Forever My Love (Berkeley-Faulkner #2)(83)

Rosalie and Mira looked at each other guiltily. Rand stilt did not know about their secret meeting with Brummell or Rosalie’s plan to talk with Canning alone, and it was nerve-racking to keep a secret from him. Rosalie’s husband was no fool, and few things escaped his notice.

“Whatever do you mean, my lord?” Rosalie asked with a halfhearted smile.

Rand subjected his wife to a slow, searching look before replying, “Only that the king’s taste for older women has changed. Now it appears that he is drawn to young, attractive women of lively disposition. He would easily be encouraged by the smallest word or smile from either of you… and I would rather not have to extricate you from such a situation, since his pride is easily damaged, and he is not a particularly forgiving man.”

“1 know that.” Rosalie was instantly agitated. “And it would probably amuse him to see me in an awkward situation, since he has heard the rumors about me and Brummell. He never forgave my father after their falling-out, even though Brummell sent him his best snuffbox and made every effort to win back his friendship. The king could easily see to it that my father is allowed back into England, but he won’t, because he’s too ungrateful and jealous of Brummell to—”

“Shhhh…” Rand whispered gently, sliding a hand to the back of Rosalie’s neck and stroking his thumbalong her rapidly throbbing pulse. “I know, fleur.” He understood more than any other person alive what Brummell meant to Rosalie, and how easily upset she could become when the subject of her father was mentioned. Taking a deep breath and calming at his touch, Rosalie raised her blue eyes to his.

Mira averted her gaze from the strangely intimate gesture, at once flustered and touched by the revealing scene. At times Rand and Rosalie could shut themselves away from the entire world. In a few seconds they could read each other’s thoughts and sense each other’s needs in a completely private communication. no matter who was with them or what their surroundings were. At the moment Mira was merely a self-conscious outsider.

As she turned her eyes away from the pair, Mira heard the sound of footsteps at the end of the hall, firm footsteps coupled with a long stride. She looked at the approaching figure… and suddenly her heart beat in a staccato rhythm. Alec. She put a hand to the base of her throat, feeling all the color drain from her face. It had to be Alec. She had missed him so much that her whole being ached with the painful joy of seeing him again. It was Alec… or was it? His hair was coal-black, his form was tall and broad-shouldered, his features were severely perfect and graced with a raffish white smile… but as he came closer, Mira realized with utter bewilderment that the newcomer was not Alec. He was too young, and somehow he seemed less polished, his manner speaking more of cockiness than Alec’s self-assurance. And his eyes. . they were not silver-gray but deep green.

He stopped upon seeing her, blinking a few times and then smiling anew. “I seem to have lost my way.” he said, staring at Mira with rapt attention. She made no reply, her eyes dark with confusion.

“Well… Carr Falkner,” Rosalie said, and came to stand by Mira. “How pleasant it is to find you here.“‘Lady Berkeley,” the man answered, his eyes still on Mira, “it seems to be a day for pleasant discoveries.” Nudging Mira imperceptibly, Rosalie made the proper introductions, and Mira allowed the stranger to take her small cold hand in his warm one. Carr Falkner, she thought, recovering very slowly from her surprise. If there were any other Falkners here at the Pavilion, she prayed that she would receive more advance warn-ing. for coming face-to-face with someone resembling Alec so closely was almost more than she could bear. No matter how darkly attractive any of the Falkners were, none of them would be anything but a disappointing imitation of Alec.

“He is a cousin of the Duke of Stafford,” Rosalie whispered to Mira. “Perhaps you recall the duke… ?” You mean the one I accompanied during the sleighing party? Mira thought numbly. The one I fell in love with during Sackville’s hunt? The one who knows my deepest secrets, the one who took my virginity? Yes, I believe I can recall him. ...

Chapter Ten

“We must be careful,” Rosalie said, looking in

the full-length mirror and adjusting the magnificent lace-trimmed bodice of her velvet gown. Mary, the maid who had come with them from Berkeley Hall, knelt by her and made a few small repairs to the hem of her gown with needle and thread. “Tonight I am going to find a way to speak to Canning about Brummell—during the dancing, perhaps. But I’ll need your help—and remember, this must be done in complete secrecy. Any sort of untoward or unusual behavior is going to be noticed tonight, since there is always a great deal of scheming going on at affairs like this— this is the perfect environment in which to breed scandals.”

“That isn’t surprising,” Mira replied, pinning a small green velvet hat on her head and angling it at a coquettish tilt. “It’s a masquerade, and everyone feels quite daring in a disguise, all of us supposing that we 1 can look out at the world while no one else can look 1 in”

“Wrong,” Rosalie said flatly. “I can see through even the best disguises--there are always telling clues, For example, the king will be the one with the enor- I mous belly, and the blond by his side will be Lady 1 Conyngham.”

Mira winced at the venom in Rosalie’s tone. It was not like Rosalie to say an unkind or undiplomatic word about anyone, but it seemed that not only theking but also all of his close associates bore the brunt her contempt. “Who is Lady Conyngham?” “His latest mistress. He has given her the title of “Lady Steward,’ and the two pretend that she is merely the mistress of his household, while it’s commonly known, even to her husband, that she shares his bed.” Rosalie shook her head disgustedly. “What men see in women like her escapes me. She is vain, silly, greedy, and she encourages the king in all of his worst habits. He is killing himself from overeating and then overdosing himself with opium and bark brandy to cure his indigestion—”