Page 13 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
When she grew quite parched, she flung the dance card from her wrist and conveniently dropped it into the middle of a drinks table so no one would know it was hers and try to secure another dance with her. Snatching up a glass of lemonade, she hurried to the side of the room, gulping the liquid to try and quench her thirst.
Seeing across the room that a man was looking at her, a man who was clearly debating asking her for a dance, she stole away to the nearest exit. Clambering for the door, she pushed it open, hardly aware where it led.
She stumbled outside and onto a stone terrace. There were a few other men gathered here, some smoking and taking in the air as they looked up at the moon. At the far end of the veranda was a group of ladies, all gossiping and so caught up in their conversation they didn’t seem to notice anyone else beyond their circle.
Repeatedly raising the glass to her lips, Juliet hurried down a flight of stone steps. They led from the terrace to a second stone veranda beneath the first. This one was mostly covered by the first, with a canopy of ivy and roses over her head. Hurrying into the space that glittered with the occasional shaft of moonlight shining through the spaces, she breathed deeply, thankful for the fresh air.
There was something mad to her about tonight. She had no doubt done as her parents wished of her, dancing with many men in the hope that she would someday soon secure a suitor and marry, as her sister had done, but she had taken little pleasure in it.
There is only one dance I have enjoyed tonight.
She walked through the ivy arch, tipping the lemonade glass to her lips once more when she saw a figure at the end of the path. Stumbling to a stop, she nearly dropped the glass as she stared at the figure. She should not be here alone, not with any man.
Without a chaperone, it would be scandalous indeed; then she saw the man thrust a hand into his hair and brush it through. The dark curls were noticeable, and despite the fact she knew she should retreat, that at once she should find the canopy of others, as this was most improper, she found herself walking forward.
Is it him?
Her heel on the stone path blared, and he jerked his head up. Turning, he angled his head around, revealing the thick black mask on his face and those bright blue eyes that looked silver in the moonlight.
It’s him.
Chapter 4
“It’s you,” Edward whispered, watching as the lady walked towards him with a glass in her hand. Her lips parted as she looked at him as if in shock to find him here. “I take it from your expression you have not followed me then?”
“Followed you? No.” She shook her head, laughing at the idea. “Though I will admit, I am not running in the other direction now I have seen you here.”
“You’re quite safe with me,” he assured her, his eyes darting over their secluded position.
He’d come out here in desperate need of some air, finding the whole performance that people were conducting inside the ballroom infuriating. He had danced with many ladies, and not one of them had had a true and open conversation with him as the lady before him had done. In fact, they had all spoken the same things about the weather that this lady had most particularly avoided.
He beckoned her forward with a tilt of his head, and she approached slowly, placing her glass down on the stone balustrade of the terrace.
“It was quite a dance we shared,” he whispered, stepping closer towards her. They both stood beside the balustrade, a single hand each on the stone. The tips of his fingers were a mere inch from hers.
“It was memorable.” She slowly nodded, her lips spreading into a smile once more.
His eyes darted over the parts of her face he could see. He saw the delicate jawline and the full lips, but the eyes were still what captivated him the most. That unusual colour, something he was certain he had never seen anywhere before, even in his travels across the globe, he could not forget.
“I’d hate for it to be the last dance like that.” He inched his hand forward, his fingers sliding against her own. He wouldn’t have blamed her for running from him right now, pulling back her hand and hurrying back to the ballroom, but she did no such thing.
“Then perhaps we will meet again some night as this.”
“Perhaps,” he whispered. “Or you could tell me your name now? Then I can make sure we’ll meet again.”
Her lips spread into a smile.
“Or it could dispel the magic entirely.”
“How do you mean?” he asked, tilting his head as he moved closer to her. He was so near now he could steal a kiss. He was on the precipice of it, so near that his eyes kept darting down to her lips.
“You have been a sprinkle of magic tonight,” she whispered softly. “But is the mystery of one another part of the magic? Or if I lifted this mask, would you be quite disappointed?”
“Ha! I find that impossible to believe.”
“Or it could be true.” She continued to smile despite her words. “We could leave tonight as what it is, a dance to remember.”
“Maybe I cannot have the pleasure of knowing your name, but it does not quite have to end here.” He looked down at their hands, turning them together so they ended up completely clasped. It was no longer just the teasing touch of a brush of their interlocked fingers but a rather passionate grasp.
