Page 24 of Unmasked By a Captivating Lady
She stared again at her reflection.Thisgown was who she was. And not even the promise of a proposal from a Duke was going to make her change.
Chapter 12
Miles sighed deeply, staring out of the carriage window. He was restless, there was no denying it. Ever since seeing that invitation list for Andrew’s ball, and Lucy’s name on it, he had felt unsettled and displaced, as if the very ink on the page had opened a wound he had thought long healed.
He drummed his fingers on the carriage door. It had been quite a few days since that evening. Quite a few days in which he had managed to strangle down his urge to see Miss Arabella Nott again.
He had been firm in his resolve to avoid her, knowing that it could not end well. His heart was obviously still broken, and he could not play with a young lady’s feelings when he had nothing to offer her. But still her image reared unbidden into his mind. Her flashing, dark eyes, her wonderful candour, the way that she raised her chin when she was about to say something, her not caring what anyone thought.
And the memory of when he had placed his hand over hers that day, and experienced that surge of lightning…
He squirmed in the carriage seat, feeling his heart suddenly beating harder. The carriage was slowing down. He stared out of the window again. He was almost at Bond Street. He could see it approaching.
He sighed again. He had no real reason to visit Bond Street. It had merely been a desire to escape the confines of the house and distract himself. He had thought he might visit Brown’s for lunch, after shopping a bit. But suddenly the thought of it was pure anathema to him.
He rapped on the roof of the carriage. It pulled over slowly. The carriage driver leaned down, staring at him.
“I have changed my mind,” he said quickly. “I wish to go to the Nott’s house, on Whitechapel.”
The carriage driver nodded, pulling out into the street.
Miles leaned back in the seat, his heart beating faster still. He knew it was utter foolishness and indulgence. But suddenly he justhadto see her, again.
***
The carriage pulled over. He got out, gazing at the front door. He was just about to walk to it when another carriage pulled up, just behind his.
He stared back, his heart thudding uncomfortably in his chest. Mrs. Nott was descending, and behind her he saw Ara, staring straight at him.
Their eyes caught and held, for the longest time. It was so long that Miles felt as if time had suspended in some strange unfathomable way.
The next minute, he was being bustled inside by an effusive Mrs. Nott. Ara and her shy cousin walked behind them as they entered the parlour. It was as if he could sense her every movement.
***
“You came just in time,” declared Mrs. Nott, her eyes shining fiercely. “We have just returned from the dressmaker’s, Your Grace, for our final fittings for our gowns for your ball.” She paused. “My daughter looks a dream in her gown! I do declare that you will not be able to take your eyes off her!”
Miles smiled slightly, his eyes sliding to Ara, who was perched on the edge of the chaise lounge. He watched a slow blush rising over her face, at her mother’s words. She squirmed uncomfortably.
“Mama!” she hissed. “You should not say such things…”
“On the contrary,” said Miles, his smile widening. “I am sure you will look enchanting in your gown, Miss Nott. I can hardly wait to see you…”
Ara’s blush deepened. “It is just a gown, Your Grace,” she said quickly. “And there shall be many other lovely young ladies there, will there not? The ball is your way of assessing them all, do not forget.”
Miles felt a stab of dismay. It was so easy to forget that it wasn’t his ball at all. That he was lying to her in pretending that it was. But he was so deep into the lie now that he simply didn’t know how to backtrack his way out of it. He could hardly blithely declare to them all that he wasn’t actually the Duke of Lancaster, but his younger brother, while they were all gazing at him so avidly.
He stared at Ara. He longed to tell her that he didn’t care a whit for any of the other young ladies, and that the ball was for his brother. That he cared only for one young lady…and it was her.
Suddenly, the constraints of the parlour were too much. He wanted to speak to her alone if he could manage it. But how?
“Let us not think about the ball,” he said slowly. “It is a fine day. May I propose a walk in Hyde Park?”
Ara’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! That would be wonderful!” Her eyes slid to her mother. “Mama?”
Mrs. Nott smiled indulgently. “Of course, my dear, it is a grand idea.” She turned to the Duke. “I shall accompany you, as is proper, of course. We should head out before the day runs away from us entirely.”
***
