Page 82 of Love Abandoned

“My lady.” His voice was a husky whisper. “No need to fear me.”

His breath caressed her ear, and goose bumps raced across her skin in response. The man’s heat enveloped her. She’d grown chilled in the cool April air, and his warmth was almost welcome. A shiver ran a path down her spine. She tried to turn to see him.

“No.” It was a command, not a request. “Let me hold you until you are fully recovered.” He inhaled slowly as he traced a path from her earlobe to the base of her neck. Her skin tingled along the trail.

Elizabeth did not like her response to this man at all. “Sir!” She pulled away and rotated to face him.

He was dressed as a domino, cloaked in black. His face was covered with a mask, its beak almost striking her nose as she turned. He didn’t say a word as she stared at him. Between his mask and the dark cavern created by his hood, she could not see his eyes. She sensed his returning gaze. Did he think her rude? Ungrateful for saving her from a fall?

“I would be your protector this evening, should you wish it.” His voice was quiet behind the mask, and with the noise of the crowd, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. He repeated himself and was clearly waiting for a response.

“I’ve no need of a protector,” she stated with a calm that was pure facade. She took a deep, steadying breath. The man smelled like…Sophia! He must be one of heramanti. Had Sophia assigned him the task of taking care of her?

He tilted his head as though he was considering her. “An escort, then. To see you safely onto the dance floor.”

Safely. Surely his use of that word was not a coincidence? This was what Sophia meant when she’d said she would see her safe. Elizabeth should have known Sophia would not leave her floundering alone. She was too good and caring a friend.

Elizabeth decided it could do no harm for the domino to escort her into the ballroom. It was not as though he would be ushering her into a dark hall or a back room. As unsteady as she was feeling, a firm arm ensuring she did not trip again would not go amiss. “Yes. That is fine. An escort to the ballroom.”

“As you wish,” he said, bowing. He clasped her gloved hand in his and pressed a faux kiss above it.

Those words. Such a simple conditioned response on his part. If life had unfolded as she wished, she would not be here tonight.

He presented his arm, and she placed her hand upon it. Together they waited in line to enter the ballroom. Neither of them spoke. Sophia stood regally at the far side of the foyer, greeting her guests. Even from a distance, her costume made Elizabeth’s seem tame. Dressed as a man, with her hair down in a queue draped over one shoulder and only a corset under her jacket—supporting and displaying her ample breasts—Sophia was anything but masculine. Her shapely hips and legs were outlined in her snug knee-length trousers, and her stockings were the sheerest Elizabeth had ever seen. And no mask for Sophia. Elizabeth envied her boldness, her lack of care for society’s esteem.

Eventually they stood before Sophia. Elizabeth smirked beneath her mask at the surprise on her face. It was clear Sophia believed Elizabeth would have forfeited the masquerade. That she had no courage whatsoever. Well, it was a pleasure to prove her wrong. She’d have to tease her about it tomorrow.

“My Lady Virtue.” Sophia’s voice was neutral and void of recognition. “And?” She looked pointedly at the man by Elizabeth’s side.

“Monsieur Réclamation.” He bowed, taking Sophia’s hand and miming a kiss over her glove.

Sophia laughed at his introduction, and Elizabeth felt as though she had missed a joke. Sophia looked from Elizabeth to the domino and back again, several times. Elizabeth did not doubt Sophia was as taken aback by the fact that Elizabeth had accepted the man’s offer of accompaniment as much as she was surprised by Elizabeth following through and attending the masquerade. Sophia would assume Elizabeth wouldn’t know she’d put the man up to it and would be too cowardly to allow him to escort her. Well, she had proven Sophia wrong. Twice. She could hardly wait to rub it in tomorrow.

“My Lady Virtue. Monsieur Réclamation. Please.” Sophia gestured toward the ballroom behind her. “Enjoy the evening.” Her small smile blossomed to a full grin before she turned to the next guests.

Elizabeth hesitated. Sophia’s grin had been unmistakably lecherous. After she teased her in the morning, Elizabeth would need to explain that she’d quickly surmised Sophia was behind the domino’s offer. She’d not leave Sophia believing he had caught her interest. The man placed her hand on his arm, turning them to face the ballroom. He patted her hand paternally, and it allayed any unease she had that he, too, might misconstrue her reasons for letting him lead her to the floor.

Slowly, in unison, they entered a carousel of the spectacular.

*

“Hell and thedevil.”

“What is it?” Walford asked, leaning over to look out the coach window.

Richard did not realize he’d said it out loud, but he might as well explain himself. Walford would find out anyway. “Elizabeth,” he said, panic, frustration, and desire rolling into a single ball and spinning in his already too full mind. “Sophia assured me she would not be here tonight.”

He’d recognized Simon first, but even had he not, he’d know Elizabeth anywhere. By God, she looked exquisite, even after she put the mask on. He pulled out his fob and checked the time. It was over two hours before their assignation. He grabbed his ridiculous mask and tied it on. “I’ll meet you at the summerhouse at midnight. It’s not as though I will not recognize you.”

“You’ll smell me first,” Walford said and sniffed his cloak, which was identical to Richard’s. “Did the countess wash these in her perfume?”

Sophia’s scent had filled the coach, and Richard had also speculated about it.

“Catherine will wonder what I’ve been up to tonight.” Walford chuckled, then grew serious. “I may need to tell her. I’ll not have her suffering from misunderstandings.”

Richard did not miss the accusation, and it irritated him. “Do what you must,” he barked, pushing at the door and hopping out, tempted to slam it shut. He caught himself before doing it, recognizing he was behaving like a horse’s ass. None of this was Walford’s fault. He’d been a true friend throughout. He leaned back in, almost catching his beak on the frame. “My apologies.” His voice was oddly muffled behind the mask.

“None needed,” Walford assured him, grabbing his mask, an exact match to Richard’s, except the black-and-white coloring was reversed. “Let’s see this done, my friend.” He offered his hand, and Richard shook it before closing the door.

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