Page 81 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Forty-One

I stood

Among them, but not of them; in a shroud

Of thoughts which were not their thoughts.

—Byron,Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage

Elizabeth had beensitting in the line of carriages for almost half an hour. She was tempted to peek out, but she was afraid she might see a familiar face. And it seemed silly to wear her mask while sitting here all alone. Sophia had arranged for an unmarked carriage so Elizabeth might remain anonymous—and nameless she definitely wanted to be. She would be a fly upon the wall this evening, despite Sophia’s ludicrous encouragement toward an affair. Elizabeth wanted only the amusement of watching one of Sophia’s wild gatherings in action.

She tapped on the seat, then consciously stilled her fingers. She must find patience to sit and wait. It was a virtue, after all. Of course, Sophia wished her to be Virtue Fallen tonight. It seemed she was already melding into the role, since she had little tolerance for the wait.

Elizabeth smoothed her far-too-revealing gown. The single lantern shone on the folds of silk, shimmering white in the darkened coach. She poked at the sheer ebony, ensuring it was firmly tucked into the neckline. She had no desire to spill out unexpectedly. Sudden panic surged. What was she doing here?

Sophia was widowed, was indecently wealthy, and cared not a whit what anyone thought of her. She could do as she pleased. Doubt filled the cabin, almost a visible entity swirling around, threatening to smother her. Who was Elizabeth to think she could be here, should be here tonight? She was a married woman. A countess. Her sigh filled the space, and her spirit sank further. A singularly lonely countess. Without her earl. Still, she could not do this. It was, perhaps, no coincidence this was All Fools’ Day. For she was behaving like one. She should get Simon to pull out of line and turn the coach around. Go home. Accept her lot in life.

The door opened unexpectedly, and Elizabeth bit back a gasp.

“My lady?” Simon’s voice was quiet, questioning.

He was a loyal servant, insisting he drive the carriage, not the man Sophia had sent. He’d not balked at her attire. Although he’d not seen it fully, as she’d covered herself with a cape when she’d left the house, it must have been evident this was not her usual state of dress. While waiting, she’d slipped off the cape, and he was getting a good look at it now. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment.

“My lady,” he repeated, holding out his hand. He did not reference her by name, and she was thankful for his discretion.

She should ask him to take her home. Return to Thornwood Manor. Walk the halls for another night. Stare into the fire until she was weary. Go to bed. Alone. Elizabeth took a deep breath, placed her hand in his, and put her satin-slippered foot on the step.

“My lady,” he hissed emphatically, “your mask!”

Elizabeth withdrew instantly, falling back on the seat, her heart beating ferociously. She truly was a fool! How pathetically unseasoned. She’d almost revealed herself. She muttered to herself, trying to calm her already edgy nerves. She could do this. Before her hesitation could drive her to return home, she grabbed her mask and tied it under the plumes. She checked to ensure it was secure, tilting her head this way and that. When she was through, she flew out of the coach, barely touching Simon’s waiting hand as she set foot upon the ground.

Simon’s brow furrowed in concern, but he said nothing.

“I know I am quite out of my waters, Simon, but Lady Tessaro will ensure I am not left alone.” She turned to join the stream of people flowing to the mansion.

“My lady?”

She turned back toward him.

“At the risk of being too forward, may I suggest I have the coach ready before midnight?”

“But, Simon, I do not know when I might tire of this evening’s festivities. I’d not have you waiting at the ready for hours. I’ll have one of Sophia’s men inform you of when I am ready to return.”

She made to move again, but his expression was so pained she couldn’t lift a foot. He looked to the ground.

“Simon? What is it?”

“Midnight, my lady,” he said, too quiet for any passerby to hear him. “They reveal themselves at midnight.”

She stiffened.Reveal themselves?If she stayed to midnight, she would have to remove her mask? Simon had known, and she had not. What else did she not know about the evening ahead? Why had she not asked Sophia about all the intricacies of a masquerade?

“Simon, you are correct as usual. I forget myself. Please be ready well before twelve.” She turned away before Simon could somehow see the trepidation racing through her mind.

Elizabeth joined the crowd, adrift in the crush that flowed up the steps. The lack of an escort was equal parts disconcerting and liberating, the thrill of the latter buoying her spirit. She wondered if it was what Sophia enjoyed about widowhood. The heady power of independence.

The grand foyer was much brighter than outside, and Elizabeth felt uncomfortably exposed. She looked around at the paintings lining the walls, at the carved detail of the ornate cornice, anywhere but at the people who surrounded her. There was a shout to her left. She turned toward it but was jostled unexpectedly from the other side. She lost her footing, squeaked, and fell backward. It was mere seconds, but it seemed like a moment frozen in time, when strong hands clasped her arms and pulled her tight.

Elizabeth registered the solid wall of a man’s chest at the same time embarrassment infused her face. Her countenance must be splotched with the heat. She pulled one arm free to touch her burning cheek and connected awkwardly with the mask. She tried to fully pull away only to find her rescuer was now her captor. His grip on her arms was gentle but firm.

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