Once Upon a Masquerade

by Tamara Hughes

  His admission only agitated her further. Her hand clenched, and a subtle wince tensed her features. “You do?”

  And still, she was beautiful. Nathan had good taste in women, and Miss Bailey was no exception. He could well imagine how Nathan would have become so taken.

  He tried again. “Nathan asked me to look after you, as his dying wish.”

  “No, he must have meant someone else,” she insisted. “I didn’t know him all that well.”

  Damn. Nathan had left this task to the wrong man. If he couldn’t even get her to admit knowing Nathan, how could he convince her to tell him what she needed saving from? As it was, she looked ready to bolt from the table. Then again, a year had passed since Nathan’s death. Did she still need saving? She seemed nervous, yes, but would a woman in dire straits be socializing at a ball? Hardly seemed likely.

  Indeed, she appeared healthy and whole, her auburn hair a burst of color in comparison to her ivory skin, skin that glowed with vitality and life. Faded laugh lines attested to a sunny disposition, and those full, lush lips…

  His scrutiny brought a flush to her face, and she stared out across the room.

  God help him, it didn’t feel right to make assumptions and let the matter rest. For Nathan’s sake, he would bide his time, and gain her trust, then find out if she needed his help. It was the least he could do for Nathan, and had nothing to do with spending more time at her side. Nothing whatsoever.

  “My apologies. It seems I’m mistaken once again,” he said to put her at ease. “Other than the tart then, are you enjoying the evening so far?”

  “Yes.” Her gaze returned to him, her eyes wary. “This home is beautiful. Alva and William Vanderbilt must be very proud.”

  “Indeed they are.” He tore his attention from her dazzling green eyes, although the sight stayed trapped in his mind. “The very purpose of this event is to celebrate its completion and to graciously allow all of us to admire its beauty. And with Mrs. Astor in attendance, the Vanderbilts might be accepted into the esteemed four hundred.” The rich concerned themselves with the pettiest things.

  “The four hundred?”

  “The optimal number of guests that can occupy Mrs. Astor’s ballroom,” he informed her, unable to suppress the mockery in his tone. “She’s compiled a list of the top four hundred members of the wealthiest and most refined families in New York, and only those fortunate few are allowed into her social circle.”

  An impish smirk lit up her face, her earlier tenseness all but gone. “Can I assume you aren’t included in this wondrous group?”

  “You may.” Idly, he wondered… Did his social status matter to her? He wasn’t a blue blood, and many didn’t socialize with him because of it. Taking a drink of his champagne, he decided to find out. “I’m what’s known as a bouncer, an arriviste, someone who’s only recently amassed his fortune. Needless to say, I’m only reluctantly invited when absolutely required. My bloodlines are much too sullied.”

  She pushed her plate away, giving no outward sign of upset. “A pity.”

  “Indeed,” he muttered, her reaction warming him through. “Shall we stroll through this splendid home?”

  “What a good idea.” She drained the last of her glass. Wobbling as she rose from her seat, she plucked the feather duster from the floor.

  He tucked her arm in his and led her from the jungle into a corridor lined with doors. Her hand felt good nestled securely in the crook of his arm. Her hips swaying with each step, her skirts brushed against his pant leg.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you amass a fortune?” She looked up into his face, her eyes innocent and beguiling.

  His lips quirked upward. Few in society cared, unless there was a profit to be made. “Shipping. When I was a boy, my father used almost all the money he had to buy our first vessel. He named her The Fair Maiden, and she needed a lot of repairs. The two of us worked on her for several months before she was ready to sail.”

  “Remarkable. Working with your father on something so important must have been very satisfying.” A flash of sadness shadowed her features, but as quickly as it appeared, it vanished.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “My father and I don’t always see things in the same light.”

  “Ah, that’s the way of fathers and children, isn’t it?” He rested his hand on hers and gave it a squeeze. “My father and I didn’t always agree either. There were moments when I didn’t want to put in the effort, but that’s where fathers are wise. In time, our work together came to mean a great deal to me. Our family grew the business from a one-vessel operation into one of the largest merchant companies in the country.”

  She peeked into a small room equipped for sewing. “Hence the pirate costume?” she asked, a smile playing about her shapely lips and a teasing glint in her eye.

  He guided her inside, toward a frame attached to a sturdy stand. “Actually, I was a ship’s captain for my family’s company for the last several years. Not as a pirate, mind you, more as an ambassador of sorts, establishing new sailing routes and port contacts. Have you ever sailed?”

  “Oh, well, no.” She scanned around the room, several loose tresses dangling along her neck to brush her shoulders. “But it does sound adventurous. Do you miss it?”

  “Very much.” His fingers itched to touch those strands, to feel their softness beneath his fingertips. “Standing on a well-scrubbed deck, smelling the salty air, and looking out at the endless rolling sea… There’s nothing quite like it.”

  Her hand grazed along the back of a chair as she moved ahead to the needlepoint on the stand. “Why did you give it up?” As Miss Bailey studied the stitches before her, the image of Adele flashed before his eyes. Months had gone by and still her decision to cast him aside stung. Instead of ruining their evening discussing his past, he evaded Miss Bailey’s question. “I plan to set sail again once my new ship is complete. Although if my mother had her way, I’d stop working for good. She’s never liked my occupation. She says she can’t bear my long absences, claiming her right as an old woman to enjoy her only son’s company until she’s no longer with us.” He rested his hand over his heart in mock pain.

  Miss Bailey straightened. “Is she ill or very old?”

  “No, simply determined.” They sauntered back into the hall and entered a library with plush leather chairs and a long sofa positioned near the hearth. Bookshelves lined all four walls, hundreds of volumes waiting to be read. Miss Bailey stopped, her mouth agape. “What a magnificent room.” She twirled about, her skirts billowing around her. “I could stay here for the rest of my days and be happy.” When she ceased spinning, she swayed to and fro. “Oh, my.”

  With low chuckle, he steadied her, his hands resting at her waist. “You don’t drink much do you?”

  “Never before,” she confessed with a small giggle.

  He pulled his hands away, and she glanced down as if first realizing he’d touched her. Her face pinkened sweetly, and she raised her gaze, but only got so far as his chest.

  Leaning toward him, she studied the lucky coin he wore on a chain about his neck. “What a unique charm,” she breathed, reaching out to touch the ancient metal.

  He drank his fill of her delicate cheekbones and striking eyes. “I’m told it’s a rare coin from China, said to ward against evil.”

  Her stare rose to his. “Are you superstitious?”

  Although he’d never thought so, he wore the amulet everywhere. He shrugged, admitting, “I am a sailor.”

  Miss Bailey worried her lip and studied his face. Her attention settling on his mouth, he wondered what she would do next.

  He didn’t have long to wait. His lips twitched as her eyelids drooped heavily, and she tilted her head up to his, her look almost dazed. “Are you well? You appear as though you may faint.”

  Raising one eyelid, she maintained her silly position, admitting through semi-pursed lips, “I’m enticing you to give me a kiss.”

  A
laugh rose up, but he held it back. “I see.” What an unusual but most delightful woman. His coin was lucky indeed. “I suppose I am a pirate and I’ve cornered a captivating damsel alone and intoxicated.”

  Christopher glanced at the empty doorway, where a large potted plant shielded them from sight, and questioned the sanity of what he longed to do. If caught, her reputation would be sorely compromised. What’s more, she’d been Nathan’s love. Despite the year that had passed, he should honor that relationship. He should, and he would.

  He stared down at her upturned face, delicate, alluring. She waited, utterly unconcerned by the open door. He liked that she was so different from the other ladies of the bon ton, different from Adele. Miss Bailey’s free spirit, so open and real, appealed to him like no other. Her pale pink lips tempted him to no end. Her scent, cloves and warm woman, wrapped around him, drawing him in, making his blood pump faster and his mind slow.

  Would she taste as good as she smelled? Without thought, he cradled her face in his hands, the silky softness of her hair teasing his fingertips. He lowered his head, sampled her lips, and was lost.

  He drank in the sweet warmth she offered, greedy for more as she let out a long quavering breath and relaxed into him. Her arms crept up his chest, the duster clutched in her hand. The feathers tickled his ear. He tugged it from her grasp and tossed it to a nearby sofa.

  A thought surfaced from the depths of his mind. Have to stop. But it evaporated as his fingers grazed the soft skin at her nape, and he claimed her lips once more.

  Desire spread through his body as powerful as the rising tide. She felt so good, her curves pressed against him. He pulled her closer, reveling in her eager response. “I’d like to see you again. Where can I find you?”

  Her eyes closed, she answered shakily, “The Endicotts’.”

  He trailed light kisses along her jaw to her ear, enjoying the glow of her skin. A full minute passed before her reply registered in his muddled brain, and the realization of what he’d been doing hit hard. He set her away from him and bit back a curse. Nathan had asked him to protect her, not to make advances. And if he were any kind of friend, he would respect Nathan’s memory and… Her response to his question sank in. “The Endicotts? They’ve returned from Chicago already?”

  Miss Bailey stiffened and turned away. “No, they haven’t.”

  Her strong reaction to his innocent comment only fueled his interest. “You’re a guest at their home while they’re in Chicago?”

  Her hands clenched the folds of her skirt, her gaze glued to the floor. “My father’s letter must have arrived shortly after they left. When I got here, they were already gone.” With a frown, she explained, “Luckily, one of their staff had been left responsible for forwarding correspondence and was aware of my pending arrival.”

  For some reason, it struck him that she’d only referred to her own arrival. “You traveled alone?”

  She backed away, her face ashen. “Of course not. I came with my brother, Stephen, and my lady’s maid.”

  “You and your brother are staying at the Endicotts’ home until they return?” he asked, puzzled by both her situation and her obvious unease.

  “No, my father left for business the same time I…we started our journey. He’ll be meeting us here once his negotiations are concluded. We need to stay until he arrives or there will be even more confusion.”

  A note of desperation raised the pitch of her voice, and she lifted a trembling hand to her forehead. “I’m afraid it’s getting late, and I’m dreadfully tired. Please excuse me. I must find my brother.” She hurried to the doorway but stopped short of stepping through. A flash of sadness and disappointment crossed her face when she glanced back. “Good night,” she said before she slipped away from him.

  “Good night,” he muttered. “Until we meet again.”

  Chapter Four

  REBECCA HAD TOSSED AND turned all night long. Had her charade been a success? She wasn’t sure, although her meeting with Mr. Westerly today held promise. Still, it had been her memory of Christopher Black that kept her awake for most of the night.

  Stifling a yawn with a gloved hand, she walked up Fifth Avenue to Central Park, the air crisp and the sky dim. She’d blame the champagne for her foolish decision to dine with him, but it would be lie. She’d been drawn to him from the first. He’d been devilishly handsome as a rakish pirate and more charming than she’d imagined in her dreams. And after her initial nervousness, she’d truly enjoyed herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in such high spirits. He’d been attentive, obviously loved and respected his parents, had a passion for sailing…and his kisses…

  Touching a fingertip to her lips, she could still feel his firm mouth against hers, his strong body holding her close. He’d overwhelmed her senses, turning her mind to mush. What other reason could there be for her stupidity? She never should have mentioned the Endicott household. And the lies. Dear Lord, how many had she told him? She nearly groaned at the memory. What else could she have done? He was an intelligent man, an inquisitive man, and she had no doubt he would eventually remember her as the maid who scalded his lap. She would avoid him from this point forward.

  The bleak overcast sky matched her dreary mood. Maybe this was for the best. She would put thoughts of Christopher Black behind her and concentrate more fully on her goal. Her father needed her, and she would do what had to be done, because as the dutiful daughter, she always did what had to be done.

  The plumed hat she clutched in one hand and her mother’s most fashionable walking dress were safely hidden beneath a borrowed black cloak. While strolling about the city unchaperoned was acceptable as a servant, for a respectable lady it could be considered quite scandalous.

  Heading to her favorite spot, she descended the steps to the Bethesda Fountain and the life-size bronze statue, the Angel of the Waters. She inhaled deeply to ease the tension in her shoulders. Staring up at the angel, she pulled the silver locket her mother had given her from beneath the cloak. She caressed the intricate etchings on its surface, then turned the oval pendant to the back and the inscription Give All to Love. She’d hidden it from her father all these years, reasoning the piece was relatively inexpensive. Although deep inside, she knew even if the locket had been made of pure gold, she wouldn’t have parted with it.

  “Acquainting yourself with the city all on your own?”

  A giddy thrill swept through her limbs as she recognized the voice. She turned toward the sound, startled to find Mr. Black standing atop the steps leading down to the fountain. In a dark gray coat and top hat, he appeared every bit a gentleman, but his intense hazel eyes and chiseled jaw belonged to the pirate she’d so brazenly kissed the night before. As he lifted his hat in greeting, she stood speechless, desperately trying to suppress the elation dancing inside her belly.

  He descended the steps with a friendly grin. “Had I known you were in need of a guide, I would have offered my services.”

  She turned away, forcing herself to remember her vow to avoid him. “I wanted to find a place to think.”

  “I was going to drop this at the Endicotts’ before I spotted you walking in this direction.” He handed her the duster she’d left behind in her haste to escape the Vanderbilt library. “I must apologize for my rudeness. I didn’t intend to offend you with my incessant questions. Curiosity ruled my better judgment.”

  “It’s all right.” She battled with her own better judgment as she struggled to keep her defenses from crumbling.

  Mr. Black glanced about, taking in the flowing fountain, the expansive lawns, and the serene lake. “This does seem like a good place to think.”

  Clearly he wasn’t going to leave, although she couldn’t understand why he remained. She could hold her silence and ignore his presence, but that didn’t seem right. After all, he’d come to apologize. She released a breath. “I’ve always loved this place, this statue.”

  “I thought you said you were unfamiliar with New York.” />
  She cocked one brow. It truly was in his nature to question everything.

  His lips curved in a slow smile. “You don’t have to answer that.”

  Although he teased, for once she could tell him a bit of truth about herself. “I confess I’ve visited here before. In fact, I remember when this park was first completed. My father brought me here.”

  “That was quite some time ago.”

  “Yes. I think I was eleven years old. My mother had passed away the prior year. I remember walking through the park and coming to this very spot. I looked up at the angel and told my father that Mother was here, and she looked beautiful.”

  “What did he say?” His smooth voice relaxed her, her troubles fading for the moment.

  “Nothing.” She stared out along the lake shore. “I don’t think he ever came back here after that. My mother’s death weighed heavily on him. It still does.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I find every time I come here, I feel her presence. It’s very comforting.”

  Mr. Black studied the winged figure, his profile as handsome as the rest of him.

  “I think she would have liked you.”

  A corner of his mouth raised in a half-grin. “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Because I do.” The words had tumbled out before she thought to stop them. She jerked away from his warm gaze, shocked by her own brazenness. Whatever happened to her plan of sending him away? That was her ultimate goal, or at least she thought it was.

  She still held the stylish hat she’d brought along for her outing with Mr. Westerly. Setting it on her head, she began pinning it. A proper lady would have never been out without one in its rightful place. She smiled sheepishly. “It blew off moments before you arrived.”

  Mr. Black’s sidelong glance questioned her words. The calm breeze barely stirred the leaves.

  “It was much windier earlier in the day.” She wondered at the ease the lies slipped off her tongue.