Page 3 of Unmask Me My Love

“And I suspect you will want to hear every last detail, my lady.” He rose and kissed her hand again, not with passion but a great deal of affection. “Go find your prince, Celinda.”

With a fleeting squeeze of his hand and a flash of a smile, she ran through the doorway.

Hal smiled, moved back to his spot in front of the balcony rail, and settled on the floor once more. Best steel himself to go down and do his duty by all the young ladies. When had his life become so filled with obligation?

“Ah.”

Hal shook his head. “What have you forgott—” He twisted his head toward the doorway and froze.

The young lady who stood before him was definitely not Lady Celinda Grantham. Medium height, with golden brown hair, a face fresh as cream, and perfectly bowed lips, she would’ve been exceptional even without the startling glass-green eyes. Attired in an unremarkable brown dress, she could not be one of Lady Hamilton’s guests, although, with her beauty, she certainly should’ve been.

“Oh, pardonnez-moi, monsieur.”

What was this woman doing here?

Chapter 2

“Bonsoir, mademoiselle,” Hal said, rising from the floor to bow. He hoped she would speak again. Her lilting, vibrant voice would haunt his dreams.

“Bonsoir, monsieur.” She wrinkled her petite nose. “You are English, oui?”

“I am. My French is abominable, but I hoped to impress you with what I remember of it.” Hal smiled. He’d never got the hang of languages other than his own.

The girl laughed, tossing her head. “You have a good accent for an Englishman.”

“Thank you.”

She glanced from the balcony rail to the doorway and bit her lip.

“Is there some way I may be of service to you, Mademoiselle…?” He must know the name of this beautiful creature.

“D’Aventure,” she said, with a small but graceful curtsy. “Gabriella Veronique Marie d’Aventure. Mais, non. I am fine, monsieur.” Again, she slid her gaze toward the balcony railing.

Well, he had a name, at least. Better than complete ignorance. “Have you come, perhaps, to watch the dancing?”

She nodded, keeping her attention on him. “Yes, my lady does not require me at the moment, so I thought it would be nice to see how the English dance.” Her smile quite took his breath away. “May I?”

“Please.” Hal stepped back and motioned her in front of him.

She moved like air on water, seeming to glide without touching the planked floor. When she reached the railing, she studied the dancers, now engaged in a country dance. “They are very beautiful, the English ladies, in their best gowns.” A glance at him, and her smile broadened. “Not as beautiful as the great French ladies of the royal court, of course, but their gowns are well made.” She giggled. “Perhaps they have a French modiste.”

“I suspect many of them do.” Unable to help himself, Hal stared at the charming girl.

Fortunately, the dancers held her interest so she missed this lapse in manners.

Entranced, she peered over the rail, her gaze darting from one couple to another, her hand beating time on the rail. Then she frowned and shook her head. “Non, non. C’est impossible.”

“What is impossible, mademoiselle?” She was obviously looking for someone. But who?

“It is nothing. I…I was told there would be a duke here tonight. He is a very powerful man, an English duke, non? I thought I might recognize him from his clothing. He must be magnifique.” She looked closer at the dancing figures.

“Oh, but they do not appear in their ducal robes unless they’re in Parliament or there is a coronation.” He bit back a laugh. Damned strange if they all had to wear them every day. “At a ball or dinner party, they look just like anyone else.”

Her face fell, and she nibbled on her bottom lip as she continued to stare into the ballroom. Abruptly, she turned eyes that blazed green fire on him, and his heart lurched. “Do you know which one is the duke?”

“Yes, yes, I do.” Hal gulped and motioned to the couples milling on the floor, between sets. “Actually, there are two dukes here this evening.” He drew closer to her, and the faint but delightful flowery fragrance of hyacinth wafted over him. “You see that gentleman there,” he said, pointing to the Duke of Carlisle, “the one with the very wide side whiskers?”

“Qu’est-ce que c’est?”