Page 45 of A Secret Infatuation
“So true. I had forgotten. Ah, tragic.” Lady Sophia sighed and, falling back into character, matched his light tone. “So we are destined to meet only in a dream.”
“I fear that is true.” His voice was deep, revealing more of his feelings than was wise. The introductory notes for the cotillion began, saving him from slipping his arm around her. “Since we are dreaming, shall we make it a pleasant one and dance together?”
“Yes.” Her face tilted up, and she set her hand on his.
They took their places on the crowded floor, and Felix remembered the part of her disguise that might be a constraint during the dance. He had left his staff in the supper box.
“Shall I hold your arrows for you?”
She tilted her chin and pursed her red lips. “You must not, for they belong to me. How will I be a huntress if I have no arrows?”
He swallowed over a dry throat at this bold version of Lady Sophia. The music began, and he turned at her side to pace the steps with her as he answered.
“Pierce with your gaze, with your voice”—they circled around others in the dance and returned to each other, coming face to face—“pierce with your lips.”
Lady Sophia’s red lips parted, her eyes widening under her mask, and as they were separated again by the dance, his heart beat in his chest—with excitement, but also with trepidation. He had gone too far, revealed too much. And yet, he could not help himself.
“Sir, you do not know me, and yet you dare speak such words,” she said as the dance brought them back together. Her character voice had returned—playful and aloof—and he knew he had not gone irreparably too far.
“How can I not know my Diana, since she is the one I am destined to love?” he answered back. “I must seize this occasion to speak the words, for I might never speak them in waking hours.” They stepped apart, then the music brought them together again.
“Well, then, speak,” she replied, boldly meeting his eyes through their masks. “For when your dream is over, you will have no chance.”
He truly was in a dream, and the words went through him as easily as any arrow. The evening had cast a spell on them both, it seemed, so that they were neither who they truly were. There was no difference of station, no risk of losing patronage, of alienating friends. The evening had woven its magic, and he would take his chance.
“Then I will speak of my love.” He caught the look in her expressive eyes when they parted and came back together again. “The woman I love is pure of heart, incorruptible, and not like lesser mortals.”
She remained silent as they separated, and he looked into her eyes when they came together again. “The woman I love is strong and able to raise her voice to defend the weak. She settles the disputes of the proud.”
He saw doubt in her expression. She did not think he was speaking of her; he gave her hand a squeeze when they met again.
“She is graceful and elegant, and no other mortal can compare to her beauty.”
There was still uncertainty in her eyes when the music reunited them for the final chord. He stood as close as he dared—close enough to pull her into an embrace though he refrained. He held her eyes for a long moment, and when he spoke his voice had gone husky.
“The woman I love has pierced my heart and made me unfit for anyone else.”
The dance was over, and the partners gave their reverences. Felix bowed deeply, and when he rose, saw that she had remained frozen. He took a shaky breath.
It had been bold. She could choose to pretend he had been speaking in character if she did not return his regard. Or…she could reveal her knowledge and allow him to speak in earnest. One look at her, and he feared she was not ready. To spare her the embarrassment of having to decide, he took her arm and led her outside of the rotunda as people crowded on to the floor for a reel.
He did not wish to end their time together but did wish to avoid the very real temptation of inviting her to sit on a bench in a darkened alley where he might kiss her. The lure was strong, particularly after the words he had poured into her ear. He saw Grantly leading Miss Edwards to the rotunda and feared that Robert would come their way. He did not wish for him to mar what was for Felix a moment of perfection.
“Shall I bring you to your friends?”
Lady Sophia was still quiet; perhaps she, too, was attempting to sort through whether they were dreaming or awake. She inhaled and shook her head. “No, that will not be necessary.”
He knew he should release her to her family, but any struggle his conscience had put up was gone, and he abandoned the attempt.
“I feared to monopolize the hours of the prettiest lady at the ball, but I cannot, in good conscience, release you without protection into this crowd. It appears my dream is to go on a bit longer.” He smiled at her, feeling the truth in his own words.
Dimples made an appearance in her cheeks, and the way she leaned into him gave him hope that she felt at least something of what he did. A loud boom caused them both to start, and he looked around before recognizing the smell of gunpowder followed by another boom. A flash and crackle in the air caused them to turn their focus upward, where the sky filled with bright lights like a starburst that faded into darkness.
“Oh,” she said, her lips parted in amazement.
“Fireworks. Is it your first time to see them?” he asked, leaning close to be heard and catching the whiff of bergamot in her hair. She nodded, and another boom sounded, followed by another flash of light. He felt her flinch and took her hand, putting it on his arm to steady her. He watched her face as the white and gold tones of her loo mask and the powder in her hair sparkled in the light.
“Beautiful,” he said, looking at her.
