Page 83 of Unmasking the Earl

That heated touch, those strong but knowing hands! Her heart thundered so loudly, all other sound was blotted out.

Ned.

She was sure of it, even as he released her and moved off into the crowd.

But why didn’t he say anything?

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Cassie’s hand was trembling so much as she brought the card up to her mask, she couldn’t read the signature.

“Becca!” she called. “What does this say?”

Her cousin pored over it, the feathers in her elaborate headdress jiggling about as if they were alive.

“Good Lord!” Becca looked at her wide-eyed. “It says Stranraer. Well, he certainly didn’t want to hang around and indulge in small talk, did he? Did he not recognize you from Aston, perhaps?”

“Maybe because of the costume,” Cassie replied, hoping her cousin wouldn’t notice how breathless she’d become.

Becca gave a harrumph. “If he’s not too top-lofty to desire a dance with you, you’d think he would be happy to exchange pleasantries before moving off. Is he shy, perhaps?”

Shy? Well, it was possible. But he hadn’t been in the least bit shy with her before, so what had made him so reticent all of a sudden?

“I don’t think he cares much for the manners and modes of the ton,” Cassie murmured.

“I’m beginning to think your earl must be very eccentric,” Becca said as she wandered off into the crowd.

Not mine.

There was no doubt in Cassie’s mind that Ned had recognized her. But how had he managed to pick her out from this heaving mass, disguised as she was? There must be three hundred people here at least, all bewigged and masked, in a vast array of colored silks and satins, damasks and velvets. Yet she had barely been in the ballroom a few minutes and he’d come straight to her.

Craning her neck, she tried to identify him in the crowd. With his height and size, it should not be difficult. However, many of the old-fashioned wigs the gentlemen were wearing gave them deceptive stature. She would just have to wait on tenterhooks for the third dance.

If her nerves—and corset—didn’t cause her to faint in the interim.

After her papa was delivered to a comfortable corner of the card room, the musicians struck up, and she stepped out for the first measure with a gentleman she had never met before. His cold hands felt like dead fish, and he smelled evilly of tobacco. His dancing was only moderately good, but for some reason her own was little better. She was looking out for the gentleman in black, to see who, if anyone, he was dancing with.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She had bumped a rather grand lady wearing scarlet.

“I beg your pardon.” This time she’d jostled elbows with a fat man in a gold-colored waistcoat which looked likely to pop all its buttons at any moment.

“There is quite a crush in here tonight,” said her partner kindly. “Avoiding collisions is very taxing.”

When the music came to a halt, she felt exhausted, a bundle of nerves and anxieties. The next dance was booked to a gentleman who had simply drawn a cross on her card. She hastily dropped him a curtsey and stared beyond his shoulder to see if Ned might have been watching her deplorable performance, but there was no sign of him.

“Cassie, do you not know me?”

“Oh, Julian! I was distracted for a moment. I do beg your pardon. How are you?”

“How polite you are,” he said, taking her hand and leading her into their set. “I don’t normally get such a bland greeting from you. Are you trying to behave like a proper lady now, after that embarrassing episode in Aston?”

“No lectures, please, or I will be forced to remind you of your very ungallant, and—as it turned out—meaningless proposal to me. But how did you recognize me? I hadn’t spotted you.”

A few months ago, her eyes would have been glued to the door of any ballroom or assembly room, waiting for his entrance. She would have been dying for him to take her in his arms and whirl her about the floor. But now, she only wanted to feel Ned’s hands upon her, even if he danced no better than a carthorse.

“I saw your father, of course,” Julian said. “Not many beautiful young ladies make their entrance accompanied by a gentleman in a Bath chair.”

“Oh yes. How silly of me.” The orchestra struck up, and they parted, then joined hands with the rest of their set.