The Irresistible Lady Behind the Mask

by Emily Honeyfield

  Keep your focus on the game, else you’ll remain here all night, and he’ll know who you are.

  Thrusting out her chin, she allowed him to deal her some cards and chips. Glancing at what she had in her hands, she bit back a smile. Losing, which was her escape plan, wouldn’t be difficult.

  And so, it was easy for her to quickly and gracefully lose the hand. Nothing would have given her greater pleasure than to beat him soundly. But since she stood the risk of detection, she swiftly rose and excused herself.

  Her delicately carved brows lifted when Hudson also rose, bowed, and said words that got her pulse racing and her heart almost jumping out of her chest.

  “Miss Haddington,”

  How …

  No. It was only a wild guess. There was no way he would know that his childhood friend was behind the mask.

  She let out what sounded like an uneasy laugh even to her ears. “Who’s fis Miss Haddington ye speak of? Ye is grossly mistaken if ye fink am her.”

  Hudson threw back his head, and rich laughter rumbled from his chest. “Oh, Tempest. I can see you haven’t changed a bit. Still up to your old tricks, I presume.”

  Unable to utter a single word for she had been struck dumb by the use of her given name, she could only stare at him with flushed cheeks.

  Her breath caught sharply in her throat when his eyes darkened and moved from her face to trail down her body in the most sensual manner that she had ever been imparted with. His eyes appeared to be taking off the dress right there in the gaming parlour.

  Time stood still as the sounds of the patrons seemed to be coming from a distance as Tempest’s entire being was attuned to Hudson’s mesmerising scrutiny. Her breath suddenly came in ragged gasps when he finally lifted his head.

  With a smile twitching his lips, he said, “I couldn’t help admiring the dashing silk dress you have on. It becomes you with its filmy black silk provocatively clinging to your full breasts and emphasising your narrow waist, falling gracefully to the floor. Funny, I was in Paris a fortnight ago. I couldn’t help noticing this gorgeous silk dress you have on is all the rave there.”

  Tempest’s mouth opened and closed as her brain froze. All the scathing remarks she would have thrown his way looked like they had wiped off her brain. Belatedly acknowledging that she was standing there looking like a fish out of the water, she clamped her mouth shut.

  Enjoying her numbness, he added, “Pray tell, how does a Cockney procure a French dress?”

  Without saying a word, Tempest whirled on her heels and hurried out of the place to her back office.

  “Please watch the door,” she instructed Anthony who had followed her as she slammed the door shut with trembling hands.

  ***

  A twinge of remorse assailed Hudson at the way Tempest ran away from the place. When he deigned to make her aware that he knew who she was, he had expected her to respond with her characteristic wit. He hadn’t envisaged that she would hasten out of the place like a frightened rabbit.

  With just one glance at her the very first day he visited the establishment, he knew she was the one behind her mask. How could he not have known? Despite the fact that he had only viewed her from a distance over the years of their separation, he would recognise her anywhere.

  Startled that such a well-bred lady was in a gaming parlour, he had chalked it down to who Tempest had always been; a stubborn female. He had speculated on whether her father dared her not to go, and just to have the pleasure of defying him, she had chosen to visit the place, and perhaps all the clubs in the city.

  However, when he saw her there again the following night and surreptitiously watched her, he knew there was something more to her being there than causing her father untold worry. The burly man who followed her around made him ponder on what Tempest had gotten herself into.

  Feelings for the girl who used to be his best friend assailed him for a fleeting moment.

  Tempest Haddington.

  He used to think one way or another, their deep and affectionate friendship would lead to marriage. He had been dead wrong. Tempest thought of only one person—herself.

  The old hurt of her rejection came flooding back in waves. Putting a tight rein on his memories, he stalked out of the club angrily. Consumed with pain as his brain baulked and brought out recollections of days after her rejection where he had rushed back to his ancestral home and pondered for hours why Tempest rejected him, he strode out into the cool midnight air.

  Well, it was time to find out now that he was back in London and his engagement was off. If she thought to use that giant of a man to stop him, then she never knew him at all years ago.

  Chapter 9

  “Good Lord, that didn’t just happen,” Tempest muttered as she paced the luxurious Persian rug that covered the floor of her office.

  She hadn’t been able to help running out of the main parlour like a frightened rabbit. Never in her wildest dreams would she have discerned that Hudson would take one look at her and know exactly who she was.

  A small frown puckered her face as she wondered how he had come by that submission. A slight shiver went over her as she acknowledged that Hudson might not be a new patron to her establishment as she had thought. Perhaps, he had been secretly visiting the place in a disguise just like her.

  But why now? Why would he choose tonight of all nights to reveal his knowledge of her?

  Her forehead soaked with sweat as her limbs trembled at the apparent answer. She hastily drew out a chair before she swooned out of discomfiture.

  He knew!

  Hudson most likely knew she had a hand in what transpired between him and Valerie’s father the previous night. There was no other plausible reason.

  Her heart so hammered in her chest, she feared it would jump out at any minute. She brushed a hand over her damp forehead as a shiver of fear went up her spine.

  If Hudson truly knew that she had caused the broken engagement between him and Valerie, she didn’t know what he would do about it.

  Reluctantly, her mind dredged up instances in the past where although in lightheartedness, Hudson had still taken his pound of flesh for a wrong caused by her.

  Unsure if she was still like that, she rose on her wobbly legs and continued pacing, too distraught to sit still.

  Why are you afraid of Hudson? You did the right thing.

  Tempest shook her head as her skirt swirled around her legs. It was the shock of him recognising her that was making her act like a scared mouse, that’s all.

  Straightening her shoulders and thrusting out her chin, she surmised that Hudson could do nothing about it. He was indebted up to his eyes, and he was a compulsive gambler. Even if he still had a knack for revenge, she was too self-sufficient for him to do anything to her.

  She would go about her business as if he didn’t exist; just like she had done for five years. If he dared tell her anything, she would call his bluff and laugh in his face.

  Even at coming to that decision, her heart still raced. Forcing a weak smile on her face, she walked briskly to the door and opened it.

  Her vocal cords were clamped for some seconds. She literally had to force the words out. Her throat bobbed up and down as she swallowed thickly.

  “Anthony, be a dear and see if the man I was speaking to a moment ago is still at the table,” she instructed with a voice she didn’t recognise as hers.

  If Anthony thought her mien was weird, he didn’t say a word. He simply nodded and went to do her bidding. Tempest waited in trepidation for his return, trying to calm her pounding heart.

  Perhaps she should go out some more. If shock was making her act like a ninny over such a trivial matter, then she was living a dull life.

  Anthony returned in his usual quiet manner.

  “He’s no longer there,” he answered shortly.

  Tempest nodded. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

  Shutting the door quietly, she placed her back against it and let out a deep breath. Possibly it was go
od it happened. At least, now she would know better and deal with Hudson on her terms.

  Hasty steps took her to the side table, where she poured herself a stiff drink. She threw her head back as the golden liquid went down her throat to send warmth coursing through her body. Hoping it would also bring colour to her cheeks which she believed were deathly white, she pinched them.

  Composed now to handle even a thunderstorm, she strode to the door and thrust it open. With her usual demeanour of being untouchable, she left her office and returned to the main parlour.

  Her eyes instantly fell on the table where only moments before, she had had the shock of her life. Shaking away the thought, she went about her regular business.

  She interacted with her patrons and employees as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She even managed to play a few hands and won gleefully.

  When it was time for her to go home, her composure had returned, and it was as if the Hudson incident never happened.

  “Goodnight, mistress.”

  Tempest bestowed a small smile on one of the guards as she sailed out of the building. The cold midnight air made her draw her thick woollen cloak tighter. The night sky was beautified with a constellation of stars. The moon stood amongst them like a giant silver ball.

  Anthony silently walked beside her as she made for her carriage, which her coachman just drew up in front of the building. She carefully climbed into it with the help of Anthony who settled himself on the opposite seat.

  Tempest let out a deep breath and removed her mask. She lifted her lacy bonnet. Her fingers reached for the pins in her hair. Removing them, she placed them in her reticule and ran her fingers through her lush tresses.

  It was a silent ride to her father’s London home. It wasn’t unusual for the long trip to be soundless. Anthony wasn’t much of a talker. Tempest occasionally did the talking but not tonight.

  Her thoughts were still on her former best friend. She wished she could ask him how he got to know her identity. For years, she had prided herself as a mistress of disguise, using her mask and several accents to hide who she was. Why, she had even deceived her father once when she couldn’t get away quickly enough.

  After being questioned several times about her identity, it galled her that it was Hudson who finally discovered it. Maybe that was why she was so disconcerted. It had nothing to do with fear at what he would do but all about her bruised ego at being found out.

  “The damned man!” she murmured and looked out of the carriage at the lifeless streets.

  How dare he turn her whole world upside down? The fear that he might tell the whole world who she was melted and gave way to anger.

  Red colour suffused her cheeks as she took solace in anger. If Hudson as much as breathed her secret to anyone, she would make him pay dearly for it. She had no idea how she would go about it, but she would surely do it.

  Her anger dissolved when she saw a carriage parked in front of her house.

  Oh, dear, had Papa decided to retire early from White’s? She would have some explaining to do. Usually, she slipped out of the house and made sure she returned before he did. The day he would decide he didn’t feel like going out, she would sneak out through the kitchen, and upon her return, she would have Mary leave the kitchen door open. Her carriage would be parked some houses down to avoid waking up her father.

  “I should have known,” she said when Hudson deftly swung out of the carriage, and she saw the Strombridge crest on it.

  What now? Was he here to blackmail her? She wouldn’t be surprised if he asked for money in place of his silence. Having no choice in the matter, she would pair. But she knew as night followed day that it would be a perpetual occurrence. For how long did she hope to keep up with his demands?

  Releasing a deep sigh, she allowed Anthony to help her down from the carriage.

  Although her mask was off, she still had on the same distinct dress she had worn at the parlour. She pulled her cloak tightly around herself to hide the dress. It was most likely a lost cause, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

  “Anthony, that will be all for the night,” she reluctantly told the burly fellow who was looking cautiously at Hudson.

  “Are you sure, Mistress?” he questioned, eyeing the silent man by the carriage with guarded eyes.

  “Yes, I’m sure, Anthony.” She offered him a small smile. “I can handle him.”

  Anthony nodded. “Goodnight.”

  With a great show of reluctance, he mounted the carriage.

  “Goodnight, Anthony,” she said in a small voice as the carriage pulled away from the house.

  Thrusting out her chin and trying to appear taller, she slowly walked up to the man who had put asunder on her peace all night. He was still in the clothes he had worn to the parlour. She wondered if he had been waiting here since when he left her establishment. Not that she cared. He must be quite desperate.

  She tried to read the purpose of his late visit in his face, but it was blank. Gambling must have taught him how to put on a poker face. The Hudson she grew up with hadn’t been able to hide his feelings.

  A pang went through her when she recollected how she used to tease him about wearing his heart on his sleeve.

  Quickly she dispelled the memory.

  Reaching him, she looked up and tried to say something witty, but her mouth went dry. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Her tongue dashed across her parched lips as his penetrating gaze seemed to be stripping layers off her skin.

  A flush stained her cheeks as she realised that she was gawking at him. Her eyes lowered as she tried to pull her flailing emotions into control.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of this night visit, Hudson?” she questioned silkily. “Are you here to rob me? I’ve got no gold on me.”

  Flicking away the cheroot he was smoking, a slow, warm smile spread across his handsome face.

  “What need do I have for gold when my eyes have found something more worthy,” he proclaimed, trailing his eyes over the softness of her hair which fell across her shoulders and over her back, her face, and her figure.

  Heat suffused Tempest’s body. Even though she was adequately covered by her thick cloak, she felt his eyes removing every inch of her clothing, just the way he had done at the gaming parlour. Indeed, Hudson was a paramour. She had done Valerie a lifetime favour by being the cause of their broken engagement.

  Sexual tension hummed in the air. Her stomach gave a wild lurch when Hudson drew closer. She could smell the cigar in his breath. Oddly she was drawn to it.

  “I came to apologise for startling you at Salisbury’s.”

  His words permeated her thoughts, and she took a step back. He was much too close for comfort, and she was beginning to lose her senses, standing this close to him.

  In a shaky, breathless voice, she replied, “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does,” he countered quietly. “I shouldn’t have sprung it on you the way I did.”

  Tempest shrugged. She wanted the conversation at an end so she could run away from him. Never had she thought that Hudson would have so much devastating effect on her senses. Besides, she believed her father would return soon. Seeing his daughter and the man he had hoped she would marry would definitely give him the wrong ideas.