Lord Beast (9 page)

“Rhys,” she said slowly,
cautiously, “I think you should consider-”

“Jesus
Christ
,” he hissed
venomously, pushing off the mantle and prowling towards her with magnificent
dynamism. “Danielle, you clearly don’t understand what danger you are in
provoking me.”

She inwardly flinched at each
harsh word he enunciated with livid gravity. “I don’t believe you would hurt
me,” she told him quietly.

He reached her, grabbed her arm
and began to yank her into stride behind him. She stumbled over her skirts but
he continued to drag her along perpetually. Out the chamber. Out into the cold,
dark hall. She dropped the invitation.

“Rhys,” she cried, “what are you
doing?”

“Deciding,” he grated viciously,
“whether to drag you to the bedroom or outside!”

“Rhys, please!” She tried to pry
his fingers from her elbow that were gripping her skin like a vice and he
stopped abruptly, spinning toward her.

“What?” he roared. “What do you
want to tell me? Must I stand here and listen to a wisp of a woman tell me what
I want? Must I?”

“No!” she snapped. How dare he
talk to her like this? “You’re
hurting
me!”

He growled inarticulately,
ripping his hand free of her as if she burned his very skin. “Escort yourself
out,” he clipped.

“No,” she returned stubbornly,
folding her arms and considering him belligerently.

“You try my patience!”

“And you mine!”

They were silent, staring at each
other with charged animosity. Danielle was first to soften, uncrossing her arms
and sighing wearily. “Just… consider the invite,” she told him forlornly. “I’ll
go, but I’ll be back… after the masquerade.”

Quietly, without waiting for him
to respond, she left.

Lady
Worthwell’s Masquerade

He wasn’t going to come.

Dani’s shoulders slumped in
disappointment.

Rhys hadn’t given any inclination
of being taken with the idea of a masquerade in the first place so her
disappointment should not come as much of a surprise. That didn’t stop her from
becoming just a little bit depressed by his absence, though.

“
Who
are you looking for?”
Victoria demanded, plunking her hands on her hips and throwing Dani a dry look.

“No one!” Dani answered quickly,
grateful that the black mask that covered most of her face hid the guilty blush
infusing her cheeks.

“Liar.”

Dani huffed. “I was just seeing
if anyone was here that I knew,” she lied.

Vicky gave her a disbelieving
glance, which was understandable as the entire point of people wearing masks
was that they wouldn’t be recognisable. Forcing herself to put Rhys from her
mind, Dani turned to Victoria and smiled. “I can’t see anyone I know,” she
admitted sheepishly.

Victoria looked stunning in a
gown of sapphire blue, a sequinned mask covering her eyes. Gabriel, on the
other hand, did not look flattering at all and upon discovery of his attire, he
had inflicted a foul mood on both his wife and her companion. Currently, the
man had extracted himself from their company and was skulking amid a group of
his own finely attired acquaintances, leaving Vicky and Dani to their own
devices.

“Not that you would want to,”
Vicky said happily. “Come, let’s take a turn about the room and you can tell me
all about this gentleman you’ve been looking for.”

“Vicky! I did no such thing.”

The other woman chuckled and gave
her nose a conspiratorial tap before looping her arm with Dani’s. “Don’t be
silly. You would think you could tell me anything, Dani. After all, we’re
practically sisters. Although I must say, all those seasons we went through
only to have you meet some country gentleman, such a waste of time, don’t you
think?”

“Well, not
all
of us have
the privilege of marrying our brother,” Dani teased.

“Gabriel is
not
my
brother!” Vicky swatted Dani on the arm gently. “Don’t you dare start using
that against me.”

“You two might as well be
related,” Dani said. “You did grow up together.”

“Entirely against my will, I
assure you,” Vicky grumbled. “The man was a perpetual nuisance and we scarcely
managed a civil word to each other.”

“Mmm. How far you’ve come.”

“Yes.” Vicky turned to look at
Gabriel across the crowded room and a smile touched her lips. “Now, tell me
about your man. How did you meet him?”

Dani stifled a sigh. There was
really no point in hiding the obvious from her closest friend. Victoria knew
her better than anybody else. Even her own mother hadn’t known Dani as well as
Vicky knew her. Although her mother had been submerged in spirals of
self-absorbed depression, Dani’s association with her was restricted solely to
tending her ailments and ensuring that she didn’t commit to anything irrational
and devastating. Only Vicky knew the extent the impact her mother’s illness had
on her, saw her tears of frustration and dejection. Dani couldn’t be more
grateful for a friend like her in a very lonely world.

“Exploring, I suppose,” Dani
explained tentatively. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. “But don’t read too much into
it. He has made it very clear that he wants nothing to do with me.”

Vicky snorted dismissively. “They
all do at first,” she mumbled. “What’s he like? Is he handsome?”

Lord, how to swerve around this
question. Dani hummed and hawed for a few moments. “Well… I can’t say he’s
bad
looking,” she said, satisfied with that answer.

Vicky gave her a queer look and
opened her mouth but- thankfully- her interrogation was cut short when her eyes
narrowed on a particularly stunning blond accosting her orange husband from
across the ballroom. “
Desdemona
,” she breathed venomously.

Dani rolled her eyes. Vicky, it
seemed, knew the name of every beautiful woman Gabriel had associated with
before his marriage and had made it her personal vendetta to weed out any
nefarious intentions on his previous and would-be lovers.

“Leave it be, Vicky,” Dani urged
and began to steer her in the other direction. Victoria, however, did not take
her eyes from the other woman.

“Victoria, trust him. He wouldn’t
dream of hurting you.”

Exquisite sapphire eyes turned to
her excitedly. “Oh, I know, but it’s just so much fun chasing off his
admirers.”

“You’re evil.”

She grinned wickedly in response
just as their stroll was intersected by a Pirate and a Jester.

He hadn’t meant to attend.
Really, he hadn’t. The last thing he had ever intended to do for the remainder
of his pitiful existence was attend a wretched masque ball. For the love of
God, he was a grown man, thirty-four years and counting, and he had very little
interest in prancing around in a bloody costume for an evening.

But there was an added incentive
of anonymity that the masquerade afforded him. He could attend and
not
be
Rhys Ashcroft, Earl of
Falmouth
.
With a mask on, he could lavish the attention of the women…
a woman
…
freely and without hindrance and that was his biggest incentive of all.

He
wanted
to go. He
wanted
to know what it would feel like to flirt with Miss Carmichael, to talk and
touch her without inhibition, without fear, without hindrance. The thought was
too enticing. She wouldn’t know he’d come. In fact, she’d probably expect him
not to come. Having never seen his face, she wouldn’t know it was him that
approached her, that flirted with her and enticed her into shaded alcoves or
private terraces…

His voice he would have to alter
but that shouldn’t serve as a problem. Having a faint Irish brogue, he’d just
adjust it faintly so that he sounded primarily English.

So he went. Dressed as a
highwayman, he attended the masquerade against his better judgement. It was
dangerous. He’d risk exposure- someone would probably recognise him despite the
mask that covered most of his face- and then what? He didn’t want to face the
questions or the speculation. He’d come to fancy his existence as a recluse and
to value his privacy. If word got out that he was making a re-emergence… Rhys
shuddered. He couldn’t think about it. He had to keep his mind on why he came
to the ball in the first place- Danielle. It was her he wanted to see, to dance
with, to coax into the garden.

But Society had other ideas.

As soon as he entered the
ballroom, he was accosted by people- particularly those of the female variety.
Rhys had forgotten just how persistent the opposite sex could be. Thankfully,
the silly chits didn’t recognise him, nor did some of the older matrons who
were around when he did the circuits five years prior.

Most, if not all, of the ton were
present this evening, dressed in their finest costumes. The hall was heated
with hundreds of bodies and candles, dancing and conversing alternately. Rhys
eyed the large French doors that opened onto the terraces and out into the
large, candlelit gardens.

“Good God, I would have thought
the devil himself wouldn’t have been able to drag you out of that castle,” a
familiar voice said from behind him.

Rhys turned around and reluctantly
grinned. “Sinclair,” he returned. “Are you a pumpkin?”

The man had grace enough to look
ashamed. His bright orange attire clashed glaringly with his overall arrogance
and his sudden sheepish smile caught Rhys off-guard. “Uh… I believe so,” he
explained gruffly. “The wife, you see…”

“
Wife?
”

Gabriel gave him a strange look.
“I’m sure you were sent an invite to the nuptials,” he said tautly. “If you
didn’t receive it-”

Rhys shrugged quickly. He’d told
Grayson years ago to dispose of invitations the ton might send him. Honestly,
he didn’t need to see correspondence he had no particular interest in… anymore.
“I’m sure I received it,” he assured. “Your sister, was it?”

Rhys chuckled at the dark look
Gabriel threw him. “Not by blood.”

“You were saying why you’re here
as a vegetable?”

“She’s… er… a bit on the
possessive side and doesn’t really approve of my sordid past, so she dresses me
up in horrendous outfits to stay some of the more amorous ladies.”

“Clever girl.”

Gabriel cocked his brow dryly.
“You haven’t mentioned what
you’re
doing here.”

“Ah. I’m
not
here.”

Sinclair narrowed his eyes. “Just
what does that mean?”

“James Sutton is.”

“Are you being deliberately
obtuse?”

“No. I don’t want word to get out
that I’m here.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Good.” Pointedly, he scanned the
crowd for any glimpse of a curvy brunette with a soft, inner smile. “You
wouldn’t happen to know a Miss Danielle Carmichael, would you?”

It’s a good thing Rhys had his
face turned towards the crowd as the expression of shocked amusement on his
friend’s face would have probably planted the seed to punch him. “Danielle?”
Gabriel repeated, rather dumbly Rhys thought. “She’s my wife’s best friend.
They’re by the punch bowl, I believe.”

Rhys swivelled his gaze to the
general direction of the aforementioned table and his eyes riveted to the woman
he knew was Danielle. She was breath-taking in a gown of black and silver that
clung to her ripe figure in silken ribbons. Silver, gossamer wings were sown to
the back of the gown and her chocolate curls were left to trail between them to
her waist. The ensemble had a swooping neckline and left much of her shoulders
bare and Rhys wasn’t too shocked to note an unpleasant tang of jealousy invade
his body as he spotted several admirers about her.

God, he hadn’t really expected
her to have none. She had just enough attributes to draw some attention to
herself although she certainly couldn’t be classified among the glamorous women
Rhys had previously associated with. Danielle had her own unique charm that set
her apart, that almost blinded him with wanting her.

“You’ll excuse me, of course,”
Rhys told Gabriel, not even bothering to wait for his response as he waded into
the crowd.

Gabriel, however, grinned wryly
and began to weave his way towards his wife.

“Oh, there’s Gabriel!” Vicky
murmured into Dani’s ear and gestured towards the tall man heading towards
them.

Dani turned towards him and
inwardly grimaced. Poor man resembled an over-ripe tangerine. Really, Victoria
could be cruel.

She supposed she understood why
the other woman insisted dressing him in such a humiliating manner. Just this
evening, despite his horrid costume, Gabriel Sinclair was receiving a
lot
of attention from some of the more loose women at the ball. Victoria noticed it
with a grim expression and occasionally she would disappear in the direction of
one of these notorious women. Dani didn’t like to reflect what Vicky did then.