by Anna Bennett
Hoping to reassure her, he held her hand. “Please don’t take unnecessary risks at the masquerade tomorrow night. I know you are eager to help me discover my assailant, but Darby and I have matters well in hand.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but she needn’t know that.
Bristling a little, she said, “I won’t take any risks I deem unnecessary.”
“I couldn’t bear it if something were to happen to you,” he said firmly. “You demanded more from me than I thought I had to give. I never revealed myself—and I’m not just speaking of my scars—to anyone. Until you.”
She pondered this for a few moments, then swallowed. “Why me?”
“Your goodness, your light … you made it worth the risk.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “You’ve changed me too,” she said, nuzzling the side of his neck. “I’ve learned that I shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Sometimes, everything I think I know about a person is wrong—like I was wrong about you.”
She hadn’t been entirely wrong. There was the small matter of him dubbing her and her sisters the Wilting Wallflowers. And it was high time he owned up to it. “Actually—”
“And because of you,” she interrupted, “I’ve realized that ugly names and hateful labels only have the power to hurt if we let them. Because of you, I don’t feel like a wallflower.”
“You’re not,” he said firmly. “Not by any stretch. And you should know—”
Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I love you, Alex.”
His chest squeezed. Her love was more than he’d hoped for—and definitely more than he deserved. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “I love you too, siren.”
With a happy sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder. “Were you about to say something else?” she asked.
God, he couldn’t tell her about the wallflower name right now. She was too vulnerable, her emotions too raw. “Only that you’ve bewitched me.”
Reluctantly, she sat up straight. “I should make my way upstairs soon. I promised I’d wake your grandmother in time to meet with the staff, and fear I may have lost track of the time.”
“Wait.”
He couldn’t let her go without giving her some idea of his intentions. “After the ball tomorrow night, we must part—for a while.”
The light fled from her eyes, and she looked away. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“But I hope that our parting is only temporary, Beth. I want you in my life. Hell, I need you in my life. And even though I don’t deserve you, I want … to be with you.”
She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t ask her to marry him as long as there was some sort of bounty on his head. An engagement would only place her in greater danger and he would not risk her life—no matter how much he wanted to claim her for his own.
He dragged a hand through his hair, wishing to hell he give her more than a vague promise. His heart hammered as she stood and paced the length of the room. “When this is all over, I would like to properly court you.”
* * *
Beth could scarcely breathe. Her stomach fluttered as though she’d suddenly taken a fever.
She had given herself to Alex—body, heart, and soul—and he was announcing his intention to court her. It all seemed rather backward.
“You’re asking if you may court me … at an unspecified, future time?”
“I would have done so before now, but the combination of my scandalous reputation and your position as my grandmother’s companion made that nigh impossible. And as long as someone’s trying to kill me, I won’t risk making our association public, endangering you.”
“I understand.” In her head, she did. But her heart remained stubbornly unconvinced. He’d referred to their relationship as an association—but it was more than that. At least, it was to her. And if he truly loved her, nothing should have been impossible. Not even the most unlikely of courtships.
Blowing out a long breath, he placed his warm hands on her shoulders and stroked the tops of her arms. “I’ll grant you that it’s complicated. But make no mistake, Beth—once this nightmare is finally over, we will be together. If you’ll have me.”
She closed her eyes and let his words echo in her mind. We will be together. It wasn’t a proposal, but if that was all Alex could give her right now …
“Of course, I’ll have you.”
He lifted his head, his brown eyes hopeful. “You will?”
“Yes.”
Jubilant, he wrapped her in his arms and swung her around, pressing his lips to hers. “You’ve made me so happy, Beth. Everything will work out. You’ll see. If it takes a week, a month … even a year, we will be together. And we’ll have the rest of our lives to make up for lost time.”
“I just want you to catch the person who’s been trying to kill you.” As soon as possible. So that she might stop fretting and searching his person for wounds each time he entered the house.
And because she knew all too well how much could change in the course of a week or a month or a year. He professed to love her, but she’d said it first. And over time, passion faded, promises were forgotten, and hearts were broken.
“Do not worry about me,” he said. “Now that I know you’ll wait for me, I’m more determined than ever to solve the mystery. You may count on it.”
“Good.” She gazed at his face, determined to memorize the affection, confidence, and tenderness in his expression. “I’m afraid I really must go.” Secret promises notwithstanding, she needed to make herself presentable, wake the duchess, and oversee the preparations for a ball with at least two murder suspects on the guest list.
Groaning in protest, Alex released her and dutifully began collecting hairpins from the floor while she hastily donned her corset and gown.
“Remember what I said.” He dropped a handful of pins into her palm. “Take no unnecessary risks tomorrow night. Remain in the ballroom at all times, if possible. There is safety in numbers.”
“And you?” she asked pointedly. “Will you follow your own advice?”
“I’ll do what I must.”
Sighing, she wound her hair into a knot and secured it as best she could. “This evening I plan to broach with your grandmother the subject of moving to your country house. I’ll tell her that we must leave the morning after the ball so that we may attend the Lammas Eve festival on the following day. Once we’re there, I’ll convince her to extend our stay indefinitely. I dislike having to be untruthful with her, but…”
“Excellent.” He buttoned his waistcoat and jammed an arm into his jacket. “And I hope that the separation won’t be for long.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. It was unlikely they’d have time for a private good-bye before they left for his manor house in Essex. “I’ll miss you.”
Cursing, he took her face in his hands and kissed her as though he wished to claim her for all eternity. As though he intended the passion contained in that kiss to sustain them both for every second they were apart. When it ended, she was weak-kneed and gasping for breath.
As far as good-byes went, she had to admit it was rather splendid.
With a heart-melting grin, he unlocked the wine-cellar door and peered outside. “No one is about,” he said. “Leave now, and I’ll follow in a few minutes.”
Just as she was about to sneak out, he laid a hand on her arm. “I almost forgot. What will you be at the masquerade?”
“Wouldn’t you like to be surprised?”
“No. I need to be able to keep an eye on you—for your protection and my own sanity.”
Warmed by the sentiment, she decided to spare him the torture of keeping her disguise a secret. “Red Riding Hood. And you shall be the wolf.”
“Fitting.” He nodded approvingly. “And my grandmother will be … the grandmother?”
She arched a brow. “Well done.”
“I have no doubt that scarlet will become you,” he said huskily. “Be sure to keep the costume
after the ball … I may have other uses for it.”
Her belly flipped at the delightfully wicked suggestion, but her last words to him were sober. “The last thing you need right now is a distraction. Please focus your efforts on simply … surviving tomorrow night.”
Chapter THIRTY-THREE
“Where the hell is your costume?” Darby asked. He’d stalked across the ballroom and up a half flight of stairs to stand beside Alex on the mezzanine overlooking the dance floor, opposite the large doors at the entrance.
Alex glanced sideways at his friend. “I could ask the same of you.” Darby’s only nod to the evening’s masquerade theme was a black scarf with eye holes tied around his head.
“Lady Thorndike told me I resembled a raccoon,” Darby said with a shrug. “I’ve decided to embrace the idea.”
“You’re a better sport than I.”
“That’s hardly newsworthy. But honestly, how does the host of a masquerade ball manage to avoid wearing a costume?”
Grudgingly, Alex pulled the wolf mask from his jacket pocket and held it in front of his face.
Darby cowered in mock horror. “Never mind. Those menacing eyes and sharp teeth would frighten all but the sturdiest of maids.”
“I would wear it,” Alex said, tossing the mask onto a small table next to the mezzanine railing, “if it didn’t make seeing so bloody difficult.”
“A rather weak excuse for refusing to participate in the evening’s festivities. How many pounds did that mask you’re not wearing cost you?”
“I don’t know,” Alex admitted, “and I don’t think I want to.”
Chuckling, Darby nodded toward the dance floor below. “This is an excellent vantage point.”
Alex surveyed the silk-draped walls, the glittering chandeliers, and the colorful, animated crowd. The costumes lent an air of debauchery to the evening—and while he wasn’t opposed to a little wickedness, he didn’t want it occurring anywhere near Beth.
Unless he was the source of said wickedness.
His chest tightened at the sight of her wearing her scarlet, hooded cape. A pale blue gown peeked from beneath the vivid red silk, and her hair hung in long, loose curls down her back. Even now, as she mingled with guests near the entrance of the ballroom, he imagined sliding his hands beneath the folds of her cape and hauling her body against his.
But she’d been correct yesterday in the wine cellar when she’d warned him that he didn’t need distractions. Much later tonight, after the last guest had left, he’d go to her. For now, he dragged his mind to the present.
“The view from here does suit our purposes nicely,” he said to Darby. “I assume all is going according to plan?”
“Of course. I followed Newton and his wife from their front door to yours.”
Alex had spotted them when they entered. “The monk in the brown robe and the nun in the black habit?”
Darby nodded.
“Anything suspicious about Newton’s behavior?”
“No.” Darby scratched his head. “He and his wife were arguing about something as they alighted their coach, but I couldn’t make out the conversation.”
“Try to discover what that’s about. I recently arrived myself, only a quarter of an hour ago. Haversham is the sorcerer. Or some sort of magician. He’s wearing the long, white wig, a fake beard, and a blue cloak.”
Through the round holes of his black scarf, Darby quickly directed his shrewd gaze toward the marquess. “He’s certainly easy to spot in that brilliant blue,” Darby remarked.
“Agreed,” said Alex. “Interestingly, he is already foxed, slurring his words, and swaying on his feet. He’s had a glass of brandy in his hand since arriving, but he must have started drinking beforehand. I can’t decide if his drunkenness will make the task of tracking him easier or considerably harder.”
“With any luck, he’ll soon pass out under a table and remain there for the better part of the evening,” Darby remarked, squinting at the dance floor. “The woman dressed as a gypsy—is she Lady Haversham?”
“No, Lady H. is the peasant on the other side of the dance floor wearing the short skirt.” She was raising eyebrows as she twirled and batted her eyes at a sailor. “I’m not certain who the gypsy is.” The woman flirtatiously waved a scarf in front of Haversham’s face, causing his jowls to shake with mirth.
“At least you should have plenty of entertainment as you track Haversham throughout the evening. I hope Newton proves to be half as amusing,” Darby said.
“Nothing would please me more than a boring ball,” Alex said soberly. “I’d consider it a great success if tomorrow’s gossip papers proclaimed it uneventful, unremarkable, and dull.”
“We will adhere to the plan then.” Turning businesslike, Darby pulled a watch from his pocket, and Alex did the same. “I have half past nine.”
“As do I.” Alex slipped the watch into his waistcoat. “We’ll meet here at half past ten, and every hour after.”
“And if either of us doesn’t show at the appointed time, the other will go in search,” Darby confirmed.
Alex nodded. “Right, because if either of the suspects leaves the ballroom, we follow.”
“And if we do exit the room, we leave our scarf or mask behind as a clue to the direction we went.” Darby rubbed his chin and grinned. “What could possibly go wrong?”
* * *
“What is that on your arm?” Beth squinted at the untidy mass of feathers strapped to Meg’s wrist.
Her older sister, dressed in a flowing Grecian gown, held up the fluffy glob and stared at Beth, incredulous. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“It looks like a bird and a squirrel had a terrible row and neither won,” their younger sister, Julie, declared.
“I was afraid of that,” Meg said with a sigh. “The twins made it for me. It’s supposed to be an owl, and I’m supposed to be Athena, of course.”
“The goddess of wisdom,” Beth said approvingly. “Very apropos for an ex-governess. You look lovely, as always. Which god did your husband choose? Let me guess. Ares—god of war?”
Meg rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “The twins insisted that he dress as Zeus and made him a lightning bolt to carry. He refused to wear anything approximating a toga, however, claiming that the lightning bolt is all the costume he needs.”
“I do hope he’s wearing something besides the lightning bolt,” Julie murmured.
Smiling, Meg shook her head. “You’re incorrigible—do you know that?”
“Be careful,” Julie teased, brandishing her bow. “I have a quiver of arrows, and I’m eager to use them.”
“Whoa, Artemis.” Beth arched a brow at her younger sister, who wore a gorgeous silvery tunic and a crown of white and yellow flowers on her head. “Where did you find the bow and arrows?”
“Uncle Alistair’s attic. He never gets rid of anything.” She smiled at their uncle as he chatted with the dowager duchess a few yards away. “Doesn’t he make a wonderful Renaissance man?”
“Indeed,” Meg agreed. “He enjoys playing the part. When I greeted him earlier, he told me he couldn’t linger as he was off to enjoy a pint with his merry men.”
Beth smiled, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Throughout the day, even as she’d been rushing to and fro, overseeing preparations, and arranging flowers, she’d been remembering her time with Alex in the wine cellar.
His words played over and over in her head, so many times that she’d started to believe it wasn’t just a lovely dream. Everything she wanted—love, respect, and passion—was hanging in front of her like a golden ring. All she had to do was reach out and grab—
“Red Riding Hood.” Amused, Meg waved a graceful hand in front of Beth’s face. “You were miles away. Be a good girl, and tell your dear sisters what’s going on in that mind of yours.”
Beth swallowed. Should she? The happiness that bubbled up inside her was almost impossible to contain, and she longed to tell them about Alex. She, Meg, and Julie had always shared every
thing, and after all the heartache they’d suffered together—their parents’ deaths, their financial struggles, the ridicule of the ton—they deserved to celebrate the good things too.
But a niggling voice inside her said it was best to keep their relationship to herself for now. Her sisters wouldn’t understand why he hadn’t asked for Uncle Alistair’s permission to court her, or why she had to leave for the duke’s country house the next day. They would have questions. Questions Beth couldn’t quite answer.
“I’m just delighted that we’re all together and that everyone is well,” she said.
She prayed Alex was well. She hadn’t seen him all day and had started to doubt the wisdom of inviting the suspects into his house. But at least she knew who they were, and she had instructed a trusted footman to keep a close watch over both the sorcerer and the monk and to alert her immediately if either gentleman’s actions seemed suspicious.
“That answer was vexingly vague,” Julie declared. “But I shall spare you further interrogation as it appears that a knight is coming to your rescue.”
Thinking that her sister must be referring to Alex, Beth’s breath hitched in her throat. But when she looked up, it wasn’t him, but an actual knight. Or, rather, a gentleman wearing the white mantle and red cross of a Templar knight.
He strode toward them, made a predictably gallant bow, and flashed a charming smile directly at Beth.
“Good evening, ladies.”
Beth extended her hand. “What a pleasure to see you, Mr. Coulsen.”
Chapter THIRTY-FOUR
Over the last hour, the size of the crowd had doubled. The orchestra’s music floated up to the mezzanine, and dancing had commenced. Alex scanned the throng for a brilliant red cape. “Any developments on your end?” he asked Darby.
“Nothing significant. The discord between Lord and Lady Newton seems to stem from his unwillingness to invite her parents to his house party next month. He said he can’t bear her mother’s incessant chatter. She replied by saying that at least her mother doesn’t cheat at charades.” Darby shook his head in disgust. “Makes me damned grateful to be a bachelor, you know?”