Page 84 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Forty-Two

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

—Wordsworth, “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud”

Elizabeth’s heartbeat acceleratedas she watched the medley of colors swirling around the dance floor. She thrilled at the contrast to her bland life, unexpectedly happy she had decided to come to the masquerade. She turned to the man beside her.

“It is dazzling, is it not?” she asked.

“You are far more breathtaking.”

Her heart fluttered in reply, her being partly uncomfortable with a stranger’s praise and partly pleased by his compliment. Was it so wrong to be warmed by his admiration? Was tonight not all about deluding herself? About escaping her reality?

“You flatter me, sir,” she responded, glad her blushing remained well hidden.

“Au contraire, I do not do you justice with my words, Lady Virtue.”

“I fear tonight I feel more like Virtue Fallen,” she said honestly, glancing at her dress, her heart pounding, not knowing what else to add to the blunt revelation.

His muscles tensed beneath her hand. Was he shocked? Repulsed? She’d not meant to mislead him into thinking she was looking for anything, and her mind scrambled for something to correct any misinterpretation. Her nerves tightened like the strings of a violin, each second a peg turning, adding tension.

“Well, Virtue Fallen. I am concerned you may hurt yourself. I respectfully request to remain by your side to catch you as you fall.”

Elizabeth scanned the room, noting the many scantily clad women and the men who were lewdly vying for their attention. It was overwhelming, and she wanted no part of it. She looked at the man beside her, wishing she could see his eyes, for they would tell her more about him than his words. She glanced at the crowd again. Sophia had picked well, as he’d been kind and considerate so far. She would do far better staying by his side than on her own out there.

“Monsieur Réclamation,” she finally said. “I would be honored to have agentlemanby my side.” She hoped he caught her emphasis.

He turned to her, removed her hand from his arm, and raised it to where his lips must lie beneath the mask. “My Lady Virtue Fallen, I am honored. I vow I shall be here should you need me.”

She would swear there was sincerity in his voice, and it sent an uncomfortable tremor through her body.

“Would you care to dance?” he asked when the music for the current set came to an end.

Elizabeth agreed, and he bowed, sweeping his arm toward the dancers. They walked to the outskirts of the dance floor as the first strands of a waltz floated through the room. They joined the promenade, side by side, marching along with the other revelers. She looked straight ahead, anxious to sneak a peek at her partner, but her mask blocked the opportunity for a sideways glance.

Ahead of her was a woman with a wig of golden curls, her shoulders draped in a luxurious red velvet hooded cape. Beside her a man was swathed in black, the snout on his mask entirely wolfish. She grinned. She was following Little Red Riding Hood and her wolf. Oh, that could lead to nowhere but trouble.

Abruptly, the music changed. The wolf turned, planting his hip beside Little Red Riding Hood’s, one arm across the front of her cape, the other clutching her hand and holding it over their heads. Little Red Riding Hood looked to the wolf, and the smile she bestowed on him made Elizabeth blush. There was no disguising the heat emanating between the two.

“Lady Virtue?”

She turned to look at her masked man as he pivoted to face her. Monsieur Réclamation extended his arm across her midriff, clasped her waist, and pulled their hips close together. He took her right hand in his left and pulled her tight to his side, looking down at her.

“Are you afraid?”

His muffled voice seemed an odd mix of concern and challenge. She hesitated. Was she afraid of him? She should be, but oddly, she was not. Elizabeth glanced around at the circle of dancers immersed in their own illusions. On the other hand, she was not at all comfortable with the likes of them. She would allow herself this dance, then go home. It would be adventure enough.

“Non, monsieur,” she said. “I am not afraid of you.”

They slowly turned. It was an odd sensation to stare at a mask, to sense the intensity of a man’s gaze but not see his eyes. There was a connection nonetheless. Elizabeth was acutely aware of his hand at her waist, of the press of his hip, and of the security of his grip on her hand. Mesmerized, she felt fluid, pirouetting in perfect synchronization to his direction. Their dancing seemed endless, and lost in the movement, she did not notice the increase in tempo until he leaned in and whispered, “It is regrettable, but my favorite part of the waltz has finished. I find myself overheated. Could I interest you in a stroll in the gardens to refresh before a more energetic quadrille begins?”

Her heart beat a staccato, echoing in the chambers of her head as she heard her voice from a distance agree. He pressed a hand to the base of her back as he steered her toward the open doors to the veranda. He leaned in closer as the cool night air awakened her from her stupor. What was she doing?

“Monsieur…” Where to start? How did she explain to him that she should not have accompanied him outside? That she was not, nor ever would be, Virtue Fallen? That regardless of how neglectful Richard was, she loved him with all her heart and could never be with another?

He cocked his head to the side, waiting for her to finish.

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