The Temptation of Grace

by Kristin Vayden

  Meyer took a deep breath, meeting her gaze. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “But Meyer—” Liliah started.

  “We will. We just need to bide our time till the opportunity presents itself.” He nodded with a brave confidence in his deep eyes.

  “But what if we don’t?” Liliah hated to give voice to her deepest fears, watching as Meyer’s brave façade slowly fractured.

  “Liliah, I—I can’t think of that. I’m damned if I do, damned if I do not. I’m sure your father reminded you about my title—”

  “And how Lord and Lady Grace wouldn’t consider you without a title . . .”

  “Exactly. I have to hold on to hope. But I, I do need to tell you . . . Liliah, if we are forced . . . nothing between us will change.” He lowered his chin, meeting Liliah’s gaze dead on, conveying words he couldn’t speak out loud.

  “Thank you,” Liliah replied, feeling relieved. As much as she hated the idea of a platonic marriage, it hurt far worse to think of the betrayal that would haunt them all should Meyer take her to bed. It hurt to think she’d never know physical love, yet what choice did they all have? Should they take that step, Meyer would be thinking of Rebecca during the act, Liliah would know, and would not only be betraying her friend, but how could she not be resentful? Far better for them to simply bide their time till an arrangement could be made—she would simply step aside. Maybe take a lover of her own?

  How she hated how complicated her life had become.

  Liliah took a deep breath, mindlessly performing the waltz steps. A smile quirked her lips as she had a rather unhelpful—yet still amusing—thought.

  “Ah, I know that smile. What is your devious mind thinking?” Meyer asked, raising a dark brow even as he grinned.

  Liliah gave him a mock glare. “I’m not devious.”

  “You are utterly devious.” Meyer chuckled. “Which makes you a very diverting friend indeed. Now share your thoughts.”

  Liliah rolled her eyes. “Such charm. Very well, I was simply thinking how it would be lovely if we could simply make the wedding a masquerade and have Rebecca switch places with me at the last moment! Then you’d marry her rather than me and it would be over and done before they could change it!” She hitched a shoulder at her silly thoughts.

  Meyer chuckled. “Devious indeed! Too bad it will not work.” He furrowed a brow and glanced away, as if thinking.

  “What is your wicked mind concocting?”

  “Nothing of import.” His gaze shifted back to her. “Your mentioning of the masquerade reminded me of an earlier conversation with a chum.”

  Liliah grinned. “Is there a masquerade ball being planned?” she asked with barely restrained enthusiasm.

  “Indeed, but it is one to which you will not be invited, thank heavens.” He shook his head, grinning, yet his expression was one of relief.

  “Why so?”

  “It’s not a masquerade for polite society, my dear. And I shouldn’t have even mentioned it.”

  “A secret? Meyer, you simply must tell me!”

  “Heavens no! This is not for your delicate—”

  Liliah snorted softly, giving him an exasperated expression, before she slowly grinned.

  “Aw hell. I know that smile. Liliah . . .” he warned.

  “If you won’t tell me, then I can always ask someone else—”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort!”

  “You know I will.”

  “You’re a menace!” Meyer hissed, his expression narrowing as the waltz ended.

  “So, you’ll tell me?” Liliah asked, biting her lip with excitement.

  Meyer was silent as he led them to a quiet corner of the ballroom, pausing beside a vacant alcove.

  “This is a yes!” Liliah answered her question, squeezing his forearm as her hand rested upon it.

  “I’m only telling you so that I can properly manage what you hear. Heaven only knows what you’d draw out of an unsuspecting swain. At least I’m immune to your charms and won’t give in to your pleas.”

  Liliah almost reminded him that he was doing just that—but held her tongue.

  “There is a . . . place.” Meyer spoke in a hushed whisper, and Liliah moved in closer just to hear his words above the floating music. “It’s secretive, selective, and not a place for a gently bred lady, if you gather my meaning.”

  Liliah nodded, hanging on every word.

  “Only few are accepted as members and it’s quite the thing to be invited. One of my acquaintances was far too drunk the other night and spoke too freely about this secretive club—mentioning a masquerade. That is all.”

  Liliah thought over his words, having several questions. “What’s it called?”

  Meyer paused, narrowing his eyes. “Temptations,” he added reluctantly.

  “And they are having a masquerade?” Liliah asked, a plan forming in her mind, spinning out of control.

  “Yes. And that is all you need to know.”

  Meyer broke their gaze and looked over his shoulder at the swirling crowd.

  “Go to her. We still have one waltz left and then I’ll ask you all the questions you’ll refuse to answer.” She winked, playfully shoving her friend toward the dance floor.

  “When you put it that way . . .” He rolled his eyes and walked off toward the crowd.

  Liliah thought back over what Meyer had said, considering his words—and what they might mean. A masquerade—inappropriate for ladies.

  It sounded like the perfect solution for a lady wishing to be utterly inappropriate. All she had to do was discover the location, steal away, and maybe, just maybe . . . she’d get to experience a bit of life before it was married away. Was that too much to ask? Certainly not, and as long as she knew the name, surely she could discover the location.

  For the first time since this whole misbegotten disaster, she felt a shred of hope.

  Utterly scandalous hope.