The Forsaken Love of a Lord (9 page)

“Who? Oh.” Mr. Sheppard scanned the direction Maria had indicated.

Olivia turned to glance at the gentleman once again.

Peculiar.

He was meeting Mr. Sheppard’s gaze, grinning, and lifted his glass and saluted him.

Mr. Shepphard’s eyes widened then narrowed. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, then seemed to remember himself. “My sincerest apologies, ladies. That was utterly ungentlemanly of me. If you’ll excuse me.” Without a glance back, he strode across the ballroom toward the other gentleman.

But once Mr. Sheppard had started toward him, the mysterious man in question turned to his left and asked a woman to dance.

Escorting her to the floor, he’d cleverly avoided the confrontation Mr. Sheppard clearly had in mind.

Which meant that Mr. Sheppard knew who he was.

Olivia started toward him, only to be held back by her friend.

“Wait,” Maria whispered as Mr. Sheppard paused and asked a nearby lady to dance as well.

He took the accepting lady to the dance floor and took up position near the mysterious gentleman. Mr. Sheppard began speaking to him, and Olivia would have given a year’s pin money to hear what was being said.

The gentleman was speaking back, but, by the looks of things, it appeared as if neither man was happy with the other.

“Strange.”

“Indeed,” Maria whispered back.

A dance couldn’t last forever, and as soon as it ended, Olivia meant to find out just
who
was behind the mask. Surely Mr. Sheppard would tell her.

After all, it couldn’t be
that
big of a secret.

Could it?

Edward was enjoying himself immensely; that was, until Curtis took on the expression of a thundercloud and threatened to rain on his carefully laid-out plans.

“When we spoke last and you said you had plans, never did I think you’d stoop this low,” Curtis bit out as they stood in line waiting for their turn in the reel.

“I have no idea to which you are referring,” Edward bit back.

“You are being utterly dishonorable.” Curtis spoke sharply.

“How? It’s a bloody masquerade. I’m in a mask. Is it my fault that no one has recognized me?” Edward replied with little patience, though he affixed a grin to his face.

“I recognize you.” Curtis spoke with deathly calm.

Edward turned toward his friend, eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat?”

“That it is, indeed. If you hurt her, if you are using this as some misbegotten way of exacting your revenge over Mary—“

“Don’t you mention her name,” Edward spat with venom.

“Exactly.” Curtis sneered then pasted a smile to his face and took a turn with his partner.

Edward breathed in through his nose, trying to calm his anger. It would do no good to yell at his friend. In a way, he was right. He did have a purpose, just not how Curtis expected. He needed to know, needed to see for himself if Olivia truly was as Curtis had depicted her with his stories.

And truthfully, Edward wasn’t sure if he was praying for him to be correct or wrong. For if Curtis was wrong, it would severely wound his friend, as Edward was quite certain he had become fond of Olivia.

Perhaps too fond.

But he wouldn’t allow himself to focus on that subject.

And if Curtis was right, then everything Edward had believed, had
wanted
to believe about Marybelle’s family, was potentially incorrect.

And the seeds of hatred, anger, and bitterness that he had fostered were no longer valid.

What did one do after such a discovery?

But he
had
to know.

And so, he had taken shameless advantage of the opportunity the masquerade had presented.

Much to Curtis’ dismay.

The dance ended, and Edward bowed to his partner then turned and watched as his friend shook his head and walked away from him, a tightness gripping his chest as he realize that it was the first time his friend had taken such an action.

Curtis was loyal to the death.

Edward released a sigh of indecision before the first strains of a waltz began to ring out.

Glancing to where Olivia stood, he narrowed his eyes as he saw that Curtis was also heading in her direction, a determined stride to his gait.

It was now or never.

Lord,
help him.

With a deep breath, he made his way toward Olivia.

She was breathtaking, an angel of beauty and light in her cream-colored gown that seem almost translucent in the candlelight of the ballroom.

Edward felt his thoughts veer in an entirely inappropriate avenue and struggled to keep his intentions as honorable as possible, under the circumstances. But the closer he got to her, the more his pulse raced. How was it that she had such an effect on him?

It was unwelcome, yet, at the same time, he was powerless to stop it.

And as he drew closer, he found that he didn’t want to stop it, rather bathe in the wonder of it.

She noticed Curtis’ approach and gave him a welcoming smile. Edward felt the unwelcome emotion of jealousy slam into his gut. Curtis was smiling back at her, his eyes glowing with appreciation.

Though a man would have to be cold in the grave to not appreciate her beauty.

And in that moment, Edward felt very alive.

As if sensing competition, Curtis’ gaze shifted, finding Edward’s advance toward Olivia.

Curtis’ gaze narrowed, and he picked up his pace.

Edward was just close enough to hear him begin to speak with her.

“Miss Olivia, may I please have the honor of his dance?” He bowed and smiled in his charming way.

Edward wanted to roll his eyes; rather, he simply bowed as well. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sheppard, but Miss Olivia already promised me this dance.” Edward held his breath.

Olivia turned toward him, her stunning blue eyes widening as she noticed his presence. “Er…” She hesitated and glanced between Curtis and himself, seeming to try and determine which course of action to take.

Edward’s gaze slid to Curtis, and in that split-second he saw his friend seeming to implore her to accept his hand. Edward returned his gaze to Olivia. He gave her his most winning smile, allowing a bit of a devilish gleam to leak through his expression. Or so he hoped. It seemed deuced awkward, flirting. He hadn’t done it ages.

Olivia’s gaze met his unflinchingly. Softly, she reached her hand out and, he grasped it like a lifeline.

“Mr. Sheppard, I’m sorry, but I had already promised a dance to this gentleman.” She spoke kindly to his friend and offered Curtis a smile. “Perhaps we can dance later this evening?”

“I shall count on it, Miss Olivia.” Curtis spoke with warmth that evaporated as he met Edward’s gaze.

Edward glanced away from the daggered gaze of his friend and met Olivia’s curious regard. “Shall we?”

Olivia nodded and followed him as he led her to the dance floor. Her hand was warm, comforting as she allowed him to guide her. The fragrance of lemon clung to the air around her, startlingly different from the cloying fragrances that Marybelle had favored.

Marybelle’s name was poison in his mind, stealing the beauty of the moment. He struggled to regain his composure.

Olivia’s grip increased in pressure, and he turned toward her. Her eyes were kind, direct, as she seemed to gaze into his soul.

His dark, black, and very bitter soul.

Yet, she didn’t shy away; rather, she seemed to accept it, not run away in fear.

He would have run if he’d known what was in his heart.

He would run away now if he could. Not for the first time, he began to question the man he had become.

The music floated around them, and Edward pulled her into the frame of the waltz. Her waist was dainty, yet womanly enough to stir his blood. He led the first few steps as they entered into the swirling dancers.

“I must confess to being curious as to your identity, my lord,” she said shyly. “Especially since you seem to be aware of mine.”

“And ruin the mystery? I think not,” Edward replied, keeping his tone low just in case she recognized him before he was ready,
if
he were ever ready.

“Sometimes mystery is not nearly as wonderful as the truth, my lord.”

“Are you so sure?”

“Indeed. Truth brings light, drives away the half-truths that easily can distract us, keeping us from finding the fact. Don’t you agree?”

“But what if the truth is not what you thought? What if it is terrible? Heartbreaking even?”

“You speak from experience?”

“I believe we all can speak from experience in this area in one way or another.”

“Indeed. Some more than others, I’d imagine.”

She grew quiet, almost distant as she refused to meet his gaze. Desperate for her voice, the soft tones of it caressing his mind, he tried to engage her in any conversation he could think of. “You seem to be quite close with Mr. Sheppard.”

“Indeed.” She glanced back to him, her eyes losing some of their haunting awareness. “He has been most kind. Do you know my friend Maria? She is Lord Moray’s daughter.”

“No, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. I’ll have to seek an introduction at first chance.”

“I shall introduce you, though it should be quite difficult since I don’t know your name.” She smiled, her eyes taking on teasing light.

Edward immediately reacted, his body growing warm at the flirtatious nature of her expression.

Just as quickly, his emotions froze. Hadn’t her sister been similar?

Then, as if realizing herself, Olivia glanced away, slightly blushing.

Marybelle had never blushed. That should have been his first clue that she wasn’t as innocent as she pretended to be.

But was Olivia innocent or simply a good actress?

“You’re beautiful.” Edward spoke in a seductive tone, tightening his hold on her frame and gently trying to pull her in tighter.

It was a test.

If she were an innocent, surely she’d rebuff his advances, or at least pretend to.

But if she were trying to play a game…

Edward forced his body to not react to her soft flesh beneath his hand, or the soft fragrance of her skin, nor the tempting pink of her lips.

“I thank you for the compliment, my lord.” She spoke tightly and resisted his attempt to pull her in tighter. Her cheeks bloomed with color.

Was she embarrassed?

Suddenly, a pain shot through his foot. Glancing down, he looked to his foot, then to her.

Her eyebrows were raised in challenge, her eyes narrowed in warning.

The chit had done it on purpose!

“I do believe that is the first time I’ve been accosted on the ballroom floor,” Edward teased, a grin growing unrestrained. Of all the reactions,
that
was not one he’d expected.

It delighted him.

Yet chilled him, because he was beginning to discover that Curtis was indeed correct.

Olivia was not Marybelle.

And suddenly, all the small nuances, or expressions, the words she had spoken with daring wit which Curtis had freely shared, came back to haunt him.

It was maddening, yet addictive, knowing that everything he had fought so hard to hate was actually a lie, and was actually beginning to feed a more frightening emotion.

It had been easy to try and fight the hunger for information from Curtis on Olivia when he’d still been uncertain of her character.

Now that he was affirming the knowledge that she was as wonderful as Curtis had made her to be, it would be impossible.

Which led to a miserable end.

Because already, Edward could feel his heart engaging. It was too late to pull back and remain unattached. The hatred and fear slowly melted as he continued to waltz with her, and something far more powerful took their place.

Attraction.

Awareness.

All hinting at love.

And nothing could have frightened him more.

Yet, like an addict, he craved her attention with a desire even more powerful that the pounding fear.

“Accosting?” she returned, a disbelieving expression on her beautiful face. “Not at all. Just preserving my reputation, you understand. You see, my lord, I do not even know your name. Just because you are draped in mystery doesn’t mean I shall allow you ungentlemanly advances,” she replied directly.

“Well said, Miss Olivia. I must say I’m pleased.”

“Pleased?” Her expression turned to confused.

“Yes. You see, it’s rare to find a woman of virtue. Most women would take shameless advantage of being in a mask to take to disreputable behavior. I’m pleased you are not one of them.”

“I don’t know whether to be complimented or confused.”

“It was intended as a compliment.”

“Very well.” She tilted her head. “You know, there is something familiar about you.” Her eyes narrowed, studying him.

“Is there? And what do you find familiar?” Edward asked, his heart beating hard against his chest at the internal debate. Half of him wanted her to discover his identity, only to have the other half fight against such knowledge.

What would she do?

How would she react?

In a moment, he realized that her unmasking, so to say, his identity would be the true test of her character. Hadn’t she been asking Curtis about him? Wasn’t that the very reason Curtis was even associated with her?