Secrets of a Spinster (35 page)

Without thinking, he leaned towards her, unable to stop himself from glancing down at her lips.

She noticed. And he didn’t imagine the way her frame began to sway towards him, nor the way her lips parted under his watchful gaze.

His breath caught in his throat at the possibilities of the moment, and he wished, for one instant, that he would stop thinking, that she would stop thinking, and…

Mary’s eyes met his once more, and thought vanished.

The moment hung there between them, tense and hungry and thrumming with every unspoken emotion. No breath, no words, nothing but the two of them, closer than they had ever been, a kiss away from changing their lives forever.

And then it passed.

Mary skittered away, struggling for composure, eventually managing a warm smile that didn’t meet her still dazed eyes. “I think we should hide,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

He raised a brow as he swallowed his flood of emotions and disappointment. He already was hiding, and far too much. “Hide?” he repeated.

She nodded. “They cannot know we have been spying!”

It took him longer than he would have ever admitted to realize what she was talking about. Then it dawned on him that was speaking of Wyndham and Cassandra. He had completely forgotten the amorous couple in the room just beyond.

But the idea of hiding anywhere with Mary… At this moment, that would not be wise.

He smiled and shook his head. “Alas, dear Goose, I cannot hide with you. I dashed off rather suddenly to come and see what you had to show, and now I must be off once more. I am expected at Derek and Kate’s, though for what purpose I have no idea.”

She looked a trifle disappointed, but smiled in spite of it. “That’s a rather terrifying prospect. Kate might have you beat carpets.”

He shuddered. “Heaven forbid. But I promise I’ll come to collect you tomorrow for the masquerade ball.”

Now it was Mary who shook her head.

“No?” he asked, his heart skipping with dread. Had she decided she had no use for him after all?

She smiled mischievously. “I will see you at the ball, Geoff, but you must not see me before. I intend to surprise you as well as the rest of London.”

The relief he felt hit him squarely in the back of the knees and he almost buckled. He grinned at her, hiding his shameful rush of emotion. “A mystery, Goose?”

“See if you really know me, Geoff,” she offered with a quirk of her perfect brows. “For if you don’t, no one will.”

He couldn’t help the warmth that washed over him, nor that most of it would end up in the smile he gave her. He loved her. He loved when she was mischievous and impish, because it was the more entertaining side of her that very few saw, but also because it was absurdly attractive. And it made him want to kiss her quite madly. She thought he wouldn’t know her? She could have come dressed as King Henry VIII and still he would have known her.

“Challenge accepted, my lady,” he murmured as he stepped towards her and took her hand. “I look forward to it.” He drew her hand to his lips and lingered longer than was appropriate. Why not? He could be just as mischievous and far more daring.

He released her hand and bowed, very politely, then smirked at her shocked expression. “I cannot wait to see you.”

She swallowed hastily and nodded, apparently unable to speak.

Good.

He inclined his head and swept from the house, rather grandly, feeling supremely proud that he had managed, this time, to render Mary entirely speechless.

She would need to get used to that.

He had never been an anxious man. He had never been the sort to become distracted by his mind being somewhere else, or prone to sweaty palms, or flickering eyes. He had only ever been the epitome of a calm, collected gentleman.

Until tonight.

He was so distracted at this moment he didn’t realize his drink was empty until he had tried to drink from it and found only air.

“Steady on, Geoff,” Duncan’s deep voice growled from nearby. “Save some of the beverage for the other guests.”

“What?” he asked, looking at him quickly as he tore his eyes from the entrance to the ballroom.

Duncan, wearing an ornate mask and a turban that made him seem somehow even taller, leaned over a bit closer. “You have had four glasses already this evening, and I’m fairly certain you haven’t actually tasted a drop. Are you drinking to forget something or…?”

Geoff shook his head rapidly, almost dislodging his own mask. “I have not had four. We’ve not been here nearly long enough for that many.”

Duncan snorted and patted Geoffrey’s shoulder. “We have been here for an hour and it hasn’t stopped you from drinking faster than my aunt’s housekeeper. What’s the fuss?”

An hour? He would have sworn in church that they had been here for twice that long. He had mingled with the host and hostess, though at this moment he had absolutely no idea who they even were, and had paid his due diligence to all of the important members of society, as they would expect him to do, and since then he had only waited. And waited. And waited some more.

It was obvious to everybody who he was. He had made no attempt to disguise himself beyond a simple black mask and a cape, feeling the need to be as open as a masquerade would allow him to be. Why bother hiding at all when his presence was expected?

“Geoffrey Harris, are you ignoring me?” Duncan’s voice reverberated in his ears.

“No,” he said simply, keeping his eyes fixed on the entrance yet again. Now there was a low, rather amused chuckle.

“Right. Well, when Mary gets here and you have recovered yourself, should you have need of me, I will be elsewhere.”

“What?” Geoff asked, only half listening.

Duncan’s chuckle turned into full blown laughter. “Really, Geoff, if you weren’t going to pay attention to anybody else, why did you come alone?”

“She made me.”

“Made you? Did you anger her again?”

Geoff glowered at his turbaned friend. “No, thank you very much. She said she wanted it to be a surprise. That I had to see for myself if I would know her.”

“Clever girl. And your reply was…?”

He snorted. “I accepted the challenge, of course. She cannot fool me.”

“Oh, really?”

Geoff raised a brow rather imperiously. “You doubt me?”

Duncan offered a rather knowing look himself. “She has fooled all of London, you included, the entirety of the season. Why should tonight be any different merely because she will be wearing an actual mask? How can you be sure you will know her?”

Geoff turned and tilted his chin up to look his oldest friend as squarely in the eye as he could from his present height. “Never once has she walked into a room and I have not noticed. While she has blended into the background so easily for Society and the rest of you, I have always seen her there. I know the curve of her cheek, the exact shade of her eyes, and the very things that will make her smile in that perfect way to make knees tremble with delight. So yes, Duncan, I daresay I can be perfectly sure that I will know her.”

It was much to Duncan’s well-rehearsed credit that he kept his expression so impassive when his shock was so apparent. His eyes were wide, and his mouth would have hung completely ajar had his lips parted in the slightest. His thick brows almost entirely hid themselves beneath his turban, and it was difficult to tell if the man were even breathing.

Geoffrey felt the slightest flush of embarrassment start at the back of his neck and ears, but he continued to keep his gaze steady. He was not ashamed of anything he said, and he would repeat them to anybody that asked. Truer words had never been spoken, especially not by him.

“Well, damn, Geoffrey,” Duncan said softly, his words almost lost amidst the murmuring around them. “If you love her that much, why haven’t you done something about it?”

Geoff did not, after all, have Duncan’s control, and his mouth did gape open.

Duncan clamped him on the shoulder. “What is holding you back, man?” He gave him a wry look and left without another word.

What did hold Geoff back?

He could not help but grin as his realization sank in.

Not a thing.

There was nothing in his way. He could tell Mary exactly what he felt, what he wanted. She would listen, and if their encounters of late would be any indication, she would not be entirely opposed.

He could tell her. He would tell her. Tonight.

The low buzz of the room suddenly dropped to nothing. It registered only dimly to him.

He could have Mary. He could have it all. He would no longer be afraid or cautious or reserved. He knew what he wanted and he was going to take it.

The noise in the room rose once more, louder and more insistent than it was before.

Slowly, Geoff turned to face the entrance, the focal point of every set of eyes and the topic of every gossiping mouth.

A vision in silver stood there, proud and aloof, her pale eyes shimmering beneath her mask like the very stars in the night sky. Her figure was perfection itself, draped as it was in the color of the delicate mist that hung in the early mornings over the Thames. She was a siren, calling all to her, even at their own peril. And all would follow, delighted to even take part in the journey. No one knew her, could not have even told what shade her hair was, as her mask encased it amidst tendrils of silken fabric that cascaded down her back. She was a mystery and the entire room trembled with curiosity.

All were clueless.

Except Geoff.

He knew what they did not.

Mary Hamilton had arrived.

C
hapter
 
T
wenty
 
T
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M
ary couldn’t breathe. Her dress was so tight it required a smaller set of her corset, which had not been possible since she was seventeen years old, and had only been made possible by not eating anything after breakfast and employing three maids and her sister to pull the strings. But the dress had been made for Cassie before her seasons had been given up, and just this once her sister had agreed that Mary had more need of it than she did. As it was, Cassie was around here somewhere with Simon, dressed rather simply considering her tastes. But no one would know that either, especially as they had arrived twenty minutes earlier than Mary and in Simon’s carriage.

It took Mary three seconds to realize that all of her work, even the tighter corset, was worth it. Not a soul in the room knew who she was, and it titillated them. She practiced her best debutante poise and airs, pretending that she was a more mature, more experienced version of Marianne Bray. She would never even feel the panicked fluttering in her heart or the pulse throbbing in her throat or the slightest wobble in her kneecaps. She didn’t feel anything at all for the public.

She saw her sister out of the corner of her eye, dressed in her rather plain costume, a perfect choice for Cassandra, as no one would suspect her in something so drab, and received the smallest of winks. She acknowledged it with her eyes only, then surveyed the gathering with practiced indifference. She couldn’t care less about the rest of the people here or if they could figure out her true identity.

She only had eyes for Geoff.