Page 51 of An Offer for a Spinster
“No forgiveness needed,” she said, chuckling. “I can hardly blame you for being on your guard. But worry not, I have no designs on you. I have no intention of marrying; of that I can assure you. I really did come out here for quiet. Now, I think that I’ve offended you, so perhaps I will take my leave.”
She moved as if to go back inside.
“Stay,” William said, before he could stop himself. She glanced back, eyebrows raised questioningly. He bit his lip. “You’re rather refreshing,” he confessed. “You seem honest, and frankly, I’ve spent the whole evening being surrounded by people, and yet I feel more alone than ever.”
She flashed a quick, hesitant smile. “I know how that feels. Feeling alone in a crowd. It’s awful.”
She moved back to stand beside him, the two of them resting their arms on the wall and looking out over the dark garden.
“I don’t believe I heard your name?” William ventured at last.
“Because I didn’t give it,” she responded. “Isn’t that the point of a masquerade? To guess who’s beneath the mask? I knew you at once.”
“Yes, but I’m not wearing a mask,” he said, feeling just a little piqued. “I don’t know. How can I guess your name?”
“A clever man like you could find out. Or perhaps the intention is anonymity. Giving a person a mask is the best and quickest way to find out who they truly are. People will tell you the truth, if they wear a mask. And, of course, if they think they can get away with it.”
“You have a cynical view of the world,” William observed.
“Perhaps I do. But I’m convinced it’s the wrong view. What about you, your Grace? Do you like to see the best in people? Do you believe that with a little courage and love, all the problems of the world can be overcome?”
There was no escaping the derision in her voice, and something else simmered there, too. Bitterness, perhaps? She kept her eyes fixed on the dark horizon, and with the mask and the poor lighting, it was impossible for William to read her face.
“Perhaps that’s a simplistic view of the matter,” he said at last. “But I do believe in the power of love. Not in the way that novels claim, of course. But let me illustrate. I have three siblings, whom I adore. I would do anything for them, risk anything. At the very moment, I am pursuing marriage, which is all for their good. Left to myself, I would choose differently, but I am willing to sacrifice my own personal happiness to see that my family are safe. If we all took that attitude towards the ones we love, surely the world would be a better place.”
She moved to face him, her eyes shadowed.
“I don’t doubt that you believe that,” she said, after a long pause.
“But… but you don’t believe it?”
She bit her lip, glancing back towards the half-open French doors. Heat and light spilled out, along with a flurry of applause and laughter, as the most recent dance came to an end.
“I would like to believe it,” she said at last. “I think I really must go.”
“Dance with me,” William said, before he was even aware of what he was asking. She glanced at him, face blank. He flushed yet again, feeling like an awkward schoolboy.
“I haven’t danced at all tonight,” he admitted. “I’m not in the mood for it, but it’ll look odd if I don’t dance at all. And since I’m fairly sure you aren’t out to catch me, perhaps you’re a safe wager.”
She chuckled. “I adore your honesty. But I have no choice, do I? A lady can’t turn down an invitation to dance. I’m not sure it even is an invitation, but a request. No, not even that. A demand.”
“Well, I am certainly not demanding that you dance with me. I can withdraw my request, if you like, you can simply refuse me, and I’ll never breathe a word.”
She smiled, shaking her head. “I really believe you would. No, your Grace, I shall dance with you. Let’s go inside.”
Inside, William watched the reactions of other people to his mystery lady. She had still not revealed her name, and he didn’t bother to ask her again. She would tell him if she wanted him to know.
He spotted a thunderstruck Lady Everett in the crowd, with a miserable-looking Miss Figg beside her. There were a few other mammas and their daughters watching him prepare to dance, eyes flitting over to the mystery woman. He saw their gazes narrow and guessed that they did not know who she was, either.
The music began, and so did the dance. William moved mechanically, aware that he had no real grace or even any love for dancing. The blue domino mirrored him, her movements all ostensibly graceful, but without real soul.
“You don’t like dancing, do you?” she remarked once, when the dance slowed down enough for them to speak.
“Neither do you,” he responded, and earned himself a smile.
“Everybody is looking at us.”
“Yes, I haven’t danced all night. I said so.”
