by Robyn DeHart
She smoothed her skirt and then her hair. “I appreciate your experiment this evening. It gives me great relief to know that my mother is no longer a suspect.”
No, her mother wasn’t a suspect, but her family remained in question. He had to be honest with her. She needed to know. She would hate him regardless, but perhaps if he told her himself. “Someone who was close to one of those women has to be the one who killed him.”
She blinked up at him, not comprehending.
“Willow, your mother is no longer a suspect. But your father still is.”
Her face went pale as she absorbed his words. “You are a bastard,” she said, then walked away.
He caught up with her. She was right; he was a bastard. It was one thing to do his job and follow the investigation, but it was quite another to sully her with his advances. More than likely, she wouldn’t be so angry with him had he not kissed her first.
“Willow, wait.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” she said, her voice thick with anger. She clipped quickly down the stairs and headed for the front door.
“I know you’re angry.” He wanted her to stop and pound on his chest or yell at him. But she did none of those. She simply stepped out the door and immediately into the awaiting carriage.
He let out a heavy breath. He was an excellent investigator; he knew how to find the hidden clues, how to persuade a victim to talk and how to induce a confession out of a perpetrator. He did not, however, know what to do when a woman was angry with him.
It was not as if he’d never before made anyone angry. Ever since he was a child, he’d infuriated his mother. But she pouted and occasionally raised her voice, although not often. But Willow, however, had been clearly angry, yet had not yelled or struck him across the face, which he very much deserved.
This was uncharted territory for him. He couldn’t apologize. It was not his fault her father was a suspect. He could apologize for the kiss, but he’d done that before and then gone back on his word and kissed her again. It seemed that when it came to Willow, he was unable to control his words or his actions.
James put the last of the evidence up, then swore loudly. He shouldn’t have told her, should never have said anything about her father. Then what? Hope for the best that he wouldn’t have to arrest the man?
His attraction for Willow was beginning to interfere with the investigation. He simply could not allow that to happen. Especially when her family might very well be involved.
If he wasn’t careful, he was going to wind up married. The moment James committed himself to a marriage, not only would he be saddled with a wife, but his mother would begin her incessant nagging for grandchildren and would badger him to quit his dangerous position with the Yard. He could hear her right now.
Despite the fact that a small part of him wanted to protect Willow from wherever this investigation led them, he could not do so. His first priority was the Yard and solving the cases assigned to him. If that meant arresting Willow’s father, then he would have to follow that through, even if it meant she would never forgive him.
Besides, this attraction to her was more than likely exaggerated by the close proximity in which they were forced to work. Once the investigation was over, his fascination with her would wane and he could return to his regular carefree self.
It seemed as if every emotion was waging a war inside her, fighting for dominance. Willow pulled the tiny curtain back on the carriage window and glared at the moon hanging brightly in the sky. The full, rounded orb seemed to be mocking her with its beauty, daring her to find some romance in the air.
There had been kissing and there had been touching, but there could be no romance. Not with James. Not when he was hell-bent on destroying her family. Her heart beat a sporadic tattoo, and try as she might to ignore the sensations, she could still feel his hands on her.
She should have had more strength. Should have been able to push away from him. She should be ashamed of herself. Acting the harlot while he did his best to dig up evidence on her poor father. Her father, who had already been through enough in his lifetime. And now he was to be a murder suspect. She shuddered.
Yes, she should be ashamed, but no matter how must she tried to muster the feeling, that one simply would not come. She was angry, so angry she wanted to hit something, preferably someone.
She was hurt, of that she was certain. More than anything, she felt betrayed. Yes, by James, but more so by herself. How could she feel such intense desire for a man who made himself an enemy to her family? Allowing him to touch her betrayed her family and her loyalty to them. How could she, even now, knowing what she knew, still close her eyes and feel desire coursing through her body?
She was the worst sort of woman.
Had he been distracting her with his caresses in an attempt to soften his accusations? Her hand strayed to her breast and she closed her eyes against the moonlight. With a tug of her dress, to ensure it was properly in place, she forced James out of her mind. She had worked too hard her entire life to practice restraint and control and be a true lady, and then he’d come into her life and it had all fallen apart.
Well, it would happen no more. She might be a tarnished lady, but no one need know that. Most of her virtue was intact and that is how it would remain. The investigation and proving her father’s innocence would take precedence over all things. She would not stand by and allow her family to be persecuted.
They had endured enough.
Chapter 12
Willow was quite certain she might lose her dinner at any moment. She pressed her hand against her fluttering stomach to try to calm the racket within. It was not as if she’d never been to a ball before, but for some reason this one had her nerves tied in knots.
It had been two days since she’d seen or heard from James. She knew he was probably working on the investigation without her, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to contact him. She hadn’t given up; she simply had needed a bit of time to regain her strength and resolve. But tonight’s affair was not reinforcing either, as she felt rather weak and terrified at the moment.
Thankfully, she would not have to go it alone. Because it was to be a rather late affair, she was attending with Amelia and Colin. So, they’d agreed that she would arrive at their house early and she and Amelia would dress themselves together. But now as she sat at the dressing table while one of the maids worked magic with her hair, she felt nothing akin to excitement, merely dread.
“Willow, you look so pale,” Amelia said as she stepped into the mirror’s reflection.
“I think my corset is too tight,” Willow offered.
“Do you want me to loosen it?” the maid asked, her hands stilling over Willow’s head.
Willow shifted in her seat and found she still had ample room to breathe. So that wasn’t it. “No, I shall be fine.”
Amelia disappeared briefly, then returned with a glass of red liquid. “Here, drink this. I think it might help.”
Willow took the wine and sipped it cautiously. Ordinarily she wasn’t one to imbibe, but tonight seemed like the perfect situation. She knew what caused her unease—the thing that had her nerves so frazzled. Once the package from Madam Dupont had arrived at her house, she’d nearly fallen over.
Her gown for this evening was not only the most luxurious and beautiful confection she’d ever seen (let alone owned), it was utterly sinful in design. As the maid put the last of the pins in her hair, it became clear that the time had come for her to slip it on.
She stood and allowed the young maid to completely take over. The cool silk sent a shock of chills across her arms as the dress slid into place. Willow raised her arms to allow the fastenings at her side to be closed. Then she stood in front of the mirror looking very much a woman, and not one she readily recognized.
The gown, while mostly red with a delicate embroidered design, had black velvet right at her bosom, with red lace lining the bodice. Below her breasts, three sloping strands of black pear
ls came to a point at the center where a lovely broach tied it all together.
From there the dress fell in at her small waist then draped to the floor. The skirt was not wide, as fashion had seemed to demand earlier in the year, but was subtle and accented her narrow waist and wider hips.
There was no denying her body in this gown, no way for her to hide her curves or pretend men would not stare. She was rather thankful to have a mask for the evening. Perhaps it would make the ordeal less embarrassing. Red silk gloves slid onto her arms all the way to her elbows, and then the maid looped the fan around her wrist; a rather large fan configured of black ostrich feathers. Suitable for a weapon should she have need of one.
“Oh, Willow,” Amelia said from behind her.
Willow turned abruptly, embarrassed to have been caught gawking at herself in the mirror. “I—”
“You’ve never looked more beautiful.” Amelia’s eyes actually filled with tears. “You will be the envy of every woman in the room tonight. That dress is stunning and no one else could wear it quite the same way.”
“Yours is equally lovely,” Willow said, pointing at Amelia’s purple confection.
“Don’t be a ninny.” She waved a hand in front of her face and stepped toward her friend. “This is your night.” Willow felt a chill at her neck as Amelia slid a necklace into place. “That should be perfect.”
Willow put her hand to her throat. Pearls. She looked in the mirror and found a strand of black pearls sitting right above her collarbone. “Where did you find them?”
“They’re perfect, aren’t they? Here.” She placed two pearl-drop earrings in Willow’s gloved hand. “Put these on too.”
“Amelia, it’s all too much.”
“Now, tonight we will have none of that. Willow, you have spent the better part of your life caring for those around you. You can take one evening for yourself and have a glimpse of what your life might be like if you’d allow yourself a different course.”
“There is no choice, Amelia, I have responsibilities.”
“There is always a choice. Now, let us put our slippers on and head downstairs. If we don’t pry Colin away from the library soon, I fear he might stay in there all night and we will be left without an escort.”
The carriage ride to March Estates took less than a half hour, although their rig did have to line up and roll slowly to the front walk behind all the other waiting parties. Tonight’s ball evidently was a success.
Masque balls usually were. Everyone enjoyed the opportunity to step into someone else’s shoes for the evening. Indulge in a bit of imagination. Perhaps she might try to loosen her restraints, provided she was capable of such a thing. Willow had to admit, if she could look beneath her nerves, that even she was caught up in the excitement of the evening.
There were other things she had to admit, only to herself as she dared not so much as whisper them to anyone else. Already, she felt very much the traitor for feeling them. But she had to admit that she very much wanted James to be in attendance. Wanted him to see her in this dress. Wanted to see and feel the desire brewing behind his sea-green eyes.
She felt the stab of betrayal, knowing she ought to forget about the girlhood fantasies James put in her head. Fantasies of love and family and children. He knew nothing about the meaning of family if he could touch her so reverently one moment, then admit her father was a suspect in the next. It seemed the worst bit of irony that he would be the one to make those desires surge up within her.
It was not an option now to walk away from the investigation. Her family’s innocence was at stake. She would endure her foolish desires for James but ensure she kept both eyes open in order to uncover the true perpetrator of this crime.
She wondered, too, if her brother would attend. For weeks she’d been meaning to ask him, but she had scarcely seen him.
In a flurry of movement, she was escorted out of the carriage and up the wide steps into the foyer. She could barely hear the voice announcing them, and then she was whisked into the ballroom.
With her mask securely in place, it was odd to view the room through the eye slits, as if all her surroundings were neatly tamed. Willow and Amelia and Colin stopped to greet their hosts, first Gareth’s aunt, then Meg’s father, and then the happy couple themselves.
Meg’s eyes grew round. “Willow? Is that you?”
“Of course it’s me,” she said, trying to pretend as if she always wore such revealing dresses.
“You look wonderful,” Meg said. “Charlotte isn’t here yet. I suppose she’ll make her grand entrance fashionably late, as usual. I fear we’ll be greeting people all evening. Enjoy, and have some champagne.”
Willow followed Amelia into the crowded ballroom and snatched a champagne glass from a passing footman’s tray. She smiled as the bubbly liquid tickled her upper lip. Perhaps Amelia was right. She could afford one night to indulge the life she might have had.
The ball was well under way by the time James arrived. He spotted Colin above the crowd and moved in his direction. As the crowd thinned out, he could see the people standing with Colin: Amelia, with her hand on her husband’s arm, the Barnetts, and…he froze. He knew that woman. The magnificent creature in the red dress had to be Willow. He could tell by her mannerisms, the way she held her glass, and the slight tilt of her head.
He let his eyes take her in and immediately his body responded. He had had his suspicions about the figure she hid beneath her usually modest gowns, but this was not what his mind had conjured. He had been wrong. She was more exquisite than his imagination could have created. Encased in the formfitting dress, her virtues were outlined and showcased for all to see. The tiny waist and slightly flared hips, a perfectly lush décolleté, and those creamy, rounded shoulders.
His first instinct was to pull her into his arms and touch her everywhere. His second was to pull her out of the ballroom so no other man could ogle her. He had no right to do either. He might be reckless, but he was no fool.
But he would dance with her. She would be in his arms, if only for a little while. He closed the distance between them, never taking his eyes off of her. Once he reached her side, though, he took the time to greet Colin and Amelia. He needed the distraction of trivial conversation to prevent him from devouring Willow. But then he turned his attention to her.
“Dance with me,” he said.
Before she could answer, Amelia grabbed the champagne glass out of Willow’s hand. “Go ahead,” Amelia said.
Willow eyed her friend, then held her hand out for James. Even beneath the red satin gloves he could feel the heat of her skin. He swept her into his arms as the music began. They danced in silence for several long moments.
“How did you know it was me?” she asked.
“I know you. I know how you move, your mannerisms.” He suspected he’d know her without that. Somehow his body would sense her presence.
“I see.” The pulse at her throat flickered.
“I don’t know whether to cover you or parade you around the room,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?” He couldn’t see her frown because of her mask, but he could tell from the tone of her voice.
“Every man in the room is looking at you. I don’t know whether to feel pride that you’re in my arms and not theirs or angry that they’re all ravishing you with their eyes.”
She swallowed. “No one is looking at me.”
“I am.”
“And?” she dared to ask.
“I can’t take my eyes off of you. I want nothing more than to throw you over my shoulder, haul you upstairs to the nearest bedroom and kiss every inch of your glorious body.”
She stumbled but he caught her before she fell. Blush covered the parts of her cheeks the mask left uncovered.
“Walk with me outside,” he said.
She met his gaze. “I don’t know, James.”
“People do this sort of thing all the time,” he said.
“But I do not.”
“What if I promise not to ravish you?” He smiled in an attempt to reassure her.
The song ended and they just stood on the dance floor as couples moved in and out around them.
“I promise,” he said again. “Your virtue will remain intact.”
“Well, it is rather warm in here,” she conceded.
“Yes, and the breeze is perfect. And this hall has a garden that is really worth seeing.”
“I can not simply walk outside with you. Allow me to go first, and we can meet on the balcony,” she said.
He nodded and she strode off in the direction of the French doors.
He had made her a promise, which meant he would have to keep his hands off of her. It would be challenging because he wanted to touch her so badly. Perhaps he could get by with one little kiss.
Willow reveled in the cool breeze that brushed her bare neck and shoulders as she stepped out onto the balcony. It wasn’t crowded, which served her well, since she really ought to take care that her reputation remain spotless. She made her way to the stairs that led from the balcony into the garden area and stood against a large potted fern.
What was she doing? Tempting the fates, not to mention betraying her family. She was behaving recklessly, which she was not accustomed to doing. Something she never even had the secret desire for. Yet, she was engaging in it with full mental capacities. Well, she supposed she might be a tad impaired from the glass of wine and two glasses of champagne, but for the most part she simply felt slightly less nervous.
She should turn around. Walk away from this interlude and go back home, where she belonged. But Amelia’s words kept ringing in her ears. Could Willow not have one night away from her responsibilities? One night to allow a handsome man to steal a kiss beneath the moonlit sky? It was a regular occurrence for many of the women inside that ballroom—why should she be excluded?
The fact that James suspected her family of murder certainly complicated things. But when it came down to it, James was the one she wanted. His touch the one she craved. His kiss the one she waited for.
