Page 85 of Unmasking the Earl

The brown eyes behind the mask twinkled at her. “Of course I do, foolish wench, just as you do me. I would know you anywhere.”

She watched the slow smile below the mask, the appearance of those dimples which made him seem so much more human. “I know you by the way you hold yourself, the way you walk, the little movements of your head when you speak. I can tell you’re in a good mood, which augurs well.”

“Am I not always in a good mood?” Well, she hadn’t been lately, but hopefully he would change all that tonight.

“Not with me, that’s for certain,” he replied. “But I hope to win you round eventually. I have a gift for you, too.”

“Winning me round may require more than a gift,” she teased, though in reality it would take merely a look from him.

He laughed wryly. “Don’t I know it.”

She smiled back. “Then why have you been silent?”

“I have much to say to you, but this isn’t the time. Will you trust yourself to my company for a short while?”

“What, and disappoint all my would-be beaux?”

He feigned affront. “I sincerely hope so.”

Soon after the set ended she found herself alone with Ned in a small room lined by glass-fronted cases filled with antique Chinese porcelain.

It didn’t seem real, standing alone with him, both of them wearing the outlandish fashions of the past, both masked and mysterious, yet so achingly familiar.

She wasn’t even quite sure how she’d arrived there. She didn’t remember the end of the dance, nor the walk down the darkened corridor.

But she did recall the sound of a key in the lock.

Which meant that this time, she was the one imprisoned.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Ned raised his mask and willed his heart back into a steady beat. Cassie had revealed nothing of her feelings beyond her usual attempts to tease him. Yet the fact that she seemed happy to be in his arms again had turned a flicker of hope into a blaze of optimism.

She wouldn’t be alone with him like this if she were now betrothed to Carnforth.

Would she?

His throat was dry as he said, “Will you not lift your mask, Cassie? I want to see you.”

She did so, and appreciation rippled through him. She was such a beauty! Even in the high wig and voluminous skirts, she could turn a man’s head.

“I hope you’re enjoying your evening,” he said, at a loss as to how to proceed. He wanted to know her status with Carnforth but was terrified to ask and have his whole world crushed.

Should he just kiss her and be damned?

“How polite you are, Lord Stranraer,” she said. “I hope you’re enjoying the evening, yourself. I must say, you look rather splendid in all that black silk, with the white lace at your collar and cuffs.”

“How kind of you to say so,” he said drily. “It’s my Parisian silk suit—I’d hoped to impress you with it. My valet has added a few bits and pieces to make it more like the fashions of our forefathers. I must confess, I’m not much for flowered waistcoats in the normal run of things.”

She chuckled, and he relished the sound. Her eyes sparkled as she said, “Ned. No one of your stature could ever look foppish.”

Her appreciation made him bolder. He took her hands, and she didn’t shy away.

“I wasn’t certain if the costumes would serve,” he said. “But it was you who gave me the idea.”

Deuce take it, why were they making polite conversation when her peach-colored lips were mere inches from his own?

No.