Chapter One
A s the orchestra’s melodic strains resonated through the grand ballroom, Lady Juliana Wyndham paused just inside the gilded doors, allowing herself a moment to absorb the spectacle. She inhaled deeply. Tonight was a display of splendor, but for Juliana, it carried the tantalizing promise of escape—if only she dared to seize it.
From behind her mask, her gaze swept over the opulent chamber. Crystal chandeliers scattered light across polished floors, while silk draperies framed soaring windows. Elegantly clad couples spun to the music, their laughter and conversation filling the air. Anticipation fluttered in Juliana’s chest, mingling with a trepidation she could not entirely banish.
Clad in a gown of green satin that complemented her auburn curls and fair skin, Juliana embodied poise and beauty. Yet beneath her composed exterior lay a restless yearning—for connection, for authenticity, for freedom from the suffocating expectations of her station.
“Smile, my dear,” her mother, the Duchess of Exitor, murmured. Her bejeweled mask could not soften her hawkish gaze, which swept over the room with practiced precision. “This evening is not for idleness. Your father and I expect you to secure a match befitting the Wyndham name.”
“Yes, Mama,” Juliana replied placidly, smiling demurely. Inside, though, her heart clenched. If only for one night, she wished to simply be Juliana—not the daughter of a duke, but a young woman yearning for something real.
A trumpet fanfare silenced the room, drawing every eye to the grand entrance. Juliana turned, her curiosity piqued as a striking figure entered. He was clad in impeccably tailored black superfine, his onyx mask concealing much of his face but failing to obscure his commanding presence. His broad shoulders and sharp jawline exuded quiet strength, while the faint curve of his lips hinted at roguish confidence.
As the man descended the marble staircase, the crowd parted for him, their whispers trailing in his wake. Juliana’s breath caught when their eyes met. A jolt of awareness surged through her, swift and undeniable. A shiver ran down her spine, equal parts thrill and alarm.
“There is something unsettling about that one,” her father muttered, his expression darkening as he followed Juliana’s line of sight. “I must speak to our hostess. A man of his ilk has no place here.”
Juliana forced herself to look away. “Please, let it be, Father,” she whispered, keeping her tone calm. “It is a masquerade, after all. We are all but strangers tonight.” The last thing she wanted was for her father to cause a scene, drawing attention to a man who already held too much of her own.
The orchestra struck up a lively country dance. Juliana steeled herself. Dreams of mystery and romance had no place here. “If you will excuse me.” She dipped into a graceful curtsy. “My dance partner approaches.”
She allowed herself to be led onto the polished floor by a gentleman in a blue silk waistcoat that matched his mask. Though he was polite and adept at the steps, his chatter barely penetrated her thoughts. Her gaze kept drifting to the man in black, who lingered at the edge of the room, his piercing eyes following her every move.
“You seem distracted, my lady,” her partner teased. “I fear I am boring you.”
Juliana offered a faint smile. “Not at all, sir. You are a most engaging partner.”
The dance ended. Juliana curtsied before slipping away under the pretense of seeking fresh air. In truth, she needed a moment to steady her racing heart and untangle the strange pull she felt toward the enigmatic man.
Turning a corner, she nearly collided with him. Startled, she glanced up to find his intense blue eyes fixed on hers, his proximity sending her pulse into a gallop.
“Forgive me,” she faltered.
“No forgiveness is necessary,” he assured her, his lips curving into a faint smile. “It seems we both sought refuge from the crowd.”
Juliana hesitated, the sensible part of her mind urging her to retreat. But something about his presence—his steady gaze, his quiet confidence—rooted her in place. “Perhaps we share more than a distaste for stifling ballrooms,” she suggested, her tone teasing yet cautious.
“Perhaps,” he agreed, tilting his head as though considering her. “And what else might we share?”
Juliana allowed herself a small smile. “A preference for genuine conversation over hollow pleasantries.”
His smile deepened. “A rare trait, indeed. May I propose we indulge it?”
Despite the warning echoing in her mind—her father’s admonition, the ever-present rules of decorum—she found herself nodding. “Very well. But I must warn you, I am not inclined to flatter or be flattered.”
“Then we are well matched.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?”
Juliana hesitated only a moment before placing her hand on his elbow, the warmth of his touch sparking a thrill. He led her back into the ballroom just as the orchestra began the strains of a waltz. Taking their places on the floor, they moved together as though they had shared countless dances over the years. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the music and the unspoken connection between them.
“You dance beautifully,” he murmured.
“And you flatter shamelessly,” she replied, though a warmth spread through her chest.
“Flattery has no place here.” His eyes locked onto hers. “Only truth. And the truth is, I feel as though I have known you far longer than this moment.”
Her breath caught at the raw honesty in his tone. With him, she was truly seen—not as the daughter of a duke, but as herself.
As the final notes of the waltz faded, he kept her hand in his. “Come with me,” he insisted softly. “Just for a moment.”
Against her better judgment, Juliana allowed him to lead her through a side door to the terrace. The cool night air brushed her heated skin, and the moonlight bathed the gardens below in a silvery glow.
“I find myself reluctant to part from you,” he admitted, his tone raw.
“And I from you,” she replied, startled by her own candor.
He reached for her hand, his touch igniting a fire beneath her skin. “There is something between us,” he whispered. “Something I cannot explain.”
Before she could respond, the distant chime of the clock announced the midnight hour. The unmasking ceremony was about to begin.
“We should return,” she said reluctantly.
He tucked her hand through his arm, his smile reassuring. “As my lady wishes.”
Back in the ballroom, tension crackled as the guests began removing their masks. Juliana’s fingers trembled as she untied her ribbons, her gaze fixed on her companion. When his mask fell away, recognition struck her, sharp and undeniable.
“Sebastian Harcourt,” she whispered.
His jaw tightened, but his blue eyes remained steady. “Juliana Wyndham.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd as the significance of their pairing dawned on the onlookers. The longstanding feud between their families was well-known, and the sight of them together was nothing short of scandalous. It mattered not at all that the details of the original offense were shrouded in rumor and mystery. The fact was, her family and his never interacted unless they were exchanging barbs and insults—they were sworn enemies.
“Juliana, explain yourself,” her father demanded as he strode toward them, his expression thunderous.
Sebastian’s hand tightened on hers. “This is not the end,” he vowed. “We are not finished.”
As her father whisked her away, Juliana cast one last glance over her shoulder. Sebastian’s gaze held hers, firm and unflinching. At that moment, she promised herself that their story was far from over.