Chapter 8
S imon had never been one for masquerades. Although they offered decadent fun where one could take advantage of hidden identities and avoid consequences for an evening, he personally found wearing a mask aggravating.
Something about not being able to see from his peripheral put him on edge. Which was ridiculous considering he would be in a Mayfair ballroom and not an active battlefield.
Still, he kept his mask in hand rather than wear it while he waited on the second-floor gallery for Hannah to join him. The evening would be torture enough. No need to start it before absolutely necessary.
Torture was perhaps a strong word to describe attending a lavish ball, but Simon could not conjure any other word that might encompass what he had experienced these last few days, and was sure to experience this evening.
Being with Hannah was torture.
Returning to an amiable relationship had seemed like a blessing at first. His animosity had snuffed out the light in Hannah, but it reappeared quickly when they began their marriage anew.
But he had soon learned that the anger was easy to forget. The rest of it?
That was proving quite difficult to forget.
He knew exactly what she felt like in his arms, the salty-sweet taste of her skin, the soft whimper she made when his tongue touched her own. Now that he had sampled her, resisting her proved increasingly difficult.
But resist he must.
He and Hannah were friends. Only ever friends.
There would be no more anger, no more spiteful words or treacherous actions, and definitely no more lust. Tonight, Simon would be the perfectly proper gentleman, and Hannah would be the delicately demure lady.
The door to her bedchamber opened, and Hannah appeared, a breathtaking vision stepping out onto the second-floor gallery.
Hannah had decided on the peacock motif after seeing the vibrant, iridescent colours of an elaborate peacock mask in a shop they had visited days before. The mask covered half the face, its bottom forming a sharp, white beak that rested just above the wearer’s mouth. Vibrant blue enamel coated the rest of the mask, its smooth surface contrasting with the intricate, gold feather pattern embossed on it. Three iridescent peacock feathers, their eyes shimmering, bloomed from the top to form a magnificent plume.
The mask had captivated Hannah, so he had no choice but to purchase it for her then and there, insisting it was perfect for the masquerade.
He had suggested commissioning a new dress to match, but she had told him there would not be time to have a new dress made before the ball. She assured him that she had a dress that could be altered enough to go along with the mask.
She had been correct. The ball dress was a rich blue, its low neckline embroidered in the pattern of the eyespots on a peacock’s tail feather. The gigot sleeves were green and accentuated the alluring slope of her bare shoulders. A bandeau in the same colour as the dress held back her golden hair, where it was pinned high on her crown, adorned with more peacock feathers. A beautiful plumage indeed.
“You look lovely, Hannah.”
“I feel like the cock of the walk!” She preened for a moment before giggling and then gave Simon a once over. “And my, my, my, Simon. We shall need to be careful on our way to the ball. I would not want the authorities to be confused and arrest you for piracy. You cut exactly the dashing figure I would expect to find on the high seas.”
Simon’s face flushed, but thankfully he had the perfect excuse to hide it, putting on his mask to give Hannah the full effect.
He had always chosen to dress as a pirate for masquerades. It was easy enough to wear his blackest and plainest coat, waistcoat, and breeches. The only change from his standard evening wear was a Monmouth cap and a simple black mask that covered the top half of his face.
“You do not find my mask intimidating?” he asked.
“You could never intimidate me, Simon.”
That ought to bring a smile to his face. After all, a gentleman never wanted to intimidate a lady. A gentleman’s purpose was to ensure a lady was always at ease and comfortable.
And yet a primal part of him wanted her to feel unease in his presence. Because if she did not feel intimidated by him, it meant she saw him as safe.
No danger at all.
Practically a eunuch .
A depressing notion, but he would not let it ruin their evening. He knew Hannah had been looking forward to it for days.
“Shall we be off?” he asked her. “The masquerade is always well-attended. The receiving line is certain to be endless.”
It was an accurate prediction as it took them nearly half an hour to make their way through the line to greet Lord and Lady Aston-Higgins and then join the other guests in the two-storey ballroom. Mirrors covered nearly all the walls, making the large room appear even more vast and filled with double, if not triple, the amount of guests on the polished wood floor.
Half-a-dozen giant chandeliers illuminated the guests and their costumes. They ran the gamut from the most elaborate—was that woman’s headdress a fully sculpted Sphinx?—to the least amount of effort needed—Lord Fairfax wore a pair of spectacles with no glass.
Lady Aston-Higgins had spared no expense with the refreshments, an elaborate table offering up dozens of different sweet confections and circulating footmen served glasses brimming with ratafia and champagne.
“It is beautiful,” Hannah said, although Simon could barely hear her over the high-spirited voices of the other guests as they joined the throng. With their masks in place, people felt free to let go of their inhibitions and indulge, their voices louder, their laughter more carefree.
He would have to be careful to not let himself get carried away.
“Oh, there is Miss Arabella and Miss Isabella!” He turned in the direction Hannah was facing, but he could not pick out the two young ladies from the other guests. “The fairies!”
Sure enough, there stood two young ladies in ivory dresses, the skirts layered with diaphanous material that caught the candlelight, the gauzy fabric of their overly large sleeves giving the illusion of wings.
Although he had not recognized the fairy girls, he did recognize Oberon and Titania holding court beside them. Rothsay had always enjoyed masquerades, loving the chance to dress up in elaborate costumes and masks. Tonight, he was perfect as the Fairy King and Cat made the perfect Fairy Queen.
While his friend was no stranger to masquerades, it was interesting to see Lord Rothsay, the subject of more than a few scandalous incidents in his time, now attending one as chaperone to two young ladies and with his wife on his arm.
And also interesting that Simon was here with Hannah on his arm.
Our lives certainly have changed. I only hope for the better.
The ladies exchanged greetings, exclaiming over one another’s masks and dresses while he and Rothsay shook hands.
“We already have our first three dances claimed,” Miss Isabella proudly declared to Hannah.
“The gentlemen descended the moment we arrived,” Cat said. “I shall have to send a note to our cook when we arrive home to ensure we have plenty of biscuits for calling hours tomorrow.”
“And there goes the peace of my home,” Rothsay said with a pressed sigh and Cat shook her head at her husband.
“Do not be a complainer, dear. We promised Lady Nott that the girls would have a successful season. We do not want to let her down.”
“Certainly not. The lady would come for my head once her leg is healed.”
“Oh, there is Caroline!”
Hannah’s exclamation drew his attention to the young lady with kohl thick and dark around her eyes to go along with her Egyptian wig and dress. The Viscountess Carrick, dressed in a similar costume, accompanied her.
Hannah happily greeted both ladies before making the introductions. “And you remember Simon, Lady Carrick.”
Simon had not seen Lady Carrick since that first night at Cosburn Park and was unsure how she would react to seeing him now that he was married to her dead son’s fiancée .
“My heartiest congratulations on your marriage,” Lady Carrick said with a sincere smile.
Of the many congratulations he had received, Lady Carrick’s touched him the most. Considering the circumstances, one might expect her to be consumed by bitterness at the mere thought of Hannah marrying another man. It would be a reminder that her son was not here, fulfilling all the hopes she had held for him. However, the viscountess displayed remarkable grace tonight, no trace of resentment towards either of them.
“Thank you, Lady Carrick,” Simon said, offering her a deep bow.
“I am delighted to see you so happy, my dear,” Lady Carrick assured Hannah with an affectionate squeeze of her hand. “And you look quite lovely as a peacock.”
The majordomo announced that the dancing would begin, and the Bellas let out an excited squeal in unison. It was not long before their partners came to find them, along with Caroline’s, whisking the ladies off to the dance floor.
“Ah, to be young again,” Lady Carrick said with a sigh. “Although I suppose age is not all bad. No dancing with uncoordinated oafs and no one judges old matrons when they indulge at the refreshments table. If you will excuse me, I have been eyeing those éclairs since we arrived and now is my chance.”
Lady Carrick went off to the refreshment table, leaving the two couples together. Simon expected that he and Hannah would pass the time with Cat and Rothsay, yet Rothsay had already taken Cat’s hand.
“If you will excuse us, I intend to take advantage of the masks to dance with my wife without commentary from others,” Rothsay said with an affectionate grin for Cat. “We never had the opportunity to dance at a ball before we were married.”
With that, the couple left for the dance floor, leaving Simon and Hannah alone.
Unlike Rothsay, Simon had danced with his wife before. It had been at her first visit to Almack’s after her presentation, when he had done so at his sister’s insistence, as she did not want Hannah to stand on the side for any set.
That night had been painful, and not just because Hannah had stepped on his toes. He had to watch her dance her first set with John, knowing that now that she had been presented to society, their marriage would soon follow, ending any hope Simon had of Hannah reciprocating his feelings.
How ironic that Simon had ended up as her husband in the end, yet still had no hope she would reciprocate his feelings.
Hannah watched the couples filling the dance floor with longing and although he knew that putting himself so close to Hannah might not be the wisest decision, he could not stop himself from offering his hand. “Shall we join them?”
Her eyes grew wide with excitement behind her mask, but she hesitated to take his hand. “You should know my dancing has not improved in the intervening years. Are you willing to risk your toes?”
“They will heal.”
Her dazzling smile as she settled her hand in his own made it all worth it.
“I know I am a poor dancer, but I adore it all the same,” she said as he led them to the dance floor. “I never imagined I would have the opportunity for it now that I’m married.”
Etiquette prevented married couples from dancing except at the most private of events, yet, as Rothsay stated, no one would comment on it this evening.
“Lucky us then,” he said. “We do not have to be the people we are at a masquerade. Tonight we have the freedom to be whomever we want.”
As they joined the set, he decided to be someone whose partner reciprocated his feelings and did not see him as only a friend at best and a replacement for a dead man at worst.
It would never be true, but he would happily indulge in the fantasy, if only for a brief, joyful dance.
***
Hannah thought it impossible to find anything at the masquerade ball that she did not completely adore, but as the evening continued, she finally discovered one aspect she disliked: perspiration.
The ballroom had grown warmer as more guests arrived, and her lively dance set with Simon only warmed her more.
Not that Hannah would forgo the dancing to avoid damp collars and cuffs. The galopede proved delightful fun, the Harlequins, Pharaohs, Pucks, and Muses bouncing around them in strange pairs. And she had only stepped on Simon’s toes thrice during the dance, a personal best.
As delightful as the dance was, now that it was over, she longed for fresh air.
Thankfully, fresh air was easy to find as the ballroom had been designed to allow the guests to spill out onto the garden terrace when the half-a-dozen doors on the back wall were opened.
The terrace had steps that led to the Aston-Higgins gardens, lavender lining the flagstone path and pleasantly scenting the cool night air for the guests who strolled along it.
Four stone paths, aligned to the cardinal directions, formed a geometric pattern throughout the gardens, each path ending in its own unique feature. A hedge maze to the north, a lily-pad covered pond in the west, rose bushes in various shades to the south and the lavender field they walked through at the eastern end of the garden.
“I’ve been told the pond has statues of all the characters in Twelfth Night ,” Simon said. “Shall we see them?”
With a nod from her, they headed west, torches illuminating the path before them.
“This evening has been wonderful,” she said. “It has been ages since I’ve had so much fun.”
“Since before our marriage, I assume,” Simon said, but his voice held no edge to it. In fact, his voice seemed to carry a hint of sadness to it.
“No, it was quite a long time before we married. If I am honest, it has been years since I truly had fun.”
“Since you lost John,” Simon said.
“No. Well, yes, but also no.”
Simon chuckled, and she huffed out a breath as she tried to think of a way to explain it as they came upon a statue of Olivia on a plinth. How fitting to be before a woman so grief-stricken at the loss of her brother, she vowed to mourn him for seven years.
“After John passed, I felt as if I would never move beyond the grief. It was all-consuming. I thought there was no escape. But then time passed, and I found it easier. Day by day, the grief faded and soon I found myself able to smile again. Then came laughter and amusements and fun. Or at least I believed that I was having fun. But being here —not only tonight’s ball, but here in London—the world has opened up to me. I have realized how much of the world I missed by hiding myself away at Cosburn Park.”
“I am glad you are enjoying living in Town,” he said.
“It is a whole other world,” she said, shaking her head in wonder. “And one I am glad to explore.”
They continued their stroll around the pond, passing by the statues of Duke Orsino, Viola, and Malvolio in a companionable silence, moving further away from the noise and light of the house. They came upon a pergola standing on the edge of the pond, ivy climbing thick and wild over it, transforming the structure into a dark tunnel.
It was only when they were within a few feet of it that Hannah spied the couple kissing within its shadows. The woman clung desperately to the man’s shoulders as he cupped the back of her neck with one large hand, the other resting possessively on her hip. It was a heated embrace, yet Hannah shivered as she watched them kiss, goosebumps pricking at her skin.
When the man dropped his hands to the woman’s bottom, lifting her up so he could turn and press her back against one of the pergola posts, the shiver was gone in a wash of heat that made Hannah ache, her flesh, muscle, and blood humming as a strange awareness washed through her.
Simon’s grip on her arm tightened, and he pulled her away from the pergola at the same moment she spotted the familiar masks discarded at the couple’s feet. How lucky for Lady Rothsay that she shared such passion with her husband.
Hannah was grateful Simon had the sense to steer her away from the couple, otherwise she would still be standing there gawking at their friends. How embarrassing.
She was not sure why she had been so arrested at the sight. It was not the first time she had stumbled across a couple in such a situation. Cosburn Park had hosted too many house parties with free-flowing alcohol over the years for her to avoid it completely. Yet the sight of Lord and Lady Rothsay had affected her like no other before it.
Perhaps it was because they were young and newly married, still full of passion and happiness. They were an example of what a good marriage could be, what all couples should aspire to have. They made her feel sorry for the people who would never have such a perfect union.
People like you and Simon.
The chilling realization of what she had taken from Simon washed over her, the intoxicating thrill in her veins vanishing in its wake.
Not only had she robbed him of the opportunity to marry a woman he truly loved, the vows she had foisted on him meant he could not experience that kind of heated passion without dishonouring himself.
She had taken more from him than she ever imagined.
“I am sorry.”
Hannah started as Simon’s apology to her broke the silence. It was puzzling, given her realization, and so she asked, “Whatever are you sorry for?”
“I am sorry that you had to witness that. I hope you do not judge Lord and Lady Rothsay too poorly because of it. I know that it has shocked you—”
“I am not shocked.”
“You have been silent since we spotted them.”
True enough, but how could she explain her silence was not from shock at witnessing the couple but from disappointment in herself?
“I should be the one to apologize, Simon. I have robbed you of what Lord and Lady Rothsay have.” Simon frowned in confusion. “The passion, the intimacy, the affection. You said you would honour your vow of fidelity, which means you will never experience it. That is my fault, and I am sorry.”
They were now on the other side of the pond, far away from the torches on the paths, but the moon was bright enough that she could see the blush darkening Simon’s cheeks.
“Do not trouble yourself on the matter.”
His clipped tone was intended to end the discussion, but Hannah was never adept at listening.
“But it does trouble me. It is not fair to you.”
“Please do not again suggest I find a mistress,” he said, his clipped tone now carrying a hint of anger.
No, she would not dare do that again. Although not only because of how angry he had become the last time. The image of Simon and that dark-haired mistress she had conjured in her mind caused a gnawing discomfort she did not want.
There were few solutions to the predicament she had put them in and little she could do to make amends. Short of offering herself up to him, of course.
Ah, what a ridiculous thought! A wife offering herself to husband, as if he did not have a right to her if he so chose to take her. Not that Simon would ever force himself on her, no matter how many years of celibacy he experienced, but it was still his right.
Yes, the idea of a wife offering husbandly rights as some prize was truly ridiculous.
Or was it? Some marriages were negotiated on such a principle when a much needed heir was required to be produced from the union.
Yet that was procreation, which was quite different from fornication, as even the Book of Prayer designated.
And now she sounded like Mr. Farris, the vicar at Cosburn Park.
She should not even be thinking about such things! Had she not already offered herself up to him after dinner at Rothsay House, and he had left her? He had made his interest in her quite clear, and it did not involve passion.
Well, that was not entirely true. He had kissed her back both times and he had told her all those wicked things he wanted to do to her. Yet when she had told him that she wanted him to touch her, he had rejected her. Had her eagerness disgusted him?
She knew her mind would not leave the thought alone, needling at her to find an answer. Now was as good a time as any to get the answer.
“Why have you not claimed your husbandly rights?”
His head whipped around, his eyes wide, their whites bright in contrast to the black mask he wore. “I beg your pardon?”
“We are married. There is nothing stopping you from claiming your husbandly rights, but you have not. Why?”
“I would never force you into anything, Hannah,” he said with a graveness that touched her.
“Not with force, certainly,” she said, struggling how to word it. Perhaps she should simply echo his heady words from the night of the Rothsay dinner. “You said you wanted to kiss me, to touch me, to taste me.”
Simon’s eyes went even wider, although she noticed his pupils were also much larger now.
“You said you did not want me to use you,” she continued, “But do you want to use me?”
He shook his head. “You should not speak of yourself as if you are an object. You are a human being, Hannah. One with her own thoughts and emotions and desires. You should never let anyone use you for anything. You are worth much more than that.”
A touching sentiment, but it was not what she meant. It was time to be blunt.
“‘I want to take you in all the ways I’ve dreamed of , ’” she quoted his words back to him. “Tell me about your dreams.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth before flicking back up to meet her eyes. “Hannah…”
“I was not using you when I kissed you, Simon. I kissed you because I was drawn to you. Just as I am drawn to you now.”
She watched his Adam’s apple bob at his throat as he swallowed before taking a step back.
“You can’t say these things, Hannah. It makes it difficult to resist.”
“Why must you resist?” she asked as she stepped towards him.
“Is this not a betrayal of John?”
“No,” she answered quickly, but then a stab of guilt made her reconsider. “Maybe. I do not know.”
His mouth curved up in a sad smile. “And that is why I must resist, Hannah. You have been swept up in the excitement of the masquerade. You are forgetting yourself. The enchantment of a new life in Town, the decadence of the ton …it can make it difficult to sort out your thoughts. I would never want you to do something you would regret in the morning’s light. Now, we should return to the house. Supper will soon be called, and Lady Aston-Higgins sets quite the table.”
He offered his arm to her, ever the proper gentleman, and Hannah found herself unable to argue with his firm stance.
Besides, did she truly want to beg him? And for what?
She was not even certain what she wanted from him. Only kisses? Gentle petting? To have him take her in the way a husband took a wife?
Considering the way her body warmed at the thought, apparently so.
She was grateful that her mask hid her blush as Simon led them back to the house and that acquaintances of Simon’s immediately waylaid them.
They exchanged more introductions and congratulations on their marriage and Hannah easily slipped into the conversation on the lovely evening everyone was having, hoping to distract herself from such lustful yet confusing thoughts.
It did not work, her mind continuing to work over the problem of what she wanted even as they had supper, which was quite delicious, but also deepened her confusion.
Simon was every bit the solicitous supper companion, constantly ensuring her plate was filled with delectable treats. Did he not understand that such behaviour only deepened her confusion? Was he doing it on purpose?
No, Simon would never take such devious actions. He was a gentleman through and through. He was merely ensuring the lady in his company was comfortable as any decent gentleman would.
After supper, he had taken her back to the dance floor, enjoying a quadrille, before they promenaded through the room where he introduced her as his wife to the guests he knew, all eager to know the new Mrs. Langley. Promises to join one another at the opera and the theatre, invitations to dinner parties, balls, and even a house party during hunting season had all come, sweeping Hannah up in excitement again.
At Cosburn Park, her schedule had been so routine that she never needed a diary; she remembered any deviations so well that the date and time were etched in her mind. She would certainly need one now.
Simon was right when he had said this was a new life for her. All of this was quite foreign, yet she liked it. She had always believed herself a country girl, but she was learning otherwise.
She loved the city with the museums and the theatre and masquerade balls that lasted so long that the rising sun was already turning the sky pink when she and Simon eventually returned home.
As Simon escorted her into their house and upstairs to her rooms, Sarah’s words came back to her.
You grew into the perfect woman for John, but not into your true self.
Sarah had been right. Hannah had played the country girl because it was what John wanted. He hated being in Town. He wanted his life on his family’s estate, and she wanted John. It had been simple back then to turn herself into what he wanted, as she had only ever known that country life.
Now that she had a taste of the London Life, she knew what she had been missing and she was desperate to experience it all.
That realization was a distraction as Simon bid her a friendly goodnight, leaving her with her maid, who helped prepare her for bed. Thankfully, Archer was not one for much chatter, allowing Hannah to consider exactly what her revelation meant as she undressed.
The cloud of confusion was gone now. It was as if before she had been a child and now she was a grown woman. She had learned that she was a much more complicated person than she once thought and there was much she had missed out on in life.
She lived in a black and white world for so long, perhaps to keep everything simple. She was meant to be with John and so she loved John. But then he died, and so she thought it meant she was to be forever alone. However, she did not understand what it meant to be truly alone. She did not understand what she was depriving herself of because she had experienced so little of life.
Now that she was beginning to truly live, she was beginning to desire so much more.
And she desired her husband. He made her feel good again, and she was desperate for more of it.
It would be up to her to make that happen. He had said they could be free tonight. Now was her chance for that.
Hannah was quick to dismiss Archer once she was stripped down to her chemise, assuring the girl she would plait her own hair in bed as she was ready to lie down. She even played the part by climbing into bed as the maid left the room, but the moment the door was closed, she was back on her feet, yanking her chemise over her head and wrapping her nude body in her dressing gown.
She did not bother with slippers before padding out of her bedchamber, as she did not plan to go too far. The rising sun made it easy to cross the floor to Simon’s bedchamber door. She did not bother to knock and grinned when she turned the knob and found it unlocked, slipping easily inside.
Despite the drawn drapes, enough light seeped around the edges for her to see Simon in bed. He sat up at her entry, the counterpane falling away to reveal a familiar bare chest. Although this time it was not dappled with water droplets as it had been when he stood up in his bath and showed her everything .
“Hannah, what is it?” he asked urgently, obviously believing she had invaded his rooms because of some dire emergency.
“I will not regret it,” she told him as she turned the key in the doorknob, locking it behind her before moving towards the bed. “Today, tomorrow. It does not matter. I will not regret it.”
His brow furrowed in confusion as she reached the edge of the bed and laid a hand on his bare chest. His gaze dropped to her touch, then lifted to meet her searching eyes. “What do you want, Hannah?”
“I want you, Simon.”