Chapter One #2
As the sound of music grew louder, she felt safer, but she didn’t drop the skirts of her costume until she’d reached the ballroom.
Quickly looking for the red hair of her good friend and hostess of the ball, she hurried toward Ellie, her chaperone for the weekend.
Unable to stifle the panic in her breast that the Roman soldier might be following her, she looked back over her shoulder just as she reached Ellie, accidentally bumping into her.
Sophie turned back in time to see Ellie’s punch spilling over her shepherdess costume.
“Oh, Sophie.”
She shook her head. “It was my fault. I’d best change.” She turned to leave, hoping she could avoid her assailant.
Ellie grabbed her hand. “Come to my room. I have a simple domino cape in my chest that you can wear.”
Sophie hesitated, scanning the room. There were two other Roman soldiers, but both wore masks, which meant he must have gone back into the billiard room. Assured he wasn’t about, she finally nodded.
Ellie turned to her husband. “I’ll return shortly.” At his nod, she looped her arm in Sophie’s and guided her out.
In the entryway, Sophie tensed, hearing footsteps approaching. Without thinking, she pulled Ellie up the stairs.
*
A few moments earlier
Christopher Crauford, the Viscount of Tamworth, wanted to yell in triumph as Lord Harewood admitted his loss.
It was such an uncommon occurrence that it was a reason for celebration, but Harewood was a close friend of the family, so it would not do to be so uncouth.
“I appreciate your admitting defeat and will endeavor to invest the winnings wisely.”
Lord Harewood raised his brows. “Indeed. Last I heard, you had a mistress to support.”
Christopher laughed. “That was long ago, but now that you point it out, that wouldn’t be such a bad investment.”
The earl shook his head. “I will have my solicitor contact yours when I return home.”
Again, Christopher tamped down the urge to yell and instead nodded before clapping the man on the shoulder as he headed for the door to the corridor.
The billiard room at the Marquess of Ferncroft’s home was far too staid for his enthusiasm at the moment.
Some dancing with a beautiful, mysterious woman in his arms would be much better suited to his mood.
A servant opened the double doors, and he stepped out, though he looked back. “I must celebrate this win, Harewood!”
The lord, in good form, raised his glass before turning to talk to another man, acting as if the fortune he’d just lost was of no consequence.
To a first son of the aristocracy, it was probably a pittance.
But to Christopher, what he’d won would move up his timeline nicely.
He rarely wagered, but when he was very sure he could win, he was willing to take the risk.
Facing the corridor, he forged ahead to find one of the lovely, mysterious women he’d been anxious to dance with standing there.
He grinned as he recognized the shepherdess costume of Lady Worcester, the woman he’d spent last evening with in bed.
“Ah, and what do we have here but my darling Lydia. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate than with your rosy lips. ”
He pulled her into his arms, the thrill of victory running through his veins as he claimed her mouth with his.
It took but a moment to recognize her lips were much softer than he remembered and the scent in his nostrils was more vanilla than rosemary, while the soft, curvy form beneath the costume seemed far more petite, but he had been a bit in his cups last night, so he could not depend upon his memory.
Besides, as he slipped his tongue between her lips, he tasted a sweetness so divine, he was sure he’d gone to heaven.
When his lovely lady started to squirm, he pulled back to look into her blue eyes, but they were not blue. They were green! He dropped his hands from her person immediately.
At her freedom, she picked up her skirts and ran down the corridor.
He watched her until she turned the corner and disappeared from sight. She wasn’t Lady Worcester.
“Bloody hell.” He straightened the red sash of his soldier costume, sending a whiff of vanilla into his nose.
He froze, horrified at what he’d done. He’d accosted a lady he didn’t know.
At least, he didn’t think he knew her. No, he’d remember such a pleasant scent and eyes that reminded him of lady ferns, bright green with specks of yellow.
How could he have made such a complete faux pas? As a second son, his manners had to be above reproach if he were ever to succeed in having what his brother had. What if the little shepherdess were the wife of a peer? Would he be banned from Society for his error?
No, her reaction to his kiss had been far too innocent. But if she were a maiden, would she expect a proposal forthwith? Did she even now run to her parents to demand they approach him?
He shivered at the thought. He needed to rectify the situation posthaste.
He headed in the direction she’d gone. He would apologize…
in private, but not too private. Damn, he was always happy to enjoy a willing woman, but never did he intend to harm a lady.
Luckily, because of the costumes, he could apologize without drawing too much attention to her.
He should never have let his win over Harewood cloud his judgment so thoroughly.
He knew better, but seeing his goal of owning a country estate within reach had distracted him.