Lady Beware (21 page)

He kissed her bare hand. No gloves with this costume, which was excitingly peculiar in itself.

“I believe I could manage to kiss your lips,” he said, “despite the helmet.”

Aware of the consequences, Thea turned away, but she did notice a number of other couples who were not being at all discreet. Perhaps no one would remember who did what….

They went upstairs, passing servants in skimpy oriental robes, who presented wine. They drank as they entered the ballroom, which was dimmer than any Thea had ever seen. The center of the room was lit by two great chandeliers, but the fringes of the room were shadowy with only small glimmers of light.

There was music, but few were dancing. Some clearly would have trouble in their costumes, but most were enjoying this stage of playing their parts. Two men were actually sword fighting. She hoped their weapons were as blunt as hers.

One spotted Darien and turned to challenge him.

He immediately whipped out his rapier and set to. Thea had no idea if the fencing was skilled or not, but the swift moves and clashing blades made her heart race. But after only a minute, Darien stepped back, grinning, saluted with his sword, and returned to her side.

“You're mad,” she said.

“Of course I am.” He drew her swiftly into the shadowy edge of the room and she found herself in a leafy bower lit only by a tiny lamp. “Ideal for trysts,” he said.

“Behave like a brother?” she reminded him, dry-mouthed but thrilled.

“That was the promise for an Opera House masquerade.”

Thea angled her spear at him. “Behave, sir. At midnight, everyone will know who we are.”

“But they'll not know what we do in here.” He grasped the spear and easily twisted it out of her hands. In truth, she didn't try hard to prevent him.

Then he tossed his hat to the ground and kissed her. She put a hand to her helmet to hold it in place and kissed him back. This was a taste of what she wanted tonight. Except that the helmet meant lips only. He put his arm around her and met armor, not body.

He laughed. “Armored indeed.”

“Inviolable,” she agreed.

“Not here, however.” He put his hands on her bare arms and rubbed them up and down, over silver bands but also over skin that no man had ever touched before. She rested her hands on his chest, over the rough gold braid on his coat, over his heart.

Their lips met again, so chastely, so very hotly. His hands moved to her shoulders and then down her armored back until his fingers found the laces that tied her bodice. “What is done,” he whispered, “can be undone.”

The robe was between his fingers and the bow, but she stiffened her arms to hold him off. “No.”

“Not even at midnight?”

“Especially not at midnight. I'm wearing nothing beneath but my shift.”

He smiled. Even in the dim light she could see that, and sense interest, amusement, and challenge. Despite a flare of hunger, perhaps because of it, she stepped back and grabbed her halberd.

He raised his hands. “You won't need that.”

“I know. But…”

“Flint and tinder, yes. We could, of course, slip away before midnight and then no one would know who we were.”

“Slip away?” she asked, shocked.

“To the gardens, to a secret part of the house. Into the street and far, far away.”

“You're mad.”

“So it is said. Escape with me, my goddess, to places where there are no restrictions and no rules.”

He might even be serious. She shook her head, swallowing. “I can't.”

“Of course not. You're the goddess Minerva, ever wise. Why,” he asked wistfully, “couldn't you have come as wanton Nell Gwyn?”

“I could have been a pirate wench,” she admitted.

“But lack the criminal instinct.” He swept his hat up from the floor with an athletic grace that melted her. She'd come to see beauty in him before, but now in the dashing clothes of yesteryear he was designed to drive a lady mad.

“Those clothes are most unfair,” she said.

“And yours aren't? Come, let's escape into safety.”

H
e steered her out of the bower and into the ballroom, which seemed quite bright in contrast.

More people were dancing now and some had already abandoned the cumbersome parts of their costumes. Thea realized a significant disadvantage of her own—she couldn't take off her helmet without being recognized, but it would be hard to dance while wearing it.

“Who are you?” she asked as they strolled the perimeter.

“What do you mean?”

“You didn't say earlier. Are you Lovelace, or simply a nameless cavalier?”

“I'm Prince Rupert of the Rhine. He went to war at fourteen, commanded Charles the First's cavalry at twenty-three, and the entire army by twenty-five.”

“Which makes you a sluggard.”

“He did have royal birth and nepotism on his side,” he complained.

“And you had only Caves. But you have other things in common. Wasn't he called the Mad Cavalier?” She couldn't believe she was taking such risks, but here, now, her words didn't seem risky at all.

He showed only mock indignation. “I have never taken a poodle into battle with me.”

“For which poodles everywhere are grateful, I'm sure.”

They laughed together, two anonymous people in a careless crowd. Thea had never felt so free. “You and my mother are right. Masquerades are wonderful. This was once her costume, you know.”

“Do you think your father had more success with the laces than I did?”

“No!” Flustered, Thea turned toward the dancing and sought distraction in the conventions of the masquerade. “What happened to you after the death of Charles the First, my lord prince?”

“Various enterprises, including piracy in the West Indies, then glory in England after the Restoration of my cousin, Charles the Second.”

“Raking, along with the rest of his court?”

“What do you think?” His fingers raked down her back, down her lacing, sending a shiver all the way to her toes. “Men will be men, and fighting men are lusty.”

Thea swallowed. “Did he marry and live happily?” she demanded.

“You equate marriage with happiness?”

She turned to face him, removing her lace-knot from his fingers. “Why not?”

“There's a great deal of living evidence against it, our hostess, I gather, being a prime example.”

“And my parents evidence of the opposite. Did he? You?” she corrected.

“What?”

“Marry and live happily?”

“Only a mistress,” he said, abandoning his part, “but he stuck with her long enough to suggest at least contentment.”

“He didn't marry her?”

“She was an actress.”

“That's no excuse. Hal Beaumont just did. He's one—”

“—of the Rogues. Typically quixotic.”

“It's nothing to sneer about. I like Blanche, and my mother is learning Wollstonecraftian revolution from her.”

He hooted with laughter, and then grabbed her hand. “Let's dance.”

“Wait!” she cried and jabbed her spear deep into a potted plant before running with him to join a seemingly continuous long dance. She had to use a gliding minuet step to avoid bouncing her helmet, and her posture was probably more perfect than ever, but she certainly wasn't the Great Untouchable tonight. Tonight she was dancing in the dark with a very dangerous man, and she intended to enjoy every moment of it.

Even incognito, training and manners compelled her to pay due attention to each man and woman she danced with, but her true awareness was all on Darien. Aware of his grace again—and of the eager warmth many other women showed. Some would clearly sneak off with him without hesitation. Not without a fight from her, she resolved.

He was hers. For tonight, at least.

As they turned together halfway down the line, she asked, “How do you dance so well, you a rough officer?”

“Did I ever claim to be a rough officer? Lisbon. Paris. Brussels. Officers are expected to do their duty in all areas.”

She danced off thinking sourly about women in Lisbon, Paris, and Brussels, and he a dashing hussar officer in that fanciful uniform of blue, braid, and fur, with scarred good looks and graceful body, and wicked eyes, and all the other things that made him fascinating.

That made him lethally desirable.

“Thea?”

Thea focused on the lady she was paired with now. Another Nell Gwyn with a particularly low bodice and a lot to be exposed by it. Then she looked again. “Maddy?”

Her cousin grinned. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

“Well I am,” Thea said rather snappishly before dancing back to Darien. Did everyone think her deadly dull?

When she turned with Maddy again, her cousin said, “Who's the cavalier?” with the same hot interest other women were showing.

“That's for you to find out.” Thea looked at Maddy's partner—a monk she couldn't identify. “Who's yours?”

“Staverton,” Maddy said with a moue. “I'll do better as the night wears on. Keep an eye on your cavalier, coz, or I'll steal him. He and I are of a period, after all.”

The pattern of the dance separated them before Thea could warn her off, and she was glad of it. Maddy would tease her for the rest of their lives. But now a lush lady in a Spanish mantilla was brushing up against Darien in a completely inappropriate way and making inviting kissing actions. Thea thought it might be Lady Harroving herself.

Darien turned back to Thea, then said, “Do you have a headache?”

“No.”

“That helmet must be a strain.”

“The only strain is watching the shameless attention you're gathering.”

“Jealous?” he asked. Before she could retort, he added, “I am devotedly yours, my Thea. For tonight, at least.”

She knew this was only for tonight. So why did his words hurt?

Inevitably the dance brought her together with Maddy again.

“That's
Darien
, isn't it?” Maddy whispered.

“Yes.”

“Oh, my. You do carry duty to extremes, don't you? Will he stay for the unmasking?”

“Of course.”

“What fun!” Maddy said, laughing as she moved on.

When the music finally stopped, Thea was hot, damp, and strangely cross. “One thing my costume lacks is a fan,” she said.

Darien took off his hat and fanned her with it.

“Clever to have worn a blond wig,” she said. “It took Maddy a while to recognize you.”

“Your cousin?” He glanced around. “Which is she?”

“The bounteous Nell Gwyn in yellow.”

“Ah.”

Thea didn't like his tone at all. Armor-plated breasts didn't seem any competition for generous, jiggling, mostly uncovered ones, and the felt-lined foil was stifling.

“I need fresh air,” she said.

“Come, then.” He held out an arm and they began to work their way out of the increasingly packed ballroom.

A large man in black, wearing a hood that covered his entire head other than eyes and mouth, stepped in their way. He was probably pretending to be an executioner. “Minerva, offer me wisdom.”

Thea thought his disguise horrid, but she spoke one of her prepared lines. “Short is the time which you poor humans live, sir, and small the corner of earth that you inhabit.”

“'Struth, but you're a melancholy goddess. I'm off to find a jollier.”

“A justifiable complaint,” Darien said, chuckling.

“He's come as a headsman, so he deserves something gloomy.”

“What advice would you offer me?” Darien asked.

“Eschew distractions and hasten to the end you have envisaged.”

“Interesting. Whose wisdom are you stealing?”

“Marcus Aurelius.”

There was a beat of startled silence, and then he asked, “Do you know that was my brother's full name?”

She stared at him. “No. Or I'd forgotten. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it.”

He touched her chin. “Of course not. It was just strange. You should try Poor Richard. He puts things more simply.” His thumb brushed her lower lip. “‘If you love life, do not squander time, for that is what life is made up of.' Do you want to squander our time here, Thea?”

There were layers to that, and dangers, but Thea said, “No.” She took his hand and led him out of the ballroom.

“Where are we going?” he asked, unresisting.

“Somewhere private. Where?”

He smiled, his lean face beneath the pale mask drying her mouth and weakening her knees. “I suspect privacy is in short supply, but let's try.”

Now he led and Thea followed, fighting off a return of good sense. This was insane, but wasn't that what she wanted? A brief moment of glorious insanity. Just a kiss, but a full, passionate, mind-absorbing kiss.

They slipped down a corridor toward the back of the house, past flirting couples and kissing couples. One unmasked lady appeared to be flirting with and kissing two men at once. And one of the men—

“Eyes front!” Darien commanded.

Thea giggled as she obeyed, but willingly hurried on until they came to the dark window that signaled the end of the passageway. He opened the door on the right.

“Stairs,” he said, pulling her through and closing the door, steeping them in total darkness. “Up or down?” he whispered.

They were close enough here, private here.

“Up,” she said. “The kitchens will be busy.”

“Down,” he corrected and led in that direction. “Always do the unexpected. Like this.”

He halted and brought his lips close to the cheek guard of her helmet. He blew through the space so his warm breath teased her skin, then his lips slid sideways to find hers.

She collapsed back against the wall, arms limp at her sides, and surrendered. It was almost as if he spoke against her lips, though what he said she did not know. Only that it was temptation incarnate. His fingers found her laces again, this time sliding beneath the robe.

“We mustn't,” she breathed, speaking convention, not meaning it.

“We must. Our days are numbered.”

They were, and even their hours here were brief.

She raised her hands to take off the helmet, but he said, “Not yet,” found her hand and set off down the stairs, cautious in the dark but not nearly as cautious as she would be without him.

He opened a door and they looked out into a narrow corridor. She heard noise and laughter nearby—the busy kitchens and the servants' hall where the guests' attendants were enjoying themselves.

“I wonder what they get up to?” Thea whispered.

“No, we're not spying on them,” he said, laughter in his voice. He drew her into the corridor and away from the noise, trying each door, opening those that weren't locked.

Thea was surprised by the number of those, but at such a busy event the housekeeper wouldn't want to be scurrying around to unlock the less valuable stores.

“What's in there?” she asked about the second one.

“I don't know, but it doesn't feel welcoming.”

“I doubt any room down here will. We're intruders.”
And I'm impatient. I'm finally ready for another searing, mind-blanking kiss. Choose a room!