Masquerade

by Sarita Leone

  “How so?”

  Throwing caution to the wind, she said, “Well, of course I wouldn’t mind a man having some of the same qualities of my female companions. Loyalty is important. Also, honesty, as I’ve mentioned.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. A lock of hair had fallen forward over the top left corner of his mask, giving him a roguish look that was both attractive and slightly scandalous.

  Emboldened, Sophie continued, ticking the qualities off on her gloved fingertips. “Women friends should be comforting and see the meat of a matter without having it explained to them. They should be able to share the good times as well as the bad. Oh, I suppose a female companion must possess some very important characteristics.”

  All attempts at flippancy died in her throat when her masked partner’s gaze locked with hers. His eyes seemed somehow familiar. She had thought that all night but she couldn’t place where she had seen them before. Now his stare gave her the impression he could see right past her mask and into her soul. It was an odd feeling, not entirely unpleasurable but not altogether comfortable, either.

  “I’m somewhat muddled about this whole character trait matter. If you will bear with me, I’ll try to think through what you’ve said—aloud, since that’s the way I solve problems.”

  Sophie had her back to the wall, so when he raised one arm and placed his hand on the wall behind her, she was effectively sheltered by his body from sight of the rest of the party. The nearness of him, the scent of bay rum cologne mixed with the faintest whiff of brandy and his mask, only inches from her own, made Sophie’s heart hammer so hard she was tempted to put a hand on her chest to still it.

  A small grin crossed his face. She could not see most of it, but she could tell by the way his mask moved that he was smiling.

  “So you expect women friends to be honest, loyal, comforting, and intuitive. Also, they should laugh when you laugh and cry when you cry. Is that it?”

  It sounded so trivial when put in those terms, but since it was essentially what she had said, Sophie nodded.

  “You don’t want a man to be those things?”

  “Of course I do. It’s just—”

  He leaned closer, and she saw a gleam in his eyes. “It’s just what? That you do not think you’ll find a man who possesses all those traits so you limit yourself to believing they can only be found in your female friends? Is that it?”

  Never before had she felt like a cornered mouse. It wasn’t his fault. She’d cornered herself with her words.

  “No, that’s not it.” Sophie scrambled for a way out of the sticky spot. So much for flirting. It was apparent she needed practice in that area. Then, she saw an opening. “I—well, I have a male friend who possesses all of those traits. He’s loyal and intuitive and—well, he’s everything I mentioned.” She couldn’t resist adding, “And he’s other things, as well. Good things.”

  “You and your male acquaintance…I cannot resist asking, is he more than merely a friend? Does he, perhaps, hold more significance in your life?”

  A rush to clarify made her shake her head so hard a curly tendril got caught in the feathers above her left cheek. “No! He is not—that is, he is only a friend. Nothing more, just a dear friend.”

  With a finger that was steadier than her own, the man reached out and untangled her curl from the feather. When he smoothed the lock back in place, the touch of his fingertip against her hair sent shivers along her spine.

  “Only a friend?”

  “Yes. Just a friend,” Sophie whispered. Speaking was difficult. Suddenly her throat felt tight, as if her heart had leapt up and lodged there.

  A deep sigh brought the masked man’s shoulders high yet again. Then, he let them fall. His tone filled with regret, he said, “I’m sorry to hear that. It would be nice to know, as we prepare to part ways, that you have someone exceptional in your life. It would seem to be a most enviable position, that of being your special someone.”

  Words failed her. She stared at him, wondering what she could possibly say in response.

  He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he startled her again. “It is New Year’s—for a few minutes longer, at any rate. One generally makes resolutions on this day. May I ask? Have you resolved anything? Made any promises?”

  “I-I have. But I intend to keep the nature of the, uh, resolution to myself.” It seemed only fair to ask him the same question. “And you? Have you resolved to do anything in particular in the coming year?”

  A quick, decisive nod. “I have. But I, too, will keep my own counsel on the matter.”

  The first strains of the last dance began. Around them couples groaned their dismay at having the evening draw to a close. A wave of movement swept past them as dancers took position on the floor.

  Neither Sophie nor her masked companion moved.

  Had she not been standing against the wall, she might have teetered when he began to speak. The conversation took such a swift turn it was difficult to keep her head from spinning.

  “The Atwells are planning a Valentine’s Day dance. It is to be another masked affair.”

  How had they gone from New Year’s resolutions to Valentine’s Day in a heartbeat? Sophie swallowed, and then nodded. “I heard as much.”

  “Will you be here?”

  “I plan to be, but no one can ever really say where they will be in six weeks’ time, can they? It’s my intention to attend, but I cannot say for certain nothing will keep me away.”

  It was true. Look at what had happened with Colin this very day—he had been so looking forward to this party, but the weather or his chill had obviously kept him at home. She could not guarantee a similar ill fate might not befall her on Valentine’s Day.

  “Fair enough.” The music and dancing had just begun, but he made no move to offer a hand. For what felt like forever but was no more than a second or two, he studied the wall behind her head. Then, his gaze met hers. “New Year’s is a time for resolutions and promises. I’ve always believed Valentine’s Day a time for wishes. Tell me the truth, please. If you could wish three things for the upcoming dance, what would they be? Don’t hold back. Pretend I’m one of your good lady friends, and be perfectly candid with me. So…three wishes?”

  Sophie’s eyes widened. She could think of nothing to say. Nervously she swept a hand down the front of her gown. Then, she brought her hand to her chest and unconsciously tugged at the neckline.

  He nodded to her hand.

  “A new gown for the dance, perhaps? Why, every woman wishes for that, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, she does,” Sophie said. Now that she had found her voice, she added, “It is, I believe, a perfectly ordinary wish, to have a pretty gown to wear to a party.”

  “Of course it is. Now that’s one wish. We still have two to go. What would be your heart’s desire, after the gown of course?”

  Her heart’s desire? It had been so long since she allowed her heart to unrestrainedly desire anything that the thought was almost beyond the scope of her imagination. Almost, but not quite.

  Why not be reckless? I will never see this man again, so why not tell the whole, unvarnished truth?

  “I would wish for a dance partner who is as charming and attentive as you have been this very night.” Twin blooms of color heated her cheeks. “Thank you for this delightful evening. I have enjoyed myself immensely.”

  His voice sounded hoarser than ever. “The joy has been all mine, I assure you. It is I who should be thanking you for the pleasure of your company.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment. Had they not been masked, the look they exchanged might have raised eyebrows and set tongues wagging, but under the circumstances, it was almost entirely appropriate. Besides, no one paid them any attention. Everyone else was too busy savoring every last dance step.

  He cleared his throat. “So…a new gown and an attentive suitor. That leaves one wish…”

  Sophie gathered her courage and gave him a small smile. Then, she shrugged and to
ok a step closer to him. Only a few inches of air remained between his body and hers when she tilted her head back and looked deeply into his eyes.

  They were close enough that they could have kissed.

  “What does every woman wish for on Valentine’s Day?”

  “I don’t know. Tell me.”

  His breath brushed the nape of her neck, beyond the mask. Sophie’s cheeks felt aflame. The impression was glorious, one she had not experienced before, but, now that she had done so, it was a feeling she prayed would come over her time and again. She was on a slow, steady simmer—and relishing the new sensation.

  Emboldened by the desire coursing through her veins, she whispered, “I wish for a man who will steal my heart.”

  Chapter 5

  A finger prodded Sophie’s shoulder. She burrowed deeper beneath the bedcovers, and silently begged that whoever owned the intrusive finger might simply give up and leave her in peace.

  Inching her toes out from where they hid just above the hem of her nightdress, she tentatively touched the warming pan. It was as she feared it would be, as chilly as the skim of ice that would surely be on the surface of her washbowl. The coals inside the heavy metal pan had long since grown cold. She pulled her toes back, and snugged her chin against her chest.

  Back to sleep…I shall go back to sleep. I was having such lovely dreams…

  The dream! It was not a dream at all—last night had actually happened! The romantic moments playing in her mind were real memories. Her memories. They were not idle mental yearnings or hallucinations.

  Sophie’s eyes flew open. She sat up just as Rachel was about to give her another jab in the shoulder.

  “You must have tired yourself out completely with all the dancing you did last night.” Rachel placed her hands on her hips and stared down at Sophie with a grin so wide she looked like a cat with a canary in its mouth. “I wanted to wake you an hour ago, but Mother said I had to wait. Well, I have waited as long as I can stand, so get up this very minute and tell me all about what you and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome talked about all night long. Why, he completely monopolized you, Sophie! Although I must say in his defense that you didn’t seem to mind. No, you didn’t raise a breeze over his extraordinary attention, did you?”

  Rachel wore a brown morning dress, the cuffs at her wrists turned back so its bright red facing gave a splash of color. Her hair was pulled up simply, and a red ribbon wove through the thick locks. She looked ready to face the day, while Sophie yearned to pull the covers over her head and shut her eyes again so she could relive the previous night’s memories in quiet contemplation.

  It was clear Rachel wouldn’t be put off, so Sophie sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed and stuffed her feet into her slippers before they touched the chilly floorboards. Then, she grabbed her robe and stuck her arms in the sleeves. Pulling her long thick braid out of the neckline of her robe, she yawned.

  Across the room, the other bed was neatly made, its coverlet smoothed and the pillow plumped.

  “How long have you been up?” The query was designed to stall. If she didn’t take charge of the conversation, Rachel would inundate her with an endless variety of questions.

  “A long time. We’ve all been in the library, dawdling over toast and hot chocolate. Mother, Father, and Brian have each had two cups apiece, and have been sipping as slowly as possible. They are, I must warn you, lingering over breakfast. Or at least they were. When I came up here to help you awaken, Brian got up as well. He’s determined to make his way to Greer’s. He says a paper must be out by now, it is getting so dreadfully late! I hope he does find one. I wouldn’t mind the chance to hear the morning’s news.”

  Sophie listened from behind the screen in one corner of the room. She took her comfort, washed her face, and rubbed her teeth with a tooth towel and some powdered dentifrice. The air was nippy so she hurried through her ablutions.

  “Come on, then.” She scurried from the corner to the door as quickly as her weary feet would carry her. Even though her dancing shoes were well worn and conformed to her toes, she had danced so long and hard there was a blister on her right heel. It didn’t hurt much but she had no desire to aggravate it unnecessarily by keeping on her feet longer than she had to. “Let’s go face our parents, and allow them to ask parental questions.”

  Rachel caught her up as she opened the bedroom door. Grasping her arm so tightly Sophie was forced to stop, she said, “Oh, no, you don’t. You won’t deny me the chance to ask what kept me staring at the ceiling all night long. Did he—that dreamy man who captured you last night—did he offer his hand to you?”

  “Pish posh, Rachel! Of course not. We only just met last night. How can one possibly know after an evening’s time whether they might wish to spend the rest of their life with someone? The idea is, I am sorry to say, childish.”

  “Everyone knows love at first sight is definitely within the realm of possibility.” Rachel cast a stubborn look, one her sister knew well. No amount of debate could change her mind when she wore the expression, so Sophie did not waste her breath. “And it isn’t childish—you’re just saying that to vex me.”

  It is too early for this, Sophie thought as a deep sigh dropped her shoulders.

  She didn’t want to begin the day on a sour note, so she gave in. “You’re right. Love at first sight is possible. I’m merely saying it’s not probable. Moreover, I answered your question—my dance partner most emphatically did not make an offer of marriage.”

  Somewhat mollified, Rachel pressed, “But if he had, you would have considered his offer seriously. We have an agreement, remember?”

  Putting an arm about the younger woman’s shoulders and guiding her through the door and into the hallway, Sophie said, “Of course I remember our agreement, goose! How could I possibly forget it? It is the most ludicrous New Year’s resolution I have ever made. I will probably—not even if I live to a ripe old age—never make as silly a promise again. So, you see, it’s impossible to forget our New Year’s foolishness. Now, let’s get down to the library while there’s still chocolate in the pot!”

  ****

  By the time Brian returned with The London Daily Gazette it was late afternoon. He stomped his feet at the front door, removed his heavy Hessian boots, and dropped his greatcoat, gloves, and hat onto a wooden chair used expressly for that purpose.

  The family had spent most of the day in the library. It was, without argument, the warmest room in the house. A fire glowed in the hearth, sending out enough heat to chase the chill from the room. Walls of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and heavy draperies insulated against drafts, and with the door firmly shut, a cozy ambiance prevailed.

  Brian entered, opening and shutting the door as quickly as possible so as not to allow any heat to escape. He strode to the fireplace, the newspaper tucked beneath one arm, and warmed himself.

  Mrs. Teasdale was the first to comment. It was, as one would expect, a motherly sort of remark. “You did not catch a sniffle, did you?”

  Brian turned and glanced at Sophie and Rachel. They sat side by side on an overstuffed chintz sofa near the fireplace. Each held an embroidery hoop and had been working on samplers but when their mother spoke, they looked up at their brother and gave him nearly identical grins.

  “No, Mother, I did not catch a sniffle. I am, as you can see, perfectly fine.”

  She wasn’t put off. “Are your feet dry? Because you know if your feet are damp, you will certainly catch a chill.” She peered at him over the edge of her novel. “And we don’t want that, do we?”

  “No, Mother, I don’t want to catch a chill—or anything else, for that matter. My feet—and the whole rest of my person—are dry, I promise you. If they weren’t, I would be the first to know.” Brian turned to face his mother, whereby he placed his rear end closest to the fire. He danced a small jig and, grinning, said, “But just to be absolutely sure I am not damp, I will dry the part of my anatomy I would wish chilled the least.”

&n
bsp; “Don’t tease your mother, son.” Mr. Teasdale lifted the atlas he had been perusing for the better part of the day higher. It fully concealed his face, but by the way his shoulders shook he could not hide his amusement.

  Sophie swallowed a giggle. It was no wonder Brian had been delayed this long. His even-tempered manner and clever conversational ability made him someone everyone wanted to speak with. He’d probably been waylaid between the house and news shop so many times he couldn’t even count them.

  Having someone for the family to focus on—besides her—was a pleasant change. The first hour downstairs she had been peppered with questions about the dance, the man she danced with, and her feelings about the man himself. It had been exhausting, answering their queries without giving too much away.

  The truth was, Sophie hadn’t had time to examine her feelings or ascertain precisely how she felt. Telling others the secrets of one’s heart when one had not discovered them seemed too intrusive by far.

  Yes, let us poke at Brian for a bit. He will not mind, and it will get me off the hook.

  “Did you see anyone interesting?” Of course Rachel meant any interesting man, but saying so would displease Father and give Mother sufficient reason to give one of her speeches about modesty, decorum, and how it applied to well-bred young women.

  No one was fooled by Rachel’s circumventing her true question. Both parents raised eyebrows, and their father cleared his throat, but they remained silent.

  “Actually, I did.”

  When Brian didn’t elaborate, choosing instead to prodigiously concentrate on toasting his backside, Sophie intervened.

  “Come on, don’t tease. It isn’t fair. You know the suspense is driving her mad. And you know our Rachel can become notoriously picksome when she doesn’t get her way.”

  Sophie wound the length of thread attached to her embroidery needle around the needle, poked it through the fabric and held it in place with her left index finger. She tugged gently on the needle, and was altogether content when she removed her finger to find a perfectly formed French knot in place. Her sampler featured flowers in the corners. Each flower’s center was a collection of French knots. The piece would look lovely when it was complete, but getting every tiny knot done would take many painstaking hours.