When the town was quiet, he had taken gentle strolls to the hotel dining room, to the harbor—where a soldier always lurked among the fishermen—and to the pump room where he drank the curative waters. Perhaps they helped.
And he had received a morning call from Mr. and Mrs. Winslow. The former came to tell him there had been no further sightings of his highwayman, who probably had indeed fled into Scotland. Mr. Winslow was in touch with the authorities over the border, but so far, he had heard nothing. Louis pretended to be surprised that his robber should disappear into thin air.
Mrs. Winslow came to leave him a card for the masquerade ball she and the vicar’s wife were sponsoring at the assembly rooms. Louis almost laughed, because it was such a perfect vehicle for him, and he had every hope that Anna would be there.
So, with the money robbed from the eloping young man, he bought a theatrical black domino cloak and mask, and then hired a horse from the livery stable for the morning and rode gently out to the hollow tree near the Carlisle road, where he had hidden the same gentleman’s bags. It saved him the cost of black satin knee breaches and an evening coat.
On Friday evening, he donned his “borrowed” evening clothes—which really fitted rather well—and managed to knot his cravat respectably. Then he swung the black domino around his shoulders and tied the black mask over his upper face. His lips twitched, for he certainly looked mysterious and slightly villainous, in a ridiculous kind of way. In his profession, he had perfected the art of blending in and was rarely noticed unless he chose to be. He only hoped every other man present would look similarly absurd.
Leaving his chamber, he walked downstairs, crossed the foyer, and went out into the street where he strolled among several other masked figures in the direction of the nearby assembly rooms.
He had made sure to arrive in the earlier part of the evening so that he could familiarize himself with the building and discover all the alcoves and doors in the ballroom. At the same time, he could observe everyone as they entered. Men and women of all ages trickled constantly into the ballroom, which was exotically decorated for the occasion in hothouse flowers. Their heavy scents filled the air and their bright petals added to the dazzling colors of the dominoes and the glittering jewels on display.
Masked young bucks strutted around the ballroom, emboldened by anonymity to ogle young ladies until they blushed or flirted behind their fans, according to temperament. But it was a small town, and many people merely pretended not to recognize neighbors they must have known most of their lives.
The Winslows were there from the beginning, of course, and instantly recognizable. Mrs. Winslow wore a distinctive puce silk domino and her daughter one of ivory. Mr. Winslow retreated early to the card room. When the dancing began, some proprieties were still observed, with the masked gentlemen asking permission of the masked chaperones for the honor of dancing with their daughters. And Mrs. Winslow and the vicar’s wife—a ravishingly beautiful woman, even masked—were kept busy presenting potential partners.
Louis moved among them all, picking up snippets of gossip and information as he went. He was not the only avid observer either. A youngish man in a burgundy domino also scanned the guests and the new arrivals, as though seeking someone in particular. Was he awaiting an anxious lover? Or did he fear some threat to his own secrecy? The answer, finally, walked into the ballroom in a scarlet domino and matching mask sewn with glittering silver thread. Garnets dangled at her ears and around her creamy white throat. Red and silver ribbons intertwined in her artfully styled black hair, braided at the back of her head and allowed to fall in a smooth wave over one shoulder. She walked with a grace and confidence that caught at his breath, and the cloak parted in the middle to reveal a gown of ethereal silver.
She was breathtaking. Louis and the other observer were not the only men to notice either.
She entered with the handsome couple he had no difficulty in recognizing as Lord and Lady Tamar.
“My,” a woman whispered behind him. “Who is the lady with Serena Tamar?”
“I think it must be Tamar’s sister. I heard she had come on a visit.”
Louis smiled at this piece of news. At least now he knew who she was. Although what a marquis’s sister was doing riding alone in the dark and tending the wounds of escaped French prisoners was even more of a mystery.
While strolling in the direction of the card room door, Louis surreptitiously watched the vicar’s wife greet the newcomers, clearly pretending not to know them.
Meanwhile, the man in the burgundy domino had managed to secure the attention of Mrs. Winslow and was nodding toward the lady in the scarlet domino. Mrs. Winslow smiled, tapped him on the wrist with her fan, and led him across the room to where the Tamars were sitting down together with some friends.
Louis leaned his shoulder against the wall next to the card room door and watched.
Mrs. Winslow introduced the burgundy domino to Anna, then walked away with an indulgent smile. Anna did not give her hand to her admirer, merely inclined her head. The man talked, inviting her to dance. Louis watched Anna’s shapely lips, reading them as clearly as if he had heard the words.
“Oh, no, I do not care to dance. But if you wish, you could fetch me a glass of champagne.”
The burgundy domino, obviously cast down at the beginning of her speech, sprang back to life and trotted off to do her bidding. She didn’t appear to watch him, but as he began his return journey, she rose and flitted away. Louis would have assumed he was not a favored suitor, except that within the space of ten minutes, he saw her perform the same trick three times with three different men. Lady Anna, it seemed, simply did not care for admirers at all.
And yet, she did not give the impression of hiding or wishing to be elsewhere. With the vicar’s wife, she joined in an apparently lively conversation that included several other people, and a little later, he saw her strolling about with a young man in a green domino.
She’s listening. She’s doing exactly the same as I am…
Eventually, he chose to intercept her as she made her way back to her sister-in-law’s place. He could not allow himself to be side-stepped, ignored, or sent for drinks, and so he simply strode out from behind a pillar into her path, and she was forced to stop.
It did not upset her poise in the slightest. She was not startled. She had been waiting for him. Because she knew him? Or because she didn’t?
Behind the red and gold-threaded mask, her eyes glittered, alluring and mysterious. She was dazzling, the most desirable woman he had ever encountered. She took his breath away.
Almost of their own accord, his lips began to smile. “Madam, will you walk?”
Chapter Five
She had known he was there, watching her. A large man in a black domino who didn’t dance or converse, merely strolled around the ballroom, observing. And she became increasingly sure he was observing her. So were several other men, of course. It was a masquerade, and guests were constantly trying to identify those they couldn’t at once recognize. But there seemed something different about this man, something poised and confident about the way he held himself, the way he moved, lithe, economical, subtly predatory.
Intrigued, she had deliberately wandered closer to him, and found she was actually piqued when he neither spoke to her nor asked for an introduction. And so, she veered toward Mrs. Winslow.
“Satisfy my curiosity, ma’am, if you will. Who is the gentleman in the black domino? Please don’t tell me to wait until the unmasking!”
“Would you like me to introduce you?” Mrs. Winslow asked, apparently amused.
“I could not be so forward,” Anna said at once. “But was he not at the musical evening?” There was something familiar about him.
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Winslow said with certainty. “But I believe I met him for the first time on the same day.”
Possibly, she thought the clue would mean nothing to Anna. She could not have known that Anna always remembered everything, that she gue
ssed at once her observer was very probably the highwayman’s victim. She hadn’t realized he was still in Blackhaven. For some reason, she had assumed he’d continued his journey north.
And so, to learn more about the highwayman himself, she had commenced the dance, shadowing him, moving closer, drawing him in until he waited for her behind the pillar. It was almost a relief when he stepped out into her path at last.
Something jolted hard inside her, something she neither recognized nor understood. It was all she could do to preserve her expression of tolerant contempt. And then he spoke.
“Madam, will you walk?” He quoted from a familiar country song, his voice deep and pleasing, reaching far inside her, perhaps with warning. But his accent was unmistakably that of a gentleman.
“No,” she replied lightly, and quoted from the next line of the song. “And neither will I talk with you.”
“But you are already talking to me,” he pointed out. “And we both know you could have avoided me if you chose.”
She curled her lip. “I never choose to let a man divert me from my course.”
Apparently undeterred, he offered his arm. “Then perhaps you would allow me to accompany you upon that course.”
Anna hesitated only a moment. She preferred not to touch him at all, but neither did she wish to send him away. Feeling as if she took a huge step, a huge risk of some kind, she laid her fingertips on his arm and allowed him to guide the direction of their promenade.
“You do not dance,” he observed.
“Neither do you.”
“I would,” he said at once, “if you would dance with me.”
“Well I won’t, so you must make do with walking and talking.”
“Oh, I am not making do,” he assured her.
“What do you want, Sir Black Domino?” she asked bluntly.
“A few moments of your time. What do you want?”
She laughed. “To win my wager. My sister-in-law and I are in disagreement over whether or not you are the gentleman who was held up on the road to Carlisle.”
His face gave nothing away. The faint smile continued to play around his lips. “Why should either of you imagine that I am?”
“Something Mrs. Winslow said. Don’t be imagining she gave you away, for she didn’t. I merely guessed. Am I right?”
“What do you win if you are?”
“My sister-in-law’s garnets,” Anna lied with aplomb, touching the necklace at her throat.
He blinked. “That is a large wager.”
“My sister has a large fortune.”
“And, alas, she will keep the garnets.”
A frown tugged down her brow before she could help it.
“I am not the highwayman’s victim,” he explained.
She searched the eyes behind the mask. “Then who are you?”
He smiled. “I am the highwayman.”
Abruptly, his arm straightened and her hand fell to her side. He bowed and walked away into the throng.
Anna couldn’t help it. She laughed. It was too good an exit, even when the implications swamped her, depriving her of breath.
She had already been more than half-convinced that the highwayman had been Louis. And yet, here she had been fooled by his mask—not just the black one over his upper face, but by his easy grace, his pain-free eyes and English accent. Yet the clues had always been there, that dark blond hair, those deep blue eyes, the sheer presence.
Dear God, she was not half as good at this as she had imagined. And she was letting him elude her again.
The man in the burgundy domino—whom she suspected of being Mr. Banion—was bearing down on her from the dance floor. Rupert was bringing some friend of his toward her from the opposite direction, and nowhere could she see the man in the black cloak.
Instinctively, she hurried toward the ballroom entrance, slipping between her brother and her admirer and swerving around several couples as she went. As she reached the foyer, the doorman was bowing in a group of late arrivals, but she was sure she glimpsed a swathe of black vanishing into the night.
She almost followed him, so keen was her desire not to lose him again. Fortunately, after a brief struggle, sense and self-preservation won. She could not draw attention to herself by haring off down the street after him in her dancing slippers and bright red domino. And she had to remember he was the enemy. He must have been suspicious that she was more than she seemed, and he could have been luring her to harm, even to her death.
In any case, whatever his reason, he had come to her. Excitement soared as she whisked herself back into the ballroom. He would come again.
So lost was she in plans for their next encounter, that she failed to avoid Rupert and his friend who reached her at almost exactly the same time as the man in the burgundy domino.
“This insolent fellow wants me to introduce him to you,” Tamar said carelessly. “Though I can’t see the point when I’m not supposed to tell you who he is. Or who you are.”
“You came in together and sat together,” his friend argued. “You must be acquainted. Fair Lady Red Domino, will you do me the honor of waltzing with me?”
“I thank you for the invitation, Sir Blue Domino,” Anna replied, “but alas, I do not waltz.”
“Not with strangers, of course,” the burgundy domino said from her other side. “But you and I have already been introduced.” He even held out his hand to her.
She regarded it with distaste. “I do not waltz,” she repeated.
“And that,” Rupert said with a hint of steel in his voice, “is the end of the matter, gentlemen.”
As both men, who obviously knew him, by reputation at least, turned to him in surprise, Anna stepped smartly back out of their circle and spun away straight into the arms of another man who, instead of merely steadying her, as had seemed to be his intention, suddenly swept her onto the dance floor.
“I do not waltz,” she uttered once more, this time with cold fury as she attempted literally, to dig her heels in.
“Why ever not?” enquired a voice that paralyzed her. Her partner took unfair advantage of her astonishment, whisking her among the couples on the dance floor, just as the music struck up.
“It bores me,” Anna said. However, she didn’t quite achieve the cold contempt she had intended, for her partner wore a black domino, and despite his educated English accent, sounded remarkably like the Frenchman. Between the slits of his mask, his eyes were a deep, intense blue. He moved to the light yet relentless rhythm of the waltz, and somehow, she was following him, blindly, trying only to keep her feet until she could escape with dignity.
He said, “I don’t believe you and I need to bore each other. Like this we can have a long and uninterrupted conversation.”
“You left,” Anna blurted. She strove to squash the panic, to relax the rigidity of her body.
He smiled. “I wanted to see if you would follow.”
“Why?”
“You intrigue me. I hear you are the sister of a marquis, and yet…” He trailed off, leaving her in no doubt he was referring to their first meeting.
“He is not just any marquis.” Anna lowered her voice further. “As any Englishman would know. We Tamars grew up like wild animals, fending for ourselves. I go where I please, whenever I please.”
“Then I am all the more thrilled to be holding you in my arms.”
Anna never blushed. And yet she felt the blood seep into her face and neck. It distracted her from the discomfort of his nearness, his touch. And yet, curiously, the discomfort was not revulsion. This was new. And strange.
“Against my will,” she pointed out.
“I took you by surprise. I apologize. I thought I was saving you from your other admirers.”
She searched his eyes, so much more mysterious, so much less revealing surrounded by the black mask. “No, you didn’t. You hoped to catch me off guard.”
“That also,” he admitted.
“You are insane to come here. Mr. Winslow, the ma
gistrate, is present. So is Major Doverton, the commanding officer of the 44th who are stationed here. For all I know, there are officers from the fort present, too.”
“There aren’t.”
She ignored that. “Why did you come?”
“Mostly to see you.”
He was lying. She knew that and yet she couldn’t help her pleasure in his word. She, who loathed flattery.
“Why?” she asked.
“I refer you to my previous answers concerning your beauty and fascination—”
“I’ve forgotten those.”
“—and my own curiosity,” he finished, apparently undeterred.
She considered him. He danced with grace and elegance, guiding her with so much easy skill that she followed him without thinking. No one watching, surely, would guess that she had never waltzed with a man before. Or that this man had been shot barely a week ago.
“And so, you are the highwayman,” she said thoughtfully. “Did you hold yourself up?”
“No, I’m afraid I held up a young couple in a hired chaise and may have spoiled their elopement. The young lady had hysterics, but he took it very well. We parted on amiable terms.”
“You probably seemed preferable to the hysterics,” Anna said flippantly.
“I was. In fact, I felt so sorry for him I didn’t take everything.”
“I don’t understand why you took anything,” Anna admitted.
“I needed clothes and money to live.”
A frown tugged at her brow. “Just to come to Blackhaven? As your own victim?”
“It seemed a good place to wait.”
“For what?”
He smiled beneath the mask. “For you.”
In spite of herself, her heart fluttered. Not that she believed him.
She tilted her head, allowing amusement to fill her eyes and curve her lips. She heard his intake of breath and knew he was not immune to her. Men rarely were.
Blackhaven Brides (Books 5–8) Page 48
