The Masquerade (6 page)

“You need not run from me,” he said, his tone remaining unbearably soft. “All pirates are not the same.”

Was he
flirting
with her? Dear God, this was her second chance! She felt certain she could not speak—she still could not draw a normal breath—but she had to respond! She had to make some witty comment about pirates. “I do believe all pirates have a reputation for mayhem and murder, my lord,” she somehow whispered. “So of course I should think to run.”

He grinned then, sweeping a courtly bow that no pirate would ever use. The braids, beaded with coral and gold, swung about his face and against his full lips, which she stared helplessly at. How good he must taste. He straightened abruptly, his single eye locking with hers. “And if I swear I am not like other pirates? If I swear no intent to harm?”

She swallowed hard. “Then I should rethink my position, my lord,” she managed.

One dimple danced. “I am pleased to hear
that,
” he stated. “I believe we have made each other’s acquaintance, have we not, my lady?”

For one moment she stared, enthralled by his appeal.

“My lady? We have met?” he insisted.

She did not want to confess to being the foolish muddy child he had rescued on the high street. “Only if you run with my lord Robin Hood, sir.”

He studied her, still smiling. “The truth is, I am rather familiar with Sherwood Forest, my lady, although I have yet to meet the outlaw you speak of.”

And she found herself finally smiling back. “Perhaps
there shall arise an occasion in which I may make that introduction, if you truly seek it.” Lizzie realized she was actually flirting with him.

His single uncovered eye glittered in the most shocking manner. “There is only one introduction that I wish to make,” he said very precisely.

Lizzie had never received such a look from any man in her life. There was simply no mistaking his meaning. “Maid Marian,” she whispered hoarsely. “It is simply Maid Marian.”

He hesitated and she sensed he had wanted her real name, but then he bowed again, this time briefly. “And I am Black Jack Brody, at your
every
command.”

They stood on the deck of his ship, buffeted by the wind and rocked by the sea. His braids swinging by his jaw, he leaned down over her, his hands closing on her waist. Lizzie closed her eyes and waited for his kiss….

“My lady? Surely you wish to command…me.”

He cut into her fantasy abruptly and she jerked to reality, finding herself face-to-face with the prince of all her dreams. He was staring at her as if he knew
exactly
what she had been thinking—and
exactly
what she had been yearning for.

“I doubt that you would obey my every command,” she whispered, trembling.

His expression seemed dangerous. “Ah, but you will never know, now will you, unless you ask me.”

She stared in real shock. Did he mean what she thought he did? Or was this how men and women flirted—wildly and without any thought for literal interpretation?

He placed his hand on the wall, truly entrapping her, and leaned terribly close. “So command, my lady, as your heart desires, and we shall see if this pirate speaks true.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to kiss her. She would die for his kiss.

A slow, sensual smile began. “What is wrong?” he whispered softly.

She swallowed.

“Do you not know where to begin?” The dimple flashed, as did the light in his uncovered eye.

They were not in Sherwood Forest, Lizzie managed to think. They were in a public room, one filled with a crowd, and she could not dare do what she was on the verge of doing. Could she?

“Perhaps the lady needs aid,” he breathed. “Perhaps a pirate’s suggestion would do.”

And it seemed to Lizzie that he had moved closer, as their lips were almost touching now. Somehow, as her body quivered and throbbed, the feeling of being drugged overcame her, and she felt her eyes grow heavy, so heavy they began to close. His mouth brushed her jaw. Her sex tightened. And as he spoke, his lips caressed her skin, his hard thighs pressing into her own softer body.

“Midnight. In the west gardens. There, your every wish shall be my command,” he said, soft, guttural and low.

And for one more moment, his lips remained pressed against her cheek. Worse, she felt his strong, hard chest on her bosom—and then he was gone.

Lizzie did not move, trembling. When she dared to open her eyes, she was afraid the entire room would be staring at her as she tried to control the terrible fire consuming her body. She remained against the wall, fighting for composure, fighting to drive the raging desire aside.

What had just happened?

She began to breathe a bit more normally and she straightened, hugging herself. Had Tyrell de Warenne just asked her to meet him in the gardens at midnight?

Was this a jest? Or did he think to entice her to a lover’s tryst?

Lizzie could not know.

She left the game room slowly, feeling as if she had drunk far too much wine. But he had asked her to meet him in the gardens and his lips had been on her skin.
Did she dare go?

Lizzie was certain he had realized that she was the woman he had rescued yesterday in Limerick, but he had not been dismayed or put off. Lizzie did not know what to do.

She wanted to meet him, but she was afraid. If she went, what would happen? Would he kiss her? The thought was enough to make her run to the gardens at once, never mind that it was only ten o’clock. But to even be entertaining the thought of such a kiss and such a tryst was terribly improper, considering his intentions could not be honorable ones. He certainly had no intention of courting her and asking her to marry him. He merely wished for a kiss. She wasn’t worried about any other advances—Tyrell de Warenne was not that type of man.

Lizzie touched her mask. If he removed the mask, he would see her face and be disappointed. She was almost certain. Yes, she was lovely in the costume, but that would not change the truth. She was the plain one, as plain as a crust of pie, and once he removed the mask he would know that—and if he did not see it in the dark of that night, he would see it in the light of another day.

But tonight was magical. Tonight he thought her lovely. Tonight he saw her as a woman—she knew it.

And dear God, tonight she wanted to be in his arms. Just this one single time. She had dreamed of Tyrell de Warenne a thousand times, but never had she dreamed of a night like this.

If anyone ever found out—if Mama ever found out—she would be ruined. But no one need know. After all, Anna had been kissed more than once and only she and Georgie knew about it.

And suddenly Lizzie’s mind was made up. She had loved him for most of her life, and as improper as a kiss was, the memory would last her a lifetime. Lizzie sank onto a bench, shaking. In two hours it would be midnight. Two hours felt like an eternity.

“Lizzie!”

Lizzie jerked at the sound of Anna’s distressed cry. She jumped up from the bench and found Anna hurrying toward her, in tears. Instantly she was alarmed. “Dear? What is wrong?” she cried.

“Thank God I have found you! Some lout has spilled rum punch all over my bodice,” Anna said, blinking back tears. “I stink like a drunkard and Mama insists that I go home.” She wiped at her tears. “But then I had an idea, a grand idea. You have always hated social events. Please, Lizzie, switch costumes with me. I so wish to stay, I have been so enjoying myself. There are several interesting officers here…surely you are ready to go home?”

Lizzie gaped in dismay. Anna gripped her hand. “Surely you are not enjoying yourself? Surely you do not want to stay? Besides, you are barely sixteen, Lizzie. I should be the one to stay,” Anna said more firmly.

And Lizzie felt the magic vanishing from the night. Of course Anna must stay—Anna needed a husband and she, Lizzie, did not. Besides, when had she ever refused her sister anything?

Lizzie bit her lip, closed her eyes and fought her heart. A part of her was screaming inwardly in protest, refusing. She reminded herself that a tryst was only that, that Tyrell was merely the lover of her dreams, and that tomorrow she
would be filled with hurt if she dared to go forward tonight.

“Lizzie? I must stay! I truly must! I am taken with one of the soldiers here and he is leaving for Cork tomorrow!” Anna cried.

The evening had indeed been a magical one, but it was over now.

“Of course I am ready to go. I have been nothing but a wallflower. Nothing has changed,” she said briskly. “You know how I hate parties and fêtes.”

Anna smiled, hugging her. “Oh, thank you, Lizzie, thank you! You will not regret it!”

But oddly, Lizzie was already regretting it. She did not need a crystal ball to know that she had been given the gift of an opportunity that night, the kind that came once in a lifetime. She thought she might be crying. But she was not a beauty like Maid Marian and she never would be. Tyrell de Warenne would have realized that when he unmasked her.

And as Georgie had said earlier, the de Warennes were out of their class and economy.

Let Tyrell remember her this way, from this one singular spectacular night, if he even would.

And Lizzie somehow thought that he might.

L
izzie lay in her bed, unable to get up. Through the parted curtain, she could see that the sun was shining, promising yet another pleasant day. But after the extraordinary night that had just passed, the day could be nothing but ordinary and disappointing. Lizzie stared at the ceiling, recalling her amazing encounter with Tyrell last night. Beside her, Anna lay sleeping soundly.

In the light of a new day, Lizzie was filled with so much confusion and so much regret. Maybe she should have stayed at the masque and made a rendezvous with Tyrell. But how could she have disappointed Anna? As she lay there, she kept recalling the way he had leaned against the wall, almost pinning her there, so dangerously seductive in his pirate’s costume. Her body was vibrantly alive, and in that moment, it felt as if nothing could alleviate the feverish desire she was afflicted with.

In her sleep, Anna sighed.

Lizzie also sighed, her gaze still on the plain, whitewashed ceiling above, although she did not really see it. She had not been able to sleep at all last night, tossing and turning, thinking of him and his body and what his kisses might be like. Anna had returned with the rest of the family several hours after midnight, and Lizzie had
heard her moving about the bedroom they shared. She had finally asked her how the rest of the ball had been.

“Oh, just wonderful,” Anna had said, her tone odd.

Lizzie had sat up. “Anna, are you all right?”

Anna had chosen not to light an oil lamp and she held a single candle. She did not turn, facing the mirror over the dresser. “Of course I am all right. Why do you ask?” She set the candle down and began to disrobe.

Lizzie did not lie back down. The three sisters were very close. She knew something was amiss; she could feel some kind of strain. “Didn’t you enjoy the evening?”

“Yes, I had a wonderful time,” Anna said. “Why are you questioning me?”

Lizzie was taken aback. She apologized and that was the end of that.

Now she thought not about her sister, but about Tyrell’s strange interest in her. She reminded herself that if she had dared to rendezvous with him, he would have asked her to unmask herself and he would have quickly lost interest in her. How many times, year after year, had she seen him at the St. Patrick’s Day lawn party, surrounded by beautiful women? His reputation was well known—he was no outlandish rake, but it was obvious to her that he preferred beauty to brains, as almost every man did. And even if, somehow, he had not been disappointed with her after unmasking her, nothing could have come of their tryst. He would never court her. A man like that would never marry so far beneath him—and Lizzie did not think herself capable of an affair. Still, she could imagine what it would be like. And suddenly he was with her in her bed, running his hands up and down her legs, her waist and then her breasts. Lizzie turned to him for his kiss….

But he was not there and her lips brushed her pillow,
instead. She flopped onto her back, trembling. There was not going to be an affair, even if she was amoral enough to want one! He was too much of a gentleman to toy with a young, well-bred lady like herself. The most she could have hoped for were a few heated kisses at the masque.

Suddenly Anna whimpered in her sleep.

Lizzie sat up with some concern. “Anna? Are you dreaming?”

She thrashed and murmured to herself, and it almost sounded as if she were speaking to someone. It was the custom in the Fitzgerald household to sleep in after the de Warenne ball. Still, Lizzie reached over and tugged on her arm. “Anna? You are having a bad dream,” she said.

Anna’s eyes flew open and for one moment, she did not seem to see her sister. Even disheveled from sleep, her hair in a simple braid, Anna was gloriously lovely.

“Anna? It is only a dream,” Lizzie soothed.

Anna blinked and finally saw her sister, attempting a slight smile. “Oh, dear. Thank you, Lizzie. I was having a nightmare.”

Lizzie decided to get up. “What were you dreaming about?” She walked over to the bureau, beginning to unbraid her hair.

“I don’t recall.” Anna pulled the covers up to her chin. “I danced all night—I am
exhausted,
” she said. And she closed her eyes, effectively ending the conversation.

Lizzie gave up and slipped from the bedroom. After using the privy, she bumped into Georgie in the hall, who was fully dressed, her hair pulled severely back. “Good morning,” she smiled.

Georgie smiled back at her. She was wearing a plain, pale blue gown with no adornment whatsoever, not even a cameo pin. “You left before we had a chance to discuss the evening,” she exclaimed.

And suddenly Lizzie had to tell all. “Let me dress, then meet me downstairs!”

She had never dressed with more speed. As she raced downstairs, her hair still unbound, she tried to imagine Georgie’s reaction to the events of the previous night. Georgie was already sipping tea and nibbling on toast at the dining table when Lizzie raced breathlessly in. “You will simply not believe it—and I fear I have missed the opportunity of a lifetime!”

Georgie raised her elegant brows. “Did you meet someone?”

Lizzie hesitated as she sat down, thanking the maid, who also served as cook and laundress, as she handed her a plate of toast. Pushing the plate aside, she said, “Did you have any luck in finding a new suitor?”

Georgie smiled in a rather self-deprecating manner. “Who am I fooling, Lizzie? It’s not just my height. I am too political for my own good. No man wants a wife who can debate the Catholic question or the issues associated with the Corn Laws, the tithe or the union. No, I had no luck.”

And Lizzie hesitated. Then she reached out and gripped her sister’s hand. “You are the most loyal, sincere person I know. I want you to be happy, Georgie. Please do not settle for a toad like Peter Harold.”

Georgie grimaced at her. “We shall see.”

Lizzie had a dreadful feeling then.

“But you are bursting with news.”

Lizzie could not contain her smile and she proceeded to tell Georgie almost every detail of her encounter with Tyrell de Warenne. “And he insisted I meet him in the gardens at midnight,” she ended breathlessly.

Georgie gaped at her, stunned. It was a moment before she could speak. “I think he must have been taken with you!”

Lizzie shook her head. “He was taken with Maid Marian—a daring wench who flirted shamelessly with him!”

“But that was you,” Georgie said, clearly making an effort to remain calm, her gaze wide.

“I don’t know who she was,” Lizzie said frankly. “I have never engaged in such a manner with any man before. I was rather in shock—it was almost as if I were outside of myself, listening to my own repartee!”

Georgie stared in real concern. “But you did not go. You went home, leaving your costume with Anna.”

Lizzie bit her lip. “I was terrified he would unmask me and be sorely disappointed. Still, if I had gone, there would have been a kiss, and Georgie, I so want to be kissed by him.”

“You did the right thing,” Georgie said in her usual brisk tone. “Nothing could ever come of such an association—unless you welcomed an illicit one.”

Lizzie was about to insist that she would never do such a thing, but remembering her secretly bold dreams, she found she could say nothing.

“You did the right thing,” Georgie repeated. She began to smile, while Lizzie wondered if her sister was right. “But you did succeed, Lizzie. You impressed him, and if he did think you foolish before, now, he clearly admires you.”

“Yes, he did seem to admire me,” she said softly. Oddly, any pleasure in that triumph was outweighed by Lizzie’s regret.

“Where is Anna?” Mama said sternly.

Lizzie had just come inside after a long morning walk down a nearby country road. She had hoped for distraction from her far-too-vivid daydreams. Before, Tyrell had been a pleasant fantasy whom she had summoned up
at will. Now he haunted her at every turn. Shoving his image aside, she faced her mother. Carefully she said, “Is something wrong, Mama?”

“Yes, something is wrong.” Mama marched to the bottom of the stairs. “Anna! Please come down this minute, as I wish to speak with you and Lizzie.”

Lizzie had the distinct sense that they were in for a serious comedown.

Anna came down the stairs in her white lawn nightgown, white cap and a lawn robe. “Mama?” She exchanged a worried glance with Lizzie.

“The two of you, into the parlor, if you please.” And Mama marched ahead of them into the room.

Exchanging more glances, both sisters followed rather meekly. Mama was waiting near the door, which she solidly closed and placed her hands on her hips. “Is it true, Lizzie, that you were flirting with a pirate?” she demanded, her cheeks high with color.

Lizzie blinked. From the corner of her eye, she saw Anna flush. Of course, she could not lie. “Yes.”

Mama’s eyes were wide. “Mrs. Holiday saw you in the game room! She said the most extreme flirtation was in place!”

“I thought you wanted me to flirt,” Lizzie said very cautiously.

“Oh, I do!” Mama cried, rushing to her and gripping her hands. “I am so pleased with you! But you,” she snapped, turning to Anna, “you were supposed to leave the ball after the shameless behavior I witnessed! You have turned into an incorrigible coquette, missy, and I do not like it, I do not! I saw that waltz! Why, they do not even allow waltzes at Almack’s. And then you blatantly disobey me, your very own mother! Instead of leaving the ball you connived with your sister, ruining what could be her single
chance at marriage!” She whipped her attention to Lizzie, who felt rather shocked and at the same time, somewhat worried over her mother’s extreme temper. “Who was he?” Mama demanded. “There were at least a half a dozen pirates at the ball. Who was he, Lizzie?”

Lizzie swallowed hard. Her mind raced. If she told her mother the truth—as she was honorably bound—she could not even imagine what Mama would do. She might, ridiculously, think to try to make a match, and Lizzie could imagine how humiliating that would be. But how could she lie? She turned to look at her sister for help, but Anna looked away.

Nervously, she said, “He was masked, Mama. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Mama exclaimed in disbelief. “You finally meet a man interested in you—Mrs. Holiday said she has never witnessed such a degree of interest before—and you do not know?”

Lizzie winced. “I do not know who he was, Mama.”

“Anna!” Mama said with anger. “You have dozens of suitors every time you leave the house! How could you? This was Lizzie’s
chance.
”

Anna bit her lip. “I am so sorry,” she said. And now Anna looked at Lizzie. “Mama is right. I should have left and you should have stayed.”

“I decided that leaving the ball was best,” she said with a smile, touching Anna’s arm. “I really didn’t want to stay, and I am glad you stayed and enjoyed yourself.”

Mama threw her hands up into the air. “These monumental matters must be decided by me,” she declared. “Lizzie had a golden opportunity. How will we ever discover who your suitor was?”

Lizzie inhaled roughly. “Mama, he was hardly a suitor.”

“If he was so terribly smitten by you, then he was a
suitor, oh, yes. I shall have to get to the bottom of this. Oh, I do hope he is a British soldier from a fine and wealthy family! I will call on Mrs. Holiday this afternoon and inquire after every detail, every single one! And believe me, I shall uncover this mysterious man’s identity.”

“Mama, this is not a good idea!” Lizzie cried.

“And why not, missy?” Mama demanded.

Lizzie could not think of a credible answer.

Mama was like a terrier with a bone. No matter how Lizzie might protest, she was off to see Mrs. Holiday, determined to uncover the identity of Lizzie’s so-called suitor.

Lizzie watched her driving off in the curricle with no small amount of dread. Georgie stood beside her. “What will I do if she realizes that it was Tyrell de Warenne with whom I was flirting?” Lizzie asked in a hushed tone.

Georgie was brisk. “Why don’t we cross that bridge when the time comes? Perhaps some of the other pirates present also wore black.” She touched Lizzie with a reassuring hand.

“I am doomed,” Lizzie whispered. Once Mama discovered the truth, she would be marched up to Adare, and not as Maid Marian. But Georgie interrupted her thoughts. “Lizzie, do you think Anna is behaving a bit oddly?”

Lizzie turned as Georgie went to sit back down. They were in the parlor and Georgie was mending Papa’s socks, as they really could not afford new ones, not when no one would ever see his old ones. Lizzie had hoped to try to read. Instead, with Mama’s sudden departure, all she could do was pace in uncharacteristic agitation. “Maybe she is tired from the ball. She never naps but she is resting now.”

“She did dance most of the night,” Georgie declared. “However, I think this family is in a fine kettle, indeed.”

Lizzie could not agree more. Although she was not prone to moping about, she returned to the window, as if standing there might bring Mama back.

“Try not to worry so,” Georgie said, taking up her needle and thread.

Lizzie did not reply, but she went to the sofa and tried to read her book.

Three hours later, flushed with delight, Mama bustled into the house, beaming. “Lizzie!” she cried, sailing to the middle of the foyer. “Georgina! Anna! Papa! Everyone, come quickly—I have news! I have the most miraculous news!”

Lizzie felt her heart sink. She prayed that Mama’s news had nothing to do with her. Papa stepped out of the library as she and Georgie left the kitchen. They had spent the last hour shelling peas, as they only had one house servant and Betty could not possibly manage by herself. Anna came downstairs, rather slowly.

“Are you all right?” Lizzie asked in a whisper as they gathered before Mama in the foyer.

“I am fine,” Anna said with a bright smile. “I was only tired earlier, Lizzie.”

“Everyone!” Mama clapped her hands. “I have discovered the identity of Lizzie’s pirate!” she exclaimed.

Lizzie cringed.

“Lizzie! It was his lordship himself. Dear, dear Lord, He has blessed us now—it was Tyrell de Warenne!”