Marquesses at the Masquerade(12)

And then gradually they moved more and more slowly, until they finally came to a stop as the music played on and a few night noises from insects reminded them that the terrace was otherwise deserted. His eyes shone in the torchlight, and his expression was serious.

“I know that we have only just met tonight, but I feel as though I’ve known you much, much longer.”

“I feel that too,” she said, hardly daring to believe that he’d spoken of exactly what was in her heart.

“I want to know everything about you. I want to know you.”

For the briefest of moments, she entertained the idea that they might have infinite time to get to know each other. She almost wished he hadn’t said anything, though, because his words could only remind her that this night, while magical, was only one night, and that was all they would ever have.

But she was also glad, heart-brimmingly glad, that he had spoken, because his voice and his words told her that being with her meant something to him, and that was what she would treasure most.

“That would be wonderful,” she agreed.

“Do you know what else I feel?”

“What?”

“That I want to kiss you.”

Excitement fluttered in her like a thousand butterflies, and she gave a small nod. His head slowly dipped, and then his lips touched hers. She had thought that the night was already almost too perfect, but this... his kiss was beyond perfect. Tender at first, as though he was leaving her room to accept him, but then when she circled her arms around the breadth of his chest, he deepened the kiss, and she felt the whisperings of hunger, his and hers. Her heart hammered with a wild joy that she never wanted to end.

Time and place ceased to have any meaning, and all she knew was that this night and this man would be imprinted on her heart forever.

But finally, something did penetrate her cloud of happiness, and she became aware of a sound that was the knell of doom.

The distant sound of a clock chiming midnight.

Dear God, midnight! Panic rose in her instantly. She had to leave.

She broke the kiss and stepped back.

“What is it, Poppy?” he said.

“I—I have to go.”

“What, now?” His lips curled in a smile that expressed confidence that he would convince her she didn’t want to spend a minute apart from him. She wished more than anything that she could answer with one of her own.

“Yes, now, actually,” she said, her mind racing. They’d been on the terrace for a while, and she knew Melinda had ordered the carriage to collect the Monroes at one o’clock, but she had no way of knowing where Melinda or her cousins might be in the ballroom. They might very well be between her and the path to the door. They shouldn’t recognize her, since they wouldn’t be expecting her—but they might.

“You can’t go now,” he said, his brow touched with a crease as he understood that she wasn’t being playful. “You haven’t yet told me nearly enough about yourself. How will I be able to call—”

Oh God, she couldn’t bear it. And she couldn’t waste another moment either, because she had to get to the coach so the driver would have time to take her home and return for her aunt and cousins.

A clean break was the only thing to do, and without another word, Rosamund turned away from Marcus, meaning to run down the steps behind her. But she tripped a little in turning, and he reached out to steady her, and his hand brushed her shoulder and caught the strand of pearls. She barely registered a tugging sensation, but she didn’t dare stop. And in that moment, she had a piece of luck.

“Oh, there you are, Marcus,” came a feminine voice. “Mama says dinner is about to be served, and you are wanted to lead Lady Catterton in.”

Rosamund raced down the steps and into the dark garden.

“Wait!” she heard him call, but she only ran faster, making for the glow of the torch by the mews with everything she had and hoping that the Marquess of Boxhaven would be above sprinting after her. She thought she heard the sound of feet pounding the ground, but she had the element of surprise on her side, and she gained the mews, and in another few moments, she had run out to the street and reached the waiting coach.

“Waste not a moment,” she cried to the coachman as she climbed in. He didn’t need to be told twice, and they were off.

It wasn’t until they were almost home that she realized the pearls must have come off when Marcus tried to steady her, and they were gone.





Chapter Five





* * *



The loss of the pearl necklace was a disaster.

Uncle Piggott and Mrs. Barton were waiting when Rosamund got home from the ball, eager to hear all about it. She told them right off about losing the necklace, though without mentioning how or who was involved. No one needed to be told that there would be repercussions, and that if they did not fall on Rosamund, they would necessarily fall on the servants, especially the maids.

“And I won’t let that happen,” Rosamund said firmly. “I shall go to Melinda as soon as she returns and tell her I took them.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Uncle Piggott said. “We’ll figure something out, won’t we, Mrs. Barton?”

Mrs. Barton, who looked less convinced of the possibility of solving the problem of the missing necklace and therefore somewhat stricken, nonetheless said, “Perhaps we should send a footman to inquire about a necklace that was lost. Surely the marquess would wish to return such a thing to a guest.”