Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Now that she was a duchess, Aurelia received a great deal more post than she ever used to.
Invitations to balls, soirees, dinners. Sebastian, from the very beginning, had informed her to toss all invitations into the fire, as they would not be attending, and for the most part, she had not objected.
She had not married to put herself on display.
But before she threw them away, she always checked their contents first. One did not discard without knowing precisely what one was discarding.
And this particular embossed card in her hand invited them both to a masquerade ball.
Her stomach twisted with anticipation.
The lady who invited them was of little consequence—Aurelia had never heard of her, and she knew she was only invited by dint of being the Duchess of Ravenhall.
And, most notably, they lived close enough to London that they could, feasibly, travel in for such an event.
It was an hour’s journey, perhaps two at most.
Easily enough to do for a masquerade.
And Aurelia had never been to a masquerade.
The thought stirred something in her romantic heart—how exciting it would be not to know everyone’s identity!—as she ambled over to where Sebastian was working in his study.
For a long moment, she watched him, the tendons flexing in the back of his hand as he wrote, dipping his pen periodically into the ink. His handwriting was neat and elegant, yet there was a masculine line to it; the perfect handwriting for a duke.
After a long moment, he glanced up to see her standing in the doorway. Salt crusted his raven hair, dried white on his collar from their earlier trip. “Well?” he asked, quirking a brow.
In answer, she held up the invitation.
“No,” he answered shortly, turning back to his work.
“You haven’t heard me out.”
“And I don’t intend to.”
She scowled at his downturned head. No, no doubt he didn’t intend to, because no matter what he sometimes claimed, he viewed himself as the duke and her as a mere inconvenience.
Well, not today.
“It is a masquerade ball,” she declared, tossing the invitation down on the table between them. “And I would like to attend.”
He didn’t so much as look up. “For what purpose?”
“Because I have never been to a masquerade ball, and I think it would be fun to dress up and wear masks and not know who everyone is. No one would know who we were, either. It would be entirely anonymous. We could go as a shepherd and his shepherdess, and don’t you think it would be fun?”
“No.” Finally, he looked at her, his arms folding. “I do not think it would be fun.”
Ever since her illness, he had been avoiding her.
Or, if not avoiding her, avoiding situations in which he might be alone with her.
Part of her suspected he was waiting for her to recover before he made any sort of move in her direction, but she felt perfectly fine now, and she’d had enough of being treated like freshly blown glass.
It was time to take matters into her own hands.
All her ire had dissipated, and after he had allowed her to consult with an architect about some changes to the house, she felt as though she would like to do something for him.
Thus, the masquerade.
“Consider it. Dancing.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice.
“No one knowing who we are. I imagine there’s a lot that happens at parties like that.
” Planting both hands on his desk, she leaned in even closer, until her lips were a hair’s breadth from his.
His breath left him in a sudden rush, and a light sparked in his dark eyes.
She had him now.
“I can dance with you here.”
“Mm, but it’s far better when we might be discovered at any moment. Imagine it, Sebastian. Taking me aside and kissing me, then hearing footsteps.”
“You sound as though you’ve done this before.” He had abandoned his work now, all his attention on her.
“Oh no. But I’ve heard stories. Masquerades can get positively…
” She appeared to choose her words carefully.
“Scandalous.” As he watched, she leaned back and trailed a finger along the neckline of her gown, right over the swell of her breasts.
His gaze was a brand on her, and she saw his Adam’s apple bobble visibly.
“You are doing your best to be persuasive, I see…”
“I am.” She grinned at him. “Is it working?”
“I—” His jaw snapped shut, and she could practically see the irritation flare across his face. “I ought to tell you no.”
That was it—she had won. “But you won’t.”
“This will be the only social event I will consider attending.”
They would see about that, but she took her victory in good spirits, offering him a demure curtsy. “It is all I would ever ask of you, Your Grace.”
He grunted, waving her away, and she fled, anticipation twisting in her stomach. If he was reluctant to take her to bed, this masquerade ought to change his mind.
Sebastian did not know what had possessed him to agree to this ridiculous idea. What was worse, Aurelia looked as though she would positively pass out from joy at the thought of attending, which meant he couldn’t back out.
Instead, he allowed her to order costumes and masks to be made.
As she had suggested, they would attend as a shepherd and his shepherdess.
Ordinarily, he would not have opted for so humble a costume, but perhaps it was better that they chose something of this nature.
This way, no one would suspect it was him.
Finally, the night of the masquerade arrived, and they took the carriage in.
Against Sebastian’s better judgment, he had agreed that they would stay in his long-ignored London home rather than traveling back to his estate in the early morning.
He trusted his coachmen, but there was no need to tempt fate.
Opposite him, Aurelia nearly bounced with excitement. He knew from everything she had told him that this was entirely novel for her, and he had to admit that a small part of him was happy he could do this for her.
Before they exited the carriage, she laced her mask over her face. It was painted, with ruddy cheeks and holes for her eyes. Sebastian had a similar one he affixed to his face, and they alighted, climbing up the stairs to the Pantheon.
When they entered, Aurelia let out a little gasp, and even Sebastian had to admit it was impressive.
Enormous pillars lined the edges of the room, and overhead was the famed dome, painted with the famous stuccos.
Sebastian had little love for them, but by the way Aurelia had her head tilted back, he suspected she enjoyed them immensely.
“How do they have everything be so golden?” she demanded of him, her familiar eyes glinting in the unfamiliar mask.
“That is on account of the bronze,” a gentleman said beside them both, nodding at the candles in bronze surrounds.
“It’s rather clever, don’t you think? The reflected light acquires a golden hue, and without the need for gold at all.
” At Aurelia’s surprised stare, he bowed.
“I would offer my name, but I see you have an escort, my lady. Do enjoy the masquerade.”
Aurelia turned to Sebastian, blinking innocently. “Why did he suddenly turn and leave?”
Sebastian cleared the glower from his face. Although he was wearing a mask, evidently, the gentleman had been able to feel it. “I haven’t the faintest. What do you think about the Pantheon so far?”
“Splendid,” she breathed in awe. “What do you think?”
“They certainly know how to make an impact.”
“You don’t like it?” She looked up at him in shock.
“I don’t,” he nodded. “I prefer more understated elegance.”
“You think this is gaudy?”
“A trifle.”
Two young ladies, fox masks on their faces, made their way into the crowd ahead of them. Aurelia took his hand firmly, no hesitation in her grip. At least in part, she was getting a feel for the more licentious atmosphere of the ball.
“Let’s go and dance,” she whispered mischievously, gripping him tightly, “lest you change your mind and leave without me.”
Sebastian could not conceive of anything less likely than him leaving without her.
For one thing, the anonymity preserved by the masks ensured that young gentlemen prowling in search of new victims would almost certainly be lured out by the shepherdess dress Aurelia wore.
Duchesses, typically, if they partook in such entertainment, did not choose to wear such humble dresses; any gentlemen on the hunt would not assume she was of elevated birth.
Best he kept his eye on her.
As they progressed past a large pillar, through the throng of people also here to dance and drink and socialize, a lady detached herself from the crowd. Dressed as one of the great queens of old—if the crown atop her head was any indication—she was tall, well-built, and probably rather handsome.
She placed a proprietorial hand on Sebastian’s arm. “Darlings,” she cooed.
Aurelia raised her chin in that combative way she had when she was displeased. Sebastian shook the lady’s hand away. “Do you know us?” Aurelia demanded.
“No.” The stranger winked. “But I should like to all the same.”
“I should like to dance,” Sebastian interrupted. “Shepherdess?”
Aurelia stepped into the circle of his arms without question, and the lady chuckled, fluttering her fan at them before taking herself away.
“Did you know her?” Aurelia asked.
“Not in the slightest. Dressed like this, no one will know anyone.”
“Then why did she approach us?”
“She was trying her luck—and by the way she behaved, wasn’t expecting to see much from it.” He shrugged. “Does it matter? We shall likely end up conversing with several other complete strangers over the course of the night. Some will be interested in you, some in me, and some in both.”
Although he could see very little of Aurelia’s face, he knew her cheeks were heating. “…Both?”
“Yes. I’d wager that lady was hoping for both.” He leaned in a little. “Scandalized, little mouse?”
“Do such things truly occur here?”
“Many things occur here that are never discussed in the light of day. That is what anonymity means.” He pulled her closer, his blood heating at the slight curve of her waist under his hand.
By the feel of it, she was wearing no stays or corset, and that made his blood hum still more.
Her hair appeared gilded in the candlelight, and the press of her breasts against his chest as he drew her closer made him impatient to tear at her clothes.
“Believe me, darling. I have no intention of sharing you with anyone else. You are mine, shepherdess. And I have no intention of letting you go so another gentleman can claim you.”
She tilted her head with an audacious smile. “Do you think me so easily claimed?”
“I would rather not find out.”
“Then let us dance.” The hand braced against his shoulder moved to his neck, and she cupped it in full view of the ballroom. “How about this? Is this appropriate for the venue?”
If he pulled her any closer, she would become acquainted with precisely how inappropriate he was feeling. “You could kiss me,” he growled, “and the only response here would be to bid us go into a more darkened corner.” As, indeed, had many other couples. He hoped she didn’t look.
Or, perhaps, he hoped she would.
There was a reason masquerade balls were not deemed suitable for young, unmarried ladies. And why anonymity was so very important.
Without anyone knowing their identities, they could do as they chose—within reason.
Aurelia’s eyes were clear behind her mask as she peeked up at him. To his relief, neither of their masks extended past their mouths. It was a risk to leave themselves so open to discovery, but he suspected that no one would be able to identify them by their lips alone.
No one knew Aurelia well enough, he fancied, and he had been a recluse long enough that the world had largely forgotten his face.
“Then take me to a darkened corner,” Aurelia whispered, her voice clear and her eyes deliciously dark. “And kiss me.”