Page 216 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

“And then it will be farewell?”

“Yes.” There was an implacable note in his voice.

For a mad moment, she thought of lifting her mask and introducing herself, of asking him to call upon her and see if, indeed, they could be friends.

But that was a fruitless notion. He’d already said he was leaving on the morrow, and that their time together that evening was at an end. She had enough self-respect not to throw herself at him, pleading that he stay a little longer. And how foolish was that impulse? She hardly knew the man.

Instead she took a quick swallow of brandy, then pulled her now-warm feet from the footstool and fished about for her damp slippers.

“When will you be returning to Town?” she could not help but ask. Maybe it would be soon, and they might further pursue their acquaintance.

“Never.”

“Oh.” She straightened and met his gaze. “I am very sorry to hear that, Count Nikolai.”

Sorrow crept in under her ribs. Why did this man, who seemed to enjoy her company without the knowledge of her name and reputation, have to leave London, never to return? The knowledge was a stone in her chest.

It wasn’t fair.

“Life seldom is,” he said, and she realized she’d spoken the words aloud.

“Well,” she said, tying the laces of her slippers. She ducked her head so that he wouldn’t see the foolish brightness of tears lurking in her eyes. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord.”

“It was.” He held out a stiff arm to help her rise and escort her from the parlor. “I won’t forget you, Mademoiselle Red. Or this night.”

“Neither will I.”

Already the memory of him and their kiss lodged, bittersweet, against her heart. She feared it would haunt her for years.

CHAPTER FIVE

Damnation,he was an idiot. Sebastian escorted Miss Eliana Banning back to the ballroom, made her a low bow, and then left her there. He could feel her gaze burning his back, and he ruthlessly smothered the impulse to return and take her into his arms, to spend the rest of the night dancing with her, making her smile. Talking with her, which had revealed a deeper and more curious mind than he’d ever guessed.

What had he been thinking, kissing her in the garden? She’d nearly recognized him, and only the thick snowflakes had saved him from embarrassing discovery.

He clenched his fists and stalked down the hall to retrieve his coat and hat. The experiment of the masquerade was over, and it had cost him more than he wanted to admit to let his true self out for the evening.

“Good evening, my lord,” the butler said, opening the door for him. A scatter of snow whirled into the entryway. “Would you like me to send for your carriage?”

“No need.” He gave the man a nod, and stepped out into the snowy night. Only when he was well away from the house did he remove his wolf mask and replace it with his top hat and muffler.

In fact, he did not have a carriage waiting. The only one at his disposal was decorated with the royal Sayn-Wittgenstein coat of arms, so instead he’d paid for a hansom cab to bring him to the ball.

He could hail another one, but it was satisfying to be out in the snow. His greatcoat kept him warm, and his boots crunched through the thin coating of snow on the ground.

The gaslights were fuzzy blobs lining the street, and the sky held a luminous glow. He squinted up into the snowfall, which seemed endless, and a sudden wave of homesickness washed over him.

Not a yearning for the palace in Berleburg, though, but for his childhood, when life was uncomplicated and the winter holidays were a time of sheer delight. Before he’d been sent away to boarding school, and learned that showing joy—or any emotion—was a weakness worthy of pummeling.

Tonight, he’d let his guard down. He hadn’t expected to, yet wearing a mask and shedding his title had allowed that boy inside him to peek out. To smile a little, and converse openly, and dance.

And kiss Eliana Banning.

If only he’d realized earlier that she was more than the empty-headed beauty she appeared, he would’ve attempted to make her acquaintance. But after the unfortunate mess with Lady Peony, it was far too late. Her opinion of Prince Sebastian was set, and if she learned how he’d deceived her tonight, she’d despise him even more.

He let out a frosty breath, a plume of frustration into the snowy night.

So, he’d had one night of stepping outside the shackles of princedom. It had been an enchanted fairy tale—one where the wolf sheltered in the warmth of Red Riding Hood’s smile, and then let her go and went back to living wild and lonely in the forest.

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