Page 2 of The Lord Next Door I Wished For
Was it worth it?
That remained to be seen. She just had to hope she didn’t get caught. And that it wasn’t all in vain.
Luke just had to be at this masquerade tonight.
And she had to believe that he was still the same fun-loving, understanding friend she recalled from her youth. He was…wasn’t he?
It had been nearly a decade since she’d last seen him, but he couldn’t have changed that much, could he?
Surely he’d remember his neighbor who’d kept him company on so many outings. It was she who’d taught him how to catch frogs, after all. And they’d learned to ride at one another’s sides.
Surely he’d be happy to see her and would help her if he could…
“There it is, miss,” Sally said as they approached a large building that was brightly lit from within. From the street, Jane could see the candelabras, along with the crowd that already filled the great hall.
Was Luke in there? She narrowed her eyes to peer into the brightly lit ballroom, but couldn’t make out more than silhouettes.
“We’ve made it this far,” Jane said. She hoped Sally couldn’t hear the quiver of nerves in her voice as she forced a cheerful grin. “Shall we?”
She and Sally forged ahead, reviewing their plan as they went. They’d go their separate ways once inside, but at the stroke of midnight they’d meet again on the corner they’d just passed so they could sneak back into Madame Bellafonte’s finishing school with none the wiser.
Hopefully.
That was the plan, at least.
It was a plan she felt good about—until she entered the masquerade.
She blinked at the sudden noise and chaos that met her once inside the entry.
“Have fun, miss,” Sally shouted, her smile filled with glee as she let go of Jane’s arm and dove into the fray.
“Fun,” Jane echoed as she let the crush carry her along further into the sea of party goers. A lady’s high, shrill laugh to her right made her flinch, and then a man knocking into her left shoulder made her wince. But it was the sight of all these masks that had her insides shrinking and her belly twisting, because…
How was she supposed to recognize Luke when every man here had his face covered?
The best image she had to recall her old friend was from the last time she’d seen him. He’d been twelve to her ten, and nearly as scrawny as she.
He’d had hair the color of gold and the same sharp, regal features as his mother. Though his had typically been softened with a smile, whereas hers were permanently puckered in a look of worry.
Surely he’d matured and aged just as she had. Buthowhad that boy grown? She assumed he’d be taller, but by how much?
A slender man jostled past her just then as if to make her point. She had no notion how he’d developed. Was he gangly or round, broad shouldered or narrow? Was his hair still fair or had it darkened to be as brown as his father’s?
Her heart fluttered as the true foolishness of her plan became evident. Small as she was, the crowd caught her in its midst, moving her ever forward as surely as if she were a leaf adrift in a river.
She found a spot to stand on the edge of the revelry and craned her neck this way and that for a golden-haired boy.
Er, man.
She supposed he was a man now. That much she knew to be true. Hewasa man, and a marquess to boot. Her lips twitched as she thought of all the ways she might tease him.
Assuming he still knew how to poke fun at himself.
When her friend Jocelyn had informed her that she had an interest in marrying Luke, Jane had pointed out that he might very well have grown up to be just like his father.
She hoped not. His father had been the very worst sort of oaf. A cruel bully and a pompous, stuffed-shirt buffoon.
May he rest in peace.
