Page 29 of Unmasked By a Captivating Lady
“Good night,” she said, in as bright a voice as she could muster.
She didn’t wait for their reply. She walked out of the room, not even glancing back once.
***
In her room, she collapsed across the bed, squeezing her eyes closed. As always, when she was alone like this, the vision of what had happened in the stable between the Duke and herself came vividly into her mind once again.
She sighed deeply, punching the pillow. It was like it was haunting her. Even when she was in company, she would suddenly shiver thinking about it.
She still couldn’t quite believe that such a thing was possible, that it even existed. And yet, sheknewwhat had happened to her. She remembered it so clearly, every sensation in vivid detail. What had happened to her, underneath his hands….
In the days since, her feelings had swung back and forth like a pendulum, from rhapsody over it to deep shame. The Duke had told her that what she had felt, and what happened between a man and a woman, was natural. But she also knew that the Church’s teachings were strict, that such things could only occur between a man and a woman who were lawfully wed.
Who was right?
She punched the pillow again, sighing. It was all so confusing…and the fact that the Duke had not called on her since, to reassure her, added to it. He had gazed at her so ardently, insisting that he must see her again. She had waited each day, in an almost agonising trance, for the knock on the front door. But he had not come.
And the ball was only two days away.
She glanced up, at the gown, delivered just this morning. It was hanging on display, an exquisite swirl of ivory silk and lace. She gazed at it almost longingly. She wanted the ball to come so that she could put it on, and see his eyes when he beheld her in it. She yearned to see him again. It was almost like a fever, consuming her.
She sighed. She simply did not know what was happening to her.
Restlessly, she got up, approaching the dress. Suddenly, she was beset by a violent fantasy. Of wearing it, at the ball, and the Duke taking her aside, to some private place. She could feel his hands running over her body again, kissing her desperately the same way that he had kissed her in the stable, arching her body back, slipping his hand between her legs again, so that those wild sensations started anew…
She felt her whole body flush at the thought of it.
Imagine,she thought.Imagine if he was my husband. We could be alone, and do that, every morning, and every night.
She shivered. The thought was intoxicating. And yet, she had been so adamant that she would never marry. That she did not need, or want, a husband. That a husband would cramp her style, try to control her, impede her freedom to be the person she wanted to be. And now, she was almost longing for it…with him. Perhaps marriage with the Duke would not be the burden that she had always assumed it would be.
She picked up the skirt of the gown, feeling it beneath her fingers. She had never felt this way before, with any man. She had been immune to their charms, and simply could not imagine any of them doing to her what the Duke had done. It was him, and him alone, that was causing this avalanche of feeling and confusion inside of her.
Her stomach started to flutter with anticipation at the thought of seeing him again. In two days’ time, it was going to happen. She would walk into the ballroom and be announced. He would be standing there, receiving his guests. His eyes would meet hers, and they would be drowning in each other’s gaze, once again…
She could barely wait.
***
The next day, as she was lying on her bed, dreaming about the Duke as always, there was a soft knock on her door.
“Come in,” she said.
Ruth entered, gazing at her. Hanging over her arm was her gown for the ball.
“Ara,” she said gently. “I thought perhaps we could try on our gowns together.” She bit her lip. “I would like your advice on what jewellery to wear with it, and I could offer my own, for you…”
Ara smiled, sitting up. She had been neglecting Ruth, as well, in this last week. “Of course, dear cousin. Come in. It would be a pleasure.”
They didn’t bother with the maids. They helped each other into their gowns. When they were both buttoned up and dressed, they turned and looked at each other.
Ara smiled widely. Ruth looked beautiful. Her gown was white, like Ara’s, but in a different shade. Whereas Ara’s gown was pure ivory, Ruth’s was creamier. It was very high waisted, suiting her slender figure, showing off her fine collarbone and elegant, swan like neck. The creamy hue of the gown also contrasted well with her dark hair and pale blue eyes.
“You are lovely,” said Ara slowly, beaming at her cousin. “The gown suits you to a tee, dear Ruth. It becomes you so well.”
Ruth blushed a little, turning to gaze at herself in the full length mirror. “I declare I hardly recognise myself in it,” she said slowly, twirling around. “It seems hardly possible that I shall be going to this ball and wearing it.”
“Believe it,” said Ara, gazing at her cousin’s reflection fondly. “You shall be the belle of the ball! I declare that all the young men shall be clamouring to ask you to dance!”
