Chapter 3
Julian peered through the carriage window as he approached Ravenscar House, which he knew nearly as well as his own, instantly amazed, for it looked entirely different from how he had ever seen it before.
The long drive was illuminated by rows of lanterns and torchlight, their golden glow flickering against the darkness. Carriages rolled in one after another, wheels crunching over gravel, liveried footmen stepping forward to assist masked guests into the night air.
Every window of Ravenscar House glowed with candlelight, giving the illusion that the entire house was aflame with warmth and anticipation.
Music was already drifting outside, just loud enough for the violins to be faintly heard over carriage wheels, the low murmur of voices reaching Julian as he disembarked from his carriage and started up the stairs.
There was something theatrical about tonight. Intentional. As though the house itself was inviting secrets.
Julian loved it.
Garlands of greenery were draped along the sweeping banister of the grand staircase when he stepped through the foyer, where no host was there to greet him, adding to the mystique of the evening.
Satin ribbons in midnight blue, burgundy, and gold were woven through the railing spindles, catching the candlelight.
Dozens — no, hundreds — of candles burned in sconces and candelabra, reflected in polished marble floors and gilt mirrors.
Beeswax, fresh greenery, and perfume filled the air, much of it from the people moving around him.
Footmen moved efficiently, collecting cloaks. They wore masks just as the guests did, adding to the evening's mystery.
No one was necessarily who they seemed.
Which meant that tonight would invite mischief. Encourage boldness.
Allowing guests, for a few fleeting hours, to become someone else entirely.
Julian adjusted his black mask, knowing he might not be the most disguised, but still, everyone would pretend they didn’t know who the other was, which was the way of the masquerade.
Julian usually liked to take full advantage, finding his prey and becoming the hunter.
They all came willingly.
“Good evening,” he said in the ears of a few women as he made his way through the crowd. He received quite a few appreciative looks, but he wasn’t committing—not yet. He hadn’t seen all there was to offer, and he didn’t want to make any promises before he found the one who called to him the most.
He was trying to find the dance floor to see who would be on display, but he was stopped momentarily by a hand that reached out and grabbed his elbow.
“Julian.”
“Asher,” he said, greeting his friend in a low voice. He would recognize that build anywhere. They had known one another for so long that it would have been more surprising had they not recognized each other. “Where is your better half?”
“Still upstairs. She wasn’t quite ready.”
“She doesn’t strike me as the type to overly care about things like this.”
“She’s not,” Asher agreed. “I have a feeling she will be most interested in solving the puzzle of whom everyone is.”
“I could see that,” Julian said before looking around to make sure no one could overhear their conversation. “How is your other puzzle—the one about the disappearance of a certain item?”
Asher sighed loudly. “That has not gone so well, but we’re going to forget about it for tonight.”
“Very well, I’m happy to do so,” Julian said. To be honest, he wished the entire thing would just go away.
“As for tomorrow,” Asher said with a sigh, “that will be another story.”
Julian nodded but then was slightly startled at Asher’s sharp intake of breath.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking around quickly, but when he followed Asher’s gaze, he realized that there was nothing at all wrong with his friend. In fact, everything was right.
Descending the stairs was Evelyn, resplendent in a dark red gown, tight around her bodice and then swirling around her, almost like a cape.
“Asher,” Julian said, appreciating her without any intent beyond admiration, “she looks stunning.”
But Asher wasn’t paying him any attention. Instead, he was approaching his wife, waiting with his hand outstretched.
And when she reached the bottom of the stairs, her mask would fool no one, for Asher placed a kiss on the top of her hand, lingering for so long that there would be no doubt to anyone watching just who she belonged to.
Julian watched them with a smile, despite his jealousy at being alone, which was made even more apparent by the fact that Asher had someone.
Aware that he would now be completely ignored by the two of them as they fawned over each other, Julian took that as his cue to continue his rounds.
His gaze meandered over the crowd until he stopped so suddenly that he nearly tripped over himself.
For there, standing on the edge of the dance floor, was a vision so radiant that he wondered if he was hallucinating.
A semi-circle of people had stopped around her, equally taken.
She was draped in a deep purple gown that caught the light and seemed to shimmer with every breath she took, falling over perfect curves that looked as if they were built for loving. Her ample, perfect breasts were practically spilling out of the neckline, his hands itching to cup them.
Her mask was larger than most, concealing much of her face, but even from here, Julian could see eyes that seemed to shift between lavender and blue behind it. Opposing the style of the day, her blonde hair fell in waves around her shoulders, a few perfectly placed curls framing her face.
Julian couldn’t breathe for a moment.
Who was she? He prided himself on knowing everyone worth knowing in society, yet he couldn’t recall ever seeing this woman before.
She stood with perfect posture, her chin lifted just slightly, challenging all who looked upon her to discover who she was and what mysteries she held behind that mask.
Julian took one step forward, and then another, intent on discovering that very secret, but stopped when another man reached her first.
The Marquess of Eastclere.
Was he everywhere?
Asher and the marquess had had their moments pitted against one another in the past, but Julian had never had any particular ill will toward the man.
Not that Julian ever had much ill will toward anyone.
Until now.
Now he was practically seething with rage that someone would dare to get in his way.
The woman agreed to a dance with the marquess, however, so Julian could do nothing but wait.
He stood on the side of the dance floor, arms crossed as he stared down the woman before him.
He noticed his brother and his wife across the room, but he ignored them for now.
On Saturday, he had gone to the dinner his brother had practically ordered him to attend, and had sat through it as the dutiful son and brother, listening to his mother drone on about all of the young women who would make him a good match, for the very fact that they came from “good” families and had considerable dowries.
Julian had no desire for that.
He would make a poor husband. No one kept his attention for particularly long periods of time, and Asher and James were right. He abhorred responsibility and enjoyed his life of leisure. Even if he could admit that it was becoming monotonous at times.
Made more so since Asher stopped partaking.
When the dance finally came to an end, he began to stride forward, intent on making his claim for the next, but he was thwarted yet again when the woman paused, allowing the marquess to bow over her hand, and then practically ran from the room, across the other side of the dance floor, and away from him.
Where was she going, and why was she running? Had the marquess done something to her? Said something to her?
Julian was not going to stand around and wait to find out.
He took off after her, weaving around guests, intent on discovering not only her identity but what could cause her such alarm.
It struck him—for just a moment—that for the first time in his life, he was the one who wanted to fix a wrong. Usually, he was happy to let that honor go to someone else, for it was far too much work.
But whatever had chased this woman away, he wanted to be the one to bring her back.
He thought he lost her, but then he caught a glimpse of purple, shimmering below one of the many candelabras, and he continued his chase, seeing the terrace door open before she disappeared through it.
Asher had a small garden in the back, and Julian guessed that she was going to escape to it, making him wonder yet again what she was hiding beneath that mask.
He slipped through the terrace doors himself, where the night greeted him, cool and sweet after the cloying heat of the ballroom.
Not wanting to scare the woman away, his steps forward were slow and measured. He couldn’t say exactly what drew him to one corner of the garden, but it was almost as though he sensed her rather than saw her, leaning against the side of the small pergola near where the trees hugged the sides.
He approached slowly, trying not to startle her and not seem like he was creeping up on her.
“Good evening,” he said as he moved slowly toward her.
She pushed away from the side of the pergola, whirling around.
“G-good evening,” she said.
“My apologies. If you would prefer to be alone, I will leave you be, but I was concerned when you appeared to leave the ballroom so abruptly.”
“Were you watching me, my lord?”
“I am not a lord tonight.”
“Then what shall I call you?” Her lips turned up into a beautiful smile beneath her satin purple mask.
“How about ‘my hero’?”
Her laugh tinkled in the air, resonating through the dark night.
“And just what are you saving me from?”
“Why, from all of the men in there who are ready to pounce upon you the moment you return.”
“Oh, I hardly think that is the case.”
Julian lifted his brow. If he wasn’t wrong, this woman was completely oblivious to the effect she was having on everyone within.
On him.
"You know you are stunning, my lady.”
“Thank you. It’s the gown.”
“It’s not the gown,” Julian said, stepping forward. “It’s you.”
She looked down for a moment. “I am certain you say that to all of the women.”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I do not always mean it. Tonight, I do.”
“I have no desire to be another of your conquests, sir.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“I have a fairly good idea.”
“Then will you tell me your own name?”
She tilted her head as she stared at him, considering.
Julian had approached close enough to see clearly into her beautiful purplish-blue eyes, and they were both hesitant and interested in what he had to say.
What truly frustrated him was that they were familiar, but he couldn’t place them.
He must have spoken to her before, perhaps danced with her before.
Why had she not so captivated him then?
“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. “Not yet.”
“You danced in there once,” he said. “Would you dance with me now?”
“I would if I return,” she said, “but right now, all the attention in there is a little too much.”
“Did Lord Eastclere bother you? Say something to you?”
What was this protective edge that had so suddenly filled him?
“Nothing to address.”
“So, he did say something.”
“It’s not what he said,” she said, a slight edge in her voice. “It’s more how he approached me, how he looked at me, how he held me. He cared only for my appearance, which I didn’t appreciate. I know how foolish that sounds—”
“Not at all,” Julian said, although he was just as guilty as Lord Eastclere, having similarly admired her. “Perhaps we could dance out here? We can still hear the music, and I promise I will be nothing but respectful.”
She eyed him with some uncertainty.
“If you have any doubts, I would be happy to accompany you back inside,” he said. “You know who I am. You have the upper hand here, for while I have no idea your identity, you could ruin my reputation by opening that beautiful mouth of yours and sharing secrets.”
“I hardly think that your reputation would be ruined if I shared of a romantic liaison,” she said with humor in her voice, and Julian couldn’t help but laugh at that.
“Perhaps you are right, my lady,” he said, “but if you know me, you know I have no desire to settle down, and therefore, it is in my best interest to keep your reputation perfectly intact.”
“Very well,” she said, and he stepped toward her, reaching out his hand for hers as he bowed low over her.
“My lady, may I have this dance?”