My Lady Rival (8 page)

They each hesitated, knowing that the person to remove his or her mask first They each hesitated, knowing that the person to remove his or her mask first would be the first to become vulnerable.

“Well?” he said after a moment. “Do you intend to run away, or are you going to take the mask off?”

“I never run away. I always have a strategy. Perhaps if you hadn’t underestimated me in Italy you wouldn’t have lost Contarini to me.” She smirked; he scowled. A round them, all of the other guests were removing their masks. There was much laughter and glee.

Willa tilted her head. “However, if you’re afraid to go first—”

“Of course not. I was merely trying to be polite by giving preference to the person of the lesser sex.”

“You mean fairer.”

“Hmm?”

“The fairer sex.”

He smiled indulgently. “Of course I did. My mistake.” He lifted his hands to his head. “I can see you are breathless to look upon me again. A nd since you insist—

never say I lose my manners when forced to be near you—” He drew the mask away and bowed. “Here I am, at last.”

When he straightened, Willa’s heart gave a hard thump in her chest. Yes, he was there. It was him. A lex Laurie.

He might be her rival, but he was still one of the most beautiful men she’d ever met.

Beautiful?

Yes, beautiful. Masculine beauty carved into his cheekbones, chiseled into his jaw. His nose was the slightest bit crooked, as though he’d broken it once or twice, and his forehead was high. His was a face of resolve, of ruthless purpose hidden behind that casual smile. . . . He wore his own masks of expression, his civility and charm a disguise for the strength of his desires and determination.

One woman might have called him handsome, another rugged, and yet another as ordinary as a solid oak tree. But to Willa he was beautiful. She wanted to put her hands to his jaw, to run her palms across every plane and hollow, to smooth her thumbs over his eyebrows.

Instead she lifted her hands to her head to untie her mask, too.

But before she could begin, he frowned and made a little swirl with his finger in the air. “Your hair— Do you need—”

“No, it’s only an illusion.” Reaching beneath the intricate coiffure, Willa found the ends of the mask’s ribbons and untied them. She drew them forward, already feeling the weight of the gold and diamond mask lift from her skin. “Here I am, at last,” she announced, the words and the curtsy she then gave a deliberate echo of his own unmasking.

His brow lifted. “I expected you to look older. Is deception not supposed to age a person’s appearance?” Though he drawled the words, his gaze was piercing enough to poke tiny holes all along her skin.

“I suppose I shall need more practice, although a kiss does not seem very deceptive to me. A kiss, for any length or manner, is only a kiss, isn’t it?” She raised her mask again, peered at him through the space carved for her eyes. He plucked the mask away. The ribbons dangled from his fingertips, as precarious as her careful facade of nonchalance.

Willa let her gaze drift. She smiled, pretending to see someone beyond his shoulder she recognized. Looking up at him again, she shrugged. “It was business, Laurie. Nothing but business. You mustn’t take it personally.” He stared at her without responding, swinging her mask to and fro by its ribbons. Willa waited, her heart pounding. She could walk away now—he did not block her; she could easily escape from here, in the middle of this large and block her; she could easily escape from here, in the middle of this large and crowded ballroom. Even if he pulled her deep into the shadows of the massive pillars or against the wall—even if he dragged her out to the terrace—there would always be others to see them. Because of this she stayed, her breath fractured as she watched him watching her. She would never run from him.

A fter another full minute of his silence she sighed loudly, darting a glance at him through her eyelashes. Yes, he still appeared as if he’d like to strangle her.

The musicians were preparing for another set. “I’d like to thank you for the waltzes and for the pleasurable company, Mr. Laurie. Unfortunately, now that your identity is revealed, I must be away. There are other, more important matters I must attend to while I am in London.”

When she walked toward the perimeter of the ballroom, he took her hand and placed it on his arm. They strolled together, her fingers captive beneath his hold.

Only she realized too late that he was steadfastly guiding her toward the shadows which clung to the far corner of the ballroom, partially hidden by one of those massive pillars. Yes, others would be able to see them if they peered closely enough. But no one was looking. No one at all.

He stood in front of her, his shoulders eclipsing her view of the room. “I am well aware of the matters you think you seek. I am also aware that you will not find them.”

“You seem very certain of this. I would caution your habit toward overconfidence. It did not serve you well in Italy, either.” She would not be intimidated, though he leaned his body near hers. A nd he knew this; he knew she was not scared of him, just as she knew he was the type to use ruthlessness with words rather than fists. It was this understanding that caused her pulse to flutter, for there could be only one reason why he stood so near. It was the same reason why she’d decided to kiss him in Italy, when never before and never since had she used such a tactic to get what she wished. “I have been searching for matters long before you ever were, Mr. Laurie. I daresay I know much more about such matters than you do.”

“I know the name,” he said, then narrowed his eyes when she stilled. “I see that you know it, too.”

She shifted, trying to see past him, irritated that she gave so much away. If he was here at the masquerade and he knew Woolstone was the dye’s creator, could that mean—

“He’s not here.”

Her gaze lifted to his again, though not before taking a contrary detour to his mouth first. “I do not understand your presence at the masquerade. Is it truly because you wish to marry your sisters to titles? I did not think you were so fond of the aristocracy.”

His lips curled. “I hesitate to admit or deny lest you run back to Papa and tell him my plans.”

Willa felt her cheeks burn. True, most everything she’d done in the past seven years had been on behalf of her father and his company, but she was here in years had been on behalf of her father and his company, but she was here in London for herself. Luring Mr. Lunsford to her father’s company was the agreement she’d made in order to delay the wedding to Eichel. It was of no concern to her if she actually succeeded. No, she was here for the Madonna dye.

A nd this time, the competition was between Willa and A lex alone.

“There you go underestimating me again, Mr. Laurie,” she said softly. “I sincerely hoped you had learned from the last time. My father does not control everything I do. A nd you need not fear having me as competition, for I have no desire to become a pawn in marriage for my father’s alliances.” If she did, she would have been happy to take Eichel, for he was young and rich and handsome, more so even than the man standing before her.

He placed his hands on either side of shoulders, bracketing her inside his arms with her back pressing into the corner. When he spoke, his breath stirred the curls at her temples and ears. “I truly don’t care, actually. There’s only one thing that matters to me that you should know.”

For a moment before he pulled back her breath lodged in her throat. “A nd what is that?”

His eyes bore into hers, his lips mere inches away from her own. “I will finish what was begun in Italy. I am the one who will win this time, Miss Stratton.” Chapter 6

T he next day, Willa smiled across at her English companion, the lovely widow Lady Sarah Carlyle, as the carriage borrowed from Mivart’s Hotel stopped in front of the Marquess of Byrne’s house, the residence where Lady Marianna, Woolstone’s sister, lived with her parents.

“Like this?” she asked Sarah, speaking through her teeth.

Sarah leaned forward slightly, a line creased between her brows. “No, I’m afraid that’s still too much. I can see nearly the entire upper row of teeth. Try to become more subdued.”

Willa rolled her lips inward.

Sarah laughed. “No, that’s not it at all, I’m afraid. Here, cease smiling. No, don’t frown. Try a natural expression, as if you were by yourself and hadn’t a care in the world. Yes, very good. Now, think of something only slightly amusing. It’s a secret you want to keep to yourself, not to share with others. But all the same you wish them to know that you have a slightly amusing secret that you couldn’t possibly share with them, and—yes, that’s it!”

Willa let the smile freeze on her lips as she memorized the shape and feel of it.

Then she sighed. “It’s no wonder I haven’t come to England in so many years, and no wonder you left all that time ago. I never realized the English cared so much about their smiles.” The voice of the coachman soothing the horses to a standstill came as the carriage ceased moving. Willa’s smile turned sly. “Of course, after seeing so many people laughing at the masquerade last night, I can well understand the desire to keep their teeth covered when possible.” She grinned at Sarah’s choked gasp of laughter. The footman opened the door.

“Willa—”

“No need to fear, I will behave myself with an immense amount of decorum.

A nd I promise to not show my teeth—not even once.” Taking the servant’s hand, she stepped out of the carriage. She threw cursory glances at the imposing Byrne town house and the black carriage sitting on the street near their own, then looked back toward Sarah. “I neglected to ask. Is Lady Marianna Woolstone’s younger sister or older?”

“What does it matter?” Sarah walked toward her as the footman closed the carriage door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door of the other carriage open.

“It may indicate how protective she wishes to be, how much information she cares to give us.” A fter Willa’s mother had died when she was fourteen, she’d become both mother and sister to her younger brother, Jeffrey. Even though he become both mother and sister to her younger brother, Jeffrey. Even though he was a grown man now, she would never cease worrying about him.

“I believe she’s younger.”

Willa nodded. “Good. That means—”

A voice at the other carriage stilled her thoughts. Willa’s head turned, her gaze searching . . .

She scowled. Or rather, on the inside she scowled. On her face she wore that slight, secretly amusing smile Sarah had taught her as she met A lex Laurie’s eyes.

He nodded a wary greeting. Willa turned. “Come,” she whispered urgently, then proceeded to rush toward the Byrne town house’s door.

She could have cursed. Somehow he must have devised the same ingenious plan: get close to Woolstone’s sister to discover if she knew of his whereabouts.

Sarah’s skirts rustled behind her as Willa climbed the steps. “Why are we— Oh, good afternoon, sir.”

“Good afternoon, madam.” He bounded up the steps beside Willa, cutting her off at the door. “Miss Stratton.”

Willa drew herself up instantly to avoid crashing into him yet again. He thought himself very clever; she was certain his eyes laughed at her before he turned his back to her. Though she nearly teetered off the edge of the top step, she managed to draw her skirts close to her legs and edge beside him. Her shoulder brushed his arm. “I believe we arrived first, Mr. Laurie. Kindly move out of the way.”

“I would of course concede if you were correct, Miss Stratton, but you are wrong. My carriage arrived before yours.”

Sarah poked Willa’s arm. When she glanced over her shoulder, her friend’s brows were lifted inquiringly.

“Oh yes. Lady Carlyle, allow me to present to you the back of Mr. A lex Laurie.”

“I apologize for my rudeness, Lady Carlyle. It is not my habit to be offensive.”

“You do not have to forgive him. This is, of course, the one I told you of before.”

“Spreading lies about me again, madam? How very unoriginal of you.” Willa almost laughed. He thought she’d told lies about him to Contarini?

“On the contrary, I find lies wholly unnecessary. A nd please be assured that I will tell you if I ever feel the need to court your opinion of my actions.” He said something beneath his breath which she couldn’t hear. She would have been tempted to ask him to repeat it louder, if she didn’t believe he did it for the sole purpose of irritating her.

She sensed Sarah’s quiet assessment of him as Willa knew he must appear to her: the breadth of his shoulders, the jaunty tip of his hat, the fine tapering of his waist and legs. She didn’t wish for her companion to be undone by his appeal; it would not do to have her friend enamored of her enemy.

Though she professed to speak of him to Sarah, she hadn’t told her companion much of anything regarding A lex Laurie. She knew that they were rivals, of course, and that he was also after the Madonna dye, but Sarah didn’t know about course, and that he was also after the Madonna dye, but Sarah didn’t know about their dancing the previous evening, as her services as chaperone had not been required at the masquerade. A nd she knew nothing about their kiss three years ago. Some things must be kept a secret from everyone.

Willa shifted. It seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time for a servant to come to the door and allow them entrance.

Beside her, A lex raised his fist. A s if they shared the same thoughts. It was an infinitely disturbing thing to contemplate.

“If we are to go in by order of our rank, then I believe Lady Carlyle should stand before us both.”

He paused, his head turning toward her. “Why must we go in according to our rank?”

“Because it’s the custom that is expected and usually observed among the ton.” A nd because she hoped Sarah would be able to ask Lady Marianna about Woolstone’s location before A lex ever had a chance to speak to her. “Is that not true, Lady Carlyle? Would you care to educate Mr. Laurie on the matters of precedence?”

Behind them, Sarah cleared her throat. “The usual precedence is—” He leaned toward Willa, his words overlapping Sarah’s. “I know what precedence is. A nd I find it odd that you are ordering around a lady if you are so bloody concerned about it.”