  “But you were wearing different clothes…”

  “Clothes do not make the man.”

  “But you sounded different, and I smelled alcohol on your breath.”

  A nod. “I caught a cold, remember? John gave me some brandy for the scratchy throat; otherwise I would have had no voice at all that night. Still, I would have thought you would know it was me.”

  She searched her brain for the clues she had missed but couldn’t find any. With a final burst of inspiration, she offered, “But you danced like someone else.”

  Colin chuckled. Then he shook his head, turning aside her feeble assertion. “You took me as someone else, a man of means who would, naturally, dance differently. But you have danced with me a thousand times, Sophie. You should have recognized me, even with the clothes, mask, voice, and all the rest of it. How could you have not known me?”

  There was no excuse for it.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted with a sigh. He was her closest friend and she hadn’t seen beyond the trappings of society. How had it happened?

  Sophie felt ashamed until she remembered Colin had played a part in the affair. She met his gaze with new resolve, squared her shoulders and said, “You should have told me. Colin, you should have said something. Not telling me the truth was wrong, and you know it. Don’t you dare put all the blame for this charade on my shoulders, not when you were a willing participant!”

  His laughter was unexpected. Slapping one thigh with his hand, Colin nodded appreciatively as he tried to rein in his amusement.

  “I love it when you do that,” he said with a grin. “You can turn the tables so quickly I feel the room spin before I catch up with you.” The grin vanished. “But you’re right. I am to blame for this situation. I should have revealed myself to you—about my identity but about other things as well. Tonight we shall discover the truth. What do you say? Are you ready for the full reality of our circumstances to come to light? I know it will forever change the course of our lives—for better or worse, I am not certain. But the time for pretense is behind us, darling.”

  Darling. Pretense—Good Lord, what is he saying?

  Colin took a deep breath, and then plunged on. “I love you, Sophie. That is the truth of it, I’m afraid. There’s nothing much to add, either. I have loved you for so long I cannot recall a time when I didn’t feel this way. I’ve watched and waited—and hoped—for you to return the sentiment, but I cannot wait any longer. If you will allow it, I want to fulfill the third of your Valentine’s Day wishes.” He paused, staring deeply into her eyes. “I would appreciate it if you would allow me the honor of stealing your heart.”

  Any uncertainty that plagued her earlier vanished. It was gone, as were her wobbly knees and the idea she might swoon. Sophie felt steadier than she had ever felt, and knew without question what answer she must give.

  Not wishing to keep Colin dangling, Sophie shook her head.

  “You cannot.”

  As if he had been physically struck, Colin took one step backward. The added distance between them was unbearable. Sophie instinctively stepped closer.

  “I understand.” His tone was somber, matching the flat stare he gave her. “If you will permit me to apol—”

  “Colin, you cannot steal what is already yours,” she said, sliding her arm onto his shoulders. With a small smile, she wove her fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. “My heart is yours. It has been for some time now, although it was another thing I was too blind to realize. Until now.”

  A strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against him. She went willingly, lifting her face to his knowing she had finally found her fate.

  “Are you saying you love me?” His grip tightened.

  “I am.” The words were a whisper, and were punctuated by the soft crackle of a piece of wood popping in the fireplace. “I love you, Colin. I always have.”

  “Then let’s seal our fate with a Valentine’s Day kiss.”

  As his lips claimed hers, Sophie breathed, “Gladly…”

  A word about the author...

  Sarita Leone had two dreams when she was a little girl. She wanted to be happily married, and she wanted to be an author. Dreams come true, because she accomplished both goals. When she's not busy writing, Sarita enjoys traveling, hiking and dancing beneath the stars.

  Sarita has a blog called From the Heart at:

  www.saritaleone.blogspot.com,

  a website at:

  www.saritaleone.com,

  and a Facebook page.

  She loves to hear from readers!

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