Page 6 of A Masked Lady for Mr. Kenworthy
Mayson had described the interior of the marquess’s manor to her in detail, so it did not take her long to find the door to the study. She took a deep breath, but she could not stop her hand from trembling as she reached for the study door key Mayson had given her when explaining her task.
She squeezed hold of the key so as not to drop it, steadying the hand holding it with her other as she guided it toward the lock. She forced herself to remain calm. She had made it this far, and soon enough, the entire thing would be over. Then, she could return home, secure in the knowledge that her mother would get the care she needed, and Mayson would, for the time being, be satisfied. With one final deep breath, she quietly turned the key in the lock and pushed her way inside the study.
Chapter Three
Thomas approached an unoccupied space at the refreshment table with a smile on his face. The woman wearing the dress and mask, which so perfectly matched his own outfit, had intrigued him a great deal. He was still not convinced she had not purposely stepped on his foot, as she was rather a wonderful dancer. Perhaps, he thought with a pang of guilt, she had noticed he was distracted as they danced had merely been trying to get his attention. It was quite rude, after all, to ask a young woman to dance and then not pay her any attention. Especially a woman with beautiful, wide-set pale-blue eyes like hers.
Thomas gave himself a firm mental shake. However beautiful she was, he had not come to the masquerade ball to find love. He had a mission, and that was where he must focus all his concentration tonight. Besides, he had made a vow three years prior to never open himself up to falling in love ever again. After losing his sweet wife Ruth, he knew there would never be a woman he could love as dearly as her. They had fallen in love the very moment they met, and their love had been deep and passionate, something straight out of a fairy tale. Losing her had broken his heart utterly, and he could never allow himself to care for another woman ever again.
Forcing himself to come back from his thoughts, Thomas reached for a flute of champagne. He drank it more quickly than was sensible, but he needed to clear away the memories of Ruth. He could not allow his emotions to compromise him, so he lost his concentration. Too much depended on him completing his mission successfully, not least his own career. As he placed the empty flute on the tray of a passing servant, a blur of movement caught his eye. He looked up, his eyebrows raising as he saw the woman in the dark blue dress hurrying along the far wall of the ballroom. He watched curiously as she glanced quickly over her shoulder and then slipped quietly out of an open door. He smiled to himself again, imagining her slipping away to catch her breath. The ballroom was indeed quite full of people, and it was widely expected that it could become overwhelming for a young woman.
As he glanced at the clock, however, his smile changed into a suspicious frown. It was just before eleven, and Rupert had told him that he had it on good authority that the vestibule should be clear by that time of the evening. Although she might have been merely trying to escape the large groups of people in the ballroom, something about the way she had glanced over her shoulder lingered in his mind. Why should she make such a gesture if her intentions were innocent?
He quickly scanned the ballroom, looking for any sign of Rupert. The two of them were supposed to rendezvous outside the ballroom at five minutes after eleven. Rupert was wearing a simple black suit, but for the purposes of Thomas being able to spot him in a crowd, he had tucked a large, bright green handkerchief into the pocket of his black jacket. After several moments surveying the crowd, Thomas still saw no sign of his partner. With a sigh, Thomas decided to follow the woman alone. In all his years of working in espionage, Thomas had learned through difficult past experiences that, sometimes, one had to engage plan B and act alone to avoid missing important opportunities for information. He regretted being unable to pass along a message to his partner, but Thomas knew he would regret it more if he wasted time in trying to find a way to do so. Besides, if Rupert got the message and came looking for him, he might compromise whatever Thomas managed to uncover.
Without further hesitation, Thomas casually slipped out of the ballroom, glancing around once more for any sign of Rupert. Finding none, he turned his back on the room for good and quietly slipped out into the aisle. He glanced around quickly, hoping his hesitation had not cost him his chance to tail the woman. His hopes were quickly dashed, however. There was no sign of the woman anywhere. Thomas glanced around, tiptoeing forward and trying to figure out what his next move should be. He approached a short aisle, which led to a small, plain door at the back of the manor. It was only paces from where he was walking, and Thomas let out a breath. Of course, the young woman must have been going out to the garden to get some fresh air after all. The door explained how she had disappeared so quickly. Thomas shook his head, smiling at his previous mad thought. He began to wonder if he was letting his work affect the rest of his thinking far too drastically.
Satisfied, Thomas returned his attention to the task at hand. He briefly considered returning to the ballroom and proceeding with Rupert as planned. It could not be more than seven or eight minutes past eleven o’clock, and Rupert would likely still be looking for him. But he decided since he had already gone this far, that he might as well commit to his decision to continue alone. He glanced behind him to be sure no other guests had suddenly decided to slip away from the ball and then made his way to the aisle directly in front of him.
He used his knowledge of the typical layout of manors in London to navigate. As it happened, many of the rooms sat with open doors, which surprised Thomas. A man as deeply involved in criminal activity as the marquess was would typically keep his manor tightly under lock and key, especially with a ballroom full of guests, any of whom might steal away from the party at any moment. Then again, a true criminal genius would know that locking every room in his home would seem suspicious, even to the most ignorant guest, and so leaving most of the rooms open would be prudent. He allowed himself to hope that the study was unlocked. Though, deep down, he knew that no sensible criminal would ever be so foolish.
The surprise he felt when he reached the study door and found it unlocked was astounding.Good Heavens, the marquess has indeed left his study door unlocked!He froze as the knob turned with ease in his hand, and, for a moment, he forgot what it was he was supposed to be doing. He could not imagine why the door would be so carelessly left unlocked. To Thomas, the reason for doing such a thing could not be good. His heart began to race, and once more, he considered rushing back to the ballroom and fetching Rupert. Any number of scenarios was possible at that point, and he would surely be better off with his partner than going into any situation alone blindly. But before he was even aware of having made the decision, he turned the knob once more and prepared to step inside the study.
The sudden sound of sneezing stopped Thomas in his tracks.Someone else is in here,he realized with sudden horror. He tried to recall whether he had seen Lord Turlington mingling with his guests before he had slipped out of the ballroom, but he could not. He had been focused on spotting Rupert, not on whether the marquess was at the party. Under normal circumstances, the host would never leave his own party. But these were far from normal circumstances, and the marquess was far from the normal host. However, Thomas was too close to the final part of his mission to back out now. For good or ill, he knew he must press forward and pray for the best. He reached into his jacket pocket, withdrawing the pistol he carried for protection in such situations. Then, with one final deep breath, he quietly opened the study door and stepped silently inside. When he saw what was happening inside, he froze. His mouth fell open, and his breath ceased.What the hell…
Chapter Four
Faye quickly closed the door to the study behind her, wincing as it made a loud click. She had never done anything like steal into a room in which she did not belong and certainly not at someone else’s home. She realized after her mistake that she should have closed the door slowly and quietly to avoid alerting anyone passing by to the fact someone was entering the room. Though she had not seen any servants as she had hurried through the hallways, she was aware there could be other guests who had left the ballroom for their own reasons. There was nothing to be done for it now, however. She would simply have to pray that no one had seen or heard her enter Lord Turlington’s study.
Faye set her jaw, took a deep breath, and started making her way over to the large desk. The room was lit only by the moonlight streaming in through the window and what she assumed must be a sconce mounted on the exterior wall of the manor just beside the window. As such, much of the room was concealed in shadow, and she had to move slowly, so she would not bump into anything and snag her dress. Or worse, knock over something that would make a loud crash and guarantee someone would catch her snooping. When at last she reached the large mahogany desk without incident, she let out a soft sigh of relief.
She felt her way around it until she was standing just beside the shiny black leather chair. She knelt, doing her best not to bump the chair out of its place. Though Lord Turlington would never be able to guess it had been her in his study if he noticed thatsomeonehad been in there and word got around theton,if Mayson really was mixed up in something criminal, it might be linked to him somehow. And, if that happened, Faye was certain he would do everything in his power to make life miserable for her and her mother.
To her dismay, the first two drawers on the side of the desk where she knelt were locked. She tried the key Mayson had given her, with the halfhearted hope that Lord Turlington had only one key for each of the locks in his office. But, as she had expected, the key did not open the drawers. She would have to hope the black journal was not in one of those drawers. She was as helpless at picking locks as she was at stealing into rooms, and she did not know if she could ever open any of them. How would she even go about doing such a thing in the first place?
The top drawer granted her some reprieve. It opened immediately when she tugged on it, and she let out a soft laugh of triumph. She prepared to stand to look inside the drawer, but she dropped the key. Muttering a silent curse, she reached down and picked it up, then began to pull herself to her feet once more. However, she temporarily forgot that the top drawer was open, and she bumped her head on the bottom of it. She blinked, cursing again as the feathers on her mask fell into her eyes, bent by the impact of the drawer. She also heard something make a plinking sound as it hit the floor, and she closed her eyes in an effort to contain her anger. She felt around on the rug until her fingers clasped around a hairpin, which had apparently been knocked loose when she collided with the drawer.
To make matters worse, a large piece of hair fell down the side of her face opposite the feathers, which were now dangling just above her nose. She eyed the freed pin, then shook her head firmly. She could hardly take time to tend to her unruly hair. She had already lost too much time through her embarrassing mishaps, and she needed to get what she came for and leave before she was discovered. She quickly rose to her feet, careful to avoid the open drawer, and rummaged through its contents. Of course, there was no big black book inside. She rubbed the tender spot on her head, looking around the desk frantically. The other drawers were also locked. And she could not see any more drawers on the other side of the desk. She nervously fondled the pin, which was still miraculously in her hand, even after her digging in the drawer.
An idea began to form in her mind. She had no way of knowing whether it would work, but it seemed worth a try. She raised the pin to her eyes, squinting in the dim light as she worked to straighten it as much as she could. She succeeded in little more than separating the ends from one another, and she had to hope it would be enough. After making a point to close the top drawer, she once more knelt, tilting her head to the side so that the moonlight would illuminate the lock. After several attempts with her trembling hand, she managed to slip one end of the pin inside the drawer lock. She took a deep breath to stead her shaking, so she could proceed with her attempt to open the lock.
Suddenly, however, her nose began to twitch. She had only a split second of horrific realization before she began sneezing. She tried to cover her mouth with her hand, but three loud, high-pitched sneezes escaped before she was successful. But, as she put her hand over her face, a tickling sensation on the end of her nose sent her into another fit of sneezes. She tried holding her breath while she looked up, seeing the feathers of her mask dangling down just above her nose. She stifled a groan as she realized they were the cause of her nasal irritation. She made a split-second decision. She could not continue her sneezing fit, making enough noise to draw someone’s attention surely. So, she reached up and removed her mask, quickly tucking it into her bodice.
She had just managed to arrange the mask to keep the feathers away from her nose without being uncomfortable when a chill overtook her.Pray God, what was that?She froze, realizing with sudden horror that she was no longer alone in the room. She closed her eyes, hoping it was simply fear and strain affecting her and that the sensation of eyes watching her would pass. Instead, however, it only intensified. She swallowed hard, hoping the sudden nausea overwhelming her would also pass. Despite having heard the soft but distinct click of the study door closing and latching into place, she prayed she would find herself alone when she turned to face the door. Slowly, she turned around and opened her eyes, only to have her fears confirmed.
There, just inside the closed study door, was the gentleman with whom she had danced. She could have allowed herself to wallow in that surprise had she not seen the flash of silver in his hand. Her mind raced back to her conversation with Mayson, where he had arrogantly brandished his pistol and threatened her mother’s wellbeing if she did not do exactly as he ordered. Her blood turned to ice, and her body refused to move a single inch. She tried to open her mouth to speak, to say anything, but she could not. The memory of Mayson’s pistol paralyzed her, as did the sight of the one she could now see shining in the pale moonlight. Though it was lowered at his side, she knew that could, and likely would, change at any moment. She prayed for a miracle, for the floor to open up and swallow her to put an end to her torment, or anything to save her! But it seemed as though time itself was suspended, neither she nor the masked gentleman speaking a word or moving a muscle.
After another agonizing moment, Faye managed to meet the man’s gaze. His eyes, of course, were trained directly on her, and she thought she saw a measure of fear mixed in with the wary suspicion. Perhaps he was equally as surprised as she was. She did her best to think quickly because her very life could depend on what she said or did next. The thought only added to her fright, and she remained utterly motionless and speechless. What exactly was Mayson involved in? What had he gottenherinvolved in? Was there any hope of her escaping Turlington Manor alive?
“What are you doing in here?” the man asked, causing Faye to jump out of her skin.
She stood staring at him, more afraid now he had spoken than she had been during the preceding heavy silence. As he continued to stare at her face, she remembered with horror that she had removed her mask. Her hand flew instinctively to her bodice and lingered there hesitantly. Then, she saw another flash of the gun, and she realized two things. First, it would do her no good to retrieve her mask and cover her face now. The gentleman had already seen her, and having her mask on would not change that fact. And second, if she reached into her dress, for any reason, the man would likely think she was going for a hidden weapon. That would almost certainly lead to him actually using his gun on her, and she did not have any weapon with which to defend herself. Mayson had not concerned himself with such detail. Why should he?
Quickly, Faye put her hands back down at her sides. On instinct, she forced herself to keep her hands open, rather than clasping them together in front of her or clenching them nervously into fists. But when the man-made no move to put away his weapon, she knew she had already set him on edge. She felt as though she might faint from the tension of the moment, and she closed her eyes, cursing herself for making such a foolish move while trapped in a room with a man with a gun.
“What are you doing in here?” the man repeated. But his voice was softer, and he seemed to be more curious than angry or suspicious. Perhaps he was only trying to make himself sound that way, but it was just enough for Faye to come somewhat to her senses. She remained where she stood, offering him a sheepish smile.
“Please, forgive me,” she said. “You gave me such a start. It took me a moment to remember myself. The hem of my dress has come undone, and I was looking for a place to sew it up again.”
