Love, Unmasked (5 page)

Blue Tailcoat eased her into position and took his place in the line opposite. At his encouraging smile, her heart lifted, if not back to its usual position within her chest, then at least to somewhere around her midriff. Yes, he was charming, and kind, willing to overlook both the indiscretions Brightenburg had rained upon her and the unthinking rudeness she’d returned. She couldn’t get a second chance to start the ball, but like a true gentleman, Blue Tailcoat was perfectly willing to pretend the first start had never happened.

For that small mercy, she’d be grateful. Even as Brightenburg, the
beau
that got away, offered his arm to a glittering beauty wearing that expensive green silk. Arm in arm, they joined the line’s end.

Was that Clarissa? It certainly looked like her, height, figure, casually graceful carriage, coils of auburn hair gleaming in the chandeliers’ blaze. The amber cross looked like hers, too, and the simple gold chain. She’d never said she’d indulged in any green silk. Of course, Fidelity had never mentioned buying the cerulean, either.

An unwanted, startling thought stilled her in place. Clarissa had worn a new and gorgeous gown, a different hairstyle, plain and simple jewelry. Had she…? Had she too planned…?
No, surely not.

Before she could finish the thought, the music whirled away, taking the dancers with it, and Fidelity’s feet chose to follow Blue Tailcoat’s lead, leaving her conjecture behind. Of course she missed the beat, and no matter how much extra energy she put into her
balancé
and
rigaudon
, as usual she couldn’t catch up. Humiliating, and the heat blooming in her face gave her dead away. Even Blue Tailcoat couldn’t be so charming as to miss her embarrassment.

At the first turn she reached across for his hand, fully expecting it to be waiting, waving impatiently. Instead, her fingers met empty air. A fraction later, he completed his turn, flashed her a delighted smile, and closed his fingers around hers. They turned together, again a half-beat behind, and galloped between the lines, hurrying to catch up to the music.

Her heart felt as if it would burst with gratitude. Impossible to believe that such a polished gentleman couldn’t keep to the rhythm. No, he’d done that deliberately. He’d seen her tendency to fall behind and had fallen behind with her, rather than display his superiority to the watching crowd. A marvelous dancer, yes — and the sort who didn’t claim the spotlight alone but who made his partner seem equally excellent.

Or who let himself look silly with her.

She answered his brilliant smile with one of her own. Then they split apart at the line’s end, circling around the outside back to their places.

Brightenburg danced past with the woman who might be Clarissa — no, no perhaps about it, only Clarissa kicked up her heels in quite that decadent manner. He whirled past Fidelity without even a glance aside, his hand pressed against his new partner’s arm, his fawning, staring attention wholly focused upon her bosom swathed in green silk. The smooth cheeks and grim mouth beneath the woman’s matching green mask were tinged a dark pink; Clarissa didn’t seem to enjoy Brightenburg’s flirtations any more than Fidelity had.

So we’ve both been cured.
Startling thought, but Fidelity realized it was true. If Brightenburg asked her to dance again, she’d claim tiredness, even though refusing him would be deliberate rudeness. More importantly, if the opportunity to vanish with him presented itself, she’d let it slip away. Blue Tailcoat might not be as overbearingly virile and attractive, but he behaved like a gentleman and wholeheartedly joined with his partner. With him opposite her, nothing felt forced, and she got the impression he’d bite off his own arm before he’d yank her into position.

Fidelity couldn’t suppress her widening grin. As the last notes drew out, as she and Blue Tailcoat flew into place — still a half-beat behind — her heart raced from the delightful exercise and her feet yearned for more. But despite her yearning, the music drew to a dignified close. Reluctantly she joined the other dancers in applause, and halfway through, she turned and shared her appreciation with her partner.

He beamed at her. “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a dance so much in my life.”

Unlike her, not even a tinge of sweat dampened his face; he’d taken the vigorous exercise with aplomb, as if he’d be comfortable dancing all night. And that impish, inviting smile — he hadn’t lost it throughout the entire whirling-dervish dance, and it only broadened as she accepted his arm and followed his lead from the floor. Her heart fluttered. No, he wasn’t Caird — not enough swagger — and not Ponsonby, either. Who on earth could he be? Surely she should know him, with or without his mask. His eyes resembled Grey’s, a little, at least, but she’d seen Grey’s old black Melton earlier and this couldn’t be him. Besides, Blue Tailcoat didn’t look at her the way Grey did, as a friend. Blue Tailcoat looked at her with something more, something she didn’t quite understand.

Side by side they wended through the crowd, back toward the seating area. Fidelity peered across the ballroom, but Jessica had disappeared; well, fair enough, she’d been told to sit out two dances and those were now done. More surprising was Blue Tailcoat’s behavior. She’d expected him to step out but instead he sauntered, as if unwilling to reach their destination and the conclusion of their time together. The inherent compliment made her smile again. Perhaps she should ask him to fetch her an ice, or would that be flirting?

Before she could decide, he squeezed her fingers. “I just love a masked ball. Don’t you? There’s something so—” his smile quirked at the edges “—so very mysterious about them, what with pretending to be someone else and leading on one’s partners, and so on.”

Her thoughts stuttered. He couldn’t possibly have overheard her earlier conversation with Brightenburg, could he? But there was no guile in his eyes, merely the same intense delight. No, it didn’t seem possible. Still she hesitated before answering. “You don’t wish to discover your partner’s secrets?”

Gentle pressure on her hand and his steps slowed even further. At this rate, they might never reach the chairs. “Immediately? Where would be the fun in that?” A shake of his head, firm but good-natured. “For maximum enjoyment, little adventures should be extended, explored, wallowed in like a happy pig. They shouldn’t be brushed aside as unimportant.”

That was too close for coincidence. Heat invaded Fidelity’s face, thankfully hidden by the mask. “Have you been eavesdropping on my conversations, sir?”

“Nothing so nefarious. It’s just that some—” He broke off abruptly, as if rethinking the words he’d intended to say. “Well, some
people
tend to repeat themselves, using the same tired old lines and gambits whenever they acquire a new partner. For those of us in the know, it’s tiresome, and so we drop hints, don’t you know.”

Fidelity stopped, the flush deepening. She’d known everyone was staring, but
this
… If only the ballroom floor would open beneath her. “I wish someone had dropped those hints earlier.”

Blue Tailcoat paused beside her, settling his free hand atop her fingers where they rested on his forearm. “Would you have done anything differently?”

Silly question. And she’d thought him so generous, too. But when she opened her mouth to answer, he rushed on.

“Because I’ve had such a lovely evening tonight.”

Surprised, she froze and stared. He looked back, somehow making her more aware of him than she’d been before. It wasn’t that he stood too close, for he didn’t, nor that he leered or fawned over her. But some expression in his eyes, something hungry and deep and so very, insanely happy, pulled her into his gaze as if drawing her through a door.

A truly amazing door, one she couldn’t believe she’d never stepped through before.

He drew in a deep breath before continuing. Drawing in courage? “The most wonderful dance ever. The most beautiful, the most delightful partner.” Gentle fingers pressed hers. The first strains of the next, something sweet and haunting, flowed around them like warm water. “Of course it’s horrid if your evening hasn’t been as splendid—”

She shook her head. “Not horrid — well, certain parts of it—”

He guffawed. “Doubtless.”

“Do not laugh at me. There have been moments—”

His guffaw turned into a snicker. Something about the curl of his lips hitched her breath in her throat and set her pulse to pounding. Perhaps she should recognize him. But whoever he was, she didn’t really know him, not properly.

The sweet, haunting music segued into the Sussex Waltz. Fidelity paused and glanced back. Couples were forming on the dance floor —
couples
, standing apart and private from any others, not the facing lines of country dancing. It could only be a waltz, a true turning waltz. She couldn’t stifle her gasp. She’d secretly wished to try the turning waltz, even if it did border on scandalous. Now the opportunity presented and she had no partner.

Oh, if only she’d waited out
Miss Moore’s Rant
! Then when Blue Tailcoat — delightful man — had come to claim her, they could have indulged her fancy together. As the situation stood, she’d already danced twice with Brightenburg; two with another man could be considered even more scandalous than the turning waltz.

She’d outsmarted herself, and it stung.

Perhaps her yearning showed —
perhaps nothing, I’m practically leaning toward the dance floor
— for Blue Tailcoat’s smile again turned impish. “I wouldn’t want to damage your reputation by leading you into temptation. But that sounds wonderful, and it could only be so with your company.”

Generous man. Her heart warmed further. “It does, doesn’t it?” The strains entwined around her, delectable, haunting, and they fed her yearning. She’d seen no sign that anyone recognized her, not even Clarissa — Jessica and Georgette didn’t count — so what reason could there be for refusing? Blue Tailcoat had shown himself to be a true gentleman and an excellent dancer; who better for indulging a secret, scandalous fancy? “Yes. Yes, it does.”

His smile deepened, from delighted to intimate, and his hand pressed hers once more. Fidelity shivered, his appreciation seeping into her core. Gently he turned her back to the ballroom floor.

Let the whispers begin.
Delight rushed through her and Fidelity smiled. This time, she refused to care.

His smile quirked again, not apologetically but with exquisite intent. Other couples joined them, forming a loose line across the ballroom, white and black on one side, dusky pink and maroon on the other. Blue Tailcoat’s gaze never left hers; that was demanded by the turning waltz, of course, and one of the reasons it was considered scandalous. But there seemed to be more in the steadiness of his gaze than anything taught by a dance master — more intimate, more personal. More…

The music changed and the dance began. They advanced a step, until only a breath separated their bodies, her skirt rustling against his silk stockings, then they retreated, advanced again and joined hands, turning a full circle around each other. His gaze never left hers. Yes, more; more intensity, more…

He settled his hand on her waist —
her waist!
— and drew hers to his. Sparks flared across her skin from his touch, not the intrusive shock Brightenburg had created but something comfortable and trustworthy. Their free hands joined overhead and beneath that mutual grasp they continued turning, another full circle, a third. The colors to either side flowed together in the corners of her vision like a watercolor in the rain. Somehow their arms lowered and their hands clasped, right to right and left to left, and they advanced side by side, retreated, advanced again, and still he never looked away.

But more than her surroundings, more than the other dancers, Fidelity sensed the depth of Blue Tailcoat’s esteem, evident in his every gesture from his smile to his gentle touch. It all added together — the haunting warmth in his never-shifting gaze, the closeness of their bodies as they turned, the unabashed heat washing from him to her, the sweet pressure of their entangled arms — into an emotional abandonment like that of lovers.

It was intoxicating. But more mellow than the unhappy result of wine or spirits; more of a floating, exalted sensation, a relaxed dreaminess that settled around and through her and softened the edges of her vision. Staring into each other’s eyes, arms entwined, bodies nearly touching, the barest pressure of his hand on her waist guided her motions and together they turned across the softness of a luscious dreamscape.

Then Blue Tailcoat glanced aside. He scowled.

For an odd, unbalanced moment, everything seemed wrong. She’d grown comfortable with his charm; his scowl carried a fearsome edge, like a mannerly horse suddenly flattening back its ears. It broke the dream’s perfection. Fidelity shook her head, shook away the heaviness, and followed his gaze.

Deep puce, the shade of a dusky rose. Turning slowly in place, held there by maroon bands — no, by maroon sleeves, a man wearing a maroon swallowtail. Only one woman in attendance wore a gown of that shade.

And only one man snugged his partner that scandalously close to his body.

Fidelity shivered.

Brightenburg and Jessica circled around each other, their hips glued together. Their clasped hands formed an arch above their heads, like a bower, and their hands at each other’s waist couldn’t clutch any tighter. The pink flush in the girl’s cheeks glowed more brightly than her gown; her eyes sparkled, brilliant sapphires beneath the candlelight.

A movement on Jessica’s waist, a flexing of fingers. Then Brightenburg’s hand crawled up her side, paused, slid back down. The wrinkles smoothed from her muslin bodice, then vertical lines formed; he pressed against her so hard that his fingers stretched the beleaguered cloth. And he didn’t stop at her waist. Jessica tucked her chin, coy lashes flickering and lips curling, and Brightenburg’s nostrils flared.

Without thinking, Fidelity kept dancing, turning with Blue Tailcoat, her chin on her shoulder. But her heart pounded, horror rising in her throat. Something. She had to do something, break them apart, cause a scene, anything that would remove his hand from Jessica’s hip. Anything that would protect her cousin from being seduced and ruined in public.