Once Upon a Masquerade

by Tamara Hughes

  It still didn’t make sense. “How could Mary’s involvement with one man be profitable enough to sustain them both?”

  “I’ve seen their kind before.” Bryce shuffled his papers and laid them on a haphazard stack. “Once they invade a man’s home, they lie, steal, blackmail, whatever they need to do to drain the man’s accounts. Imagine using that kind of manipulation on several men at once.”

  Rebecca turned to Christopher. “Why would Mr. Gebhardt take Mary as his mistress?”

  His gaze softened. “It appears he saw something in Mary worth saving.”

  She nodded. “I saw it, too.”

  An officer rapped on the office door, and Bryce rose from behind his cluttered desk to meet him.

  “Nathan asked her to marry him,” Christopher admitted.

  Rebecca raised a hand to her lips. “His reputation would have been ruined.”

  “Nathan wouldn’t have cared. He wasn’t that kind of man.”

  “The gunman will live. He’ll be escorted to jail later today,” Bryce said as the officer walked away. He lifted a pouch into view. “And your money has been recovered.”

  Christopher rose from his chair and met Bryce at the door. His arm was now bandaged and the beginnings of a bruise touched his jaw. Accepting the pouch, he clasped the older man’s hand. “Thanks, Bryce.” Christopher’s part in the investigation had come to an end. She could hear the finality of it in his voice.

  As he and Bryce concluded their business, she prepared herself for their good-byes. Christopher had never lied to her about his feelings. Marriage would never work between the two of them. Yet, for a brief moment when he’d held her close in the alley, she’d wondered if he’d changed his mind. He’d seemed so earnest when he told her to never leave him behind again, she’d almost believed him. Now that it was all over, she had to face the truth. He’d said those words in the heat of the moment. They weren’t real. It wasn’t meant to be.

  She glanced between the two men at the door. Her father lay on a bench outside the office, asleep. Despite his injuries, he looked at peace. Christopher’s driver stood beside him, sporting bruises and cuts. From what she’d been told, the man had stopped Otto as he’d tried to escape.

  Rebecca stood, ready to follow Christopher out, wondering what she would do now. With a deep breath, she rounded her chair, but instead of stepping through the door, Christopher closed it with a soft click, enclosing the two of them in the office. He crossed to her, his bold eyes staring deeply into hers. His fingers slipped inside his trouser pocket and reappeared, her mother’s locket and his lucky coin dangling from their tips. He draped the chain about her neck and hooked it into place. “For something so precious, you seem to misplace this a lot.”

  “Thank you. But the charm—”

  “Keep it. It appears you need luck more than I do.”

  Rebecca smoothed the coin between her finger and thumb, the exhaustion from the fight wearing down her defenses. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry even as the tears pooled up.

  He lifted a curl from her shoulder, rubbing it between his fingers. “Rebecca, we’ve been through a lot together these past few weeks.”

  This was it. They would say good-bye and go their separate ways. Studying his scuffed black boots, she swore she could see the world dim, her future so bleak she wondered how she would survive.

  Christopher lifted her chin. “Rebecca, after what’s happened between us…”

  Her gaze rose to his smooth lips so close to her own. The stubble of his beard had grown since their last kiss, darkening his strong jaw, and his mouth widened into an impish grin. “Are you sure you’re not with child?”

  She choked out a breath. What mischief was he up to?

  He seemed to enjoy her reaction, his hand brushing a lock of hair from her face. “Because if you are, I think we should be married immediately.”

  The humor of the situation vanished in an instant, the intent of his joke coming too close for comfort. “If I’m not?”

  Christopher’s smile faded. “Then I think we should be married immediately.”

  Rebecca froze, afraid to believe what she was hearing. “Why? After all I’ve done. I’ve lied to you…almost gotten you killed.” Her heart pounded so hard, she thought it might burst from her ribs. “I’m not a lady. I’ll never be a lady.”

  “Marry me because I love you, and I want you to be my wife. You’re as much a lady as Mrs. Astor herself. More importantly, you’re a real person, not the product of society’s rules.”

  “Your ship. I thought you were sailing soon.”

  His eyes locked onto hers. “Rebecca, will you marry me?”

  This couldn’t be happening. Nothing this good ever happened to her.

  That sensible voice inside her head argued he deserved better, someone with a proper upbringing who wouldn’t embarrass him time and time again. Yet, her heart couldn’t be swayed. Finally, she had the chance to change her life, to find the peace and love that had eluded her for so very long.

  “Well?” he pressed. “There’s only one answer I’ll accept.” Although he joked, the fierce look in his gaze told her how much her answer meant to him.

  “Yes, I’ll marry you,” she breathed with a disbelieving laugh. “I love you so much, there’s no other answer I can give.”

  His lips curved into a sensual smile, and he plucked the pendant off her chest. “That was a good answer,” he whispered as he tugged the chain, pulling her forward.

  Their lips met, and Rebecca sighed. At last, Christopher was hers. Her mouth brushed over his. He groaned and drew her closer, his hands cupping her head while his lips nipped at hers. Rebecca’s mind grew foggy as she succumbed to all the emotion swirling crazily inside.

  Christopher raised his head, allowing her to catch her breath. “Besides, I’ve found you’re quite the imp. You need someone to keep you safe.”

  Rebecca warmed inside. She would remember this moment always. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

  Epilogue

  REBECCA GAZED DOWN AT the precious baby girl cradled in her arms. Emily Frances. Jet-black curls framed her little face, as she stared up at her mother with emerald green eyes.

  “We had a good nap, didn’t we?” Rebecca brushed her hand along one round cheek and walked down the servants’ corridor in Spencer Henley’s country home. In the elaborate silver and gold ball gown Spencer had insisted she wear, she cuddled Emily close, reveling in her slight weight, and breathed in her warm baby smell.

  Over a year had passed since Christopher proposed and still she had moments like this, times when she couldn’t fathom her good fortune.

  She spotted Emily’s nursemaid reading a book in a small sitting room. Her rocking chair creaked softly. Rebecca smiled. Her father sat next to the woman, looking perfectly at peace, although Rebecca knew why he was here. Such a doting grandfather.

  “There’s my girl.” Rising from his seat, he strode over to them, pure joy erasing years from his face.

  Contentment washed over her. “Somehow, I knew you would claim Emily as soon as she appeared.”

  “Actually, I meant you. You’ll always be my girl,” he clarified, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

  Tears stung her eyes. True to his word, he’d changed so much in the last year. Slowly, the man she remembered was emerging again.

  “And yes, I’ll be taking my granddaughter before she’s snatched up again.”

  A laugh bubbled up from deep inside as she handed her daughter over to the man she now trusted. Her father whispered to Emily and carried her back to his chair.

  Rebecca took in the sight before her. She wished she could stay and share in this quiet moment, but Spencer would have her hide.

  After a wave good-bye, she returned to the servants’ stairs. She descended to the main level and followed the hallway to a salon filled with party guests.

  Spencer had outdone himself again. A crowd of fairy tale characters chatted and laughed. A large-snouted pig stood in the corn
er talking with a windmill and a stork.

  Near the staircase, Rebecca spotted Christopher and Spencer, and nearly choked on her laughter.

  As she approached, Spencer bowed. “Rebecca, how do you like my clothes? I’ve had them fashioned out of the most amazing fabric.”

  Christopher grinned as she surveyed the union suit Spencer wore, complete with the button flap in back. Only Spencer would walk amidst the upperdom in his underwear. Erupting into a fit of giggles, she gasped out, “You would be the emperor I assume?”

  “Of course. What an odd question.” Spencer picked a speck of lint from his faux suit. “How is my goddaughter this evening?”

  Rebecca sidled up to her husband and gave him a wink. “She’s perfect. Her granddad has her now.”

  “When last I saw Emily, she’d almost said my name,” Spencer insisted. “Have you been doing as I asked, practicing every night before prayers?”

  “You saw her last week.” Rebecca failed miserably to suppress her smile. “She’s two months old, you fool. Besides, if I have my way, she’ll be speaking my name far sooner than she’ll say yours.”

  Spencer snorted. “We shall see about that.”

  Christopher laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I think Rebecca has the advantage.”

  “You can’t make me give up that easily. Tomorrow is a new day.” Spencer’s attention turned to Rebecca once more. “What of your father? He just started a new job, did he not?”

  Rebecca nodded, and her heart swelled with pride. Her father had been working for Christopher these past months, but he wanted to prove himself, strike out on his own.

  “It’s my own fault,” Christopher said. “I spoke too highly of him to the wrong people.”

  “Pshaw. I think he resigned from Black Shipping because you’ve abandoned the company.” Spencer frowned. “You no longer look after my investments. Now, you fancy yourself a police officer.”

  “True. I find detective work agrees with me, but don’t worry, I still keep an eye on things.”

  “Very well. At least tell me what case you’re working on.”

  Christopher quirked a brow. “Now that I’m officially employed by the department, you know I can’t divulge that kind of information.”

  “Not even a small nibble?” Spencer groused.

  “Well…I’ve heard rumor of an ill-dressed deviant in this very room.”

  Spencer’s eyes popped open, and he studied the guests around him. “What debauchery is this? And in my own home.”

  “Rest assured, sir, I’ll find the man and bring him to justice.” Christopher’s face glowed with humor.

  “Speaking of costumes, how do you two like what I’ve chosen for you?” Spencer asked.

  Christopher looked down at his suit of bright blue in distaste. “I’d rather have picked out something myself.”

  “You would. Such a spoilsport. I believe your costumes are most apropos.” Spencer scanned over his other guests, an affronted look on his face. “Perhaps I will leave you and your dissatisfaction and seek out those that better appreciate my genius.” With that, he adjusted his invisible gloves, flipped his imaginary tails, and stepped away.

  Rebecca studied Christopher’s flamboyant costume. He’d been grumbling about it since he’d seen the lightly ruffled piece laid out on the bed. “It could have been much worse. Spencer could have made you into Humpty Dumpty rather than a handsome prince.” Besides, the peacockish costume couldn’t detract from Christopher’s handsome appeal, not to her. Still… “I much prefer the prince.”

  “Do you now.” His heated gaze lowered to her lips, the silent promise of what would transpire later igniting the familiar hum deep inside. He toyed with the coin and locket dangling from her neck before brushing the back of his hand along her cheek. Adoration softened his features, and brought a smile to Rebecca’s lips. Spencer was right. He’d chosen the perfect costumes. Cinderella had indeed found her prince.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to my first critique partners: Ann Hinnenkamp, Neroli Lacey, Wyndemere Coffey, and Greta MacEachern. I learned a lot about how to write from you guys. A special thanks to my lovely beta reader and wonderful sister, Tina Bores Pupp. I’ve treasured your advice and support more than you know. Thank you to my parents, Ron and Shirley Bores, who were my cheering squad during RT’s American Title V competition, and for their continued help to spread the word and celebrate this success.

  To my family, Jeff, Brenna, and Megan: You’ve provided endless encouragement which I appreciate so much. Thank you to my agent, Natalie Lakosil at the Laura Bradford Agency, for believing in my work, even when rejections started coming in. And to my Entangled editor, Gwen Hayes. You’ve been a dream to work with. Your insights have made all the difference. Lastly, to Barbara Longley, my critique partner who’s stuck by me these last seven years. Without you, none of this would be happening.

  About the Author

  A small town girl with a big imagination, Tamara Hughes had no idea what to do with her life. After graduating from college, she moved to a big city, started a family and a job, and still struggled to find that creative outlet she craved. An avid reader of romance, she gave writing a try and became hooked on the power of exploring characters, envisioning adventures, and creating worlds. She enjoys stories with interesting twists and heroines who have the grit to surmount any obstacle, all without losing the ability to laugh. To learn more, stop by her website: www.tamarahughes.com.

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