Masquerade (12 page)

“I did not laugh at you. My mirth was, I assure you, pure relief. You’ve been so subdued these past few days that I’ve been concerned about you. I worried you might make yourself ill over something that could not be changed, or for a man who does not deserve your high esteem.”

She waited while Rachel removed her right glove, readjusted the angle of the leather fingertips and put her hand back into the piece of clothing. Then, she watched Rachel shift her weight from one foot to the other, as if doing an impromptu one-person jig. Finally, she kept her mouth firmly closed as her sister struggled to find a suitable reply. It took all of her concentration, willpower, patience, and sisterly devotion not to push Rachel to speak before she was prepared to do so.

The prodigious preparations had not been in vain. Nor had Sophie’s genial attitude and willingness to allow Rachel as much time as she needed to be ready to share her secrets.

“I believe he does deserve my high esteem. He seemed everything I thought I wanted in a husband. And yes, I did say ‘husband’, even though you are the one who has made the resolution to stay open to meeting and cultivating a relationship with an eye toward matrimony. But even though this masked man—that just sounds so strange whenever I say or think it, but there is no other way to put it, is there? But he was a masked man and even if he seems like all I have wished for, after careful consideration I don’t believe he is the man of my dreams.”

“Why the sudden change in attitude? Only a few days ago you were convinced you might perish because he might stay forever anonymous. Now it doesn’t seem to matter who he is, or what sort of relationship you might build if you were both unmasked. Now the most pressing point seems to be that none of it matters. You have put him out of your mind completely, is that what you are saying? Please, Rachel, explain yourself. I cannot help but be confused.”

The sky continued to become grayer, but neither sister wanted to move until they had finished their discussion. A stiff wind sent icy shards through the air, bringing the temperature down substantially. To linger overlong would be foolish, but now that Rachel was finally in the mood to talk, Sophie hated to risk not hearing the whole story behind her sister’s unusual behavior.

Evidently, Rachel felt as chilly as she did, because when she spoke she didn’t waste words. “I’ve reconsidered my feelings toward him, that’s all. I regret speaking so hastily. Now when I think of the masked—oh, you know whom I mean. Anyhow, when I think of him, I just cannot see myself with a man like that.”

“Like what?”

“Polished. He is too polished by far for my taste. I am not high in the instep, Sophie. You must understand, because you aren’t, either. We aren’t fancy women after high in the nob men. I am more down to earth, with a simpler disposition. I believe I would be much more content with a man who isn’t as polished as he was. A man more like our Colin than the Corinthian I danced with.”

Colin and Rachel? The idea was absurd! Not only were they complete opposites on so many points of view, but Sophie knew for a fact that Colin considered her sister with the same feelings he held for his own. It was preposterous—and she opened her mouth to say so but Rachel cut her off.

“No, no,” Rachel said, laughing. She waved a gloved hand between them. Snowflakes, nearly as large as tea plates, began to fall. One dropped lazily between them, and was unceremoniously brushed aside by the waving hand. “I don’t mean I want Colin. I just mean I think I would prefer someone
similar in temperament
to our dear Colin, that’s all. He is much more comfortable, don’t you agree, than a fancy, masked man?”

“Life is more comfortable when shared,” Sophie allowed. She still couldn’t get past the mind picture of Colin beside Rachel that had been insinuated these past minutes.

“Exactly. Now, I’ll forget about the man who danced my toes sore and will concentrate on finding someone more like myself and less like a shiny apple. I find I’m more a grape person, comfortable lounging in a cluster rather than feeling buffed to perfection and put on display. And you, Sophie, will remember you made a promise on New Year’s Day. You did not forget, did you?”

How could she have forgotten? Between the dancing dream with his Valentine wishes and her insane New Year’s resolution, she had hardly had time to think of anything else.

Rachel waited, and the sky grew ominous, so Sophie shook her head.

“I haven’t forgotten. I remember my promise, dear sister. But now I do believe we should head home before we’re caught out in a snowstorm.”

She would have turned them toward home, but Rachel smiled sweetly and pointed to a doorway just a few feet from where they stood.

“The ribbon shop? You don’t mind, do you? I promise I shall only take a minute—two at most—to choose a ribbon to match my lavender morning dress. I have, I am embarrassed to admit, a row of needle holes along the edge of its pocket.”

By the time they left the ribbon shop, the sky was nearly coal gray and snow fell heavily. They were not far from Henry Street, but the trip home would be less congenial than their earlier walk had been.

Putting her head down against the wind, Sophie said, “We mustn’t delay. This mess could get worse still. We need to get home before we are frozen through.”

They linked arms, and held firmly to each other. Each had a package tucked beneath the other arm. With their minds on the weather, the sisters hurried along the sidewalk. The crowd had diminished substantially, so there was no need to weave between foot traffic now. Only a few brave souls were out, and they all had their heads down and scurried for warmth, as well.

“Brr!” Rachel shivered beside her. “It’s cold out here.”

Neither of their coats was as warm as it should be for the day. Earlier they had dressed in layers, and felt as bundled as children prepared to go sledding, but now they were still cold. If they had been juveniles on a sledding expedition, they would have long since given up their activity in favor of home, hearth, and hot chocolate.

“Just don’t think about it.” Sophie’s nose ran, but she didn’t want to pull her hand from where it twisted around Rachel’s, so she ignored the drip and quickened her step. “If you don’t think about it, you won’t be so cold.”

The logic was faulty, but it was the only thing she could think to say. Her brain felt frozen beneath her bonnet.

Just when she thought she might cry from the bitterness, a shiny black barouche pulled up beside them. Six black horses towed the conveyance. Unperturbed by the weather, they stomped their hooves energetically when the driver held them at a standstill.

The side door swung open. A second later a small metal step unfolded from inside the cabin. Then, Colin stuck his head out of the doorway and beckoned them over.

“Come on! This is no day for man or beast to be out—it is even less fit to shelter two delicate ladies. Come on, please, before you catch a chill!”

Rachel dropped Sophie’s arm so fast it might have been on fire. She hurried over the snow-covered cobbles toward the coach. When she realized her sister was not on her coattail, she turned and asked, “Good Lord, Sophie—whatever are you waiting for?”

“I confess, I don’t know.” Then, her heart grateful beyond measure, she climbed into the carriage behind Rachel. They watched Colin speak with the driver before he slammed the door shut.

Sophie didn’t believe she had ever been so happy to see Colin as she was at that very moment. He was a hero, rescuing them from winter’s icy grip. Had her nose not been dripping so copiously, she might have thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly just to show her appreciation.

****

They looked chilled to the bone. He would have liked to get up and move from his seat to theirs but wanting to do a thing and actually doing it were two very different propositions. Had it been proper, Colin would have sat down between the sisters, put a protective arm around each one and held them close while they thawed out. Instead, he had to settle for handing Sophie a hanky and covering their legs with one of the coach’s heavy woolen lap blankets while she blew her nose.

He had been on the way home from the duke’s residence when he spotted them trudging through the knee-high snow. Part of him was annoyed that they were out in such frigid weather. How could they be so careless? Influenza, ague, and all manner of ailments plagued the city during the winter months. If Sophie took ill…

Perish the thought!

Another part of him, the more self-indulgent side, was cheered by the sight of the sisters making their way through the drifts. He had wanted to see Sophie for days but had been cooped up in John’s house while he recovered from his cold. How fortuitous that his wish should be fulfilled before he even made his own doorway.

“Dare I ask what the two of you are doing out on such a terrible day?” Numerous pots of tea with honey had soothed his throat so when he spoke he sounded normal. Aside from a minor lingering cough, it was as if he had never been ill. “It is, I fear, hardly the perfect day for a shopping expedition.”

Rachel answered. “You know how it is, being shut inside for days on end. We
had
to get out, or we might have gone stir crazy. You would hate to hear we’d been carted off to the Hospital of Saint Mary of Bethlehem’s, wouldn’t you?”

“It would be rather unfortunate to hear you and Sophie were patients at Bedlam.” He chuckled at the thought. “Still, it seems you might have chosen a more pleasant day for your insanity-avoiding jaunt, don’t you think?”

“If we waited until the sky was blue, the air warm, and the weather fair, we might not get out of the house before May.” Sophie shot him a glance that sent his heart thudding in his chest. “I dare say, we might be swinging from the chandeliers—if there were any in our house—well before then.”

Even with her hat brim drooping from the snow and her cheeks reddened by the wind, she was lovely. He wished he could say as much, but he knew better. Any attempt he had made in the past to tell her how becoming she was had been met with polite disbelief so he had given up trying to make any other than the most general compliments. They, at least, were well received.

“Well, then, I’m glad you ventured out, despite the weather. It affords us the opportunity for this impromptu visit, which is quite an unexpected but wholly pleasant surprise.”

The horses began to walk, and the carriage moved through the street like a great sleigh. There was so much snow beneath the wheels that they made a
shh-shh-shhing
sound as they cut a path. The cobbles here, where no human feet had trod, were completely hidden and, for a time anyway, the streets of London were well padded and wonderfully smooth.

“It is like being out in the country,” Sophie said, looking out the side window. “I feel insulated—why, there is hardly any jostling in this carriage. Colin, where did you get such a lavish conveyance? And who is the driver? He is certainly a top-sawyer.”

He should have anticipated her curiosity. There had been hardly anything in life that Sophie was not fully inquisitive about. A fancy carriage and liveried driver were sure to raise her probing tendencies.

The truth is always the simplest answer, so that is what he gave.

“You’re right, the driver has a way with horses. I could never handle such a team as effortlessly as he does.” It never belittled anyone to give credit where it was due. He suspected all of John’s drivers were as able-bodied and capable as the man now leading them through this nasty bit of weather. Avoiding any part of Sophie’s question would only bring another. She was as persistent as a woodpecker intent upon poking a hollow into a tree when she chose to be, so he answered. Again, he told the truth—a version of it, anyhow.

“As for the carriage, it belongs to an old school chum. You have heard me speak of him many times. The Duke of Leicester, John Turnball, is in town. This is his barouche. He insisted I let his driver deliver me safely home.”

He watched her take in the information, saw the way her brows creased as she attempted to place the name with a face and smiled when a flash of recognition lit her eyes. If the ride took hours, it would still not be overlong for his taste. Colin could stare at Sophie until every star fell from the sky, she intrigued him that much.

She was pretty, and had been so forever. While other girls had a gangly or awkward year or so, Sophie had not experienced such times. Her appearance as well as her demeanor had never lacked for anything, not as far as he had ever been able to see. No, she was as nearly perfect as any mortal had the capacity to be.

Watching her, he realized how much he had missed her this past week. His cold had progressed from his head to his chest in short order, so he had been forced to remain with John until this very day. The staff at the duke’s home had taken good care of him, and John had treated him, as was his way, like a brother so the recovery period was shorter than it would be otherwise. Still, a week was an extremely long time when the heart was involved.

Colin wanted to reach out and touch Sophie, to stroke her cheek with his fingertip the way he had at the Atwell home. A shiver shot up his spine when he recalled the silkiness of her skin.

It was maddening to be this close to her without being able to tell her how he truly felt—or who he really was. Desire slammed him hard. Fortunately, the thick drape of his coat covered the evidence of his lust.

Did she remember him from the party, the way he remembered her? The scent of her hair, touch of her cheek, whisper of a hidden wish—it all hit him in the gut, bringing a colossal shiver that shook him where he sat. His mind took his body places it had no right to go, and he was unable to stop himself from imagining how her tender pink lips would taste if he leaned forward and kissed her.

“Are you cold?” Rachel had evidently noticed his shiver. She placed a kind hand on his knee. She was as dear to him as Penny, and he smiled indulgently at her. “You are not ill, are you?”