The Love Affair of an English Lord (21 page)

Chapter 20

Another week passed. Chloe felt herself slipping back into the restive state that had dampened her spirits after her father and Brandon had died. The world gradually began to look gray again. She felt uneasy, on edge, as if she had been turned inside out.

She had not heard a word from Dominic.

Did he realize how she worried about him? Did he know that she was on the verge of staging a private hunt for him? He probably wasn't thinking about her at all. True to Chloe's habit of making horrible choices, she had lost her heart to a phantom, a man who had no room in his life, or what was left of it, for love.

But life for the rest of the world continued on. In the midst of Chloe's private conflict, she was dimly aware that the ladies of Chistlebury had thrown themselves heart and soul into planning their annual
bal masqué.
The local assembly room was swept of its cobwebs and dust balls, the century-old chandelier was polished and restored with fresh candles, chairs were brought out of storage.

If anyone asked, the village patronesses claimed they were hoping to raise funds from the ball to patch the schoolmaster's roof, to provide a few more coal braziers for the chilly parish church, and to repair the steeple.

In reality, the masquerade dance provided the perfect background for all the matchmaking mamas whose debutante daughters had returned from their last London Season without the coveted marriage proposals they'd been sent to procure.

As Chistlebury boasted only a few eligible young men, the annual ball had become a frantic competition of sorts. This year's event promised to be even more intense than usual. For one thing, the desirable Viscount Stratfield would not be present. For another, the lovely Chloe Boscastle seemed to be in the lead for Lord St. John's affection.

Then last, but not least, an exciting newcomer had just landed in Chistlebury on his way to London. A duke's heir, it was said, who was in the market for a quiet country home. The fact that this magnetic adventurer, Lord Wolverton, had a tainted reputation did not discourage the league of wedlock-obsessed mothers from placing him at the top of their lists to impress.

Who among them would not secretly wish her daughter to become a duchess? The little matter of Lord Wolverton's murky past as a mercenary could be tidily swept under the Aubusson carpet of his Mayfair mansion. His exploits in foreign lands could be considered heroic, if one chose to look at it that way, and not believe the rumors of his dealings with opium-eaters and pirates.

For her part Chloe paid no attention at all to their chatter. It had become an effort to engage in civilized conversation at all, and she alone knew the reason for Adrian's appearance in the village. Her aunt was so concerned about Chloe's lapse into despondency that she wrote to Grayson in London, asking his advice. Yes, the entire family knew Chloe had been a little moody for some time, but she had seemed to be so uplifted lately, and she and Justin were clearly not as friendly as they had been.

Chloe woke up on the day of the ball and decided she would throttle the first person who asked her if she felt better. She went straight to her dressing closet and opened her trunk, as she had done every morning. Of course there was no sign from her elusive Dominic. No way of knowing when or if she would ever see him again.

The only thing that had kept her grumpy spirits going was the fact that she had almost broken Brandon's code. She had found the numbers that represented
a
and
e,
and from there her work should become easier. Heath had studied the art of cryptology at college. He'd taught Chloe that the codes used during the war were not as complicated as one would imagine.

There was usually no time to decipher a message in the middle of the battlefield, or when a young corporal captured a dispatch. Most of the ciphers were mathematically based, using a chain of numbers. Even so, it took Chloe forever to figure out that the number 2 represented
h
in one column. In the next column, three letters down, the number 2 had become
j.

It took a certain perception, a methodical and intuitive skill, to see patterns that others missed. She did not look forward to explaining to Heath how the code had come into her possession.

Dominic's secret had complicated her life in ways neither of them could have foreseen. The day passed slowly. As evening fell, she bathed and put on her costume for the masquerade ball, a pink gauze dress with silver tissue wings to represent the fairy queen, Tatiana. Even the circlet of pink silk rosebuds on her head looked wrong to her. She didn't feel in the least bit airy or playful. She wanted to bite off someone's head.

She had no reason to look forward to the ball.

“Wear your scandalous corset tonight,” Pamela urged her as the maid dressed her hair. “It might put you in a better mood.”

And so Chloe did, either as an act of protest against Dominic leaving her to worry or as a talisman to lure him back to her, she could not decide.

“All right,” she whispered as she and Pamela crowded into the carriage together for the ride to the assembly room. “I took your advice. I'm wearing a certain shameful garment under my costume, but don't you dare tell anyone, or else.”

Pamela, dressed up as a medieval princess, grinned in illicit approval. “Perhaps the soon-to-be duke will take a fancy to you.”

Chloe's heart missed a few beats. “What are you talking about?”

“The rogue every woman in Chistlebury has been talking about while you were locked away in your tower, Rapunzel. Honestly, Chloe, he's probably the last man your family would want you to marry. He has a perfectly sinful reputation, but I hear he's as handsome as they come.”

All of Chloe's senses went on the alert.

“He's coming to the ball?”

“That's what I was told,” Pamela whispered.

Gooseflesh prickled Chloe's arms. Adrian, attending the ball? Was it a good sign or a bad one that he was appearing at a country dance? She wondered if he would give her a message from Dominic, whether it was news she wanted to hear, or whether Adrian attending was merely to alleviate his boredom. Chistlebury's social life did tend to put one to sleep.

Pamela nudged her. “What do you want to wager that he'll dance with you?”

Chloe made a face. She supposed it was another sign of her decadent nature, but the French corset had lifted her mood a little, that and the hope of hearing from Dominic. “Perhaps he'll take a fancy to
you,
and I shall become the governess to your children to escape my own family.”

“Are you serious, Chloe?” Pamela's eyes widened. “I'd give anything to have Drake and Devon as my brothers. They're so manly and protective.”

“Only when they're not ruining your life,” Chloe grumbled, and then, for the first time in a week, she started to laugh. “It's always been a mystery to me why other females find the rogues so attractive.”

“Are you missing your baron in London?” Pamela asked in sympathy. “Is that why you seem so sad lately?”

Chloe was tempted to laugh again and ask, “What baron?” But she simply shrugged and let her cousin draw her own conclusions. Suddenly she was eager to reach the assembly room and put her corset to good use. They had been waiting out in the carriage for what seemed like forever because Aunt Gwendolyn could not find her wig—she was dressed as the Greek goddess Hera—and Uncle Humphrey, costumed as Zeus, had discovered that Ares had hidden the mangled hairpiece under the sofa.

“Why would the dog steal my wig?” Aunt Gwendolyn asked in distress as the carriage set out for the ball. “Is he upset at me? Was not Ares the son of Hera in legend? Haven't I fed the ungrateful pup my choicest bits of sausage?”

Her husband grunted. “I imagine he thought your wig was a badger. He is a hunting dog, after all. Now would you kindly get off my lightning bolt? It took Mansfield all day to whittle those zigzags.”

The small brick assembly room at the village outskirts blazed with candlelight when they arrived behind the procession of other vehicles. Tea, lemonade, coffee, and light dishes were offered in the refreshment room, which was really a drafty hall where the elite of Chistlebury and a nearby hamlet shivered in their finest evening apparel and heirloom jewels.

The ball itself opened on a disastrous note. No sooner had the steward signaled the band on the dais to begin than a cloud of choking black smoke filled the ballroom. Chloe's throat tightened and she fought to breathe, as much from anticipation as from inhaling the noxious fumes.

She couldn't help wondering if Dominic and his friend had planned some dramatic spectacle. Would he emerge from the billowing puffs of smoke like Mephistopheles? She was afraid for him, and yet at the same time she hoped his risky charade would soon end. She would never complain about her life being too dull again.

But Dominic did not appear in a dramatic puff of smoke. Nor did Sir Edgar or Adrian. It seemed that a pair of youthful pranksters, disgruntled boys who had been punished by the parson, had taken revenge by stuffing several old sheets down the chimney to the fireplace, then setting them aflame.

By the time the air had cleared, the arrival of Lord Wolverton was announced, and Chloe had her first curious look at the mysterious man who had befriended Dominic. He cut an undeniably attractive figure as he strode into the ballroom in the blond wig, knee breeches, white lace-trimmed shirt, hat, and black velvet mask of a seventeenth-century highwayman. She wasn't the least bit surprised to see him immediately surrounded by the village patronesses. His instant popularity did make her wonder, though, how she would be able to get him alone for a few minutes.

Adrian solved the problem for her, appearing very discreetly beside her on the dance floor.

How he managed to escape those fierce-hearted dragonesses without offending anyone and make it to Chloe's side to walk her through the steps of the quadrille was a feat she could only admire. He did not speak for several moments. Nor did she. Instinctively she felt safe with him, at ease. He seemed to be the sort of man who lived by his own rules, and those rules included unswerving loyalty to his friends. She knew that he had sought her out for a reason.

Her mouth went dry as his perceptive hazel eyes examined her through the slits of his half mask. He was tall and well built; he moved with power and purpose, a man to stir a lady's blood, but it was news of Dominic she wanted and sensed that Adrian had brought her.

“Chloe, I have heard a lot about you from our mutual friend.” His voice was low-pitched and attractive. “Forgive me if I step on your toes. I do not dance well at all.”

“A duke's heir? Not dance—” She could not stand it another second. She could not flirt or be herself when her heart was filled with this horrible apprehension. She dropped her voice. “Please tell me this is not your way of preparing me for bad news. Is he here? Has he sent you to fetch me? Is he all right?”

His deep laughter made her dizzy with relief. “Yes. Yes. And yes. Is that all you wanted to know?”

Her gaze scanned the dance floor, assessing every costumed guest, every masked face for her elusive Dominic. “Where is he?”

His mouth curled with a gentle smile of reproach. “Do not be so obvious, Chloe. He isn't ready to share his secret with anyone else but us just yet. The time is almost here for him to come out of hiding. I think Dominic is more than ready for this to be over.”

She drew a breath, her attention returning to his masked face. “When?”

“Sometime in the next few days. You will not want to be involved in the actual confrontation.”

“Not involved.” She held out her skirts and muttered under her breath as she executed a perfunctory curtsy. “You do not know much about my association with him, do you?”

His dark hazel eyes glinted in good humor. “I know that he is in love with you.”

Chloe fought to hide the pleasure that flooded her. “He told you that?”

“Sweetheart, he did not need to tell me. Why do you suppose I am here?”

“But—all right, if you are his closest friend, then you know better than anyone how dangerous it is for him to confront Edgar alone. You don't support this mad scheme of his, do you?”

He glanced over her shoulder as if assessing whether it was safe to continue their conversation. Chloe realized vaguely that they had broken the formation of the dance and were drifting in subtle degrees toward the door, presumably unnoticed in the crush of the crowded dance floor. “Of course I support him.”

She looked around in confusion. Justin frowned at her, then turned to bestow a smile upon his dancing partner. Her aunt and the other patronesses were watching Pamela dance with Justin's younger brother, Charles, a serious law student. The only person who seemed to be paying any attention to Chloe was her uncle.

“I'll take care of him,” Adrian said quietly, following the direction of her gaze.