She gasped in fear.
“My injury was the merest scratch, although if I had not turned, it would have killed me. I carried him to the surgeon, who managed to spare his leg, but a fever ravaged him. During the worst of it he talked of this ball. I rashly promised that if he lived, I would attend this year. And I am now glad of my promise, for I have met a goddess.”
She should not say what she felt, she thought, or she might spoil the magic of this evening. Yet she must take the chance, for the shadow of pain in his eyes could not be denied.
“I think, my lord, there is much you do not say - about the war, yet you feel it still. My father once told me that war scars a man’s soul. Mayhap now, in this season of peace, it is time to put your memories in the past, celebrate that you and Gregory are alive, and take your joy from the simple pleasures, like the smell of roast goose, or a waltz beautifully done, or the touch of a loving hand.”
He gazed into her eyes so intently, she felt he burned away the mask and could see straight to her heart. Instead of an answer he lowered his head and kissed her.
His lips rested so lightly against hers that she felt no fear. They were soft, gently caressing. She could not help parting her own lips to more fully enjoy the delight.
When he raised his head, his mouth curled at one corner. “You mustn’t blame me, for we are sitting beneath a kissing bough.”
“I am not angry, my lord.” How could her voice sound so calm when she trembled inside?
She knew little of men. Papa and John Coachman. What she had discovered with Lord Finchley’s touch shook her to her core. She was twenty-one years old, and, as Minerva had stated more than once, on the shelf. The delights hinted at by Lord Finchley’s kiss tempted her beyond all reason. This was a side to herself she did not recognize.
“Perhaps we should return to the dance, my lord,” she said quietly.
“Yes, I want to feel you again in my arms.”
He drew her through the curtain to the edge of the dance floor. The ball was in full swing, and no one was there to watch her. She had not been missed by a doting mama. This time she leaned her head into his chest, fearing not what others thought. This was her night of romance and adventure; tomorrow she would be plain old Athena again.
“I must see you again. Tomorrow,” he demanded.
Oddly enough she did not feel panic at such a request, only sadness. Tomorrow she would no longer exist. Not wishing to spoil the little time she had left, she smiled into his eyes. “After you see my face, you may rue your words, my lord.”
“The mask hides very little of your charms, my goddess.”
At his low murmur she stiffened, endeavoring to pull away. He must never recognize her! He allowed her no quarter, keeping his hand low and tight at her waist.
“You go too fast, my lord.” She felt the heat rise in her body and could not keep it from her voice. “A goddess must set her own pace.” She forced a laugh, terrified of the game she played, yet more terrified to end it.
“You have set the pace from the moment you entered this room. You were looking for me, were you not? And I have sought you forever.”
Although shocked by the boldness of his words, she realized they were true. She had come for her sister, but also for him. And she would pay a heavy price. But not just yet.
She slipped her hands up to his shoulders, barely able to resist the urge to slide her fingers into his hair. “I fear you have found me out, my lord,” she teased breathlessly. “Are you quite shocked?”
“What I am, my goddess, is enchanted.” He whirled her into a corner, bent over, and pressed a fleeting kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I think we may both have found more than we had bargained for. And I promise, goddess, I won’t let you go.”
She wished to go nowhere.
They danced through the night, ignoring the others around them. The hours flew by as she learned not only the feel of Finchley’s strong body but also the complexities of his intellect.
At last they could ignore Gregory no longer. Pointedly he continued to place himself at Finchley’s shoulder.
“Dash it, know I’m de trop. Must tell you the whole place is abuzz about you, my lady.” His friendly grin was so familiar and so beloved by Persephone, she couldn’t help smiling back at him, despite the chill of fear coiling in her chest. “Thought I should warn you that every busybody in the room will be staring at you for the unmasking.”
The room came back into focus, no longer just a whirl of sounds and colors through which only she and Finchley moved. She saw her stepmama and Minerva whispering together as they cast her speculative glances. They were not the only ones—even the squire and the vicar’s lady seemed to stare at her. Gregory had spoken true. She had sunk herself beyond reproach.
“How soon until midnight?”
“A few moments. Is something wrong?”
“Of course not.” She began to shake. She couldn’t leave him in the middle of the dance floor, but she had to get away. No one must ever know the brazen goddess of tonight was she.
Her eyes searched the room and found no escape. “I am suddenly parched. If you would escort me to a corner and then procure me an eggnog?”
His arm tightened around her as he led her toward the far wall. “Stay here. I’ll return shortly.” He turned to cross the ballroom.
She waited until all eyes were on him, then quietly slipped into the window seat. She had to get away, but where, how…
The curtain parted, and he returned empty-handed. “I turned to look, and you had disappeared. You must not frighten me like that, my goddess.”
She could not let it end like this. The kissing bough swayed, flickering with candlelight. This was neither the time nor the place for what she felt, but it was all she would ever have. She tangled her fingers deep into his glossy hair, found his lips, and kissed him with all the endless longing in her soul.
Only then did her normal good sense flood back into her wanton body. Slowly she pushed herself out of his arms. He raised his head and looked down at her, his eyes unfathomable.
“Your goddess wishes only a moment of peace and an eggnog, my lord,” she reminded him gently.
“Wait for me!”
The curtain closed behind him. She couldn’t think, but she had to act. She unlatched the mullioned window and climbed through to a balcony from which she could access another room and disappear. She raced down the staircase, her gown flowing behind her, and demanded her cape. She snatched it from the majordomo’s hands, flying out the door without even putting it around her shoulders.
As promised, John Coachman waited for her, ready to return her swiftly to where she belonged.
In the silence of her own chamber, she sadly offered the roses to the fire and then carefully removed her gown. A pang of fear pierced her when she discovered a rosette was missing, but there was no way it could be traced to her. She would have John Coachman search the grounds and the landau tomorrow just to be certain.
She folded the gown, rewrapped it, and hid it at the bottom of the chest at the foot of her bed. Sometime she might retrieve it from its hiding place and relive this night. But she would need no reminders, for the image of Lord Finchley, the feel and the taste of him, were imprinted on her forever.
Trying not to give in to her feelings, she donned her night rail, stole into Minerva’s room, and placed the mask beneath the dresser as if it had fallen there by accident and not been seen. From there she went to Persephone’s chamber. The child was sleeping peacefully, her face soft and achingly young. Morgana curled contentedly into her side.
She knelt beside her. “Persephone, you do not know what you have done this night,” she whispered, kissing her sleep-warm cheek.
Bloody fool! he cursed himself again and again, his lip curling cynically. Fool to have left her side! Fool not to have
learned her name!
Gregory called to him, and he swung around eagerly. The rest of the party had gone in to supper, all their chatter centered on the disappearance of the unknown beauty dressed as a goddess. It would be a nine day wonder for them.
“Dash it, Drew, not a trace of her. Charles says she fetched her cape and made her escape, but he caught nary a glimpse of her carriage.”
“Who is she, Gregory?” He slammed his fist into the mantel, and the candles quivered with his anger. “She said she had not come far. How could no one know such a beauty?”
“A mystery, my lord, and the makin’ of this Christmas ball.” The squire approached them, his hands folded across his stomach. “It’ll be the talk of the county. But there’s naught to be done until morning. Come partake of supper, my lord. A full stomach always helps a man solve a riddle.”
He did not need food! He needed her!
He wanted her. No one had ever kissed him with such innocence and desire mingled together with a sweetness he could still taste.
He swung away, his gaze searching the empty ballroom for answers. He strode to the embrasure and pulled the curtain aside, once again hoping against hope that she might reappear.
He stepped through the window, tracing her route. Just outside the French doors that led to a small retiring room for the ladies, he spied something white on the terrace. He picked it up, excitement coursing through his veins. It was a rosette of muslin from her gown.
“What is it, Drew?” Gregory asked from behind him.
He held it up in the moonlight. “It’s from her gown.”
“ ’Tis not much to go on.”
Not for most men. But for a man of his determination, it would be enough. His family would have to wait. The delectable demirep awaiting him could offer her favors elsewhere. He would not leave Essex until he found his goddess. And when he did, he would never let her out of his sight again!
Chapter 4
To Persephone’s dismay it was Minerva, not Athena, who burst into her room as she sipped her morning chocolate.
“My dear little sister, the Christmas ball was wonderful! Too bad you will never be able to go.” Minerva danced around the room, her fat curls bouncing against her cheeks. “I danced with Edwin, who said he came home just for me, and Gregory, as well as all the gentlemen my age…”
Persephone heard no more, lost in daydreams of dancing in Gregory’s arms. Her affection was of long standing, for seven years ago, when he was twelve and she six, he’d climbed the apple tree in the kitchen garden to fetch Morgana down safely. She kept her feelings hidden, though, even from Athena. She glanced down at her lap, at the heavy coverlet wrapped around her legs, and shut the door firmly on her thoughts.
After a deep sigh she interrupted Minerva’s recitation of her triumph. “Did anything unusual happen at the ball?”
Minerva blinked. “There was a mystery lady. If she hadn’t been there, I would have had all his lordship’s attention—”
“Mi-ner-va!” Mama’s call interrupted her complaint.
“I must fly. Mama and I are making morning calls. The gossip should be delicious!”
Minerva went haring off, leaving Persephone more confused than ever. The mysterious guest must have been Athena. And she had obviously attracted Lord Finchley’s attention, which had been the whole point. So why hadn’t she come to tell the whole tale this morning?
Persephone rang for her maid, and when she appeared, she asked about her sister.
“Lady Athena is not yet up.”
Shocked, Persephone glanced at the clock on her mantelpiece. Athena never slept late. Desperate to discover what had gone on, she ordered two footmen to carry her down to the kitchen. The surprise at her demand sent everyone into a flurry.
“What could have occurred to overset you so?” Cook made another pot of chocolate to calm her and prepared a cozy chair next to the fire, then dismissed the staff to their duties.
“Can you tell me what has happened? Athena has not awakened.”
“But she has,” Cook corrected, her eyes open wide as saucers. “At first light she came down and asked me to have John look for a piece of her gown that be missing.”
Persephone stared up at her, realizing something must have gone wrong with her wonderful plan. “But how did she look last night upon her return from the ball?”
“Like the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes upon.” Cook busied herself with the roast for lunch. “Never knew Lady Athena could look like that. Always thought her hair be colorless. I never seen anything like it.”
One of the downstairs maids poked her head in the door. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am. Lord Finchley and Mr. Randolph have presented their cards. With her ladyship out Mr. Stephens be having an apoplexy. What’s to be done?”
Persephone straightened up immediately and took charge. “Nothing to it. Please have Stephens bring my rolling chair to me at once. Then ask Lady Athena’s maid to inform her I need her in the front parlor. We have guests to entertain.”
Athena stiffened at the soft knock on her door. She wasn’t quite ready yet to talk to Persephone. She hadn’t been able to sort through her feelings and tuck them away. Persephone’s bright, inquisitive mind would pick out the truth in the tales Athena had spent the morning concocting.
“Enter!” she called softly from the window seat, where she had spent most of the night sitting, staring up into a starry sky. She turned a wary eye to the threshold. “What is it, Sally?”
“Lady Persephone has requested you to join her in the front parlor. You have morning callers, and Lady Cummins and Lady Minerva have gone out.”
“Who are the callers?” she asked, already moving across the room, patting her braids into place.
“Mr. Gregory has brought that lord with him.”
A hot flush of fear made her stop suddenly and run damp palms over her gray morning gown. She stared dumbfounded at her maid. “Are you quite sure?”
“Aye.” Sally gazed at her as if she belonged in bedlam.
Of course there was no mistake. And even if somehow they had discovered the truth, she couldn’t leave Persephone alone to face them down. But truth to tell, catching sight of her plain reflection in the mirror, she knew there’d be no way for them to connect her to last night’s goddess. Her hair was pulled straight back, making her look older and colorless. He would never recognize her as the woman who had kissed him so passionately beneath the kissing bough.
For just a moment at the parlor doorway, Athena froze. He might not know her, but she remembered every detail of his chiseled face, his hard, muscular body, his beguiling voice. She could hardly take her eyes off him. Then he turned to look at the doorway and stared right through her. Certain all must see the longing in her eyes, she glanced down and entered the room, taking the place beside Persephone on the rose velvet settee.
“Athena, Gregory has just been telling me the most exciting tale of last night’s ball.”
Her eyes flew to her sister’s face. Persephone knew; her eyes gave her away.
“Go on, Gregory, tell us more,” Persephone urged, turning back to him.
“Dash it, Persephone, it will be the tale of the county for weeks. Before long you will be bored silly with hearing how this beautiful creature comes to the ball, but no one knows her. Drew here scandalizes the county by dancing every dance with the beauty. Then at midnight she vanishes, leaving us all at sixes and sevens.” His enthusiasm did not seem to be duplicated in Lord Finchley.
“Drew has me riding ventre à terre all over the county looking for her. And we have nothing to go on, except the fact that she revealed she lived nearby, and he found this.”
Her pulse pounded wildly as Lord Finchley pulled the missing rosette from his inner coat pocket. Persephone, beside her, started. Did she make the same interp
retation? Was his lordship keeping the rosette close to his heart?
When had she turned into a romantic?
“This was part of her gown.” His deep voice caused heat to seep through Athena’s pores, and she feared to meet his eyes. “Perhaps you know her, Lady Athena? She is tall, slenderly built, and has the most unusual hair. Very fair, with a touch of apricot moonbeams.”
Athena shrank back on the settee, trying to steady her breathing before she forced her eyes up to meet his polite gaze. His eyes looked upon her with indifference, but the sapphire light burned with an intensity that was at once both frightening and bewitching.
Last night she had deliberately kept her voice low and husky. Today she would speak in her normal cool tones. “It appears to be a beautifully made rosette of muslin, my lord, but the lady and the gown it comes from are unknown to me. Perhaps she would appear different by the light of day.”
“Dash it, Lady Athena’s right! You saw only half her face, Drew. Could have a long nose and a squint!” Gregory laughed, stuffing one of Cook’s macaroons into his mouth.
She continued to study Lord Finchley from under her lashes just to see his reaction. His mouth shaped a rueful grin. “Lady Athena may indeed be correct, yet I find I wish to discover the truth for myself.”
He rose to take his leave, and Gregory pulled a cane out from under his chair. “Overdid it a bit last night. Feeling the effects today.” He bent over Persephone’s hand. “We’re off then. Next time I’ll stay for a longer visit, and we can play piquet. Tell Cook her macaroons are still unexceptionable.”
“Come back soon, Gregory. And bring Lord Finchley with you.” Persephone smiled brightly, not a trace of guile on her face.
The men were barely out the parlor door before Persephone rounded on Athena, her face blazing with excitement.
“Athena, his lordship is searching for you!” She grabbed her hand and squeezed tight. “He is mad for you! It is the most romantic tale I have ever heard. At last everything I dreamed for you has come true!”
The Christmas Ball Page 3
