Masquerade (2 page)

“It is a splendid day for a dance, isn’t it?” Rachel whirled, rose from her chair and crossed the room. She pulled one heavy drapery panel aside and peered through the frosty windowpane. Instantly a chill swept through the space. “Although it is rather gray and gloomy. It cannot matter. I don’t mind gray or gloom. Just as long as it doesn’t snow or sleet, so we are stuck here instead of at the Atwell’s. I do not give a fig if we are snowed in over there. After all, we will be marooned with the musicians, so we should all be able to dance the days and nights away until the spring thaw sets us free. A rather jolly idea, don’t you agree?”

Sophie didn’t feel at all jolly. Images of the dress flitted through her mind. Why couldn’t she have been born wealthy instead of ordinary? The line between the haves and have-nots was so thin, so irksomely narrow, she couldn’t help but be irritated by her circumstances. If only she had been born the daughter of a peer!

“Sophie? Don’t you think it would be jolly to dance the winter away?”

Rachel was filled with “jolly” ideas, but her sister could not find fault with her for it. She was young, and deserved to see frivolity in everything—even in a stormy gray sky. They both knew that if the weather did not cooperate there would be no dancing for them this evening. If things took too dire a turn, they would be stuck at home, and their preparations would be lost on all save themselves.

The green gown would remain where it was, hanging in their dressing room, and all the annoyance it brought would be for naught.

Before Sophie could answer, Rachel’s attention was caught by something other than the weather.

“Look! A carriage.” Rachel pressed her nose against the windowpane and stared out into the gloom. “Whoever could it be? One of Father’s associates, most likely, come to wish him a—oh, no, it isn’t for Father. It is someone calling on us!”

Sophie’s interest instantly piqued. “Do tell…who is it?”

The draperies fell closed. Rachel walked over to her sister, grabbed Sophie by one hand and pulled her to her feet. With a smile so wide it made her dimples deep, Rachel said, “Colin. Isn’t that perfectly grand?”

Grand wasn’t the word Sophie would have used to describe the appearance of their neighbor. It had been twenty-five months since she and Colin had last been together, and although she missed the easy friendship she’d shared with him she had relished the separation.

Their last meeting had left her emotions roiling. Memories, hot and shameful, of what happened between them brought heat to her cheeks. A lifetime of fun lost, and for what? A giddy moment?

It was too much to bear. Not only had she embarrassed herself, she had lost one of the nicest friends she’d ever had.

The temptation to stay locked in their bedroom swept over her.

But she would make a cake of herself if she refused to see Colin. No, she had to face him. It was the only thing to do. And, like eyebrow grooming, dealing with botched relationships needed to be done expediently. One fast pull and presto! Done.

Or so she hoped.

****

Colin Randolph paced the length of the Teasdales’ front parlor, the sound of his footsteps lost to the thick, rose-patterned rug beneath his feet. Had he been on a bare floor, his Hessian boots, with their hard black heels, would have sounded like gunfire in the morning air.

If he could have done so, Colin would have turned the hands on every clock in London forward eight hours. Waiting for the evening’s festivities was going to make the day seem endless.

It was a safe assumption that Sophie’s family planned to attend the evening’s festivities, but he didn’t want to leave any aspect to chance. There was nothing else to do on such a dismal morning, no other parties scheduled to celebrate the day other than the one at the Atwell residence, Woodhaven. Brian and the elder Teasdales might forego attending Woodhaven if the weather grew too tiresome, but he doubted either Sophie or Rachel would allow anything less than the fiercest blizzard to keep them away from the fun.

Still, it never hurt to seek confirmation, especially when the woman who had somehow stolen his heart was central to his plan for the night’s festivities.

Botheration! What is taking her so long?

Colin squared his shoulders and took a deep, steadying breath to calm himself. What could he expect? Neither of the ladies would come running downstairs at the announcement of his arrival. After all, he was merely their friend, not anyone whose interest truly mattered.

That is going to change tonight
, he thought with a determined nod.
It is time to leave childish ways behind, and form adult attachments.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t attempted to move Sophie toward an adult relationship. He had done just that, and had been thoroughly rebuked for his efforts. Whether his style had been off or she too inexperienced to cope with his advances was still up for debate. That is, had he chosen to dwell on the dilemma. He didn’t.

There was no turning back, only moving forward. And forward looked promising. Hopefully this time he treated Sophie like a woman, she’d react like one. He closed his eyes and saw for what felt like the millionth time, the sight that haunted his dreams. Her slender form running from him, her dress swirling about her legs and giving him just the slightest glimpse of delicate ankle before disappearing from view. She’d refused to see him after that night, but no refusal could erase the taste of her lips from his heart.

They had known each other since they were children. He and his younger sister, Penny, had played side by side with Sophie and Rachel. When they were very young, Colin had never had any particular interest in either of his neighbors. However, as they grew older that changed in a very big way.

These past few years he had been smitten, his heart lost to a woman who was not aware of his existence as a man—a living, breathing man with heartfelt feelings that underscored every word, look, and friendly touch he bestowed upon her. Sophie saw him as a playmate, and he knew it. In her eyes, he was someone to dance with her when she had no other partner, a person who, through the years, had shared her laughter and tears, but who might never, ever, be someone to induce romantic thoughts.

Somehow, Colin had to find a way to make Sophie aware of his feelings. It was a sticky wicket; he did not wish to lose her friendship altogether, either by insulting her or embarrassing himself. Losing Sophie, in any capacity, would break his heart but having her near without being able to voice his views was already taking its toll on him.

He’d managed to get her into his arms—as more than a childhood friend—on one occasion. Just knowing how she felt pressed against him was incentive enough to find a way to put her back in his embrace. Their time apart hadn’t dimmed the memory. It didn’t diminish the effect she’d had on his body, either. Desire swelled more than Colin’s heart, and he wished his trousers had extra room for moments such as these.

One way or another, he and Sophie would have to find a common ground. Colin hoped the spot they found would be large enough to hold them both. And, more importantly, he prayed she would find it the very spot she wished to occupy—with him, of course!—for the rest of her life.

But, first things first. She must notice him if he was to entertain the hope of her pondering a future by his side.

“Colin, how nice to see you.”

Sophie’s voice washed over him like warm creamery butter melting onto a hot flaky dinner roll. He absorbed her presence, allowing it to chase the day’s chill from his bones. He also gave himself the barest instant to compose his features. Letting her see the unfiltered feelings he was sure must be written across his features would make him look foolish. He’d already made a spectacle of himself, falling like a schoolboy at her feet. He had no intention of doing so again.

Deliberately keeping his features bland and suppressing a shudder of delight, Colin turned toward the doorway.

Now that Sophie stood only a few feet away, he was quite tongue-tied. It was not normally the case, but being as he had just been mulling over the possibility of his future melding with hers, he almost felt like he had been caught red-handedly raiding the family’s biscuit tin. Could she have any idea what he had been so recently thinking?

Moreover, had the evidence of his arousal subsided enough that she wouldn’t suspect? Hard to tell, with his blood on fire.

Her smile seemed genuine, touching her eyes and making the green irises he loved so much come alive. Her upper lip curled at the corner. Was she just pleased to see him—or did she guess the state of his pants?

They knew each other so well they often finished sentences, one for the other, or prematurely laughed over half-completed jokes and riddles. Was it possible that Sophie knew his mind so well that she guessed his intentions?

Damnation! Get hold of yourself, man! She is a woman, not a fortune-teller, nor a mind reader. She cannot possibly know just the sight of her thickens your cock or makes your blood race.

“Happy New Year.” He bowed when she curtsied, taking a deep breath before he straightened. Whisking desire aside, and reminding himself they were at the heart of it, friends, he grinned. There was no better way to begin a fresh calendar year than by passing some of the earliest moments in the company of someone so dear to the heart. “You look well this morning.”

“The same to you. And you look no worse for having greeted a new year yourself. But why are you dripping? Didn’t you wear your greatcoat?” She gave him a look he had received countless times before in his life, so he knew exactly what the thin-line set of her lips, pulled-tightly brows, and flashing glints in her eyes meant. He was in the pot, beside the goose, and in trouble.

Sophie walked over to where he stood, placed a hand on his shoulder, and then, when she found it as wet as it apparently appeared,
tsk-tsked
as she turned him about and pushed him closer to the hearth.

“You are soaked! Goodness, Colin, how can you be so impractical as to go out in this weather without the proper clothing? We will be lucky if you do not catch a chill—and wouldn’t that be an auspicious beginning to the New Year?”

Still soggy from walking home after last night’s New Year’s Eve services at St. Paul’s in Covent Garden, his one and only greatcoat lay dripping before the hearth in his own house, three doors down. Had it been suitable protection against the sleety morning gloom, he would have left the carriage at home and walked over to bestow his good wishes.

Just getting the horses hitched had gotten his shoulders slicked with a thin layer of moisture. He would have been better off hoofing it; even minus his outerwear he would have been drier had he run the short distance.

As if on cue, Colin sneezed. Not once, but twice.

He allowed himself to be pushed down, until he occupied the seat closest to the fire. The feel of Sophie’s hand, forcing him onto the cushions, sent his heart flip-flopping dangerously inside his chest. It was a sensation that was both exciting and frightening, all at once. How could one woman have such a direct influence on a man’s heart? It made no sense, but there was no time to examine the event further.

“God bless you! Oh, Colin, how could you go and take a chill? Really, you are almost as irresponsible now as you were when we were eight.” With a worried expression that made him regret he had sneezed, she leaned down and stared into his eyes.

The examination, albeit brief, was sheer heaven. Her nearness sent a whiff of lavender into his nostrils. He inhaled deeply. It was, he knew, the rinse she used when she washed her hair. The scent had been one of his favorites from his earliest recollection. Now, he closed his eyes and took a second long whiff.

“You don’t look unwell, but that sneezing…A chill, that must be it.”

She reached out and laid a hand across his forehead. The pulse in her tender wrist beat steadily against his brow, sending his hammering heart nearly into convulsions. It was too much for any man to bear, so he pulled his head stubbornly away and scowled.

“I have not taken a chill,” he said as he dug in his back pocket for a handkerchief. Sophie was quicker, producing a lace-edged square of linen from the cuff of her frock. She pressed it into his palm.

“Here, take this. It is clean.” She straightened, ignoring his expression. “Stay put. I shall be right back with some hot tea.”

Colin watched her leave, the long, full skirt of her plain brown morning dress swishing with her every step. He had seen the outfit countless times before, had heard her comment that it suited her purposes but would never be seen on the pages of
The Lady’s Journal,
and had watched, when she thought no one spied her, as she wrinkled her pert nose in distaste at the pleats near the waistline of the frock. While it mattered not to him whether she wore a barrel or a ball gown, he recognized her lack of regard for the item, and it made him want to take her shopping.

Sophie deserved to wear brilliant colors, not the serviceable drab ones she favored simply because they could stand repeated washing and wearing.

Someday I will find a way to give Sophie all that she deserves—and more.

He put her delicate hanky to his nose, but he did not blow. Instead, Colin relished the warmth of the item, still heated from lying atop Sophie’s wrist. He could not help himself; he breathed in the fresh-as-spring scent of lavender and vowed anew that somehow he would find a way to give her every trifle her woman’s sensibilities wished for. The promise came from his heart, although his mind, with its logical inclination, wondered how on earth a man of little means was ever going to be able to afford female fripperies.

And how in hell he was going to find a way to touch the skin beneath those same fripperies.

Would that he were a peer of the realm rather than a tutor, life would, indeed, be much simpler and his options clearer.

****

“Why are you so worried?” Rachel exchanged a glance with Louisa, their cook. Then, she frowned at Sophie. “So, he is damp from the sleet. I am sure Colin is perfectly fine. You know as well as I that he has the constitution of a draft horse. Always had—and always will, most likely.”