Dangerous Masquerade (Regency Masquerade)

Her legs moved restlessly against the crisp linen sheets. She wanted to experience those feelings again. She wanted to know what it was like without the pain.

What is the harm?

What if he recognizes you? the little voice inside her whispered.

He hadn’t recognized her yet, she told it. And if he hadn’t by now, it was doubtful he would. Monty had said as much and told her not to worry.

She rolled back onto her side, hugging her pillow.

She was worried, of course, though her fear of discovery was diminishing and being replaced by other emotions. There was annoyance mixed with relief, pleasure, and a large dose of frustration.

Annoyance—no. She wasn’t going to lie to herself. It was anger because he hadn’t known she was Honey. There, she’d admitted it. The summers they’d spent together meant everything to her but obviously nothing to him. How could he not know who she was! At the masquerade, she’d had no difficulty in identifying him. None at all.

But then there was relief because he had more substance than she’d feared. He was a favorite of the tabloids. His exploits were widely reported on, his identity so thinly disguised that he was easily recognizable. They portrayed him as a rake with nothing on his mind but the pursuit of pleasure. But she was growing to see he was more than that. He hadn’t gained his muscles from doing nothing but drink and gamble. And he could be thoughtful and kind—as illustrated by his manner with the ladies.

There was also his mother. Ria frowned. How could a woman call her child Lucifer? What was she like? When he’d told her his name, she had felt her resolve soften and her heart melt. With such a mother, what must his childhood have been like?

At least she’d had two loving parents, even if only for a short while. To counter the pain thinking of her parents always brought, she focused on the pleasure she’d felt when she was with him.

She’d enjoyed their conversation while walking in the shrubbery—part of it, anyway. For once, she had said what was on her mind, and it had certainly been fun to disconcert him.

Then there was how she’d felt when he kissed her wrist. How could something so simple cause so much pleasure? That pleasure had certainly diminished her fear of discovery. The mere memory of how he made her feel was enough to make her breath quicken and stir sparks to life within her.

This naturally led to frustration. She released the pillow and pushed down the sheet, now unable to bear even its’ light weight against her skin.

Though her next thoughts dampened some of those feelings. He might still recognize her, and if he did she could lose everything. If there was only herself to think of, maybe she would chance it, but Ria couldn’t risk everyone else’s future. She just couldn’t.

Could she?

7

How did he do it? Ria wondered as she saw Luc riding toward her. How did he manage to appear whenever she went out?

Bringing his horse alongside, he greeted her. Then, looking at the baskets in the gig, he asked, “Are you visiting your tenants today?”

Ria nodded in confirmation and then added by way of explanation, “It’s Christmas Eve.”

The earl smiled at her and suggested, “I was out for a ride. Perhaps I might accompany you?”

Good manners dictated she could not refuse outright, but Ria tried to discourage him, though she did wonder why she bothered. “Thank you, Lord Arden. However, it is not necessary. I only have one more visit to make.” She added hopefully, “I am sure you have other things to do.”

“No, not at all. I was just out for a ride.”

At that moment, they reached the Fords’, saving Ria from having to reply. Before her groom could assist her, the earl was offering her his hand to help her down. Ria reluctantly placed her hand in his, thankful she was wearing gloves since he was not. Just seeing him was enough to bring back memories of that night without touching his bare skin.

She turned to see her groom struggling with a basket. Lord Arden indicated the man should stand back, and to her amazement Luc effortlessly removed it from the gig.

Perhaps he was one of those gentlemen referred to as Corinthians and spent his time not only drinking and gambling but also practicing at Jackson’s boxing saloon and fencing.

She could imagine him with a rapier, all charm and elegance. Even in a duel, about to pierce his opponent, he would no doubt do so with the utmost politeness and a small smile.

Ria knocked on the cottage door. One of the children opened the door to them, then grinned broadly and stood back when he saw who it was. Ria led the way into the stone cottage, shrugging off her pelisse as it was warm inside.

As soon as the other children saw her, they jumped up with cries of, “Mrs. St. James, Mrs. St. James,” and ran toward her.

Laughing at their exuberant welcome, Ria hugged them, smiling over their heads at their mother. “Hello, Mrs. Ford. How are you today?”

“I’m very well. Thank you, Mrs. St. James.” Then as the earl entered with the basket, she exclaimed, “My goodness, what is this?” and, a child balanced on her hip, cleared a space on the wooden table with her free hand.