A Heart's Masquerade (10 page)

Her gaze swept the room again for an ally, flicking over the entrance as it so often had before, but now she paused to stare. The same footmen in colorful livery flanked the wide mahogany doors. But this time, at the top of the curving staircase, one foot negligently resting on the first step, stood a familiar figure.

Cat’s breath caught at the sight of her captain.

He seemed untouched by the heat, elegant in his black evening clothes. His dark hair was brushed back from his face in a fashionable tousle, and he coolly assessed the crowd with a self-assurance that set him apart from everyone else.

Had only six months passed since she had seen him? He must have grown more attractive in that small span, for surely he had never looked more handsome than he did tonight, the white of his cravat and waistcoat contrasted starkly with the black tailcoat and pantaloons.

Captain! My captain. It was all Cat could do not to shout the words aloud. Her heart thundered in her chest, then seemed to lodge in her throat. Swallowing hard, she realized she was gaping and quickly glanced away.

Although all her senses demanded she flee at once, Cat forced herself to move as normally as possible, in order not to draw attention. Slowly, she turned and walked toward the doors that led to the gardens.

Once outside, Cat drew in several deep breaths, relieved to notice a slight breeze. Did her distress show? The hands that flew to her cheeks felt warmth. Was it simply the heat, or was she blushing? She’d thought that quaint feminine trait lost aboard the
Reckless
.

At the thought of the ship, Cat felt a stab of panic. What if Ransom recognized her? She would be ruined, the new life she’d made here destroyed and innocent Amelia along with it.

Frantically, Cat tried to gather her composure. Looking about to make sure she was alone, she walked to the Grecian fountain that graced the gardens. She dipped her hands in the water and pressed them to her face, easing her tension and hopefully eliminating any lingering flush.

Calmer now, she decided to find Amelia and leave immediately. Ransom was a danger to any female, but especially this one.

Turning away from the fountain to return to the house, Cat nearly collided with Mr. Pettifer. "Oh, you startled me," she said.

"I was but admiring your beauty, Miss Amberly." The portly man simpered. "How I long to escort you on a stroll through the gardens."

Compared to Ransom’s understated elegance, Pettifer’s attire seemed even more ridiculous. His coat, breeches, and waistcoat encompassed every color in the rainbow and dangled with several fobs and a watch chain.

"That would be improper, sir," Cat said, pushing past him toward the doors.

"Oh, how droll you islanders are. Come, walk with me," Pettifer said, presenting his arm. "These surroundings suit you, you know. You have the look of a Greek goddess."

Although Cat did not take his arm, the man was undeterred. "Don’t deny me, for I fear I cannot control myself any longer. I am overcome by your loveliness."

To Cat’s horror, he made a move as if to embrace her. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and indelicately trod on his foot, causing him to stumble backward, an oath on his lips.

"Oh, I beg your pardon! How clumsy of me," Cat said, affecting remorse before turning and hurrying back into the house.

Cat would have been horrified to realize that there was a witness to the scene, especially if she'd known who it was. But from his vantage point in the shadows, Ransom smiled to himself. "Neatly done," he said softly.

He had come to the Grayson plantation in search of a merchant interested in the
Reckless
’s cargo, a dull enough business. And yet the evening was turning out to be far from boring.

First, he had nearly caught one of Devlin’s men following him from the ship, only to lose the fellow in the dark streets of Bridgetown. Then, upon arriving here, he had noticed the extraordinarily beautiful blonde staring at him with the oddest expression.

In his twenty-six years, Ransom had received more than his share of admiring glances from the female population, but there was something different in this one’s gaze. He could not quite pinpoint it, but he felt almost certain he knew her.

Her subsequent flight to the gardens had piqued his curiosity, and he had followed. There, he’d caught a fairly good look at her while she washed her face in the fountain, something he’d certainly never seen any woman do, let alone one of good breeding. And yet, he could swear he’d never laid eyes on her before.

Just who was she?

***

Mr. Pettifer forgotten, Cat made her way through the arched galleries to the ballroom, where she spied her aunt deep in conversation with an elderly matron on the other side of the room. But before Cat could reach Amelia’s side, she was waylaid by Lord Claremont with an invitation to dance. Cat was trying politely to decline when she heard a deep voice speak from behind her.

"I’m sorry, but Miss Amberly promised this dance to me."

Her heart once more in her throat, Cat spun around, coming face to face with a casually tied cravat that she had probably pressed one time or another. Before she knew it, she felt the light touch of a hand upon her back and fingers grasping her own. And in one elegant turn, she was whirled across the floor.

It was a waltz like no other, for Ransom was a far cry from the provincials she had danced with before. Tall, handsome, and assured, he moved with a masculine grace that left her breathless.

As they glided smoothly along with the music, Cat surrendered to the pure joy of behind in his arms at last. Smiling idiotically up at him, she drank in his beloved features: the dark locks, those mobile brows, the warm brown eyes...

However, the familiar eyes were not warm, but cool and distant, and disappointment pricked her as Cat realized this was the face he presented to the world. The man did not recognize her, and if he did, she would receive no welcome from him. Her pleasure in his company faltering, Cat looked away, only to be drawn back by his speech.

"We’ve met before?" he asked.

"Oh?" Cat spoke lightly, though her pulse pounded. "I’m afraid I wouldn’t know since we weren’t properly introduced."

The corners of his lovely mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile as he acknowledged his fault with a slight inclination of his head. "I am Worcester."

"
What
?"

"Ransom Duprey, duke of Worcester," he said, while Cat blinked in astonishment. Had her captain the gall to masquerade as a nobleman - and no paltry peer either, but a duke, the highest rank?

"You look surprised," he said in that dry tone of his.

"Why, your
grace
," Cat said, her address dripping with sarcasm. "The manner in which you swept me away from my intended partner hardly marked you as a gentleman."

That dark brow lifted. "Your intended look as though such an effort would severely aggravate his gout."

Against her will, Cat’s lips twitched in amusement.

"And, if you find my invitation to dance rather impulsive, I can only plead that I was
overcome by your loveliness
."

Cat gasped, realizing that Ransom had overheard her encounter with Pettifer in the gardens. "You
are
no gentleman."

"Hmm. You’re repeating yourself, my love, and I was just beginning to think you were endowed with more than average... wit," he said. His gaze traveled slowly over her in a way it never had when she was his cabin boy.

In fact, he was looking at her as though she were one of the female admirers who threw themselves at his head. Cat’s shock was quickly followed by outrage.

"Do you make a habit of eavesdropping in bushes, or was this a special occasion?" she asked.

"Oh, I engage in such practices about as frequently as young ladies wash their faces in the bowls of lawn ornaments."

Seething, Cat glared up at him to no effect, for he returned her black look with a lazy grin that threatened to draw a smile from her. Silently, she reminded herself not to succumb to his allure, for as Bert had been wont to declare, Ransom could charm the petticoats from nearly any female. And the look on his face did nothing to reassure her, for it was not the brotherly affection she was used to seeing.

On the contrary, the gleam in his dark eyes set her whole body astir with a strange trembling, which she quelled sharply in annoyance. "For heaven’s sake, stop looking at me as if I’m a stuffed snapper you’re preparing to devour," she snapped.

Ransom threw back his head in a deep-throated laugh, a delightful sound that Cat had sorely missed. She could not help the warm rush of affection that his amusement engendered, and suddenly she felt at home, as though she had returned after a lengthy and unwilling absence.

Watch yourself
, a voice inside warned her, but she ignored it, for the feeling was too welcome and too strong to deny. And when the dance ended, she knew a surge of disappointment that made it difficult to part with her partner. In fact, she had to remind herself that she must leave or risk even more than discovery.

***

Tim Calhoun sat in the half darkness outside the lamplight that marked the Grayson place, chewing on a straw and cursing the luck that had him watching Duprey. He had been doing well enough until somebody had learned that His Nibs would be going to Barbados and soon Tim was dispatched to follow.

Tim shook his head. If you asked him, the time and money spent keeping an eye on Duprey could be turned toward something more profitable. But nobody was asking him. Nor were they likely to, so he kicked his heels, watching the bay and waiting for the man.

It wouldn’t have been so bad, if Tim could have tucked away some spare coin on the side by picking a few pockets along the waterfront. But he had strict orders to keep out of trouble and out of sight, and he had no wish to earn the wrath of his employer.

Devlin was not a man to cross, he thought grimly as he watched the coaches drawing up to the plantation house. Still, this latest job was not to his taste, especially trotting around to fancy parties like this one. If his dear mum could see him now...

Tim’s thoughts broke off as he watched a lovely blonde step through the doorway. Now, there was one worth watching, he thought as she walked gracefully down the stairs. Why, that golden hair shone in the lamplight just like an angel’s, but the way her dress fell around that body...

The rest of Tim’s thoughts had nothing to do with heaven. Impulsively, he stepped from the shadows to hand her into the carriage, eager for the lady’s touch and hoping for a smile.

It was granted. "Thank you," the angel murmured, and that was all the invitation Tim needed to loosen his own tongue.

"You are quite welcome, miss. And let me wish you a fine evening," he said, grinning from ear to ear. And rather than brushing him off, as some fine ladies might, she gave him another, more genuine, smile that left him gaping after her.

When the coach door shut behind her, Tim slipped back into the shadows. But his thief’s sixth sense warned that he might have been marked, and he groaned at the sight of Duprey standing at the entrance eyeing the departing coach. Now there would be hell to pay! Not only had Tim been seen, but it looked as if Duprey was coming after him.

Sure enough, His Nibs was moving down the steps, and that was all Tim waited to see, taking flight into the darkness as if the very hounds of hell were on his tail.

***

Seeing the wiry fellow disappear into the night, Ransom turned back toward the house, mulling over the scene he had just witnessed. Having recognized the bright red hair from earlier in the evening, he’d watched the man’s exchange with Miss Amberly with interest.

Perhaps there was no connection between the two, but Ransom was not a believer in coincidence. Was she, too, one of Devlin’s minions? It would not be the first time his nemesis had sent a woman to spy on him, but this one was certainly not the same sort as the “widow” who’d carried the clap. No, this one was definitely different.

Ransom felt a twinge of disappointment, for he’d thought Miss Amberly unusual - quite refreshing, in fact. He’d even contemplated taking the time from his busy enterprises to pursue an acquaintance with her.

But even then he’d wondered about the beauty. Although she’d denied meeting him before, she appeared to know him or know of him, and there was something oddly familiar about her.

Ransom’s expression hardened. He’d been searching unsuccessfully for Devlin for some time, the man’s increasingly criminal activities forcing him underground. But perhaps these two could provide a clue as to their employer’s whereabouts.

Although the red-haired fellow had made his escape, Miss Amberly might give him in the information he sought. And she would undoubtedly prove to be more interesting company.

***

Cat tried to concentrate on cutting gladioli, but her hands kept falling idle as she went over her encounter with Ransom in her mind and came up with better retorts. The bonnet Amelia had insisted she wear fell unheeded down her back, and tendrils of hair escaped from their proper place to curl about her face as Cat knelt before the flowers. The air was hot and still, the silence broken only by the occasional raucous sounds of the frigate birds and a few stray gulls.

Amelia was bustling about the roses, her gloves lying forgotten on the pebbled walk. "Catherine, please put on your bonnet,” she said. “Your face is already brown as a berry."

"Oh, aunt, don’t scold," Cat said. "The sun feels so nice." She raised her face to catch its warmth as she spoke. "I love the out-of-doors. Why dress to suit some silly fashion in your own garden?" Before her aunt could answer, she continued. "Besides, you’ve left off your gloves again."

"Why, so I have, and you have, too, my dear. What a pair we are! I’ve lived too far from society for too long to chaperon you properly." Amelia shook her head as she retrieved her gloves.

"I think we are delightfully suited. And I don’t give a fig for society," Cat said.