by Dayna Quince
“Then we have an understanding.”
“I still don’t understand you,” Dean admitted.
“That makes two of us.”
She flicked her reins and rode off at a safer pace. Dean followed her, wanting to roar like a beast in frustration. Rigsby caught up to them quickly now that they had slowed significantly.
“What the devil is going on?” He pulled up beside them. “Where’d you get off to?” He reached for Lucy’s reins. She jerked them out of his reach.
“I went off on my own for a time, that’s all.”
“And then decided to tear through the countryside like a madwoman?”
“Yes, precisely.” She nodded without expression.
Dean had to admire her acting skills, but he also wanted to strangle her at the moment.
Rigsby turned to him. “Where was she?”
“I found her riding through the woods near the cemetery.”
“The cemetery?” Rigsby huffed as he still tried to catch his breath. “Meeting someone?”
She looked sharply at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Farris wrote to me, warning me of Jeffrey’s interest. His intentions are far from honorable. You’d do well to stay away. If he won’t, promise me you’ll tell Winchester or me.”
“If I have a need to tell you or Winchester anything,” she met Dean’s eyes, “it’s to mind your own bloody business.” She turned her horse and continued on toward the house.
Dean and Rigsby scowled after her.
“What should we do?” Dean asked.
“Nothing. Lucy sees obstacles as a challenge to be beaten. She has to learn for herself.”
Dean scoffed. “She’ll walk right into his arms.”
“If that is what it takes for her to come to her own conclusion, so be it,” Rigsby nodded.
“You’d stand by and watch her ruin herself?” Dean said in dismay.
“Of course not. I will do whatever I can to protect her, but I can’t always protect her from herself.”
“You could tie her to her bed,” Dean muttered as he pushed his horse into motion.
He disagreed heartily with Rigsby’s blasé solution for dealing with the budding disaster that was Lucy and Jeffrey. If it were his sister, he’d be knocking on Jeffrey’s door right now and pummeling his smug face.
“What about warning your father?”
“We did,” Rigsby said in exasperation. “The more we try to stop her, the further we drive her into his arms.”
Dean didn’t like that answer. From what he saw, she was already in his arms. His mood only blackened further as they reached the house. Lucy had left her horse in the care of the stable hands and escaped them.
Dean just couldn’t resign himself to letting the matter go, but nor could he stand there and demand action. He had no right. That bothered him, too. If he had a sister, he could never just let her make her mistakes, not when said mistake could have such dire consequences. He knew the type of man Jeffrey was because many of the same labels could be applied to him.
He climbed the stairs to his room, sweaty and covered in dust. He peeled off his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt, tossing them on the floor with disgust and splashed water on his face. The water did little to wash away the dirt. He sighed and rang for a bath.
Once the tub was filled, he sank down into the water and sighed. He hated inaction. He hated that he had no place in this fight. Lucy was headed for self-destruction and he was supposed to let her? He could speak to her father, but he and Rigsby had already outlined all the reasons why Jeffrey was the last person his daughter should be associating with. He’d reacted curiously, far too complacent in Dean’s mind. He’d asked Dean’s opinion, which Dean gave, and then acted as if there was nothing else to do. Dean had other ideas. Leaving Jeffrey a bloody pile of pulp was one, locking Lucy in her room until old age was another. Preferably with an armed guard—a female armed guard. He sunk lower in the water and angrily scrubbed the dirt from his skin. He climbed out of the tub and dried. He prepared for dinner, eager to see Lucy and if he could, drill into her the stupidity of seeing Jeffrey again. If he couldn’t make her family understand, he would have to convince her himself.
When he entered the drawing room, she wasn’t there.
“Oh good, we can go into dinner now.” Rigsby stood.
Dean looked around. “Are we not waiting for everyone?”
“Lucy’s ill. She won’t be joining us this evening.”
“Ill?” He was skeptical.
“Nothing to worry over.” Lady Heath smiled.
Dean looked to Rigsby for further information but none was forthcoming. He walked with Rigsby to the dining room while Lord and Lady Heath continued on.
“Are you not worried this is some ruse?” Dean said quietly.
Rigsby blinked at him. “Ruse?”
“To see Jeffrey,” Dean added.
Rigsby cocked his head to the side. “You know, that would be brilliant. Claim the female malady and then sneak off to meet a lover.”
Dean bristled all over. “Has anyone checked her whereabouts?”
“Her maid delivered the message, and my mother confirmed her presence. But it is worth noting, I suppose. Why don’t you go check on her?” Rigsby clapped him on the back.
Dean glared at him.
“I’m only teasing. The matter has been handled. She’s not about to run off to Gretna Green with the man.”
Dean pictured that very scenario as he claimed his chair. He tried to eat the delicious looking fare that was placed before him, but his mind wouldn’t be kept at bay and everything tasted like tree bark.
Chapter 22
Are you sure you want to do this?” Marigold asked for the hundredth time.
“No, and yes.”
“I think it’s very risky to rely on this man. You will be at his mercy.”
“You’ve said as much already.” Lucy sighed. “I won’t be at his mercy. I will be at a ball attended by my own brother.”
“And Lord Winchester.”
“And him.” Lucy closed her eyes against a wave of uncertainty. Lucy felt naked in her angel costume with the changes she and Marigold had made. They worked steadily for two days to complete the changes and now, as she looked at her reflection, she regretted it. Marigold draped her white domino over her shoulders and then her brown wool cloak.
“Good luck,” she whispered.
Lucy turned away from the mirror. Marigold followed her to the back of the house, now silent and dark. It was a quarter after ten. Her parents had retired, and Jonathan and Winchester had left hours ago. She didn’t want to think about what they could be doing at this moment. She wouldn’t reach the masquerade until just before midnight as it was. She hurried from the house, following the shrubbery wall and then ducking through it close to the end of the drive.
She exhaled with relief when she saw the carriage waiting. The coachman nodded and climbed down to open the door for her.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She sat back and hugged herself against the chill as the carriage began to move. This was by far the worst decision she’d made in her life. Hopefully, its consequences wouldn’t be lasting more than the uncomfortable journey. With every mile they traveled, she changed her mind. She considered asking the driver to take her back and bribe him handsomely for his time, but then she thought of what Winchester could be doing and who he could be doing it with, and her jealous anger carried her forth.
After what felt like an eternity, the coach turned down a drive. Lucy peeked out the window and could see a large well-lit manor. Others were still arriving. She felt almost normal as she was handed out of the carriage and saw the other guests all dressed in exquisite costumes and masks. She smiled with relief.
She was not announced as she entered and gave her cloak to a footman. She saw a clock in the hall and it was only half past eleven. She descended the stairs, not making eye contact with anyone but glancing over the crowd for the familiar stature of her
brother or Mr. Jeffrey. There were many devils. With an inward groan, Lucy remembered that Jonathan’s costume was also a devil. She would have to steer clear of all devils until the unmasking or Mr. Jeffrey found her. She reached the bottom of the stairs and opened her domino. Those around her turned to look. She looked back and withheld a shiver. She felt bared and she didn’t like it. She’d had Marigold turn her angel dress from one garment to two like a costume women from her country would have worn to dance in. She’d never bared her stomach before in public and regretted it now.
She put her shoulders back and walked confidently into the room. If she looked as terrified as she felt, she’d become fodder for rumors and speculation, or worse, someone’s prey. She needed to look like she belonged here. She downed a glass of champagne and let her arms fall to her side. If she met anyone’s gaze, she stared back, smiled politely and moved on. She kept moving to keep anyone from trapping her into conversation and to look for Jeffrey or her brother.
The longer she searched, the less she wanted to find either of them. The clock struck midnight, but there was no grand unveiling of the masks. Lucy looked around frantically. How would she know who was who? There were three devils to her left and two to her right. Should she approach them? She wavered on the idea of moving closer to inspect them. She went to her right first, since those two devils were standing closer together and could be eliminated quicker. She pushed into the crowd.
Jeffrey looked around the ballroom with narrowed eyes. Where the devil was she? He’d spoken to every angel in the room, all but one. She wore such a daring and tantalizing costume that there was no possibility Lady Lucy could be her. He’d seek her out if he could not find Lady Lucy.
He cursed the raucous shifting crowd and turned to examine the other half of the ballroom.
“Who is it you’re looking for?” Mr. Farris said anxiously beside him.
“The woman I am supposed to meet. I arranged to have her driven here, but I suspect she has been frightened away.”
“You’ll have your pick of women here,” Farris murmured.
“I don’t want just any woman, Farris. I want this woman. She is special.”
“Then why would she come to a masquerade of debauchery?” Farris recoiled from a man wearing nothing but a mask on his face and groin.
“She craves excitement just as I do, and she has been woefully bereft of it.”
“Who is this enigma?”
“I hesitate to tell you.” Jeffrey looked over a group of ladies and caught the eye of the gentleman on the other side. Jeffrey nodded in recognition.
“Who is that gentleman?” Farris asked warily. He wore not a costume, but only a black mask, black evening attire and a black domino draped over his broad shoulders with the hood pulled over his head. He looked like Death himself.
“It is none other than the Earl of Winchester, an old friend from university.”
“Winchester? I’ve had the pleasure. A nice fellow.” Farris nodded in recognition and beckoned him.
“What are you doing?” Jeffrey grumbled.
Farris frowned. “You don’t wish to speak with him? He is an amiable fellow.”
Jeffrey straightened as Winchester approached. To call each other friends was a gross overstatement. Winchester hated Jeffrey and Jeffery returned the sentiments.
“Evening, Winchester. I’ve never seen you here before.”
“You won’t again,” he said darkly.
“Are you still visiting with Lord Rigsby at his family seat?”
“I am,” Winchester said with a kinder tone toward Farris. “I’ve been traveling with him and his father. We’ve only just returned to Yorkshire.”
“Oh, yes. We had the pleasure of seeing Lady Heath, Lady Lucy, and Miss Manton in Bath. A lovely time, it was.” Mr. Farris smiled in fond remembrance.
“You’re staying in their home?” Jeffrey raised a brow.
“I am.” Winchester met his gaze. His stare was cold.
Jeffrey grinned. “Wonderful.” Jeffrey would relish the idea of stealing a conquest out from under him. He could see Winchester’s eyes narrow behind his mask.
“If you will excuse me, I must rejoin my friends.” Winchester turned away without another word.
“I myself am looking for an angel,” Jeffrey said with meaning. Winchester paused and then continued to disappear into the crowd.
Farris frowned in puzzlement at Winchester’s retreating form then he turned to find Jeffrey grinning wickedly. “What’s going on?”
“I think we’re after the same woman,” Jeffrey said. “And I’m going to win.”
“Who is this paragon?” Farris looked around in bafflement.
“Can’t you tell?” Jeffrey laughed. His cousin was an idiot.
Farris frowned, thinking of what lady his cousin and Winchester could both be searching for. He shrugged.
“With whom did we spend our time with in Bath?” Jeffrey nudged him in the side.
Farris winced and rubbed his side. His eyes widened in dawning horror. “You’re meeting Lady Lucy here?” Farris blanched. “But…I told you of my feelings for her.”
“Relax, Farris. You can have her when I’m done.”
Farris stuttered as he followed his cousin to a grouping of chairs.
Dean remained where he was, standing just behind where Jeffrey and Farris had stood. His whole body had locked in fury at the sound of Lucy’s name. She was here? He looked around the room. It was utter chaos, clothing being shed, and a couple groping each other on the settee amid a circle of onlookers. He turned to look for Rigsby, but Rigsby wasn’t to be found.
An angel, Jeffrey had said. Did that mean Lucy was dressed as an angel? The one saving grace was that Jeffrey had not yet found her, but Jeffrey was only one danger among hundreds of drunken, lecherous men already here, and somewhere, was Lucy, presumably alone.
He had the urge to throttle her when he found her, and somehow, someway, instill some God damn sense in her head. He looked around the room. There were many angels, now in various stages of undress, but there had been one angel who stood out among the others. He searched for her now with renewed vigor.
The crowd parted before him as if he truly was the specter of death and no one dared meet his eye. He climbed the stairs to a balcony overlooking the ballroom for a better view. He scanned the crowd praying she wasn’t foolish enough to leave the negligible safety of the ballroom.
Then he saw her.
A man was attempting to pull her onto the dance floor. She was resisting. Dean moved without thinking, sprinting down the stairs, and then, when the crowd grew too thick at the bottom to pass, he jumped over the railing, his domino billowing out behind him like great wings. A woman screamed. Others turned and applauded, but Dean didn’t hesitate as he landed on his feet and barreled into the crowd.
He swooped down on them, the man’s eyes widening as Dean loomed over them.
“So sorry.” he let go of Lucy’s hand.
Dean caught Lucy as she stumbled back against him. She turned and looked up at him, her face turning pale.
“I’m—I’m sorry. Please forgive me, sir.” She righted herself and tried to move away.
Dean slipped both arms around her and pulled her tight against him. He was momentarily stunned by the feel of her bare skin under his hands. He bent close to her ear.
“How could you be so reckless, Lucy.” He had intended to be stern and frighten her, but his voice had come out dark and velvety. He felt her shiver under his hands and her hands settled on his shoulders under the domino. He breathed in the familiar scent of her, his rage and fear quickly turning to need. No. He couldn’t succumb, not when her safety should come first.
“Dean?” she said shakily and pulled her head back to look him in the eyes.
He nodded once.
Her eyes grew misty and hardened as she stared at him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m saving you.”
“I don’t need you to save me.”
>
“The hell you don’t.” He slid his hands up her back. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes dropped to his lips. The urge to kiss her swelled. As much as she wished to hate him right this moment, she still wanted him. He knew that deep in his bones and it tortured him. He took her arm and began to tow her through the crowd.
“Where are you taking me?”
To a bedroom, his heart whispered.
“To find your brother and get you out of here.”
“No!” She planted her feet and tried to yank her arm from his grasp.
“Jesus Christ, Lucy. Do you think this is a game? We need to get you out of here.”
“Jonathan will tell my father. Nothing I could say would stop him.”
“As he should. You are out of control. You won’t stop until you’ve ruined your whole family.”
“Please. I’ll leave right now and go home.”
“I can’t leave you alone,” Dean growled. “Where the bloody hell is your brother?!” He looked over the crowd. She twisted her wrist and slipped out of his hold.”
Dean cursed and went after her, but he lost her in the crowd of dancers as another set formed. He could see her across the way, but she was far from his reach.
Lucy gulped down breaths of air as she fought the urge to cry. She cut through the crowd, coming upon a group of chairs and a sofa. She met the eyes of a devil that was sitting there and panicked. He stood slowly. The ballroom was so full, she could do nothing more but press herself against the crowd behind her in hopes they would part and swallow her into their midst. The man beside him stood as well, he costumed like a fox. She recognized him instantly.
“Mr. Farris?”
He nodded. He did not look pleased to see her.
The devil removed his mask and Lucy sighed in relief. “Mr. Jeffrey.”
“I’ve found you at last, my angel.” He bowed low and replaced his mask.
Lucy moved forward, and he tugged her onto the sofa beside him, putting his arm around the bare skin of her midriff. She stiffened. His touch had the effect of stepping into a lake and sinking into the slimy mud. She loathed herself for coming here and wearing this ridiculous costume. She wanted nothing more than to leave but feared she was in far too deep. Perhaps if she begged Jonathan, if she swore in her own blood that she was going to change, he would not tell their parents what she’d done. As much as she hated to admit it, Dean was right. She was a fool, and she was courting disaster without care or thought. She’d run from the one person who only wanted to see her safely home and had the ability to do so.
