The Forsaken Love of a Lord (8 page)

Of course, it didn’t help that at night he saw her face, or that some witty remark she had given to Curtis clung to his memory as he drifted to sleep. It was madness.

He knew it.

Yet he was powerless to stop it because at some point, he had come to anticipate the latest information on the chit. Worse yet, he had secretly started to watch her himself.

And watching had led to
feeling.

Not that he had shared that bit of information with Curtis.

When he watched her, it was always from a distance. And only a few times, when the opportunity presented itself. Like the other day on Bond Street, when she had been exceedingly kind to a servant who had accidentally jostled her. Where others would have berated the servant, she was kind, patient even.

And as he grew to know her through Curtis and his own small endeavors, his heart began to soften, to simmer with something dangerous: desire.

He hardly admitted it to himself.

Everything that Curtis claimed about her had seemed too good to be true. So he watched, yet it wasn’t enough.

He wanted to know firsthand.

But that wouldn’t ever happen.

He couldn’t dance with her; he couldn’t even
speak
to her.

Unless…

“Masquerade?” Edward repeated, his mind beginning to spin a plan.

“Er, yes. You know, I thought you weren’t listening at all.” Curtis shrugged.

“Hmm.” Edward stood and began to walk slowly toward the crackling fire in the library hearth.

“Hmm? I fail to see what is so puzzling about a masquerade,” Curtis commented, his tone curious.

Edward ignored him. This was the perfect opportunity. He could speak with her, dance with her, and she’d never be the wiser. Of course, he’d have to take extra measures to be sure he wasn’t recognized…

“Your expression is quite disconcerting. What diabolical plan are you conceiving?” Curtis asked.

Edward glanced toward him. “A brilliant plan, even if I say so myself.”

“As if I’d expect you to admit that some plan you concocted was hair-brained.” Curtis shook his head then stood, taking leisurely steps toward the fire as well.

Edward returned his gaze to the flames as he thought.

“So?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to share your plan, or am I to be waiting in suspense?” Curtis asked, his tone slightly sarcastic.

“I…” Edward paused, evaluating his friend. “I think I’ll leave you in suspense. Telling you could damage my plans.”

“
What?
” Curtis’ expression was comical. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth was agape.

“I
do
keep some secrets even from you, old chap.” Edward reached out and slapped Curtis’ back.

“I don’t know if I should be offended or shocked.”

“I’d assumed both.”

“Quite so. Either way, I have the distinct impression that I’d not approve of your plan should you share it.”

“That is a possibility, one I’ll not risk. Now, did you have any other information wished to bore me with?” Edward forced a benign expression, one of disinterest just in case Curtis had noticed his increasing interest in Olivia.

“None that I haven’t shared…” Curtis replied, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied his friend.

Edward forced himself to remain still when all he wanted to do was squirm under his friend’s scrutiny. “Very well.” He gestured absently with his hand and shrugged, dismissing his friend.

“Till later then,” Curtis spoke hesitantly, as if still trying to sort out his friend’s plan. After a short pause, he turned and left.

Edward released a pent-up breath as his friend’s form disappeared into the darkened hall. Curtis was quite brilliant — though Edward would never say as much to his face — and being as such, would see through any elaborate disguise Edward could conjure up for the masquerade. But by then, it would be too late. Curtis wouldn’t hinder his plans — torment him endlessly after the fact — but never foil them. And by the time he
did
figure out what Edward had planned, it would be too late.

Edward grinned.

Tomorrow he’d find out the truth for himself.

Was Olivia truly all that Curtis claimed? Or was she simply a profound actress, as her departed sister had been?

CHAPTER SIX

T
HE CARRIAGE GREW STUFFY
from the lack of air movement as Olivia and her parents waited in line before the Symth residence. At least ten carriages were behind them waiting as well, as the Smyth footmen worked like mad, trying to assist the gentry from their carriages and into the famed Masquerade. Olivia leaned over the edge of the carriage’s window, watching the lords and ladies disembark from their carriages in elaborate costumes and full masks. The metallic mask of her own disguise was held in place by several pins and a thin line of ribbon. She certainly didn’t feel like she appeared vastly different, but she
felt
mysterious.

The very air seemed charged.

Almost as if something spectacular was waiting to happen that very night.

Reaching up, she adjusted the feathers that completed her mask and released a sigh of anticipation.

“With as popular as this masquerade is every year, you’d think the Smyths would have had the forethought to hire additional footmen,” her mother complained as she fanned herself wildly against the stagnant air.

“Indeed,” her father agreed.

Soon the carriage approached the grand entrance of the Smyth residence, and Olivia was helped down by a liveried footman. After waiting for her parents to precede her, she followed them into the entrance. White and black feathers accented crystal vases, and glowing candles gave an intimate atmosphere to an overly large foyer. As the guests made their way to the ballroom, Olivia smiled as a wave of anonymity covered her. Each person’s mask covered just enough of the face to make the night secretive. Candlelight danced off the walls, reflecting and adding a shimmering effect on the already glowing room. Olivia exhaled an excited breath. Her eyes scanned the sea of humanity, trying to see if she recognized anyone.

A few people appeared familiar, but only vaguely.

A shiver of delight ran across her flesh.

Mr. Sheppard would surely attend; he had said as much.

As her gaze took in the various gentlemen who could possibly be similar to his build, she noticed a gentleman enter the ballroom with an oddly familiar stride.

Studying him, she watched as he passed several ladies who had stopped mid-sentence to stare.

Because he was worth staring at.

His evening kit was shot-through with silver thread, making it iridescent and almost glowing. His mask covered his eyes to his accented cheekbones, leaving the powerful line of his jaw exposed. The cut of his coat did nothing to hide the expanse of his shoulders or the powerful build of his frame; rather it accented it, recommending his form.

And he wore a dark black cape.

Olivia bit her lip.

Who was he? And why in heaven’s name was he familiar?

Could it be Mr. Sheppard? Yet she had never had such… a reaction to his presence before.

Oh, Mr. Sheppard was diverting, a devil-may-care attitude about him that made him fun to be around, but her heart never sped up when in his company.

And this man, this mysterious gentleman that had single handedly captured the attention of each woman he passed, was stealing her breath away, and he hadn’t even noticed her.

Drat.

“Who is that?” a familiar voice asked in a breathless whisper.

The spell broken, she turned toward Maria. “How did you recognize me?”

“You told me your costume.” Maria shrugged. “That and your hair. There are few with your particular butter-gold color. You’re blessed.” She spoke kindly.

“Thank you. And to answer your question…” Olivia turned back to watch the gentleman. “…I don’t know, but I’d sure like to.”

“You and everyone else. He’s causing quite the stir. I think it’s all the mystery, you know? It’s that no one is quite sure who each other is, and, I think, us debutants all think about the Cinderella story, don’t you?” Maria said wistfully.

“Now that you mention it, yes. I rather
do
think of Cinderella, though I’d not want to capture the Prince Regent’s attention.” Olivia giggled softly.

“Indeed,” Maria agreed.

Olivia turned back toward her friend. Maria was dressed in pale lavender silk with seed pearls sewn into her gown and a white ostrich feather accenting her silver mask. Her dark hair was swept up delicately, accented by pearls that matched her dress. Beautiful, she looked like a mysterious Greek goddess.

“He’s looking this way,” Maria whispered through barely moving lips.

Olivia turned quickly.

“Don’t — never mind, but for future reference,
never
turn when
they
are looking,” Maria whispered from behind her.

Olivia felt herself color, and she was thankful for the mask hiding much of her face.

The gentleman was indeed studying her. Over the edge of his champagne glass, his eyes were watching her. He blinked, glanced to the left, and walked toward the edge of the ballroom.

But Olivia still felt the heat of his gaze lingering, as if a physical touch. It set her aflame.

Or perhaps it was her imagination.

But it
felt
real.

“I’m going to see if I can figure out who he is,” Maria spoke softly.

Olivia didn’t turn, but heard the whisper of her friend’s dress as she left. Not wanting to be caught staring at the gentleman, she glanced away. Taking a deep breath, she made her way to the edge of the ballroom, striving to keep her gaze away from the gentleman in question, but with each step she was tempted to glance back for one more glimpse.

As she walked away, a tingling sensation shimmered up her spine, and she paused. At that moment, the music began, and it almost felt surreal as she turned and met the gaze of the gentleman in question. It was as if time stood still, the music playing a symphony created for that very moment as she met his regard.

He grinned, a wicked and delicious expression, and started to walk toward her.

Olivia gulped.

Breaking eye contact, she glanced around her. Was he coming to speak with her? Or was there someone else beside her that had caught his interest?

Seeing no one even glancing in his direction — for once — she glanced back to him, finding his gaze fixed on her.

Her body broke out in gooseflesh as the raw power from his gaze sent tremors up and down her skin, heating her and causing a shiver all at once.

“My lady?” He bent, breaking eye contact to place a proper air kiss to her hand. His voice was low, gravelly, almost as if trying to disguise it.

“My lord.” Olivia spoke softly, not trusting her voice, yet at the same time trying to recall any familiarity with his tone.

A memory tickled her mind, yet she couldn’t place it.

Though it shouldn’t be a surprise. Since moving back to London she had met several hundred people.

He must have been one of them.

“A lovely evening, is it not?” he said easily, a ready grin bending his lips and showing off his white straight teeth. A sensual dimple caught her attention as his grin widened. His eyes, a light blue were highlighted by the midnight color of his mask.

“Indeed, quite the air of mystery in the evening,” she replied, her senses returning slightly as she studied him.

He
was
indeed familiar.

Now if she could figure out why!

“Would you care to dance?” he asked suddenly, turning away slightly so that she could only see his profile.

Odd.

“Er, yes, my lord. Thank you,” Olivia answered, fully expecting him to escort her to the dance floor to begin the quadrille that had just started.

“Splendid.” He turned toward her, flashed a grin… then walked away!

Olivia felt her brow furrow. What had just happened?

That was beyond strange.

Confused, she watched as he slowly made his way back across the room, never once turning back.

Blinking in consternation, Olivia turned to find Maria.

Scanning the crowd, she located her. Meandering her way through the multitude, she glanced back over her shoulder to the gentleman who had asked her to dance then left her alone.

He was watching her, unapologetically.

Olivia felt herself blush and turned away just a moment before she would have run into her friend’s back.

“Oh!”

Maria turned, her eyebrows furrowed. “Goodness’ sakes, Olivia.” She shook her head, amused.

“My apologies. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Olivia confessed quietly then met her friend’s gaze and glanced over her shoulder, nodding her head slightly.

Maria’s eye widened in understanding, and her gaze shifted behind Olivia, then she gasped softly.

“My, my, I believe you’ve captured the gentleman’s attention.”

“Have you figured out who he is?” Olivia asked, her curiosity burning.

“No. It’s the oddest thing. Everyone I speak to has no idea, but all have certainly
noticed
him, let me say that!”

“He — he asked me to dance,” Olivia whispered.

“What?” Maria gasped.

“Yes, and then do you know what he did?”

“No, what did he do?” a gentleman’s voice broke in, whispering with mock enthusiasm.

Olivia narrowed her eyes and turned toward the familiar voice. “Mr. Sheppard, have you forgotten your manners? It is never polite to intrude on a friend’s secret conversation.” A grin broke through her stern words as Mr. Sheppard hitched a shoulder.

“Alas, I was dearly hoping you were talking about me, I must admit,” he said with a grin.

“Now you shall never know,” Maria replied, a saucy smile aimed in his direction.

“You wound me!” Mr. Sheppard made like an arrow had pierced his heart.

“Not likely.” Olivia giggled.

“Well, then if it wasn’t me, then
whom
were you whispering about?” He glanced around.

“Him.” Maria gestured with her chin in the direction of the gentleman in question.