Sir Niles was on the point of asking her to dance but Sir Augustus broke into his carefully considered and beautifully worded request. “And here I am, hoping for the favor myself. You don’t mind, Alardyce? Privilege of rank and all that.”
“Not at all, sir. Miss Spenser should always avail herself of the opportunity to dance with one of Wellington’s officers. Dancing is an important part of tactics, for both sides.” He bowed and withdrew, but only to a certain distance. Rose could see him standing in the midst of other men dressed as the Black Mask. He stood out like a black rose among ashes.
“Peculiar fellow, Alardyce,” the general said. “Good officer, but with a deuced romantic streak. Undoubtedly gets it from his relations. Scots, some of them.”
“I always thought the Irish were the great romantics, sir.”
The general preened, tugging his collar and shooting his cuffs. “We manage, m’dear. We manage.”
Now that she’d dismissed the idea of Sir Niles being the man who had kissed her, Rose knew she had another problem. On the one hand, as she believed, the man had been the one true Black Mask. In which case, she’d given the first kiss of her life to a criminal, and he hadn’t even needed to steal it. She was also prey to the frightening suspicion she’d given her heart away as well.
If, however, the man on the terrace was not the real Black Mask, then she’d kissed a stranger, one who might still be in the ballroom. He’d known who she was, for he’d called her by name. He hadn’t been tall enough or wide enough to be any of her giants. So who had she kissed? Was he, now that the unmasking had taken place, boasting of his achievement?
Trying to look twenty different ways at once, dazzled by the hot burning candles, she began to feel dizzy. Rose hadn’t the heart to give in to the headache burning behind her eyes, not when Rupert, Aunt Paige, and the general were having such a good time.
The general, whom she was beginning to think of as Uncle Augustus, danced with her, showing an unexpected sense of grace.
“I wonder if I may ask a forward question, Miss Spenser.”
“Ask away.”
“Do you believe it too early to ask your aunt to be mine?”
“Why, I...”
“Your brother seems to think so,” he added glumly, executing a turn with absentminded perfection.
“Did you ask him?”
He nodded. “He feels people of our years, with so many responsibilities, shouldn’t leap into matrimony without due consultation of all interested parties.”
“Rupert said that?”
Augustus grinned. “Actually, he said, ‘Dash it, haven’t you enough on your plate without a wife? Don’t know if m’father’d care for it, either.’“
Rose laughed. As the dance ended, she tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and strolled with him. “Do you care so much for our opinion? Rupert can barely manage his own affairs and I... seem to spend much of my time in a muddle.”
“What’s amiss, then? If an old soldier can be of any help to a young lady like yourself, you’ve only to ask.”
Rose was tempted. He was a man of the world, after all, and could tell her so much she needed to know. But after a moment’s reflection, she shook her head. “No, there’s nothing.”
“Nothing? Or no thing you can tell me?”
“Oh, Uncle ... I mean, Sir Augustus ...”
He pressed her hand. “No need to fly your colors. Your little slip is the best hope you could offer me.”
“Surely Aunt Paige herself has not been remiss in her encouragement.” Was that giving away too much of her aunt’s confidence?
“She has doubts,” he said. “She claims I am too impetuous, making her an offer after knowing each other such a little time, but I think she is afraid of being a widow again. Losing husbands twice is damned disheartening, I fancy.”
“You’ve never married?”
“No. Never had the time and, in truth, I never saw a woman worth the time until I met Paige. Now I’m waiting for the chance to make her happy.”
Ignoring the people around them, Rose went up on tiptoe to kiss the general’s weather-beaten face. “If all you want is to make her happy, I think I can promise no one in her family will place any objection in your way, I know that is all anyone wants for her.”
“Thank you, m’dear. I hope and pray it’ll not be long before you can call me ‘Uncle’ without misspeaking yourself.”
Chapter Eleven
By the time their carriage was extricated from the morass of others in front of the Yarborough home, three o’clock had long since struck. Despite the lateness of the hour, Rose couldn’t bring herself to go to bed. An hour after coming home, she still sat up in her room, a book open, unread, on her lap.
Even though everyone should have been asleep, Rose didn’t feel too surprised when someone tapped lightly at her door.
“I saw the light,” Paige said, similarly attired in a wrapper. “Is anything troubling you?”
“Not at all,” Rose said, dissembling. How could she admit that sleep stayed far from her because she didn’t know if she was in love with a thief? “I have to be up early to go riding, so there’s no point in going to sleep, is there?”
“Ah, to be young again,” Paige said. She sat down on Rose’s bed.
“You’re not asleep, either. That argues for your own youth.”
Paige shook her head ruefully. “There’s no arguing away the difference between twenty-one and forty-one. The spirit is still willing but the flesh—oh, the flesh. It droops and wrinkles, and not all the remedies in all the ladies magazines can restore it. Enjoy your beauty while you may, Rose.”
“I try not to be vain.”
“It’s not vanity; it’s good sense. We enjoy the first strawberries of the season knowing how brief a time they last. Why not feel the same way about our beauty? I know I enjoyed being beautiful. When I was first a bride, that is.”
“And the second time you were a bride?”
“Oh, I was a sober matron—for about fifteen minutes. I even wore a cap. Once.”
“What happened to it?”
‘Japhet threw it in the fire during breakfast.” Aunt Paige laughed at the memory, her throat white in the candlelight. “He said he had married a dashing widow, not the matron of a girls’ academy. It was a pretty thing, too. Valenciennes lace.”
“I suggest you spare the cost of buying another. I doubt Sir Augustus will be any more forbearing.”
“It’s worth the cost for such a pretty compliment.” As though she had only half heard Rose’s comment, Paige sat up and darted a glance at her. “Sir Augustus won’t have the opportunity, anyway. I have every intention of refusing him.”
“Why on earth would you do anything so foolish?”
“My goodness, you are forthright. Has Augustus been talking to you?”
“Yes. He said you’re afraid of losing another husband.”
“I hadn’t realized he was quite so perceptive.” Paige smoothed the coverlet idly. “Marriage is a leap in the dark. Sir Augustus seems like a kindly, gentle, loving man, but how can I be sure? One has only to regard those unfortunate persons who are permanently tied to an uncongenial other to know how miserable such a marriage becomes.”
“You can’t seriously believe Sir Augustus will mistreat you. Why, he worships the ground you walk on.”
“Now, perhaps. But what about later?”
“Shouldn’t later take care of itself? I hate to think of you being alone for the rest of your life. What will you do if you don’t marry again? You can’t go to parties forever,”
Paige laughed at her. “And they say there are no old heads on young shoulders. You sound like a grandmother counseling a giddy child.”
“I’m sorry. I have no right to an opinion on such matters. What do I know? I’ve never even been ... in love.”
“Rose? What aren’t you telling me?” Paige fixed her with a happily suspicious gaze.
“Nothing of consequence,” Rose said, c
oloring, and told herself she wasn’t lying. What could she tell her aunt? That she’d permitted a strange man to kiss her and that she’d never known so thrilling a moment before in her life? Could she say she had not the least notion of who he was and she cared even less? Was there any way to tell a dear relative one had completely lost one’s mind, to the point where if the stranger asked her to, she’d elope with him without a second thought?
Rose realized all these things were true. It might not be love, but she knew no other name for this giddy feeling, which cast her high as the clouds one moment and lower than a dungeon floor the next.
“Do tell me if I’m to be confronted by some young man demanding your father’s name and direction.”
“If I have any warning, I’ll share it with you.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, my dearest, have you quarreled with that large colonel? I haven’t seen him in the throng lately.”
“I think he’s been ill,” Rose said, remembering the way his eyes had seemed to burn like two coals.
“Too bad, though I should be grateful for my furniture’s sake. Do you know the joints are weak in at least two of the drawing room chairs? I think it’s the size of your admirers.”
“I do have a few small ones,” Rose said playfully. “The others just cast longer shadows.”
“It’s a small price to pay for your company. You know, you wouldn’t worry about my being alone if I had some bright young creature about the house, would you?”
“No. Are you thinking of buying a dog?”
Paige laughed. “No, nor a cat. You’ve enjoyed London so much and I’ve enjoyed showing you all the sights. Would you consider making your home with me?”
“Permanently?” Rose forgot the questions that confused her in the light of this exciting development. “Oh, Aunt Paige, I hadn’t even dreamed ...”
“You would consider it, then? I know your mother might not like to spare you.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’d have no objections ... well, perhaps a few. She does like having me do those tasks that she finds too burdensome. The flowers, the accounts, interviewing the servants.”
“Surely she could spare you for a few more months at least. I was becoming so boring living alone.”
“All the more reason to marry Sir Augustus.”
“You and he have persistence in common. I should send him to the right-about.”
“Why don’t you, then?”
“I am such a variable creature, Rose. I know I should do what is right for the both of us, but it is so sweet to have a trifle of romance in one’s life, especially when one is middle-aged. Seeing that twinkle in a man’s eye is very cheering when all you see are wrinkles in the mirror. If only Augustus were willing to leave it at flirtation.”
“He’s serious.”
“Yes.” Paige shook her head sadly. “I know sending him away is the only right thing to do, yet I can think of a hundred reasons why I shouldn’t do it just now. I’m afraid if I don’t act quickly, I’ll lose heart and never refuse him at all. We women are very good at convincing ourselves that wrong is right and the evidence of our minds is unimportant compared with the evidence of our hearts.”
“Yes, we are good at that,” Rose agreed dryly. “Well, Aunt Paige, you know my thoughts. I like Sir Augustus very much and can think of no one better suited to my dear aunt. Furthermore, I cannot bring myself to be so selfish as to desire to stay with you if it means crowding out your husband.”
“Even if I did agree to marry him, I shouldn’t do it until the close of the Season. You could still stay with me afterward. It wouldn’t be as though Augustus and I were boy and girl, kissing furtively in corners.”
“No, only openly on the terrace,” Rose said, with a knowing glance.
Aunt Paige turned pink, a very flattering shade. “That is the problem,” she said. “I can resist him by candlelight and by daylight, but moonlight destroys my resolves.”
“I know what you mean,” Rose said on a sigh.
Aunt Paige rose from the bed and drifted over to Rose. Giving her cheek a pat, she nodded knowingly. ‘Tell me when I shall be receiving the young man so I may have your father’s address already written out. We mustn’t lose any time.”
“I will. You can enclose Sir Augustus’s good wishes to his future brother-in-law in the same cover.”
“Minx,” Paige said without rancor as she left the room. She looked as if she would sleep now.
For Rose, however, sleep stayed frustratingly out of reach. Every time she lay down, her thoughts would begin to whirl around the events of the evening. The worst was when she relived that breathtaking moment when her unknown hero’s head had blocked the light, coming closer, while she, foolish virgin, didn’t resist. That was what sent her out of bed, unable to bear her thoughts another moment.
For diversion, she knelt on the window seat and pulled back her curtain. As she’d blown out her candle, she could see through the glass, instead of having her own reflection meet her. Even at this hour, light found its way into the garden. Every householder was required by law to keep a lamp burning outside their house, and some of it leaked into the rear of the house, aided by a late-rising moon.
Rose unlatched her window and pushed it wide open, past the sill. Distantly, she heard the heavy rumble of wheels over cobblestones as goods were brought in for the early morning markets. It was so far away, the rumble sounded like the sea.
In the garden, everything slept, even the rabbits that lived in a corner by the wall, in defiance of cats, streets, and Aunt Paige’s once-a-week gardener. A little weak perfume drifted up from the half-closed flowers, waiting for morning and the rising of their beloved sun.
Rose sighed and reached out to swing the window closed. She paused, tensing. A sound, teasingly familiar, had reached her. Holding her breath, she listened and it came again, the crunch of steps on gravel. They were much too loud to be a cat’s.
Leaning forward, giving all her concentration to eyes and ears, she saw a form, no more than that, moving on the gravel path that led to Sir Niles’s house, the same in every architectural detail to Aunt Paige’s. The steps were not confident, striking out swiftly and unthinkingly. No, they wandered, two quick, several slower, several quicker again. These were the steps, Rose thought, of someone working out a problem, looking at it from all sides. A problem, say, like how to burglarize a house?
Though the intruder was too far away to be seen clearly in the uncertain light, Rose felt she could glimpse two articles of clothing. One, a cloak, judging by how hard it was to see details clearly. The other detail, half seen, half intuited when the unknown had turned his face to the moon, was a black something twisted across the eyes.
Without hesitation, as soon as Rose saw that, she threw on a pelisse and a pair of stout shoes. Just to be on the safe side, she pulled out a sturdy parasol. Thus attired, she paused by the window again, satisfied she could not be seen in her dark green coat any more than the Black Mask could be seen in his midnight-colored clothing.
The reassuring crunch of trodden gravel came again to her ears. Whoever was stalking around Sir Niles’s garden at this hour was still there. She wondered if the Black Mask was planning to steal Sir Niles’s collection of jewelry and gems.
Rose couldn’t recall if she had ever been outside at night by herself. Even when she had been a child, growing up on the outskirts of a busy town, the outdoors was somewhere she went only with nurse or groom following behind. Even if she escaped these two guardians to go on some unauthorized escapade, Rupert went along.
If she had thought about it before she’d so impetuously hurried outside, she probably would have been nervous. But now that she was here, she felt oddly at home in the dark.
She noticed that, baffled by a high wall, the lights and sounds of a busy London night faded away into a low undercurrent, much less than it had appeared in her room. The lamplight was hardly more than a shimmer in the sky. From some bush nearby, a bird chirped in its sleep.<
br />
Rose advanced toward the white wall. By standing on tiptoe, she could just see over the top. “Hello?” she called softly. “Are you there?”
When the silence had stretched several minutes, Rose realized her position. There could be no explanation for her wandering around outside at night. A breath of air could only be achieved by an open window for a nice young lady. It was much too late for croquet, and the excuse of gardening by moonlight would work only for a sorceress. Besides, she’d obviously been mistaken in what she saw, or the visitor was long since gone. Yet why was her feeling of not being alone so strong?
* * * *
Niles pressed his back against the wall, his breathing shallow, his mask fallen to the ground. He had never believed in a natural affinity of souls, but the suspicion had begun to sink in that Rose was linked to him in some way only metaphysics could explain.
What had possessed the girl to be awake now? Any other woman would be soundly sleeping after so strenuous an evening, not gazing out her window at nothing. Of course, he had every reason to believe Rose was no ordinary woman.
He heard her footsteps move off. Silently, he crept forward, walking along the grass verge on the edge of the gravel walk, seeking a soundless way to his own back door.
Some instinct or that affinity at work made him glance back just as the lever gave under his hand. A slight thud came to his ears as the top of a ladder seated itself against the top of the wall. He almost laughed aloud as he slipped inside the house. Were there no limits to Rose Spenser’s intrepidity?
Only later did he realize he’d left his mask behind. Oh, well, he’d send Baxter out for it in the morning. Surely Rose hadn’t dared to climb the wall and search. On the other hand ...
The Black Mask Page 12
