My Lady Rival (7 page)

“Jo . . . I believe you just tried to maim none other than the Duke of A ulburn,” Thea said.

A ll of the blood leached from Jo’s face. “A d-duke?” she whispered.

Thea nodded. “Everyone knows who he is,” she said, drawing her finger along the right side of her cheek, past her mask to the tip of her jaw. “The scar. Most the right side of her cheek, past her mask to the tip of her jaw. “The scar. Most certainly the Duke of A ulburn.”

A mutinous glint lit Jo’s eyes, her chin firming. “I don’t care who he is. He shouldn’t have touched me.”

“I will be sure to not make that mistake in the future, fair lady, lest my toes too become in danger of being crushed.”

Willa’s heart leapt to her throat when she spied Mr. Lunsford. She lifted to her toes and peeked over his shoulder, searching for Mr. Midnight, but he wasn’t anywhere nearby. With her heart sinking to its appropriate location once again, she smiled in due form when Mr. Lunsford shifted his gaze from Jo to Thea—his mouth gave a tic at the corner as he scanned past her—then to Willa.

“Here we meet again, my Lady Diamonds.”

She nodded. “I’m glad you found me. We were discussing the fine qualities of your chin, if I recall correctly.”

Thea snorted.

The tic showed itself again, but he otherwise ignored her. “No matter. Those can be discussed another day.”

From behind his back he withdrew a bouquet of flowers—well, in truth, it actually appeared to be a branch from a purple begonia plant—and extended his arm toward her. “From Mr. Midnight.”

Willa accepted the branch hesitantly, holding it as far away as possible. There were still bits of soil hanging from the petals and leaves. “He couldn’t bring it himself?” She felt something . . . familiar.

“A h, but it’s all in the anticipation,” Lunsford replied. Then he shrugged.

“Besides, it was the perfect opportunity to visit the area of the ballroom where evil doth reside.” He wagged his fingers in greeting at Thea. “Lady A lthea.” A fter Willa had won Contarini as an investor, A lex Laurie gave her flowers.

“Oh, my dear Mr. Lunsford!” Thea said brightly, smiling wide. Then her brows lowered and she scowled. “Please don’t feel inclined to stay any longer on my behalf. Please, go. Go now,” she said, shooing him with her hands.

No, he hadn’t given her flowers. He’d asked Contarini to give her the flowers at the ball the last evening in Italy. She’d seen him do it. From another man it would have been a sign of admiration. A s she’d taken the flowers from her new investor, Willa couldn’t help but think that A lex Laurie was trying to kill her. She’d told him, early in their stay, of her reactions to flowers when he suggested a walk in the villa’s gardens.

Willa’s head snapped up from the begonia. She searched the ballroom, but she couldn’t find him.

“A pleasure, as always. Your lovely countenance warms the cockles of my heart,” Lunsford was telling Thea.

Jo extended her arm toward him as he backed away, holding her glass by her fingertips. “I’ve finished with my punch.”

Thea laughed and linked her arm through Jo’s. “Yes, you’re right. Though I’m certain that is the only use he has, I doubt he—”

certain that is the only use he has, I doubt he—”

Lunsford held up his hand. “Now as you well know, I do have many other uses, Lady A lthea.” He gave her a narrow smile when she stiffened. Then, with a bow, he ignored the glass and turned away.

Willa caught his eye as he left. “Please be certain to thank Mr. Midnight for the kind gift,” she said. Then, with her nose itching, she promptly searched for a place to dispose of the amputated begonia flowers.

A lex and Lunsford covertly stared at the trio of Willa Stratton, Jo, and Lady A lthea.

“I really don’t like that woman,” Lunsford muttered as he sipped from a new cup of punch.

“Lady Diamonds, Lunsford,” A lex repeated for the third time. He hadn’t yet revealed her identity to Lunsford. He wanted to keep that information to himself for now. But he had employed Lunsford in the delivery of the begonia branch, a gesture meant to keep her interested in him and to toy with her a little before the next waltz. The final waltz.

He’d expected Lunsford to be back before he finished checking on his mother and Kat—they were fine, grudgingly admitting they were enjoying themselves—

but it had taken Lunsford an eternity to return from his mission. A fter speaking with Willa, apparently he’d stopped at the refreshment table and then proceeded to flirt with half the women in the ballroom on his way back. He seemed especially enamored of one of the unicorns. “What did the Lady in Diamonds say?”

“Oh, her.” Lunsford waved his hand. “She said thank you and wanted to know why you didn’t bring them yourself.”

Lunsford obviously didn’t know that when A lex asked what she said, he also wanted to know how she’d appeared. Had her eyes lit with pleasure? Had her mouth curved? Did any of it help to foretell the extent of her dismay when his identity was finally revealed? He knew, of course, she would have no reason to reveal the truth about her attendance at the masquerade that evening.

“What did you tell her?”

“Some nonsense about anticipation.” Lunsford glanced behind them to the now much less healthier-looking potted begonia. “Has anyone noticed anything amiss with the plant yet?”

“No, but I was just thinking it might be best to move to another part of the room.”

“Good idea.”

Several minutes later they stood at the far end of the ballroom, still opposite Willa, Lady A lthea, and Jo. Jo was staring at him. A lex inclined his head, and she looked away. For the first time, he became concerned that she stood beside Willa.

Surely Jo wouldn’t tell her who he was. She must not have identified Willa as their enemy, since she continued speaking with her.

But then . . . then Jo turned back and smiled at him.

But then . . . then Jo turned back and smiled at him.

No, he mouthed. Dear God, he knew that smile, part satisfaction and part mischief.

He shook his head.

She shrugged her shoulders, as if telling him that she had no idea what his gesture meant. For the next few minutes he watched as she continued speaking to Willa, but nothing amiss came about. Willa went on smiling and laughing, and A lex let out a little sigh.

Lunsford took another sip of his drink, his gaze flicking to something beyond A lex’s shoulder. “If you’re curious, there’s Woolstone’s sister, Lady Marianna, to your left, just beyond the corner of the dancing.”

A lex shifted his attention toward a black-haired woman dressed in bright, rose pink silk. Her mask was pink as well, complementing her lily-of-the-valley skin. He returned his gaze to Lunsford. “Need I know about Lady Marianna?” Lunsford shrugged. “Need to know? No. I, however, make it a habit to take time to appreciate all things beautiful when they come my way. A nd Lady Marianna happens to be exquisitely beautiful.” He paused, cast another glance her way, then sighed. “But she is of no importance. Woolstone is the one with the dye. However, if you do wish to hear more about her, I included her on Jo’s guest list—” A lex nodded, his attention slipping. He was keenly aware that the next dance was the third waltz, and the pleasure at seeing Willa appear the fool when their masks were revealed began to lessen as he continued considering her reasons for attending the masquerade.

She could be here to marry a title, as other A mericans had crossed the A tlantic to do. That reason seemed the most obvious and unfortunately did not bring A lex any peace. For if Willa Stratton intended to marry into the aristocracy, then that meant she might legitimize her father’s company in their eyes, too. She might make connections and new investors that otherwise would have been his.

A s he remembered her flirting with Lunsford earlier, A lex scowled. He’d been thinking about his potential investors, but she might also try to steal his current investors away.

Yet beyond these two very real possibilities, the last reason he considered was the one which concerned him the most. She could be here for the Madonna dye.

A nd if that were the case, then he must take care to discover what she knew before the night was over, before she slipped away. The only thought that offered any consolation was that if she’d had anything to do with Woolstone’s disappearance, she wouldn’t need to be here at the masquerade. Perhaps she’d come here looking for the dye’s creator instead. Perhaps she—

Lunsford’s fingers snapped in front of his vision.

He looked to his friend, who stared at him quietly, expectantly. A lex winced.

“A pologies. You were speaking, weren’t you?”

Lunsford waved a hand. “Oh, only for the past five minutes or so. A nd you were thinking of the Lady in Diamonds, were you not?”

A lex nodded. Indeed, he was. Or rather, the woman on his mind certainly wore A lex nodded. Indeed, he was. Or rather, the woman on his mind certainly wore enough diamonds to display her ill-begotten wealth for all to see, but she wasn’t a lady at all. She was a miss. With the proper adjective, she was Miss Willa bloody Stratton, and no matter the reason why she’d come to London, this time he’d be damned if he let her get in his way.

This was the last waltz of the evening, the midnight waltz, and for the moment Willa Stratton was his again. A lex thought about shoving her away.

She shouldn’t have felt so perfect in his arms, shouldn’t have come to just the right height to put the top of her head at his shoulder. When she looked up at him, the light from the chandeliers above reflected in the blue of her eyes. If she were another woman, whom he actually admired, he would need to lower his head only a few degrees in order to touch his mouth to hers . . .

“You needn’t continue pretending,” she said. “I know who you are.” He stumbled, his foot landing on the hem of her dress and nearly sending both of them crashing to the floor.

But he successfully righted them again—her fingers digging into his shoulder and hand rather unnecessarily, he thought—and met her narrowed eyes. No, her glaring eyes.

“Why did you send the flowers?” she hissed.

For the first time ever in their brief acquaintance, A lex considered the possibility that Willa Stratton might be a bit mad. Usually a woman was pleased to receive flowers. They made her happy; it was a flattering gesture, as if comparing a woman’s appearance to that of the beautiful specimen she received.

But Willa was obviously neither happy nor flattered as he’d intended so that she would remain unguarded. He might have believed she’d become offended at the bedraggled state of the begonia, but the obvious answer presented itself immediately: Jo.

Jo had told her who he was.

Though he wasn’t certain why she would, unless she did it only to aggravate him. It wouldn’t be the first time tonight she’d taken pleasure in being contrary.

“I asked you a question, Mr. Midnight,” Willa said, her voice smothering his alias with equal parts mockery and disdain.

A lex patted his mouth as he feigned a yawn. “Hmm. If you are correct in having uncovered my identity, my Lady in Diamonds”—he could inflect his voice with arrogance and condescension, too—“then I must say that I’m entirely surprised to find that you are the one angry with me.”

“You gave me flowers when you know that they make me ill.”

“I know no such thing.”

“I told you in Italy.” A h. It hadn’t been Jo, after all. “I’m sure you remember, because you—”

“I know it’s rude to correct a woman’s assumptions, but I can promise you that I remember nothing. Your words are not such pearls that I collect each and every one as treasured mementos. However, I’m sorry if the begonia made you ill.” one as treasured mementos. However, I’m sorry if the begonia made you ill.” She glared at him. “No, you’re not.”

A lex allowed a slow, wide smile to spread over his face. “No, I am not.” She tried to tug her hand away from his, but he held it firm as they continued dancing. “It’s a shame that we have to remove our masks in a moment,” she said,

“for I don’t believe I’ll like you very much then.”

“Oh? I was under the impression that you didn’t like me very much now.” Her lips tightly pressed together. “How very true.”

“It’s just as well, I suppose, for I don’t like you, either.” A nd then, because he couldn’t resist besting her: “In fact, I happen to dislike you far more than you dislike me.”

She sniffed, and it somehow turned her entire expression into one of haughty boredom. “I believe the word you’re searching for is despise, Mr. Midnight. You despise me.”

A lex stared. “Surely you didn’t just correct the wording of my insult.” Her teeth flashed, white and gleaming, before she returned to her unwavering glare. “Shall I repeat it?”

“No, I can say it for myself. I despise you, dearest Lady in Diamonds.” Willa refused to be the first to look away. A minute or more passed. Neither spoke, and damn him, he didn’t look away, either. A s the musicians continued playing the third waltz and A lex led her about the ballroom floor, Willa had nothing to do but to memorize the color of his irises: a mahogany with depths, not so dark as to be indistinguishable from his pupils, but dark enough that the longer she gazed into them, the more she felt as if she was seeing a shadow of a shadow. She stared so long she became certain that after this evening she would never forget their color again.

How could he have known first? She’d even begun to convince herself that she’d imagined the familiarity, to believe she had simply wanted to know him better.

“How did you know it was me?” she asked. “We haven’t seen each other in three years.”

“A h, but how could I forget you, my Lady Diamonds?” He shook his head and smiled. “Or should I say—my Lady Rival?” The waltz was ending. One-two-three.

One-two-three.

She laughed, tilting her head back as if he’d said something far too amusing for her mirth to be contained. When she finished and lowered her chin, he was staring at her with his jaw locked, his eyes fixed on her lips.

She smiled. The same trick had worked on him in Italy, too.

Notes were drawn out, a long conclusion to the piece.

A s soon as the last note died they broke apart. The ballroom became hushed with expectation. Lady Winstead stepped onto the ballroom floor. A bove, on the landing, a servant rang a gong. “It is midnight, dear ladies and gentlemen,” she announced. “You may now remove your masks!”