Read Masque of Betrayal Online
Authors: Andrea Kane
Masque of Betrayal
By Andrea Kane
To Brad and Wendi … I love you both!
Brad, your unfailing faith in
MASQUE
and your unending love for its author gave the book life.
Wendi, your hours of patience, moral support, and enthusiastic input … not to mention our shared fascination for Alexander Hamilton … gave the book heart.
CHAPTER
1
Philadelphia, April 1794
T
HE VOICES GREW LOUDER.
She stopped dead in her tracks.
The warm April night was cloudlessly clear … too clear, lit by a full, glittering moon. The footsteps became more distinct as the strangers approached, and her eyes widened with fear.
It was two men. She could see them … but they had yet to see her. Thus far she was safe, her drab attire blending in with the shadows. But in a moment escape would be impossible, all she had worked for lost.
The sounds of heated conversation drew alarmingly close, knotting her stomach with trepidation. Where could she hide?
She looked furtively toward the row of poplar trees that cloaked the cobblestone street. In desperation, she darted for their protective shelter. Perspiration beaded on her nape and trickled down her back, making the dark muslin gown cling to her slight figure. She willed her breathing to slow, praying she could make it to safety before she was spotted.
But it was already too late.
Jacqueline
had
been spotted … not by the two men she feared, but by another.
He was studying her through glowing emerald eyes. Instinct told him exactly where she hid. He could stalk her, hunt her down in an instant. But he had no interest in doing so … not yet.
With keen anticipation, he watched his quarry approach.
With taut apprehension, so did she.
“Damn, but you’re restless tonight, Dane.” The complaint came from the leaner of the two men, as he lengthened his strides to keep pace with his tall and powerfully built companion. “Are you upset over tonight’s topic of conversation? Is it that blasted newspaper reporter again?”
Dane Westbrooke shrugged, pausing for the first time since leaving the City Tavern ten minutes earlier. Silently, he contemplated the whiskey in his bottle, then brought it to his lips for a deep, satisfying swallow. While he was troubled by the fervent political debates that had dominated the discussions of the prominent men who frequented the tavern, he didn’t believe that they alone were the source of his growing unease. No, it was something far more deep rooted.
He shifted uneasily, unable to shake the ominous premonition that had been with him all evening. It sounded a clear warning: Danger.
“Dane?” His friend studied him speculatively. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Dane lowered the bottle and turned, regarding Thomas Mills through eyes of pure, piercing silver. “I’m not certain. Yes, that reporter’s scathing columns infuriate me. It’s damned mysterious the way he seems to know everything that transpires within the inner circles of our government … and has a negative opinion on every Federalist stand.” He hesitated. “But it’s more. I can’t put my finger on it exactly. …” He broke off, unable to describe the heightened awareness that plagued him. He had long since learned to heed his intuition, for it was the manifestation of a sixth sense that was Dane’s since birth and had served him well for two and thirty years. It had been instrumental in making him what … and who … he was today. A rich, powerful, respected shipping magnate. And incomparably independent.
Dane’s penetrating stare searched the deserted street, the darkened line of trees and buildings. All was still. He could see nothing. And yet … someone was out there. Suddenly he tensed, grabbing Thomas’s arm. “We’re being watched.”
Thomas stiffened. After five years of close friendship, he had seen the accuracy of Dane’s uncanny instincts countless times. Too many times to dispute. He waited for Dane’s direction.
So did the silent observer. He crouched, ready to strike.
Dane gestured for Thomas to follow. Cautiously, they continued down the road.
The assailant struck.
In one fluid motion, he sprang through the air, knocking Dane and Thomas off balance. Then he went for the kill.
Furiously, he lapped up the contents of the broken bottle, purring victoriously while he drank. Quickly, before Dane and Thomas could retaliate, the kitten licked his lips and dashed off into the concealing trees … and straight into the face of the open-mouthed young woman who hid there, flat on her belly on the cold ground.
Nose to nose, female and feline gaped silently at one another.
As the irony of the situation sank in, it took all of Jacqui’s willpower not to laugh aloud. She resisted, sobered by the fact that she was still very much at risk. Instead, she concentrated on listening to the continuation of the unexpected conversation she was overhearing.
She was not disappointed.
Thomas broke the silence with a hearty chuckle. “
That
was our fearsome adversary?” he managed, righting himself and brushing the dirt and droplets of whiskey from his waistcoat. “You must be losing your touch.”
Dane cursed as he rose, dabbing at his damp shirt. “Apparently,” he agreed. “What the hell was that?”
A cat,
Jacqueline Holt mouthed, as she stared into the black kitten’s glazed green eyes. He looked equally startled, neither of them entirely sure of the other’s intent. However, with the common goal of avoiding discovery, neither dared move.
Jacqui watched the kitten sway on his feet and instantly decided that he was far too sluggish to do much harm. That conclusion did little to ease her fear. For she sensed the real threat came from the deep-voiced predatory man named Dane … the man, she knew, who simply
felt
her presence. Just as she felt his. Acutely.
There was not a doubt in Jacqui’s mind that it was
she,
and not the untimely kitten, who had actually triggered Dane’s unerring suspicions. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he would do if he actually found her … especially if he learned of her mission. Nor did she have any desire to find out. She licked her dry lips and flattened herself more firmly on the cold ground.
“That,”
she heard Thomas taunt, “was merely a very thirsty, very agile kitten.” He sounded highly amused that his astute friend had been outmaneuvered by a scrap of an animal. “But don’t worry, Dane … I think you are out of peril. Obviously, the little beggar got what he wanted.”
Dane gave up on the soggy shirt and shot Thomas a look. “I’m pleased that you find this so humorous,” he said dryly. “But I still think …” Abruptly he paused, his penetrating stare probing the narrow roadway, the still trees, searching for something he was not ready to dismiss.
Jacqui’s heart began to race, though she was certain he hadn’t spotted her. And yet, as he stood silhouetted in the night, rigid and unyielding in his perusal, it seemed his omniscient stare was fixed on her, exposing her to his blatant scrutiny. Relentlessly assailed by the pungent odor of earth, moss, and whiskey-drenched fur, Jacqui fought the reflex to gag, lest she give herself away. She lay totally motionless, her nails dug into the ground, her gaze riveted on her foe’s daunting form.
He was but a menacing shadow, looming dark and indistinct before her. Still, it did nothing to diminish the effect of his commanding physique and the primitive sort of power generated by his very presence. A power he would not hesitate to use. More than that, his instincts were obviously as well honed as her own, making him a formidable enemy. A tingle ran up her spine, one she recognized as a mixture of fear and exhilaration. She had to elude this man … and she would.
The next move was his. Jacqui held her breath, waiting.
Thomas spoke.
“Dane, there is not a thing out there except the wind and your imagination,” he complained. “I think you’ve been working too hard. It’s time for a diversion … preferably a female one.”
With a roguish grin, Dane relaxed. “You needn’t worry on that score, Thomas,” he assured his friend. “I’ve not been lacking in female companionship.” He gave one final glance into the darkness. “But perhaps you’re right about my being wrong.
This
time, at least. It is late and I am tired.”
Thomas looked quickly down at his timepiece. “Speaking of women …” he began.
“Were we?” Dane baited. “Funny. I don’t recall that we were speaking of women. But, evidently, you have one on your mind.”
“I do. One I would rather not disappoint. And, if I don’t hurry, I’m going to be late for our … visit.”
Dane digested this piece of information thoughtfully. “Are you ever going to tell me who this mystery woman is?” he asked.
“No, thank you,” Thomas declined, holding up his hand to ward off Dane’s request. “I need no competition from you, my too-charming friend. This is one lady I plan to keep all to myself.” His eyes twinkled. “Good night, Dane.”
Good-naturedly, Dane accepted the evasion. “Yes, good night,” he returned. “Although I’m certain you’ve already planned to have one.”
“And what have you planned?”
Dane flexed his arms in front of him, stretching his powerful muscles. “I told Alexander I would stop in to see him by nine o’clock.”
Thomas hesitated for a minute. “Fine. I won’t repeat myself by telling you that you’re working too hard. But you are.” He gave Dane a mock salute. “Not I, however.
Adieu.
” Whistling, he took his leave.
Whoever Thomas’s lady was, Dane reflected with a chuckle, she was good for him. Dane hadn’t seen his friend this happy in months … not since his textile-import company had begun to lose money, a situation that only promised to worsen as the months progressed. Especially if Hamilton prevailed in raising import duties to bolster America’s fledgling industry. Then things would become even bleaker for poor Thomas.
Turbulent political issues confronted their country. America’s government was, in many ways, like a new colt, still wobbly on its legs, its fiber being molded by the brilliant minds of its leaders. Tension with England was peaking again, badly needing to be diffused. The last thing the States could withstand was another war. It had to be prevented.
Purposefully, Dane strode toward his destination: The office of the Secretary of the Treasury.
Jacqui watched him go and released her breath on a sigh. Slowly, cautiously, she stood, waiting until Dane’s booted footsteps had faded down the cobblestone walk before she emerged from her hiding place. Then she crept out and peered after him. Thank goodness … he was gone.
A rustle from behind made her jump and spin about in alarm. A small, weaving ball of fur plunked down on the road beside her, the sound of the unceremonious plop magnified by both the night’s absolute stillness and the frantic pounding of Jacqui’s heart.
With a delicate lick of his whiskers, the inebriated kitten gazed up at her cross-eyed.
This time Jacqui relaxed into muffled laughter. She squatted down beside the small cat and gently stroked his wet fur.
“You are a terribly untidy and pathetic bandit, you know,” she murmured, scratching his ears lightly. Greeted by the suffocating smell of liquor, Jacqui wrinkled her nose. “Not only did you practically give us both away, but you’ve managed to cover yourself with whiskey as well. Whatever will your owner say?”
The kitten did not answer, his eyes closed with ecstasy as he soaked up the attention he was receiving. Nearby, the branches of the trees whispered in the wind, and Jacqui’s head shot up, her petite body tensing. It was always possible that a late-working merchant would still be about. Or worse … a menacing thief or a drunk. Hastily she stood, backing away from the kitten, who looked startled and bereft at his sudden abandonment.
“I must go …” Jacqui muttered, smoothing her hands rapidly up and down the sides of her gown, while scanning the deserted street. The immediate danger might have passed, but she couldn’t rest until she was where her father would expect her to be … at home, in bed.
She hurried off, her slippered feet moving soundlessly on the road, then through the rows of elm trees. She ducked down a narrow, unpaved alleyway and bolted across the next street. She had but a few more blocks to go. Now only one. There, at last … home. She could see the graceful two-story brick house at the road’s end. Her job was done … for tonight.
It was then she heard the noise.
Her face drained of color, she whirled, nearly tripping over a small black lump at her feet. The lump moved.
