His Scandalous Kiss: Secrets at Thorncliff Manor: 6 (7 page)

Richard felt his stomach tighten as he reread the final sentence. Clearly, the lady was suggesting a secret assignation. The
thought was certainly intriguing, not to mention tempting. Glancing toward the clock on the mantelpiece, Richard noted the
time, barely visible in the dimly lit room. Ten o’clock. Pensively, he reached for his violin, tucking it beneath his chin
before sliding the bow slowly across the strings. The effect was a languid moan, like that of a satisfied lover.

Closing his eyes, he allowed the haunting melody to flow through him. It represented everything that he was, all that he had
suffered, and the patience with which he was carrying out his vendetta. It reminded him of five long years of solitude, nights
filled with equal measures of yearning and loathing, both deeply imbedded within his soul.

The tune drew to an end and Richard opened his eyes to find himself staring into the long mirror that hung on the wall. His
blood pumped slightly faster through his veins as he took in the damaged flesh. To subject Lady Eleanor to such ugliness in
the hope that she might be willing to accept him as a potential suitor, would be foolhardy. Worse, would be the selfishness
of letting her into his life when he was so consumed by anger. He ought to dissuade her.

Still standing by the window later, he watched as the cloaked figure of a woman stepped out onto the terrace below. She didn’t
have to look up for him to know that it was her, her steps eager with anticipation as she walked toward disappointment. As
sorry as he was for it, Richard knew that it was for the best. He waited until she was out of sight and was just about to
turn away from the window when someone else exited the house. Richard peered down at the man who was presently crossing the
terrace with brisk steps, the back of his neck pricking as he recognized Rotridge. And he was heading straight after Lady
Eleanor. Hell and damnation!

Mary’s cloak swirled around her legs as she hurried across the west lawn in the direction of the folly. The night air was
a little chillier than it had been the previous evening for the ball. It climbed up her legs and hugged her shoulders. Little
did it help that the soles of her slippers were so thin that she might as well have been walking barefoot for all the good
they did in keeping her toes warm.

Approaching a fallen column, partly overgrown by ivy, Mary glanced around, wondering if Signor Antonio might have arrived
before her. Rounding the column, Mary peered through the darkness at the blurry silhouette of a Greek temple flanked by statues.
Other columns lay at various angles, affording the look of a great archeological find. “Signor?” she whispered, making her
presence known just in case he hadn’t seen her.

No reply.

Mary crossed her arms, hugging herself against the breeze as it nipped at her from every angle. He wasn’t here yet. Would
he even come? The question had barely managed to form when the figure of a man emerged, his body gradually solidifying as
he came closer. Mary’s heart kicked up for just a fraction of a second, then froze completely at the realization that it wasn’t
the man whom she’d hoped for.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Rotridge said as he walked up to her.

Mary took a step back. “My lord, what are you doing here?”

He came closer still. “I might ask the same of you.” He looked from side to side. “Are you waiting for someone, by any chance?”

“And if I were?” Mary asked. She sounded much braver than she actually felt. Being alone like this with Rotridge was not the
least bit comforting.

He shrugged, not halting his approach, though his steps grew increasingly measured. “I might offer to keep you company until
he shows up.”

Taking another step back, Mary found herself pressed up against the side of the temple. Swallowing, she tried to still her
trembling hands. “Thank you, my lord, but you really need not trouble yourself on my account.”

A chuckle made the air quiver around her. “Oh, it is no trouble at all, I can assure you.” Arriving directly in front of her,
he reached up, pulling a lock of her hair free from the confines of her plait. Running the silky strand through his fingers,
he murmured, “Quite the contrary.”

“I thought we had an understanding, my lord. Indeed, I believed you accepted my refusal to marry you when last we spoke.”

A low chuckle swept over her. “You are quite mistaken, my dear. I was merely offering you a brief reprieve because you were
feeling unwell. But I see now that you are fully recovered and would therefore like to take this opportunity to change your
mind.”

“My mind cannot be so easily swayed.”

“I intend to prove otherwise.”

Horrified, Mary watched as he dipped his head toward hers. “Please stop,” she said, her hands coming up between them with
the intention of pushing him away.

His thumb settled against her jawline. “You will be mine, my lady.” A strong whiff of alcohol assailed her as he spoke. “The
sooner you realize that, the better it will be between us.”

Mary sucked in a breath, prepared to fight him off, just as a tall broad shadow appeared directly behind him. Before she could
even manage a gasp, Rotridge had been shoved aside with such force that he stumbled to the ground a few paces away.

“What the hell?” Rotridge muttered, sounding surprised.

“I believe the lady asked you to leave her alone,” Signor Antonio said. His back was turned toward Mary as he stood over Rotridge,
but his voice was unmistakable. She knew it was him.

“You!” Rotridge scrambled to his feet so he could face his opponent. “How dare you involve yourself in my courtship?”

Signor Antonio grunted. “It is hardly a courtship when the lady is unwilling. If I may, I would suggest that you head on back
to the house before you lose more than your pride this evening. Especially since I am the one her ladyship came to see.”

“I should have known,” Rotridge snarled. His eyes flashed as he looked toward Mary. For a moment she thought he might be considering
fighting Signor Antonio. But if he were, he changed his mind and bowed stiffly instead. “My apologies,” he said. “I hope I
have not offended you in any way, Lady Mary.”

“It is nothing that cannot be forgotten,” she lied, for the sake of being polite.

He nodded at that, but made no move to leave.

“If you do not mind,” Signor Antonio said, “I should like to have a private word with . . .” He glanced toward her and she
saw then that he was wearing the same mask that he’d worn at the ball. “Lady
Mary
.”

“Forgive me, but leaving you alone with her would be highly irregular,” Rotridge said. “People might think that—”

“No they will not,” Signor Antonio grit out. “Not unless you happen to say something on the matter, which I would sincerely
advise you against doing.”

“Is that a threat?” Rotridge asked, his voice a little lower than earlier.

“Just a warning. For now.”

There was a pause, and then Rotridge finally nodded again, spun on his heels and marched away with a disapproving gait.

Mary expelled a deep breath that she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. “I was beginning to think that you would not
come.”

He turned toward her again, offering her only the expressionless features of the mask. “I must confess that I almost decided
not to.”

His honesty caught her a little off guard. “Why not?” When he failed to answer, she said, “I thought you enjoyed my company
as well as I did yours. Was I mistaken?”

There was a long drawn-out silence, followed by a distinct, “No.”

Mary shook her head. “Then I do not understand.” Easing away from the temple wall, she went toward him, her heart drumming
wildly against her chest with every step she took. When he was within reach, she daringly reached out to touch his hand—bare
skin against bare skin that sent a spark of energy shooting up her arm. He must have felt it too, for she heard him suck in
a breath just as she did. “You know my real name now,” she whispered softly. “Will you tell me yours?”

His eyes met hers, but whatever emotion she might have found there, was lost amidst the black shadows of the night. “Richard.”
His voice was a deep murmur filled with rich undertones.

Mary blinked, surprised by the familiarity with which he’d just introduced himself.

Warm fingers carefully curled their way around hers. “I have no title,” he said, closing the distance between them. He brought
his other hand up against her cheek, touching her as if it were a marvel to do so.

Mary could only gaze up at him. She’d never felt like this before—as if she were the only woman on Earth, and as if he’d spent
his entire life trying to find her. The company they’d enjoyed the day before had stirred to life an awareness deep within
her soul, compelling her to seek him out again. It burst through her now—a flare of heat across her skin. “Then you must be
either a second son or a member of the gentry?” If he would only tell her which, then it might be easier for her to discover
his true identity.

“I am certainly one of those things,” he said, lowering his hand, “but I am afraid that I must disappoint you if you were
hoping to discover more than that.”

His secrecy ought to have made her wary. Instead, Mary found that she was all the more intrigued. “Will you tell me why?”

A moment passed during which she reveled in the comforting feel of his hand holding hers. It was so inappropriate, and yet
so right. “You may rest assured that I am a gentleman and that I will treat you with the respect you deserve. You need not
fear me on that account.” He paused for a moment. “That being said, there are certain things that I would rather refrain from
sharing with you at present. If you can accept that, then perhaps we can be friends. If not, I completely understand, as sorry
as I would be to lose your company.”

Mary considered this briefly before saying, “I see no reason to intrude.”

He leaned back slightly. “I must confess that I am somewhat surprised to hear you say that.”

She shrugged. “You are not the only one with secrets. Suffice it to say that I understand your reasoning.”

A low chuckle vibrated around her. “Indeed? Now
I
am intrigued.”

She smiled. “Perhaps that was my intention.” Curiosity however, was a difficult beast to tame, so she couldn’t help but ask,
“The mask . . . do you wear it because you do not want me to know your identity, or because you do not want me to see your
face?”

“Both,” he answered gruffly. Stepping back, he increased the distance between them, turning slightly away in the process.
“I am not . . .” His words trailed off in a blur of hopelessness.

“Not what?” she whispered, disliking the sudden change of mood.

Straightening himself, he turned back to face her. “It hardly matters. We should get back to the house before someone finds
you missing, or worse, discovers you in my company.” He offered her his arm.

Mary stood as if rooted to the ground. Common sense told her not to pry. She’d always respected other people’s privacy, especially
since she appreciated being allowed her own. But the manner in which he’d spoken told her that the words he’d left unsaid
were of monumental importance. “I would like to know what you were going to say just now, before you changed your mind.”

“Correct me if I am wrong, Lady Mary, but did you not just say that you saw no reason to intrude?”

Mary cringed. “You are right,” she said. “I hope you can forgive my curiosity.”

He inclined his head. “Of course.” When he said nothing further, she stepped forward, accepting the arm he still offered.
They started back toward the house at a moderate pace, neither one of them saying a word until they reached the side of the
house and he turned toward her suddenly. “If you are hoping to discover a handsome gentleman beneath this mask, please stop,
for I am anything but.”

“I am certain that is not true,” Mary said. “Your voice alone suggests—”

“Whatever romantic imaginings you may have, my lady, I encourage you to abandon them immediately. Not doing so, will only
lead to severe disappointment.”

The bitterness with which he spoke told her that he hadn’t always felt this way. Something had changed, which could only mean
that he no longer looked as he once had. A lump began to form in her throat. “Appearances are superficial. Until yesterday,
nobody paid the slightest attention to me, but now that I have been noticed, several gentlemen have shown an interest. While
I cannot deny that I appreciate their flattery, I would prefer it if their interest in me was based more on my character.
In the end, that is what defines us. Everything else is inconsequential.”

He stared down at her for a long moment. “Do you truly believe that, or are you just saying it to spare my feelings? Because
if you are, there is really no need. I have had a great deal of time in which to come to terms with my circumstances.”

“And yet you have not, or you would not need to wear a mask.”

Richard knew that there was a great deal of truth to be found in her words, which was why he chose not to argue the point.
Instead, he led her toward a narrow doorway and produced the key that Lady Duncaster had given him upon his arrival at Thorncliff.
Placing it in the lock, he opened the door and ushered Lady Mary through to a small antechamber. The lantern he’d brought
with him when he’d gone after Rotridge, hung from a hook on the wall, producing a warm glow that seemed to wrap itself around
them as he diligently closed the door. The effort seemed to make the space smaller and more intimate somehow.

“What is this place?” Lady Mary asked. “I was not even aware that it was here.”

“Few people have access to it.” Reaching up, he retrieved the lantern, moving it in such a way that the light spilled over
the far-right corner of the room, revealing an opening. “There is a corridor there, and at the end of it, a staircase that
will take us up to the second floor. If all goes well, you should be able to return to your bedchamber unnoticed.”

Tipping her head, she gazed up at him. “Thank you.”

Her words were filled with appreciation, prompting him to reach up and brush his fingers along the edge of her shoulder. She
said nothing as he did so, though her skin quivered gently beneath his touch and her chestnut-colored eyes, so full of warmth,
held his in quiet understanding. She was perfect in every way—a true beauty, both inside and out. Was it really possible that
she might not care about his appearance? Or was she just being polite when she’d claimed that character was of far greater
importance. It was too soon to tell.

Struggling against the temptation their solitude offered, he lowered his hand and moved past her with the lantern. “Come along,”
he said, offering her his hand. “I will show you the way.”

“When will I see you again?” she asked when they reached the top of the stairs. The door in front of them, once opened, would
allow her to exit through a small closet located in an alcove behind a large tapestry.

“I do not know,” he said, unsure of how wise it would be for either one of them to continue down this path.

“It sounds as though you are brushing me off.”

“No. I . . . The truth of it is that I like you a great deal, my lady. I am just not sure that keeping each other’s company
on a regular basis would be such a good idea. You need to find a husband, while I—”

“You know well enough that I do not wish to marry.”

He inclined his head. “So you have said. But what then? Do you really want to grow old alone? To abandon all hope of having
children? Never to know what it might be like to . . .” He stopped himself, his breaths a little heavier with the realization
that he’d almost alluded to something that no decent man would allude to in front of a lady. And yet, now that his thoughts
had ventured in that particular direction, there was little he could do to stop the image of Lady Mary lying naked upon his
bed from bursting through his mind.
Christ!