by Heather Boyd
“Half your luck,” Vine grumbled. “There are worse things people could say about you. They could say nothing at all and barely notice you exist.”
Ellis longed for that. “These rumors are getting annoying.”
“You worry too much.” Vine tapped his arm. “I know a dozen dull gentlemen who would kill to have your reputation with the ladies.”
That reputation was getting in Ellis’s way.
“What about Prescott?” Vine asked when they took seats as the first horses appeared.
Ellis liked Horace Prescott. He was a bit of a rascal with women, and even so, he was a model to Ellis’s circle of friends. “He’s a fine man.”
“Very rich.”
Money was a poor reason to marry, in his opinion. When he tried to imagine Mary happily married to Prescott, he couldn’t see it. Prescott was a little too flirtatious to not be tempted by other women. Mary claimed today that she wanted to love her husband, after all. “Is he not a little old to make a match with Mary?”
“What’s a few years matter if she can bring him up to scratch?”
“Twelve,” he said, calculating the age gap. “He’s a dozen years older than Mary. Shouldn’t someone closer to her own age be a better choice?”
“Choices seem to go begging right now. Prescott will not put up with her foolishness. I think I’ll invite him to dinner tomorrow night and see what happens when I leave them alone together.” Vine grinned.
Ellis had been left alone, never for long, with Mary, and inevitably they only ever seemed to squabble. There must be something about his face she did not like. He changed the subject quickly. “What about that one?”
They discussed suitable mounts neither of them could afford at present before leaving after an hour in a state of ennui. The problem with horses and women was that choosing one cost a great deal of money. He wished money wasn’t an issue for him, but it would define his life very soon.
“What’s put you in a sour mood today?” Douglas asked suddenly as a hack neared.
Ellis waited till they were seated and underway before he shared his news. “You’ll hear soon enough I suppose, but there’s been a tragedy in the duke’s family.”
“Truly? Did one of your cousins die?”
“Both of them.” That was the whole problem. His life was forever changed because two fools couldn’t be bothered to learn to swim. “They drowned together because of a wager set to prove who could skull across the lake on his grace’s estate. Neither one reached the shoreline to claim a victory.”
Douglas Vine started to laugh. “That means you’ll be a duke one day.”
“Shh, keep your voice down. I’d rather no one knows for a while.”
“Good God man, why? If I were next in line to inherit a dukedom, I’d be shouting it out for all to hear.”
There were many good reasons for silence. Most pressing was Ellis’s desire not to feel like prey in the sights of husband-hunting women in want of a title. “It’s a lot to get used to. To be honest, I’m still in shock.”
“I feel for you.” Douglas looked anything but concerned. The man grinned. “You’ll make an excellent duke, and I’ll have the pleasure of saying I knew you when you were a skinny shanked boy with no friends. Imagine the parties you can host now, eh.”
He scowled at Douglas Vine, but the man only saw the benefits. Ellis’s life had changed for the worse yesterday. For now, he had only a modest income, and he did not aspire to be a duke or in debt or to have a string of new friends because he was titled and wealthy. “I haven’t the faintest idea how to be a duke,” he confessed candidly.
“You will learn. The right sort of wife, with the right connections, will make it easier.”
“Don’t remind me that I must marry.” Ellis slumped into his seat. “I have already endured one lecture from the duke via his solicitor. I am to wed with all possible haste and produce a dozen offspring posthaste. After me, there’s no one else left to inherit, and he says I must do my duty to the family and title immediately.”
Vine slapped his shoulder. “Then we’d better get you married off quick smart.”
“That is not what I want.”
“I’m sure every man has felt the pinch of obligation before,” Douglas said, completely missing Ellis’s dejection. “That does not mean your fun is over. Oh, no. Choose a wife for duty and your lovers will keep you happy elsewhere.”
Douglas Vine had no idea how clueless he was. Ellis wasn’t an innocent, but he certainly wasn’t a rake by anyone’s standards. He had encouraged the belief to avoid being teased as a young man, and the label had sadly stuck to him like glue. Even the duke had heard of it and recently lectured him on the merits of reforming his reputation. He wasn’t guilty of having done the things gossip suggested. Even with the gossip, however foolish the hope, he was still wished for a love match.
If he married for duty alone, he would never have the kind of marriage his parents had enjoyed. He remembered their happiness so well, sometimes he felt pain at their absence.
The carriage slowed. “We should celebrate your good fortune.”
“My second cousins died a tragic and avoidable death,” he reminded Douglas pointedly. “Celebrating it is the last thing I want to do. The eldest had a wife and three daughters. It would be an insult to them and to his memory to carry on about taking his place.”
“Well, perhaps a quiet celebration is in order.” Douglas pressed his hand to his heart. “I swear to be the soul of discretion. We’ll gather our friends, and some lovely ladies to keep us warm, and drink until the sun rises tomorrow or the next day. What do you say?”
“I’ve been summoned to the duke’s home tonight, unfortunately.” He thought a moment. “I assumed you were attending the Fenwick Masquerade despite what you told your sister?”
Vine snorted. “I’d rather die first. There’s never anyone worth having at Fenwick’s.”
He thought of Mary and then shoved the thought away. He’d find someone to marry who actually liked him. Him. And not the title and money coming to him eventually.
Tomorrow he’d do his duty to the family, but after he’d attended the duke’s home tonight, he wanted to forget that his future was no longer his to steer. The best place to mourn the loss of his freedom was at the Fenwick annual gathering. He already had his costume, and without Douglas Vine watching, he’d be sure to have the first choice of any lady that caught his eye. “I’m sure you’re right.”
Chapter 3
Mary whipped the cloak from her shoulders and handed it off to a footman with more bravery than she’d known she possessed when she’d set out that night. Ahead of her, the world Ellis Worth had insisted she should not want to know moved and swayed with wild abandon.
But the world did not crash down on her head like he’d suggested it would.
No one pointed and stared at the virgin invading their midst. She was certainly not ruined just by being here as he’d claimed. The other guests could not know who she was anyway.
Mary was covered head to toe in her mother’s old and very scandalous costume—a very long wrap bound around like a native Indian woman would wear. Her red hair was covered entirely by a dark veil of matching silk that secured across her face. To ensure her identity remained a secret, she’d carefully dabbed her pale brows with dark kohl to hide the shade. She was utterly unrecognizable, even to herself almost.
She was drawn into the nearest crowded room, fascinated by a side of life her family had shielded her from to the best of their ability. But she had known such revels existed. They were whispered of, overheard. Douglas and Ellis Worth were frequent participants.
There was an abundance of merriment, dancing, and loud laughter around her almost immediately. Farther in, she caught sight of a man nibbling at a woman’s throat, and she stopped, appalled that the lady allowed it and made no move to stop him doing it.
Surely she wasn’t the only one to think it scandalous.
Mary glanced around, but n
o one paid any attention. It was as if such behavior was allowed, overlooked by everyone around the couple.
Embarrassed and uncomfortable, she averted her eyes and went in search of other less salacious sights.
What she found in the next room was the most beautiful man in existence.
She’d danced with her share of lesser creatures, but this scantily clad fellow took her breath away. She moved for a closer look at his scandalous garb.
He was tall, his dark hair peeking out from beneath a golden masked helmet at the nape, but what he wore below his jaw made her mouth suddenly so very moist. She swallowed and drew closer, unable to stop herself from staring.
He wore leather sandals on his otherwise bare feet with ties crisscrossed up his muscular calves. Around his hips he wore a short scrap of white linen that left little to the imagination, trimmed with gold braid and so thin, Mary could almost make out the top of his thighs. A heavier pleated sash, similar to Scottish garb of old but white, draped over one perfectly bronzed shoulder. The garment, if it could be called that, flowed loosely around his broad chest, leaving very little of his torso hidden from view or to her imagination. After studying him a few moments, a great many questions had been answered concerning what men looked like beneath their very proper dress.
“He may as well be naked,” she whispered to herself, then slapped her hand over her mouth. Not that anyone can hear her whisper over the din.
If he had been naked, then the last of her questions about the male of the species might be answered in one evening.
The man toyed with a gilt-handled sword idly, swinging the blade as if the silvered edge was utterly harmless as he watched the crowd around him with restless interest. He seemed to be alone. Perhaps the weapon was harmless, but undoubtedly so handsome a man could not be.
The muscles of his back and strong arms flexed as he shifted position, revealing a lean, muscular frame that made her pulse race. Mary licked her lips, astounded by her reaction to him. She was becoming quite warm and restless too as she looked upon his spectacular form with no idea what to do about it.
Oh, how she wished they could be introduced. Mary was alone, and so was he. However, a masked ball was a place of anonymity so the pleasure of his name would have to wait. She would have to stir her courage to have the pleasure of his company, even if the idea of it turned her stomach into very tight knots.
When he turned, their eyes met, and she couldn’t look away for a full minute. She did glance away eventually, blushing furiously under her veil. What was she doing? She’d never been so captivated before by a man, let alone a stranger in a crowded room. She had come tonight to broaden her knowledge of the real world. Gawking at a beautiful man, no matter how fascinating, wasn’t all she was here to do.
She was looking for a man who might marry her too.
She took a step but a scantily clad male chest materialized before her, halting her progress. Since she’d just studied that chest from afar, she found proximity to the curves and bulges of muscle all the more disconcerting up close.
His deep, masculine voice caught her by surprise too. “Devi?”
She glanced up, into the bright eyes of the stranger sparklingly with barely concealed mirth. The man thought she was a goddess. Who was she to deny him the delusion? Yet she felt an instant connection and smiled at him. “Centurion?”
“At your service.” He bowed elegantly, deeply, and she was smitten anew by the way he moved. “Are you lost, Devi?”
“How could I be lost with such a warrior before me,” she replied in a huskier tone than she usually spoke in, blushing furiously at her deception. Mary shouldn’t have responded to him like this, but since her argument with Ellis Worth, Mary was feeling rather bold. She fluttered her lashes a little.
He extended his hand, and Mary placed hers upon his broad and bare palm. Awareness of him rushed over her senses. Her breasts grew heavy under his warm stare. She lifted her chin, leaning toward him. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“It could be.” He dipped toward her, his grin widening. “I humbly offer my escort, for a dance or to any quarter of the known world that provides amusement, if that is your desire.”
Her desires would get her into trouble. Suddenly, Mary did not care. “Lead the way, Centurion.”
He squeezed her hand, and it felt right to let him escort her around the unfamiliar home and entertain her with his charming wit and generous laughter for the next hour. There was something about him, some swift and unknown symmetry that had brought him to her notice and kept him at her side. Who was she to deny fate?
He passed her champagne when a footman carried a tray past and smiled down at her as she sipped the strange liquid. A warm glow filled her with longing to know him, every time he smiled, her resolve to be careful diminished a little more. Where had this man been all her life? She had to find out who he was. “Do you know our hosts well?”
“I know them as well as anyone who made it past the butler.”
Drat! That meant he could be someone important or a nobody with funds to spare. Their hosts did not discriminate against rank or reputation. Money and connections were all very well but never made up for the lack of character.
“How well do you know them?” he asked suddenly.
“Oh, not at all.” Mary turned her face away, hiding a blush. She had to be careful to find out who he was before she risked her own identity being revealed. “They are very brave to open their home to so many strangers. Do the Fenwick’s not fear being robbed?”
“Everything of value is locked away.” He nodded to a group nearby. “They hire additional servants, men and women costumed to blend in, to ensure the peace and order are maintained.”
A couple, perched precariously on a chair, toppled off nearby and onto the floor, laughing but not halting their amorous pursuits. “They’re not doing a very good job of it,” she suggested dryly to her escort.
The pair wrestled around, sucking at each other’s lips with utter abandon while everyone looked on.
The centurion laughed and leaned close again. “The trick there would have been to find a sturdier chair, or perhaps make use of a bedchamber upstairs.”
“Surely our hosts would not permit that,” she said, unable to hide her surprise.
“Anything is possible on a night like this.” He winked. “A goddess may have anything she desires. She need only offer the right encouragement to be worshiped.”
Mary blushed hotly beneath her veil as a waltz was struck up by the orchestra playing somewhere above their heads on the balcony. She’d been secretly taught the steps by her dance instructor, but rarely danced it due to its scandalous reputation and Douglas’s disapproval. She would like to dance tonight, and her brother was not here to see her do it.
She’d like to dance all night with her handsome centurion, if such a feat could be managed. At two dances, it would be assumed she and her centurion had an understanding if they were in any other place of entertainment. For the first time in her life, she wanted to flout the rules and live very dangerously indeed.
She leaned close to her companion. “Dance with me.”
His lips curved up into a delighted smile. “I was just about to ask, but I’ll dance with you all night if you would allow me the pleasure.”
“I think I will.” She curled her arm through his and smiled. Yes, she would be very reckless indeed and enjoy her handsome companion. “Lead the way, sir.”
The centurion was an excellent dancer. Every brush of their hands, smile exchanged made her heart ache to be closer to him. Mary could not stop caressing the bulge of his shoulder muscle whenever the chance came, and he allowed it, encouraged her touch even with his frequent smiles. His body was so distracting that blushing had almost become second nature.
They danced four dances together, something that would be terribly improper anywhere else, and at the end of the fourth set he led her toward the refreshment table and handed her another glass of champagne to
cool her down.
She was not just hot from the dancing. All her senses seemed heightened in his company. “Lovely,” she whispered.
“Yes, you are.” He eased her away from the refreshment table, his hand warm on her back and sending tingles all over her body. “It has been a memorable evening.”
“Indeed.” Mary peeked at him. He was so perfect for her in every way that mattered that she was afraid for a moment that he might not feel the same. What would happen if he was merely toying with her affections? How would she even know? “I don’t want tonight to end yet,” she murmured.
“Neither do I.” His arm firmed around her back, pulling her close against his warm chest. “Stay with me,” he whispered.
Mary blushed and leaned into him while she caught her breath. Her pulse raced at his proximity yet she had no desire to distance herself from him as a proper lady should. She hadn’t found a husband in three seasons, her fourth might never happen, but she was utterly enthralled by this stranger. Aroused by his smiles, and by his touch. She hadn’t the faintest idea who he might be and it didn’t seem important. Tonight was her only chance to experience passion and she would take a chance on him. “Can I?”
“Yes, Devi,” he said then leaned closer, allowing her to touch his face. “I want you more than anything in the world.”
Mary glanced around at the other guests. She wished they were alone so she could have this one night of uninterrupted bliss with him without witnesses. “Where can we go?”
His lips caressed her ear. “I am sure we could find a private chamber upstairs if you’d care to explore the rest of the house together.”
A bedchamber seemed a very good idea if she was going to be truly wicked. She felt a little too exposed here. She curled her arm about his, breathless with anticipation, and held onto him tightly. “I’d like to be alone with you.”
They burst into an unoccupied room with a groan half an hour later, finally having made an escape from the crowds below and avoided the other lovers making use of dark corner of house. What she had seen already had given her imagination a great many ideas of how to pass the rest of her evening. Her heart had been well and truly lost to the centurion.
