Page 16 of Portrait of a Lady
Her heart beat in double time as, one hand braced on the hilt of his saber, he started across the grass in their direction. Her gut clenched. She felt as if she might swoon in a dead faint.
She finally found her voice, though it came out a rough whisper when she blurted, “Dear God, he’s coming this way.”
Hugh tookhis time approaching the woman he felt certain must be Evelyn. Her note had told him she would attend the masquerade dressed as the goddess Diana. While such habits were certainly fashionable amongst theton, and he knew she couldn’t be the only one here dressed as the goddess, Hugh was confident it must be her. It wasn’t only the dark hair he could make out in the light of the lamps, which fit Benedict’s description of her. It was the wide-eyed look of outright terror he noticed as he drew closer.
Upon first glance, one might think her a tempting seductress, her choice of fancy dress both scandalous and daring. She had elected to portray Diana as the moon goddess as opposed to a huntress, in a thin white gown that left little to the imagination. It clung to her bosom, its low neckline displaying an abundance of creamy, pale flesh, and flowed around her hips and legs like a gossamer curtain. The sweeping sleeves hinted at an ill fit, one of them slipping off her shoulder when she moved. He couldn’t help a little chuckle when she swiftly pulled it back up and used a shawl in a display of modesty that lent truth to Benedict’s assessment of her. She was innocent, untouched, and—if her expression was any indication—agonizingly shy.
Drawing closer, he took her in from head to toe and decided that bedding her wouldn’t be much of a trial. She was lovely, her dark sable hair swept into a whimsical coiffure with tiny seed pearls interspersed throughout, undoubtedly meant to symbolize the stars in the heavens. A white mask hid much from him, but he made out a button nose, and a pair of shapely pink lips. Some sort of silvery powder had been applied to her exposed skin, making her look as if she’d been sprinkled with stardust.
As his gaze locked onto her décolletage and held, he decided that if this woman was to be his final keeper, she would do.
She’d do very well, indeed.
Her mouth fell open when he paused before her, flashing his best, charming smile. Hugh had meant to put her at ease, but his nearness only seemed to make matters worse. Meanwhile, the Dresden shepherdess standing beside Evelyn grinned knowingly at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief. A man in a black domino eyed him with caution, but said nothing, acting as a silent guard for the two women.
“Evelyn, I presume,” he said when she merely stood there staring at him.
There was no need for formality between them, not when he’d been hired for the express purpose of becoming this woman’s bedmate. Best they breeze through the pleasantries and establish some sort of rapport as soon as possible.
The shepherdess nudged Evelyn forward, and she gripped her shawl tight over her bosom with one while offering him the other.
“Yes,” she croaked. “And you must be…”
Her voice might be soft and sweet, if not for the shaky nervousness gripping it.
“Hugh Radcliffe, at your service,” he murmured, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles.
She wore no gloves and neither did he, the first touch of her fingers against his warm and stunningly pleasant. As he straightened from the kiss, he couldn’t help but stare down at her hands for a moment. They were beautiful, with long, graceful fingers—the sort of hands that would make perfect subjects for sketching practice. Which only reminded him that were he to attempt sketching or painting them, he’d probably muck it up.
“It is nice to meet you, Mr. Radcliffe,” she said, her voice losing a bit of its roughness.
Mr. Radcliffe. Apparently, there would be no rushing past the formalities with this one.
“The honor is all mine,” he replied, maintaining a loose hold on her hand.
She didn’t seem in a hurry to pull away, though her fingers did tremble against his palm. The poor thing seemed ready to turn and flee.
“You’ve arrived just in time,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “Have you ever witnessed the performance of the Cascade? It is really something.”
Her gaze flitted to the curtain closed over the attraction that was only unveiled a few times each night. “No, I cannot say I have.”
“You will enjoy it, I’m sure,” he said, stepping a bit closer.
He detected her scent, a pleasant bouquet—jasmine, musk, and what he thought might be orange blossom. Large, dark-brown eyes lifted to meet his, and she drew in a slow breath as if to calm herself. Meanwhile, his body reacted with predictable intent, his cock stirring as his gaze fell to where she used the shawl to conceal the tantalizing view of her cleavage.
“Well then,” the shepherdess chirped. “The two of you ought to enjoy the Cascade, while Joseph and I go find some other form of diversion. Come, Joseph.”
Evelyn gave her companion a panicked glance, but the other woman pretended not to notice as she looped one arm through that of the man in the domino.
“Do not worry about us, Miss,” the woman said. “Joseph and I will find our way home, and I’m certain Mr. Radcliffe will be happy to see you there safely. Won’t you, Mr. Radcliffe?”
Hugh held in a laugh at the eagerness he detected in her voice. She seemed determined for Evelyn to enjoy herself this evening, despite her obvious trepidation.
“Of course,” he said, mostly to Evelyn. “She is perfectly safe with me.”
“As I thought,” the shepherdess said with a decisive nod. “Good evening.”
“Good-bye, Patience,” Evelyn replied, giving the shepherdess a scathing glare through the slits of her mask.
