by Lisa Reisner
She walked over to the armoire that was filled with the dresses Caroline had given her. Her eyes focused on a breathtaking silver ball gown which was encrusted with tiny crystals and pearls. When Abigail first saw the gown several weeks ago, she knew a servant had hastily packed the garment. After all, what governess needed such formal attire?
Abigail knew Marcus was attending the Crowley masquerade tonight. He had verbalized his annoyance at having to be there, but he had responded several weeks ago and claimed it would be rude not to show up. But maybe that was just a clever fabrication? Perhaps he was looking forward to spending more time with Lady Applewood. Was he falling in love with Tabitha? Would she soon be his bride? Well, there was only one way to find out.
Abigail grabbed a pair of shears from her desk and spied a satin scarf in her closet. She had to work fast.
∞
“Your mood seems to match your costume,” Jordan commented, referring to Marcus’s all black evening attire and simple black domino. “I do believe even Satan did indeed smile from time to time.”
Marcus smirked. He knew it was obvious he was not enjoying the party. “I am sure you are right. After all, I would imagine you are quite an authority on Satan’s habits,” Marcus joked. “I am sorry to be so dull this evening.”
“Not to worry,” Jordan responded. Jordan noticed Lady Fielding gazing at him from across the room. Lady Fielding was notorious for her skills in the bedroom. “I am sure I can find more exciting partners to spend the evening with.” Before Jordan sought his pleasure for the night, he turned to Marcus and smiled. “Lord Crowley has invested a fortune in several of our ventures. Just one more hour at his masquerade and you can return home to your lovely governess.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“As obvious as Lady Fielding’s intentions towards me,” Jordan replied as he patted Marcus on the back. “With the exception of tonight, it has been good to see you so happy. Remind me to thank Miss Jenner.”
Lady Fielding pouted her lips, clearly annoyed that Jordan had not made his way across the room.
“I think you shouldn’t keep the lady waiting any longer,” Marcus instructed.
Marcus watched Jordan make his way toward Lady Fielding. It reminded him of last year’s Crowley masquerade when he spent the evening in the arms of Lady Stillwater, a rich widow who had been chasing him around London. But this year was quite different. There was simply no urge to spend the evening with any other woman but Abigail.
Marcus checked his gold pocket watch, counting the minutes until he could leave and go to Abigail’s welcoming bed. His loins stirred with anticipation. Marcus had thought his lust would fade the more he made love with Abigail, but it only seemed to stoke the fires burning within him.
He wished she was here now, dancing with him. Then, as if he was in a dream, Marcus heard the exquisite sound of Abigail’s musical laughter. It couldn’t be. It was not possible. His mind must be playing tricks on him. Marcus’s eyes scanned the sea of people in search of the source. He walked through numerous men wearing Henry the Eighth costumes and countless Marie Antoinettes without any sign of Abigail.
The Crowleys really outdid themselves this evening. They had hired magicians and fortune tellers to entertain their guests, while numerous servants passed around elegantly made hors d’oeuvres. As he popped a tasty potato and stilton croquette in his mouth, Marcus wished Abigail could be here to share in the fun.
Perhaps he should call it an evening and sneak out early. The sooner he left, the sooner he would be in her arms. With that thought Marcus turned around, ready to take his leave. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks and inhaled sharply at the unexpected sight before him. Standing to the far left of the dance floor was a breathtakingly beautiful silver fairy, which at the moment was surrounded by several laughing gentlemen. He shook his head in disbelief when he recognized the shining pair of violet eyes through the satin mask. What on earth? Why was she here? Marcus asked himself as he approached his lovely prey.
“It appears something must be very amusing,” Marcus commented to the small crowd of men that had gathered around Abigail. His jaw flexed in anger as the group of men so obviously ogled her. “Can someone let me in on the joke?”
Lord March spoke up. “We are trying to guess the identity of the costume the lady is wearing. Care to take a stab at it, Lord Everton?”
Marcus’s gaze traveled from Abigail’s silver slippers to her styled coif of glossy raven hair. His anger was replaced by pride. Every woman in the room paled in comparison and she was all his. No other man had ever touched her the way he had. Marcus smiled and decided to play along with the ruse. There was plenty of time later to figure out what brought her here and how she had managed to get inside the masquerade.
“She is holding a jar filled with powder and a scarf that is fashioned to look like a snake. They both must hold some significance,” Marcus commented with a nonchalant expression.
Abigail swallowed and lifted her head to meet Marcus’s intense stare. “You are on the right track, my lord.”
Marcus loved the sound of her sweet voice. He couldn’t wait to get her alone. “I am almost certain you are a creature straight from the pages of Greek mythology.”
“You are getting warmer, my lord.”
“The night is still young, and I plan on getting even warmer,” Marcus said as he gave her a devilish smile. The men scattered once they heard his flirtatious tone; they all knew they were no match to him, given his rakish reputation. “You are a stunning vision my lady. Would you care to share a dance so I can investigate your costume further?”
Abigail eyed him with suspicion. “As you wish, my lord.”
Marcus took her hand and led her onto the crowded dance floor. The orchestra played a waltz and Marcus effortlessly swirled her around to the brilliant melody. “You must not keep me in suspense. Who are you?”
A soft smile lit up her face. “I am Hygeia, the Greek goddess of health. She carries around jars of medicine and her serpent’s venom has the power to heal.”
Marcus chuckled. “Of course, I should have known.”
The waltz ended and the dinner service was about to start. Marcus was eager to share a meal with Abigail in a public arena. Their encounters were always so private and a part of him wanted to show her off to the world, but he knew that was impossible for now. At least this type of affair offered a lot more anonymity than the usual parties he attended. It was easy to go unnoticed among the multitude of costumes.
“Shall we enjoy some refreshments? The Crowley masquerade always boasts the best lobster curry,” Marcus suggested.
“Sounds delightful, but are you sure it is my company that you desire during supper?”
Marcus thought Abigail’s comment seemed peculiar, but just when he started to ask her about it, they were both waylaid by the Applewoods. Cynthia and Tabitha Applewood did not look pleased. A part of him wished he was dressed like the lion, which was standing ten feet away from him. That way he wouldn’t have been recognizable.
Tabitha was dressed as Cleopatra. Marcus knew most men would be enraptured by Tabitha’s charms, but not him. He found her to be spoiled and shallow, not to mention the fact that she was a dead bore. At present, Tabitha wore a sour expression on her face, clearly annoyed he had not asked her to dance all evening or request her companionship during supper.
“It is nice to finally talk to you again, Lord Everton,” Tabitha said, trying her best not to appear angry. “I had such a splendid time with you at the Huffington ball.”
Marcus, who had practically been forced by Cynthia Applewood into sharing dinner with Tabitha yesterday, was quick not to let that happen again. “Yes, thank you. I would stay and chat, but my lovely dancing partner has suddenly fallen ill. I promised I would escort her to her carriage at once.”
Cynthia, who had been scrutinizing Abigail for the last minute, spoke up. “She appears to be in excellent health to me. What is your name Miss? I would like an introduct
ion, Lord Everton.”
Marcus did not even try to hide his annoyance. “That will have to wait, Lady Applewood,” Marcus said as he practically dragged Abigail towards the door, leaving Cynthia Applewood in quite a huff.
Instead of heading outside, he ushered Abigail up the enormous stone carved spiral staircase. They walked past several rooms and Marcus’s head snapped up when he heard voices. He swiftly opened one of the doors and ushered her into a room that appeared to be a small library.
“Abigail, quick, follow me,” Marcus said as he pulled her inside, locking the door behind them.
Abigail looked stunned. “You knew it was me?”
Marcus pulled off both their masks and caught Abigail in a tight embrace. He could not wait any longer. He captured her mouth in a hungry kiss, cupping her bottom against his rigid arousal. “I knew it was you the instant I saw you. Who else would I haul upstairs, besides you?”
Abigail bit her lip and Marcus sensed her hesitation to answer the question. “I don’t know, perhaps some other woman?”
The reason Abigail came here tonight was becoming very clear to Marcus. “So, you decided to come to the Crowley masquerade to spy on me. Maybe even to catch me with another woman?”
Abigail’s eyes filled with shame. “I know there is no excuse for my behavior, but I read in the gossips that you shared the supper meal at the Huffington ball with Tabitha Applewood. It hinted about the possibility of a wedding between you two and I needed to know if there was any truth to it.”
Normally, Marcus would have been angry. He always hated displays of jealously, but for some reason his heart warmed to Abigail’s plight. How could he fault her, when only moments ago he had the desire to smash in several gentlemen’s faces because they dared to just look at her. “Cynthia Applewood cornered me yesterday. I had no other choice but to dine with Tabitha.” When Marcus thought she didn’t look convinced, he decided to show her just how irresistible she was to him. After all, actions always speak louder than words. “Do you know what I was doing the moment before I saw you?”
Abigail noticeably relaxed upon hearing Marcus’s soothing tone. “No, what were you doing?”
To Abigail’s surprise, Marcus spun her around and bent her over a large wooden desk that stood in the center of the room. His hands quickly traveled up her skirts and he began massaging her inner thighs.
She smelled like roses and honey. “I was counting the seconds until I was going to be able to touch you here.” Marcus slowly began undoing the tiny buttons at the back of her dress. After undoing each loop, he pressed a kiss to her delicate skin. “And to taste you here.”
Abigail moaned. She placed his hands around her body, urging his exploration. Marcus shoved down the entire bodice of her gown to her waist, stripping away the tight corset. He stroked her breasts in a circular motion as he pressed his stiff erection against her backside.
“Please, Marcus, take me now. I cannot wait any longer,” Abigail pleaded. “I need to feel you inside me.”
Marcus was more than ready to oblige. He lifted her heavy skirts and released himself from his trousers, entering her from behind. Abigail seized him tightly inside her warmth and Marcus fought for control.
“Harder, Marcus,” Abigail groaned. “You don’t need to be gentle.”
He grabbed her waist to steady her, penetrating her repeatedly, with hard, deep thrusts until she cried out with pleasure. When Marcus felt her thighs quiver in ecstasy, he spilled his seed deep inside of her. Clearly spent, they both collapsed in a heap onto the floor and it took a full minute before either one of them could speak. When they came to their senses they looked into one another’s eyes and both erupted into laughter, equally struck by the absurdity of the situation.
Abigail looked around the library and giggled. “We would probably not be considered polite houseguests.”
“I beg to differ,” Marcus said as he began stroking her back. “The Crowleys are so busy taking care of everyone, I dare say they would be quite relieved to know we found some way to entertain ourselves.” Marcus’s fingers combed through her disheveled tresses. “I do love your hair down, but I must say I liked the way you wore it tonight. You looked like a princess.”
“You should thank Mrs. O’Brien. Apparently she has quite a way with hair. She knew exactly where I was going tonight, even before I asked her to help me ready my hair and even agreed to sleep on the settee in Olivia’s room, just in case she awoke with a nightmare,” Abigail said as her expression sobered. “Evidently the nature of our relationship is common knowledge among your servants. When they heard of my plan to come tonight, they called on their many acquaintances among the Crowley staff, which was very helpful with sneaking me into the party. You have every right to be angry with me for spying on you tonight, but are you upset our affair is not so very private anymore?”
Marcus was a private man, but for some reason he did not care if the whole world knew about his connection with Abigail. When he was with her, everything just seemed right, and to hell with everyone else. His original concerns for Olivia’s well-being and choosing a proper English bride were fading away. In his mind he could not imagine a better person than Abigail to care for his niece, or for that matter, to care for him.
Marcus was at a loss for words, unsure how to handle his new revelations. Distractedly, he ran his palm down her back. His silent revelry was interrupted when he felt a rough patch of skin beneath his fingertips. Marcus’s eyes widened when he saw a red, sinister looking scar. He wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before. “Abigail, where did you get this?”
Abigail’s relaxed demeanor faded and her shoulders tensed. “Oh, I almost forgot about that. It happened when I was a child. I was running past the hearth and I turned over a pot of boiling water.”
Marcus sensed Abigail’s discomfort. He simply attributed it to feminine vanity, so he chose to change the subject. When the large wall clock chimed twelve, he knew the perfect way to restore Abigail’s smile. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box. “Happy Birthday, Abigail.”
Abigail’s look of surprise melted his heart. It appeared that no one had given her a gift in a very long time. “Marcus, you didn’t have to get me anything.”
“Nonsense. It was my pleasure. I picked it up from the jeweler on the way to the masquerade. I was going to give it to you over breakfast, but now seems like an ideal time,” Marcus said. He placed the box in her hand. “Open it. The suspense is killing me.”
Abigail had the giddy look of a child on Christmas morning as she opened the case. Her mouth opened with astonishment as she stared at a gleaming pair of teardrop emerald earrings. “They are exquisite.”
“They will match perfectly with the cross your grandfather gave you,” Marcus said with exuberance as his need for her began to stir. “I think it’s customary to thank someone for their gift.”
Abigail gave him a sultry smile. “I should be ashamed of myself, to not have thanked you immediately. I will just have to make it up to you.”
She pushed herself on top of him and wrapped her hips around him. Abigail started kissing his neck and over the next hour, Marcus received the best thank you of his lifetime.
∞
“I have never been so humiliated in all my life. Who does that man think he is? No one has ever dared to brush me off in such a hasty manner. He treated me no better than a speck of dust,” Cynthia Applewood raged from inside the carriage.
She and Tabitha had made a quick exit after being publicly snubbed by Lord Everton. When did everything go so terribly wrong? Tabitha was supposed to marry Lord Everton!
The mere speculation of a possible marriage between Lord Everton and Tabitha had done wonders for the Applewoods’ status amongst the ton. They had received invitations from several of the most exclusive soirées in London and generally been treated with a great deal more respect than usual. Even the creditors had stopped hounding them upon hearing the news of a possible engagement. Natur
ally they assumed once Tabitha married Lord Everton that they would receive their money, with interest.
“Who was that woman by his side? He could barely take his eyes off her,” Tabitha fumed. “Anyone could plainly see that my beauty far surpassed hers.”
“Of course, it does, my darling,” Cynthia said, trying to prevent another one of her daughter’s temper tantrums. Cynthia knew exactly who that masked woman was but decided not to alarm Tabitha. With sudden inspiration, she collected herself and chose to soothe her daughter’s bruised vanity. “Now I understand his behavior. He was probably just trying to make you jealous.”
That comment grabbed Tabitha’s attention. “Really? Why would he do that?”
Cynthia was positive Marcus was doing no such thing, but realized that feeding her daughter’s narcissism would placate Tabitha for the time being. “Well, you did spend an awful lot of time with Lord Westin. I saw Lord Everton staring at the two of you with an angry look in his eyes,” Cynthia lied with ease. “We can hardly blame him for acting the way he did. Anyone can see he is crazy for you.”
Tabitha looked like a cat that got the cream. “You should have told me, Mother. I would have paid more attention to the Earl. Lord Westin is a handsome devil, but his wealth, land and title are nothing when compared to Lord Everton.”
“Perhaps it is for the best that you did give your attentions to Lord Westin. A man like Lord Everton could benefit from a bit of a chase.”
“You are probably right, Mother. I wish I did not bring out such dark emotions in men,” Tabitha said with a smile, enjoying Lord Everton’s jealousy. “Sometimes beauty is a curse.”
Cynthia smiled and nodded at her daughter, satisfied Tabitha believed her tales so she could finally focus on a plan to get rid of this dreadful governess. Without the distraction of Miss Jenner, Lord Everton could solely focus on the charms of her daughter.
She knew it was a tad early, but tomorrow she was going to pay a visit to Liam Stone. Cynthia took a deep, fortifying breath. She was going to get to the bottom of this mystery for once and for all and put an end to the Earl’s silly infatuation.
