In order to break the silence that had descended, Carolyn asked, "What sort of costumes are you all wearing?"
"You're not supposed to tell," said Emily, shaking a finger.
"But how else will we find each other in the crush?" asked Julianne. "I need to know who to look for in case I get an opportunity to escape Mother."
"Matthew and I will be attired as Romeo and Juliet," said Sarah, "except in our version of the story clearly neither of them die, as we are older than the teenage lovers. And besides, I cannot abide unhappy endings."
Emily heaved a sigh. "I shall be the tragic Ophelia. I wanted to be Cleopatra, but Mama said 'twas too scandalous." She grinned. "Perhaps I should go as the Anonymous Lady."
"Yes," Carolyn said. "For a costume you could wear your skirt inched up about your waist and carry a copy of the Memoirs."
They all laughed. "I'll be dressed as an angel," said Julianne.
"Very appropriate," Carolyn said.
"And boring," Julianne said with a sigh. "But Mother insisted."
"Wait until you see Carolyn's costume," Sarah enthused. "I helped her choose it."
Carolyn shot her sister a mock frown. "More like you ordered it, had it delivered here, then demanded I wear it." She looked at her two friends. "Since her marriage she's become very domineering and demanding."
"My husband likes me that way," Sarah answered tartly. "If I hadn't helped you with your costume, you'd have dressed as a shepherdess."
"Most likely," agreed Carolyn. "I certainly would not have chosen Galatea."
Julianne's eyes lit up. "Oh, the beautiful ivory statue that comes to life. You'll be stunning, Carolyn."
"And feel as if I'm only half dressed."
"Be happy that you're wearing anything," Emily said with a devilish grin. "Galatea was nude, you know."
Carolyn shot Sarah a frown. "I think you should go as Galatea and I'll go as a shepherdess."
"Heavens, no," said Sarah. "What on earth would Romeo want with a Greek statue? As Julianne said, you'll be stunning. There is nothing the least bit improper about your costume."
"Of course not," agreed Julianne. "Indeed, based on some of the costumes worn at Lady Walsh's ball last year, you'll be overdressed." She lowered her voice to impart, "A shocking number of women dressed as harem members."
"And nearly as many men were attired in togas-men whose rotund figures most assuredly should not have been draped in sheets." Emily gave an all-over shudder.
"I'm almost sorry I missed it," Carolyn said with a smile.
"With a few minor adjustments we could turn you from Galatea into Aphrodite," Sarah said to Carolyn with a speculative air. "The goddess of desire is who I wanted you to be to begin with."
"Absolutely not," Carolyn said firmly. "What would people think?"
Sarah reached out and lightly clasped her hand, her brown gaze serious as it rested on her. "That you are a young, vibrant woman who deserves to enjoy herself."
"I'm a thirty-two-year-old widow who is too old and too sensible to parade about in an unbecoming fashion." She said the words softly, to take any sting from them. She knew Sarah meant well, and truly she appreciated her sister's efforts on her behalf. But ever since she'd reentered Society, she sometimes felt as if in her determination to get on with her life everything was moving too quickly. As if she were losing part of herself, of the person she'd been for the last ten years-Edward's wife. She occasionally had difficulty recalling images of him that used to be so clear in her mind. Couldn't precisely recall the sound of his laughter. The warmth of his touch. The slow leaching of those memories confused and saddened her. And frightened her. For if her memories of Edward faded away, she'd have nothing left.
"There is nothing unbecoming about you," Sarah said gently, squeezing her hand. Then she smiled. "And we are all going to have a grand time this evening."
Carolyn returned her sister's smile, although she wasn't as optimistic. The idea of a costume ball had sounded exciting when she received the invitation, but now that the day was here, she felt decidedly less enthusiastic. She'd allowed Sarah to talk her into the Galatea costume, because as her sister pointed out, Galatea was brought to life, just as she herself wanted to be brought back to life. What she hadn't pointed out to Sarah was that the statue of Galatea was only brought to life because Pygmalion, the sculptor, fell passionately in love with his work of art. Love had brought Galatea to life. At one time, love had done the same for her, but she knew in her heart it would not, could not, happen again.
Chapter Two
The note read only, "Midnight, the stables." I instantly knew who it was from. Heart pounding with anticipation, I arrived at the appointed time. He stepped from the shadows and without a word pulled me into his arms…
Memoirs of a Mistress by An Anonymous Lady
Standing in a shadowed corner of the crowded ballroom, Daniel Sutton, Earl Surbrooke, was about to sip from his glass of champagne when he saw her. His hand froze partway to his lips, his drink forgotten as he stared at the Greek goddess garbed in pure ivory across the room. Flickering light from the dozens of candles in the overhead crystal chandeliers cast her in a soft, gilded glow. Her costume left both slender arms and one shoulder bare. His avid gaze drifted over the exposed creamy skin, and his imagination instantly conjured his fingers skimming along the silky smoothness. His lips tracing a trail along her delicate collarbone. Her name whispered through his mind and he had to clamp his jaw shut to keep from saying it out loud.
Carolyn…
Desire, hot and fierce, gripped him. Even with her honey-colored hair powered white and a mask covering most of her face, he'd recognize those perfect, lush lips, that slender neck, the curve of her cheek, that regal posture anywhere.
She stood alone, scanning the crowd. He would have given a great deal to be the person she sought, but he knew she'd be searching for her sister Sarah or one of her close friends, Lady Julianne or Lady Emily.
Someday very soon you'll be looking for me, his inner voice promised. Yes, her gaze would seek him out just as his did her at every opportunity. He intended to see to it. For he'd wanted her with a bone-deep intensity from the first instant he'd laid eyes upon her.
To this day he recalled that moment with such vivid clarity it could have happened ten minutes ago rather than ten years ago. He'd seen her-a vision in a blue gown-across the ballroom during a party hosted by one of his Eton friends, Edward Turner, Viscount Wingate. For a few brief seconds it felt as if time had stopped. Along with his breath. And heart. A ridiculous, inexplicable, visceral, and unprecedented reaction. True, she was beautiful, but he was accustomed to stunning women. Of course, he'd prevailed upon his friend to introduce him. And Edward had obliged, presenting Miss Carolyn Moorehouse.
They'd exchanged pleasantries, and Daniel fell more deeply in lust with the blushing beauty with each passing moment-a state of affairs he couldn't understand, as innocents were not at all to his taste. But something about her grabbed him by the throat and wouldn't let go. He wanted her, in his bed, naked and trembling with desire, and by God he was determined to have her.
Perhaps the fact that she wasn't an aristocrat was what he found so utterly refreshing and alluring. Regardless of the reason, he'd never been so wildly and instantaneously attracted to any woman. He was about to begin his seduction by asking her to dance when Edward requested everyone's attention-then announced that Miss Moorehouse had consented to be his wife.
Now, a decade later, Daniel still recalled his dumbstruck reaction. It was as if all the color had leaked from the room, leaving everything painted in dull, dismal shades of gray. After shaking himself from the stupor into which the news had thrust him, he saw what he'd been too stupefied to observe earlier-that Edward adored Carolyn, and she clearly felt the same about him.
He'd attended their wedding two months later-an occasion that left him feeling empty. The marriage was obviously a love match, and Edward was a friend. And while Daniel's actions didn't always fill
him with pride, he drew the line at cuckolding friends. He therefore forced Carolyn from his thoughts and kept his distance from the happy couple as much as possible, reminding himself that he had no real interest in her other than bedding her, and there were plenty of other beautiful women available to slake his passions.
But the truth was that every time he found himself in the same room as Carolyn, he had trouble concentrating on anything other than her. The sensual fantasies she inspired confounded him for his inability to dispel them. Luckily she and Edward didn't attend many soirees, so he rarely saw them. He'd gone on with his life and finally convinced himself that his inappropriate lust had been an aberration.
After Edward's sudden death three years ago, Carolyn had gone into seclusion, retreating from Society entirely. He was therefore stunned several months ago to learn she was to be a guest at a country house party at the estate of his best friend, Matthew Devenport-a party Daniel was instantly impatient to attend. Before he arrived at Matthew's estate, he reminded himself that the oddly fierce attraction he'd experienced all those years ago was an anomaly. That he'd no doubt take one look at her and yawn. Still, not wanting any distractions or possible encumbrances, before leaving for the house party he amicably ended his brief yet steamy affair with Kimberly Sizemore, Countess Walsh, knowing the gorgeous widow would quickly move on to the next man.
When he arrived at the house party, however, it only required one look at Carolyn to bring all the lustful urges she'd once inspired roaring back. Her mere presence rendered him befuddled and bemused and tongue-tied in a way he might have found amusing had it not been so utterly irritating, uncharacteristic, and bewildering. He didn't lack for expertise or confidence when it came to women, yet somehow this sedate, petite woman made him feel like a bumbling lad in knee pants. It required all his finesse not to simply gawk and babble in her presence.
He learned through their conversations-during which he managed not to gawk and babble too much-that she remained devoted to her dead husband's memory and had no desire to ever marry again. Which only made her more perfect, as the last thing Daniel wanted was a wife. No, he wished only to bed her, and determined then and there to do what he hadn't when he first met her-seduce her. A challenge indeed, given her continued worship of her dead husband. But he was a patient man and he'd never wanted a woman more, his every nerve ending heating with anticipation at the upcoming game of enticing her to his bed, where the fire she'd ignited ten years ago would finally be extinguished. They'd enjoy a quick, mutually pleasurable affair, unmarred by messy emotions, then they'd each go their separate ways. He'd established a nice rapport with her in the country, and now that they were both back in London, he was prepared to begin his seduction in earnest.
Starling right now.
He handed his untouched champagne to a passing footman, but before he could move, a man costumed as a pirate approach his quarry. Daniel's eyes narrowed when, after several seconds, Carolyn extended her hand to the masked buccaneer and smiled. He didn't know who the bloody bastard was, but realizing that he had tarried here in the shadows too long, he set a determined pace toward Carolyn. It was his intent to prod the pirate along-using the point of the bastard's own sword if necessary-yet before he took more than half a dozen steps, a feminine hand curved around his arm.
"You make a very dashing highwayman, darling," said a throaty voice he instantly recognized. He turned and found himself the subject of a thorough perusal through Lady Walsh's mask. His gaze flicked over her. Garbed in a revealing outfit, Kimberly looked wickedly desirable and stunningly alluring. And he wanted nothing more than to escape.
Still, she was his hostess and a former lover, and protocol demanded he be polite. It certainly wasn't her fault he was in a rush to cross the room. "Cleopatra?" he guessed, lifting her hand to brush a light kiss over her fingers.
"Indeed," she said, her voice a sensual purr. "I was hoping you'd come as her lover, Marc Antony. Did you not receive my note suggesting you do so?"
He had, but ignored the missive. They'd parted amicably before he left for Matthew's country house party, and he intended to keep things that way-amicable, and parted.
"I only arrived in Town this afternoon and didn't get all the way through the mountain of correspondence awaiting me," he replied, assuaging his conscience by reminding himself that it was the truth.
"Are you enjoying yourself?"
"Very much. Your parties are always entertaining." His gaze flicked over Kimberly's shoulder and he tensed. Carolyn was still smiling at the pirate, who was handing her a glass of champagne. Bloody hell, prodding the bastard along at sword point might be too subtle. Perhaps hanging him from the yardarm would be better.
"I'm glad." Kimberly leaned a bit closer and he caught a whiff of her exotic scent. Her hand discreetly brushed across his thigh and his attention snapped back to her. Through her mask, her emerald eyes glittered with sultry invitation. "I can think of something else you'd find entertaining."
He forced a smile and bit back his impatience. Perhaps at some other time or place he might have taken her up on her offer, but he simply wasn't interested. Still, he had no wish to offend her. Indeed, he prided himself on remaining on friendly terms with his former lovers.
He bowed over her hand then gave her a quick smile. "I'm certain you could think of several dozen entertaining things, but I wouldn't dream of depriving your other guests of your attention. Give my regards to his grace," he added with a quick smile, referring to the Duke of Heaton, the man rumored to be her latest paramour, and one reputed to be extremely generous with his lovers. No doubt Kimberly would garner a number of expensive baubles from that liaison.
Someone else claimed Kimberly's attention, and Daniel took the opportunity to melt into the crowd. He headed directly toward Carolyn and the soon to be rousted pirate. Strains of music drifted over the cacophony of voices and laughter as he made his way through the crush. He lost sight of the couple for several seconds and paused. The crowd in front of him shifted and his hands clenched. That bloody pirate was leaning close, as if whispering in her ear. And she was bloody well laughing at whatever he was saying!
It required every ounce of his control not to shove people aside and stalk over there. To make like his highwayman costume suggested and steal away with her.
"You look as if you just bit into a lemon," said a familiar, amused voice beside him.
Turning, he found himself the subject of a costumed Romeo's perusal. "This is supposed to be a bloody costume party," Daniel muttered, his voice laced with the irritation rippling through him. "How is it that everyone recognizes me so easily?"
"I wouldn't have you known you at all," Matthew-as-Romeo said, "except for two things."
"Which are?"
"One, you told me you intended to dress as a highwayman-rather a dead giveaway, that."
"Yes, I suppose," Daniel murmured, his attention firmly fixed on the laughing couple standing at the edge of the dance floor.
"And second, the icy glare you're shooting at Logan Jennsen made it clear. I must say, as much as I appreciate your enmity toward him on my behalf, it is no longer necessary. Now that Sarah and I are married, he wouldn't dare look at my wife with a lustful gleam in his eye. In fact, I'm considering a business venture with him."
Daniel slowly turned his head to stare at his friend. "That pirate is Logan Jennsen?" he asked slowly, in a low voice that even to his own ears resembled a growl. He didn't care if Jennsen had saved him a great deal of money by advising him against an investment that had ultimately proved unsound. In spite of Jennsen's financial acumen, before this moment he hadn't particularly liked the brash, wealthy American who seemed to turn up at every social function. As of now, however, he most particularly disliked the man.
Matthew Romeo raised his brows. "Are you saying you didn't know?" He looked toward the pirate then stilled. He slowly turned back to Daniel. "No."
"No what?"
Matthew's lips pressed into a thin line and he
jerked his head toward the corner. Muttering an oath, Daniel followed his friend to the less crowded area.
Lowering his voice so they couldn't be overheard, Daniel repeated, "No what?"
"If you didn't know that was Jennsen, that can only mean you were simply staring daggers at whoever was conversing with Carolyn."
Daniel didn't bother to pretend he didn't know the goddess's identity and met Matthew's gaze straight on. "What of it?"
"Damn it, I suspected something of the sort at my house party, but I was so involved in my own affairs I didn't pay much attention." Matthew blew out a long breath. "She's not the right woman for you, Daniel."
Again he didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Perhaps I'm looking for the wrong woman."
"She's not the type you usually… consort with."
"And what type is that?"
"The jaded, bored sort. The sort who wanders from one liaison to the next." He lowered his voice further. "She's a decent woman."
A combination of irritation and hurt rippled through Daniel. "Are you insinuating I'm not a decent man?"
"Of course not. Actually, you're a much better man than you give yourself credit for. But when it comes to women, you're…"
"Fond of shallow, short-term liaisons based solely on physical pleasure?" he provided helpfully when Matthew seemed at a loss for words.
"Precisely. And so long as that makes you and your partner happy, it's perfectly acceptable. However, it is not the sort of arrangement that would make Carolyn happy."
"Perhaps we should leave that for her to decide."
Matthew studied him for several seconds then said quietly, "She's Sarah's sister and I don't want her hurt."
"What makes you think I'd hurt her? The only way a person can be hurt is if their heart is involved. She's made it abundantly clear her heart belongs to her dead husband."
"Then why bother?"
Confessions at Midnight Page 2
