Masquerade Secrets Page 7

  He leaned forward in his mount, relaxed, looking over the landscape before returning to her. “Now you have. Care to race to the second hill?” He nodded off in the direction to a hill a few miles away.

  Eyeing the distance, she turned and gave him a bright smile. “Catch me if you can,” she said before quickly bringing her horse into a full gallop. The laugh bubbled out of her chest at the priceless expression on his face as she left him in the dust.

  She raced ahead, enjoying the exhiliration that coursed through her. The world was a blur of colors as she flew over the ground on the horse’s back. Nothing compared to this. Nothing.

  Except kissing the duke.

  The countryside swirled in a collage of colors that made no sense, the crisp smell of wet grass and cold wind mingled with the sweeter smell of the wildflowers that grew sporadically across the hills. Their lazy violets, flirting pinks, and cheerful yellows combined with the sun made the landscape look like a dream, rosy and perfect.

  Maybe that is what this is. A dream. Her racing over the countryside on the back of a horse in the most beautiful landscape she could imagine, with the man of her dreams riding behind her to catch her. That only happened in her dreams.

  With a sudden whoosh of air, Bradford raced past her on his black horse like a demon suddenly released from hell.

  That rosy haze left abruptly as she watched his back proceed further and further in front of her. He was going to win.

  Surprised that he wouldn’t let a lady win, she grinned and urged her horse on faster. The animal needed little encouragement from her rider, seeing the competition race past.

  Aubrey knew that there was no way her sweet mare, no matter how quick she might be, had any chance of overtaking the duke’s magnificent stallion, but that didn’t mean she had to give up and let him win. Oh no, she would make him work for the win and know that she wasn’t about to give up just because of his station. She would challenge him.

  Nearing the tree at the bottom of the second hill, her sweet horse gave all that she had. In the end it wasn’t enough, but it didn’t matter that she hadn’t won. When the duke gave a hearty laugh, one that was full-hearted and carefree, she felt as if she had.

  Jumping off of his horse, he reached out to her to help her dismount. “I think that was the most fun I’ve had in some time. Thank you.” He was only slightly out of breath from the race.

  “It was my pleasure.” An answering smile curved her lips. “I had hoped to win, of course, but I can’t be disappointed with how much my horse gave.”

  “No, indeed. I was quite surprised myself at how fast she ran. Not to mention your underhanded tactics in the take off.” His hands remained on around her waist a tad longer than was necessary, but she didn’t mind. In all honesty, she wished they had remained there longer. “In fact, I am quite scandalized.”

  A laugh escaped her lips. “I’m afraid had you known me a bit better, my lord, you would not be quite as surprised.”

  “Truly?”

  She nodded with a smile. “I enjoy competition and take every opportunity to have the upper hand if possible.”

  His brow rose as he looked at her appraisingly.

  “Unfortunately, I am telling the truth,” she laughed, correctly reading his thoughts. “You may ask my sister, for she has had the brunt of my cunning at times.”

  Laughing, he shook his head slightly. “I believe I might have to test this claim, perhaps later with a game of cards.”

  She sighed dramatically. “Well, I tried to warn you, Your Grace. If I should win at cards, I will remind you that you were warned in advance.”

  Another laugh escaped him. “Do you mind if we walk a bit? After that race I believe they deserve a rest.” He gestured to the horses.

  “Not at all. I think my legs might enjoy the exercise as well. I haven’t ridden like that in some time. At least not since we’ve been in town.”

  “Hyde Park doesn’t allow such racing,” he agreed.

  “Certainly not. If we had raced like that, I don’t doubt that we would have killed someone.”

  He took hold of his horse’s bridle and walked beside her. “We could have killed someone here. The competition was that fierce.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “And it will be just as fierce if we ever race again. I warn you, Your Grace, I shall always try to win, no matter how much your horse might outclass mine.” She thought for a moment. “Perhaps I shall race a stallion next time.”

  He stopped and looked at her in astonishment before chuckling. “For a moment I thought you were serious.”

  “I was.” She laughed as he sputtered. Taking pity on his obvious distressed she soothed, “While I might enjoy the challenge, I rather enjoy my neck the way it is. I don’t think I will be riding a stallion any time in the future.”

  “And I am grateful to hear it.”

  She laughed again, reaching up to give her horse’s neck a brisk rub.

  “Why have we never done this before?”

  His question completely caught her off guard. Turning to look at him, she saw him watching her. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, we have known each other for such a long time. I feel as if I should know you better.” He hesitated for a moment. “You’re much more than I realized.”

  She laughed humorlessly.

  He reached out to touch her arm, stopping her from walking any further. “Forgive me. That came out wrong.”

  She shook her head. “No. I understand. You courted my friend for so long, and I’ve stayed on the edges of the ballroom. Not many men have taken the time to get to know me.” She wasn’t bitter about it; it was just a fact.

  “Our mistakes.”

  The look he gave her was full of sincerity and she wanted to melt.

  “Well, I appreciate that, Your Grace.” She gave him a genuine smile, the bond that had begun to form between them showing plainly on her face.

  “Call me Bradford.”

  “I’m sorry?” His request surprised her. It was too much like their conversation on the terrace that night.

  It was his turn to smile. “I said that you may call me Bradford. Honestly, I do not enjoy being called ‘Your Grace’ as much as others might think. Besides, I’d like to think of us as friends. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes. I’d like that.” Friends. It was more than she could have hoped for from him, and she would cherish any connection to him.

  But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

  She wanted his love and affection. Not because she was the masquerade woman, but because she was herself. Because she was his friend, and so much more.

  She was in love with him. It was more than a connection, more than passion. It was overwhelming, all consuming.

  The realization was enough to startle her into tearing her eyes away from his before he saw too much.

  He wanted her friendship, not her love.

  And she would give it, but it would never be enough.

  ***

  “I have a favor to ask of you,” Victoria said, quietly shutting the door to her brother’s study.

  Looking up from his desk, Derek Haveston, Viscount Lawrence, arched a brow at her. “And what would that be?”

  Victoria smoothed her skirts, trying to appear serene although inside, she was strung as tight as a bow. Her plans to trick the Duke of Wathersby into proposing to her all rested upon her brother’s cooperation, but she knew her brother would never willingly be part of such a plot.

  “I thought it might be entertaining to hold a masked ball here while the guests are in residence. We could easily invite the local gentry. Although it is short notice, I’m sure they would attend.”

  As her brother stared at her, probing her for information, she held still and smiled. Most did not know that her brother was a master at figuring out people’s secrets just by watching their body language.

  “This isn’t another attempt to get Wathersby, is it?” he asked dryly, clearly knowing the answer alrea
dy.

  “Of course not! Why would I ever do such a thing?” she tried to sound outraged that he would suggest such a thing, but deep down she wondered how much he knew.

  The smile that played around his lips told her everything.

  Her shoulders sagged. “All right. How much do you already know?”

  “I know that you started the rumor about Lady Sera.”

  She huffed. “That was hardly anything.”

  “Hardly anything?” He rose from his desk slowly. “You ruined all her prospects of marriage.”

  She picked at an invisible piece of lint on her sleeve. “She seems to have married just fine.”

  “Only because she had to accept a fortune hunter. It is only pure coincidence that she has a happy marriage,” his voice was low. “It is hard to believe that my own sister would do something so self serving, but it is appalling that you would think nothing of it.”

  Her back straightened. “I may not have such firm morals of right and wrong as you, but no matter what you might think, I never actually wished Lady Sera harm. I only wished for the duke to turn his attentions toward me.”

  “And has he done so?”

  “Not exactly, but I thought that this ball would help with that,” she finally admitted. “I am asking for this not to sabotage anyone else, just for a chance for him to get to know me without being tainted by my identity. Is that too much to ask?”

  Her brother sighed heavily and sat in his chair. Excitement bubbled up her throat as she felt a victory. Her brother was about to give in. The twinge that she felt about deceiving both her brother and the duke was pushed to the back of her mind. There wasn’t any other way.

  “Victoria,” he trailed off before continuing. “I feel I must tell you that you don’t need to marry him. I know what father wished, but marriage is a lifetime commitment that--”

  “Stop.” She held up her hand, not wanting to hear any more “This has nothing to do with father.”

  “Really?” Disbelief colored his voice. “I may have been away at school much of the time, but I knew what father wanted of you. And he wasn’t right, Victoria. Women are more than bartering tools, more than a means of cementing an alliance. Father may have wanted a duke as a son-in-law, but he is gone now. You have no need to follow that path.”

  “It is my path now, Derek. It is what I want.”

  Her brother searched her features for the truth before taking a deep breath. “You know that I wish for your happiness. If you would like the opportunity for anonymity I will not stand in your way. When were you thinking of holding it?”

  “In three days time.”

  “So soon? Can we ready things that quickly?”

  She flicked her wrist. “Of course. It won’t be a lavish affair, but with only the guests and a few local gentry, there won’t be a need for much frill. I can easily arrange it.”

  “If it’s what you want, go ahead,” he said before turning his attention back to his work.

  Blocking out her brother’s concern, she made her way to the door. She couldn’t let her brother’s words affect her; she had a duke to catch. “Oh, and one last thing,” she said, turning back toward him. “Might I ask for everyone to wear wigs or powder their hair? It will be so much more fun that way.”

  “Of course. Whatever you wish,” her brother said without looking up. If he had, he might have reconsidered his words. The wicked grin that lit her face was full of plotting.

  “Thank you.” She turned again to leave the room, pleased that her plans for capturing the duke were underway.

  He didn’t stand a chance. After all, Wathersby couldn’t possibly know that she knew about his masquerade woman. The few moments of conversation she had overheard on the terrace were enough to know that she could fool him into thinking that she was that woman. She would just have to remain anonymous and get his pledge before he realized who she was.

  It could work. She would make it work.

  She was born to be a duchess.

  CHAPTER 6

  Bradford paced the length of his room. His muscles flexed in anticipation, barely contained within his starched evening clothes. He was liked a caged lion, prowling the confines of his prison.

  The black mask his valet had procured for him lay on a side table, its crisp ribbons trailing down the side.

  Another masquerade.

  Thoughts of the masked woman filtered through his mind. He could remember her so clearly, so accurately, there was no need for a portrait of her. Her glossy flaxen curls glimmered in the candlelight, her red lips ripe for his kiss. And her figure—he cursed as he felt his body responding to the image his mind created.

  Would he see her tonight? Would the torment he had felt over the last several weeks finally be at an end?

  Since the masquerade had been announced by Lady Victoria three days ago, he hadn’t been able to think of anything else.

  If she was at Viscount Lawrence’s estate, and if she decided to attend, he would see her again. He had to believe that he would know her the moment he saw her in another costume.

  Regardless of whether or not her hair was powdered.

  The frustration that had coursed through him during that announcement returned. If she was there, he didn’t want powder in her hair, he wanted to see her as she was. He wanted to know her.

  Glancing at the clock, he felt adrenaline rush through him. It was almost time to go.

  With a deep breath he grabbed the mask before leaving. With every step he took outside of his room, the caged animal was locked further away as the duke in him returned. It would do him no good to look like a madman in front of all the others that he would dance and converse with.

  Especially Lady Aubrey.

  He stopped in his tracks halfway down the hall. Lady Aubrey.

  Why had she popped into his head just then? He needed to be focused. Focused on finding the masquerade woman. He couldn’t be distracted by anything else at the moment.

  But for some reason she wouldn’t leave his mind. His mind flooded with memories of the ride they shared together days ago. The way the sun shone on her skin, making it look almost translucent. How could he have been so blind to her beauty all the time he had known her? It was true that Lady Sera was all that was fashionable: thin, brilliantly blonde, beautiful. But Lady Aubrey was exactly the type of woman he would want to take to bed every night. Curvy, womanly, warm. In all honesty, it was astonishing that she wasn’t already married.

  Imagining her with another man caused something violent to erupt within him, making him want to haul her off where only he would be able to be with her.

  “Good Lord. What is wrong with me?” Slightly hunched, he leaned against the wall, trying to regain his balance.

  He had had no clue that thoughts of Lady Aubrey were simmering in his mind, but he needed to purge them now. He had made a promise to another lady. Promised that he would only ever want her.

  And he meant to keep that promise.

  Straightening from the wall, he continued on his way to the ballroom with new purpose. The string instruments from the orchestra wept softly through the carpeted hall. The masquerade had already begun.

  Laughter occasionally rolled up the steps, mingling with the music, making him think of another night, another masquerade.

  The excitement he felt to find the woman dimmed after thoughts of Lady Aubrey. But with one last attempt, he pushed her out of his mind.

  “His Grace, the Duke of Wathersby,” a servant announced him at the ballroom entrance.

  All eyes turned to him as they usually did. He had found that when a duke was announced, especially a young, unmarried duke, most people turned to watch him.

  He greeted the few men by the door and nodded to a few others before skirting to the other side of the floor.

  The room was already warm from dancing, and the powder in the women’s hair left a light dusting whenever they turned, mingling with the scent of their perfume.

  If possible, and he really h
oped it was, he wanted to stay on the fringe of the room and observe as many dancing couples as possible. With any hope, he would spot her.

  As another group entered the room, he found it humorous that only the men were announced. The women’s identities were left a mystery.

  His lips quirked at the oddity. Perhaps it would help some of the debutants in their pursuit of marriage since they were unknown and their reputations would remain intact with their anonymity.

  “Bradford.”

  At the quiet, feminine voice, he glanced around, his heart beating erratically. It was her. It had to be.

  “Bradford,” she called again. This time he found the source of her voice. Spying a large potted tree, he moved behind it to find a woman there, her eyes glimmering. It was too dark to tell, but her eyes must be green.

  “Bradford, I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, moving her body into his.

  With a sigh of relief, he wrapped his arms around her to bring her closer into the shadows, away from the crowd.

  A crease between his eyebrows formed. She didn’t fit into him like he remembered. She was an inch taller, making their bodies feel like wrong pieces in a jigsaw puzzle.

  “You knew I would come.” Just because he hadn’t remembered her perfectly didn’t mean he wasn’t glad to hold her again. And just because she didn’t fit him exactly right didn’t mean he didn’t still want her. “I’ll always come for you.”

  Her eyes shone in the darkness, looking at him with longing. He wanted to melt into her, wanted to claim her. But something felt wrong. Glancing up, he saw the powder in her hair and he wanted to howl that he couldn’t see the beautiful gold in the night.

  “I never want to part from you again,” she whispered in his ear.

  Instead of the sound shooting pleasure down his spine, he felt uneasy. “Nor I,” he said, trying to block out his doubts. This was her. This was the masquerade woman. The woman he wanted.

  But an image of Aubrey came into his mind.

  She leaned back and smiled up at him. “Come, let us dance with the others.”

  “First, tell me who you are.”

  She tried to pull back a bit more, but his hands curled around her upper arms. “Does it matter? We are together now. We have the whole night ahead of us.”