Page 2 of The Moonstone Pirate
“Oh, then you are a guest here as well?”
“Not exactly.”
Imogen tried to study his expression, but who could see anything behind these dratted masks? “You are being quite mysterious…Draco.”
“Am I?” He still had his hand tucked under her chin, and a handsome smile on his lips that was beginning to irk her because he was making her body tingle.
“Yes, you are purposely evasive, and you know it.” This man clearly understood the effect he was having on her, because his smile, in addition to being rakishly appealing, was one of conquest. Well, he would have to think again if he believed she would surrender to him so easily. “You stood on the steps as though you owned the place.”
“Did I?”
Ugh, she wanted to add smugness as well as arrogance to his traits. “Yes, but you are certainly no footman. I get the impression you are used to answering to no one but yourself. I suppose this is just your irreverent nature.”
“Ah, I have been found out,” he responded with a resonant chuckle. “You will grow to like me over time, Butterfly. I’m glad you told me who you are, although I would have figured it out rather quickly, since you arrived in the Marquess of Burness’s carriage, and I hear he has a lovely niece visiting him for the summer. Still, I appreciate your saving me the bother of finding out your name. Will you allow me the pleasure of a waltz when the dancing starts?”
Imogen’s heart beat a little faster. “Yes, my lord…er, Mr. Waring.”
“Draco.”
“Er, yes.”
She still had no ideawhothis Draco Waring actually was. His name sounded like one a pirate might be given, so she assumed addressing him as Mr. Waring was proper. She certainly was not going to address him as Draco when in company.
But the name did suit him. There was an unmistakable ruggedness in his physique that would make him stand out amid more elegant Society.
Yet he was not coarse. There was also an air of refinement about him despite his hard edges. Refined and yet not a man to cross?
Goodness, he was making her head spin.
They spoke no more as her aunt and uncle descended from the carriage and a footman escorted them inside. Imogen easily spotted Aunt Phoebe’s sisters, Henley and Chloe, and their husbands, who looked as murderously unhappy as Uncle Cormac. Henley was dressed as Minerva, goddess of the sea, while her husband Cain, Duke of Malvern, was Neptune. Chloe came as Cleopatra, and Fionn, Viscount Brennan, was Julius Caesar.
Strolling around were angels, devils, more pirates, mermaids, sea gods, ancient queens, jesters, faeries, farmanimals, vegetables, harlequins, and one or two more butterflies. Imogen recognized some of the local gentry despite their costumed disguises, but many of those in attendance were strangers to her. The ball was a crush, just as her Aunt Phoebe had feared, and many guests were not from Moonstone Landing.
As some of them began to spill from the house onto the expansive garden that overlooked the cove waters, Imogen followed. Most had grabbed glasses of champagne as they made their way outdoors, so she did the same but merely sipped hers, since she preferred to remain alert among so many people she did not know.
One of the reasons Uncle Cormac was so irate about their new neighbor throwing this splash of a masquerade ball, which would be talked about throughout Cornwall, was because people, when hiding behind a mask, often did things they would never do were they clearly seen. Imogen had to agree, for there was a group of men in a corner of the garden near the cliff walk already laughing boisterously and behaving in a loutish fashion.
A few of the gentlemen stopped jokingly shoving each other and took notice of her.
She walked in the opposite direction.
Another frustration for her was that since everyone was hiding behind a mask, how was she, or any of the other unmarried young ladies, to meet eligible young men and discern their true nature when she could not tell who they were?
One thing for certain—she did not wish to have anything to do with those unpleasant louts who were still staring at her.
The only gentleman she had met so far was Draco Waring, resident pirate, and she had no idea whether he was a decent fellow or someone else to be avoided at all costs.
“Butterfly, you should not be wandering off on your own,” the pirate himself said, as though conjured in her thoughts.
She turned to him as he came up behind her. “I only thought to catch a breath of air. It is quite crowded in the ballroom.”
Was he following her?
She meant to chide him, but smiled instead when she noticed he had a dog by his side, a rather large animal with curly brown fur and floppy ears who was remarkably well behaved, considering all the disconcerting activity going on around them. She could not tell what he was, no doubt because he was a confusing mix of breeds, but there was something quite loveable about his appearance, and he seemed to have a pleasant disposition. “Is he yours, Mr. Waring? May I pet him?”
“Yes, of course.” He nodded. “Parrot is a big baby and adores being coddled.”
Imogen knelt to scratch the dog behind his ears and was immediately rewarded with drooling licks along her hand. “Oh dear.”
