Masquerade

by Sarita Leone

  “That was it, really,” Rachel admitted. She slowed, and then stopped beneath a striped blue-and-white canopy in front of a boot maker’s shop. Raising her gaze to meet Sophie’s, she said, “You seemed so lost in thought that I guess I missed your company. Silly, I know, but it’s the truth. I used to claim your attention that way when we were children, remember?”

  She nodded, smiling at the memory. Rachel had never been one to like feeling left out of anything—even other people’s private thoughts. She had been born with a knack for insinuating herself into the center of things. Usually she did so in a gentler fashion, but when the need arose she had never been above shoving her way into a situation. Apparently she hadn’t outgrown the trait.

  “Of course I remember, goose.” She pulled a curl beside Rachel’s chin with a gentle hand. “How could I forget?”

  “Goose. When will I outgrow the nickname? It’s hardly seemly for a young woman to be called such a thing.” Rachel pulled a face, but only after checking to make certain they weren’t being observed. Sophie laughed, amused by the expression as well as Rachel’s attention to decorum.

  “As I only call you ‘goose’ in private, and promise never to do so where anyone can overhear the endearment, I don’t intend to allow you to outgrow the nickname. It suits you, my dear. It always has, and I believe it always will. Take it from one who knows you best.” With a glance at the sky, Sophie saw their time before tea grew short. The sun had already passed its crest and was, even now, descending toward the sea of roofs surrounding them. Best to get to the heart of her sister’s motivation. “Something is bothering you. I recognize it as easily as one sees the stripes on a zebra. Why don’t you just tell me what is on your mind?”

  A group of giggling children swept past them, clearly glad to be out of winter’s confinement. The sisters stepped closer to the boot maker’s front window. When the swell had subsided, they took a step apart.

  Rachel shrugged, the shoulder of her gray wool coat touching the bottom edge of the matching bonnet. The nonchalant gesture didn’t fool her sister. Rachel was troubled, and now that Sophie realized it her own mood grew instantly more solemn.

  I’ve been so self-involved I didn’t notice—yet again—Rachel’s need for confidences, Sophie thought with a stab of regret. How can I be so oblivious to her? I shall have to try harder to be a better sister. Much harder.

  The admission sounded pulled from the very depths of Rachel’s soul. “I felt alone, Sophie. All the while we have been walking, you have had a small smile on your face. You looked so happy, and so…oh, I don’t know. You just seemed like you were off somewhere—somewhere interesting and fun, somewhere I couldn’t follow.”

  Remorse coursed instantly through Sophie’s mind and chilled her heart. She had been daydreaming and so involved in her own thoughts she had paid no attention at all to Rachel. What sort of sister did that?

  I am selfish, Sophie thought with an inward groan.

  Rachel continued, “It sounds so stupid, I know it does, but I’ve felt so lonely these past weeks. I’m not complaining, just saying how I feel. It’s if I’m alone, even when I’m in a room full of people. And when you and I are together I’ve never before felt lonely, but I did earlier. It’s difficult to explain, but I wanted to leave the loneliness behind and go with you to wherever you were, to the place that made you smile when you walked and kept your mind so fully occupied you didn’t notice me.”

  “I didn’t realize—”

  Rachel cut her off with a sharp slice of her hand through the air. Shaking her head, she hitched a deep breath and stared at the ground. Then, she looked up with an embarrassed grin. “I sound like a complete ninny, don’t I? Forget I’ve said anything, please. I don’t know what’s come over me these past weeks…cabin fever, maybe. Or a lack of sunshine has dimmed my mind. In any event, please don’t take me seriously. I’m…oh, I don’t even know what I am!”

  Pulling Rachel into a sisterly embrace and hugging her firmly, Sophie said, so low that only Rachel could hear her words, “I understand your feelings more than I am wont to admit, Rachel. It is, I believe, something that happens when a woman finds herself fixated on something…or someone. Loneliness comes even when we are surrounded, as you have learned.”

  Rachel pulled back and looked into Sophie’s eyes. She did not attempt to hide her search for meaning. “What are you saying?”

  With a shrug of her own, Sophie said, “You sound like you are in love, goose. Plain and simple, I think. What else could have you feeling so unlike yourself?”

  “What indeed…?”

  “Come on, let’s not dwell on what cannot be helped.” Sophie threaded her arm through Rachel’s. They began to walk, Sophie even more mindful of the hour. She didn’t want their mother to worry needlessly, especially since they had said they were only nipping out to pick up one small item. She walked more purposefully. “I do hope that lovely piece of ecru edging hasn’t been sold. It is the perfect finishing touch to the gown’s neckline—whatever will we do if it isn’t available?”

  A look of horror flashed across Rachel’s pretty face, giving her sister an inner feeling of satisfaction. The center of attention had shifted to something less inconvenient, and Sophie was glad for it. Ribbons and edgings could be controlled; hearts and emotions were by far much more slippery issues.

  “Heaven forbid!” Rachel quickened her step, bringing them nearly to a trot. They wove between other pedestrians, their gazes focused on the shop just ahead. “Pray the edging is still there, Sophie. It is the only thing that will do!”

  ****

  Once again, Colin’s visit with the duke hadn’t proved as fruitful as he had hoped. John’s mind was still turned toward the younger Teasdale sister, and no amount of urging could bring his thoughts onto any other woman. He was of absolutely no help at all when it came to finding a way to get Sophie to recognize Colin’s true intentions. Had Colin not been so tangled up in his own problems, John’s attitude would have annoyed him. As it was, he was almost too preoccupied to pay more than a modicum of interest to the duke’s failure to assist. The visit to his friend was wasted time. He was no closer to finding a solution than he’d been before speaking with the duke.

  With his head down, the sunshine which would have been welcome at any other time went ignored. Colin strode purposefully toward the center of Town, each thump of his boot heel against cobbled stone hammering home the notion that five weeks into the new year he was no closer to making Sophie his own than he had been last December.

  His life was a travesty, a whole-hearted, embarrassing cluster of events that tied his nerves in knots.

  He had half a mind to walk straight over to the Teasdale house, knock on the front door, and ask to see Sophie in private. Maybe all the planning, resolving, and, most definitely, the subterfuge he had become embroiled in were just no way to win Sophie’s heart.

  Sophie’s sensible. She might appreciate me more if I just come clean. Tell her the truth about how I feel and…oh, Lord, who am I kidding? If she doesn’t know how I feel by now, she is never going to see it on her own. Telling her is the only way to go, the best way to settle things once and for all. Yes, that’s the thing—I’ll go see Sophie right this very minute!

  Turning on his boot heel, Colin took two steps before colliding with a solid form. A very feminine, sweet-scented form which stumbled backward when he plowed straight into it.

  “Oof!” he grunted.

  “Well, I never!” The woman’s voice was shocked, but not angry. Instinctively he reached for her, and grabbed her by the shoulders before she could fall backwards.

  “Oh! I’m sorry!” Colin rushed to apologize. How could he have been so clumsy? So wholly preoccupied that he hadn’t seen someone standing right in front of him? “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

  His gaze raked down, then back up, the woman he still held onto. She was young, attractive, and, thankfully, smiling. Apples bloomed on her cheeks and the navy-blue eyes which
openly surveyed him sparkled with amusement. Her lips had been touched with color, a shade a tad lighter than her hair. A wispy red curl pleasingly danced at her right temple. Colin could not take his gaze from it, something the woman noticed with a small titter.

  She shook her head, sending the wisp dancing even more delicately over her skin. “No, you haven’t done me any harm. I am fine, really. Surprised, I’ll admit, but otherwise intact.”

  “I am glad—very glad. I confess, I didn’t see you standing there,” Colin said, feeling like a sheepish schoolboy.

  “I should think not. I would hate to think you saw me and ran into me anyway.” Her smile was so forgiving that he could not help himself. He chuckled, and smiled back.

  “Of course I would never do such a thing. After all, I am a gentleman.” Banter came naturally, and he regained his equilibrium in a matter of seconds. “Which, having just met me, you wouldn’t know, would you?”

  A quick shake of her head made the curl waggle enticingly. Colin thought it looked rather like a worm on a hook, dangling above a stream in the hopes of luring a salmon. For an instant, he felt quite fishlike.

  “I wouldn’t say we’ve met,” the woman said quickly. “Why, we haven’t been properly introduced and…well…” She glanced down at his hands, still on her upper arms. “Although you have saved me a tumble we are still only acquaintances of the most passing sort, aren’t we?”

  He should have removed his hands sooner, he realized that now. Casually he did so, and held his hands palms up before him.

  “You do have a point. But as there is no one available to perform the proper introductions, may I be so bold as to introduce myself?” Colin waited until she nodded, then he bowed slightly. “I am Colin Randolph, at your service. I regret we have met in such a slapdash fashion, but I am, nonetheless, happy to make your acquaintance.”

  “As am I,” she murmured smoothly. Then, with a tiny giggle, she said, “And I am Penelope Walters. My friends call me Penny.”

  Colin raised his eyebrows. “Penny? I have a sister named Penny. Now isn’t that a coincidence?” When his new acquaintance nodded, his gaze was drawn back to the dangling wisp near her temple. Without thinking, Colin reached out and tucked it beneath her bonnet. “If you were my sister, I would be so bold as to help you with that lovely lock of hair. I hope you don’t mind my daring to do so now. I did knock you over, and am probably responsible for any dishevelment incurred. The least I can do is repair the very minor—and completely fetching—damage.”

  Miss Walters acted as if they were at a dance instead of on a busy sidewalk. She leaned toward Colin, waved a white-gloved hand in front of her mouth, and then, with a smile so wide it was dazzling, said, “You are utterly charming, Mr. Randolph. You are the first person I’ve met in London, and your kindness has me convinced I’m going to love my stay in Town. Thank you for being just the thing I needed to feel comfortable this afternoon. My journey has been long, and I was feeling somewhat unsettled. That is, before you and I met.”

  “And now?”

  She placed a hand on his arm. “Now I feel completely at home—thanks to you.”

  ****

  With the ecru edging tucked securely in her reticule, Sophie stepped out of the crowded shop and onto the sidewalk.

  Rachel had been almost decided on a lighter shade of green ribbon when she left her to finalize her choice. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if her sister came out with neither the mint green nor the forest green ribbon. Her mind seemed only half on the purchase anyhow.

  The ecru edging was going to provide the finishing touch on the scarlet ball gown. She had worked tirelessly on it for weeks now, and with Mother’s and Rachel’s help the dress had turned out beautifully. It was far more elaborate than any gown she had owned before and she couldn’t wait to wear it.

  Only two more days, Sophie thought. A smile tugged the corners of her lips upward as she patted the reticule. The tidy bump of wound edging made her sigh. So lovely, and so perfect for the gown…I shall feel like a queen in the dress, and regardless of what Valentine’s night brings I shall love every moment of the event. How could I not when I will be wearing the most beautiful gown in the room and undoubtedly will be—

  Sophie turned her head with the intention of scanning the sky to guess the lateness of the hour. Her gaze skimmed the crowd, and would have gone higher had she not caught a glimpse of a very familiar form. The smile froze on her face.

  Colin stood ten feet from where she waited, his hands on the shoulders of a pretty woman. They spoke in lively terms, and although she couldn’t hear their words it was clear they were enjoying their conversation.

  It made no sense, but rational or not Sophie recognized the sentiment that pierced her heart when Colin touched the woman’s hair. There was no hiding it—she was jealous, and the acknowledgement of the irrational emotion sent the blood in her veins boiling.

  Clenching her hands so tightly her fingers hurt, Sophie counted to ten. Then, she counted to ten again, all the while watching the scene before her unfold in painstakingly slow motion.

  Finally, Rachel emerged, empty-handed, from the shop.

  “I could not decide,” Rachel said lightly as she came to a stop beside Sophie. “So I chose neither. After all, I don’t have a need for a length of green ribbon. I merely liked the shades and was nearly overcome with—Sophie? Are you listening, or shall I have to send you stumbling into another pile of something unsavory?”

  Despite her sister’s teasing, Sophie couldn’t reply. She nodded toward the pair standing so near. They appeared to be parting, the woman turning toward a coach’s open door while Colin bowed farewell. As he straightened, he looked their way. Sophie didn’t lower her eyes, nor did she attempt to disguise her roiling emotions.

  Not at first, anyhow.

  ****

  Colin had no idea how they were moving so quickly in heeled boots over slushy cobbled walks. He wore sensible boots, yet the leather soles provided so little traction he had nearly stumbled several times. Still, with Sophie practically dragging her sister in the direction of the Teasdale residence, they covered ground so rapidly he had a difficult time keeping up with them.

  All attempts at normal conversation had been rebuffed. With Sophie, that is. Rachel looked confused, and, to his annoyance, a bit smug, but she had at least responded to his greeting. When he offered to walk them home, she had, as Sophie tugged hard on her arm, agreed, but the words had nearly been lost in thunderous slap of heels against cobbles.

  They passed his house at a rush. As he cast a sideways look at the residence, he prayed none of his family was presently beside a window. Humiliation after humiliation was hard for a man to endure. It was even more difficult to hold one’s head high when he knew his had been spied dashing after the woman who held his affection as if she did, indeed, carry his beating heart in her gloved hands.

  To his immense relief, none of the draperies at the house’s windows stirred.

  When they reached the Teasdale’s gate, Sophie grabbed the latch as if her life depended on opening the wooden door as quickly as humanly possible.

  Colin didn’t hesitate. When she unlatched the gate, he caught her hand in his. Then, keeping his gaze locked with Sophie’s, he held the gate wide and said, “It has been a pleasure seeing you this afternoon, Rachel. Good day.”

  Taking her cue, Rachel went through the opening in a swish of skirts. She called over her shoulder as she hurried to the front door. “My pleasure as well, Colin. Good day!”

  Finally, they were alone. For several heartbeats neither spoke.

  Sophie wouldn’t meet his gaze but she didn’t have to. Colin knew her well enough to recognize she was ill at ease. She wants to get away from me—and hastily, he thought sadly. It hurt him to see her displeasure at his nearness, to feel the urgent tug of her wrist where he held it.

  “Good day, Colin.” Pulling herself free from his grasp, Sophie tried to move past him. He allowed her to break their con
nection, but he stopped her by putting his body between her and the path. The gate and fence closed them in. Sophie would have to go over, under, or through him to pass. Without lifting her eyes, she said, “Let me pass.”

  “Not until you talk to me.”

  “We have nothing to say. Now, get out of my way so I may go inside.”

  The tone was so familiar it warmed his heart. Infrequently they had had squabbles as children, the way all children do, and Sophie had always gotten her way partly by using this particular tone of voice. In his mind, Colin called it her crabby voice, a fact he kept to himself. Now the crabby voice made him smile, but only for an instant because before he could say a word Sophie tried to push past him. The feel of her body against his, the force of her annoyance with him, stirred him to action.

  Colin placed his hands on her upper arms, took a step back to put distance between them, and held her in place.

  “You aren’t the only one who can be stubborn, Sophie. And I won’t be rattled by that crabby tone of voice, either. Moreover, since I easily outweigh you, it seems futile for you to try to shove past me.”

  “Crabby tone of voice? You must be joking!” She looked up at him, astonishment making her lovely green eyes flash angrily. “How dare you?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, I dare quite easily, I assure you. And while the label isn’t complimentary, it fits. So are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or are we going to stand here until the stars come out?” Looking up at the sky, which was rapidly turning an ominous shade of gray, he shrugged. Then, he met her gaze again. “Makes no difference to me, Sophie. I could happily spend the night here with you.”

  Instantly, and regrettably, he saw she wasn’t going to be charmed. His turn of phrase was met by a scowl, and had her eyes been daggers he would have fallen dead at her feet.

  “Nothing is bothering me,” she insisted. Stamping her foot—thankfully not on one of his—Sophie spat, “Now, unhand me. One would think you might be tired of holding onto women in the street by now.”