Chapter Twelve #2
“I think I need to be dressed to visualize it, but it sounds exciting.” Once she was dressed and looking in the mirror, she sighed with relief.
The white shift fell to her ankles, revealing the tops of her brown boots.
The sleeves were long and flowing. A gold braided rope encircled her waist, and the ends fell almost to the length of the dress.
Her hair hung loose but was tucked into the fitted hood.
Her half mask was white and adorned with thin gold braid.
Overall, the costume was simple and plain, yet it made Letitia feel beautiful.
Sometimes, simplicity was more alluring.
“As always, I knew I could count on you, Jane. It is perfect.”
“Thank you, my lady. Your hair looks like spun gold beneath the hood. The costume suits you well.”
“Thank you again, Jane. What would I do without you? You may retire for the night. Please don’t wake me in the morning. I will call for you when I’m up.”
“Yes, my lady.”
After Jane left, Letitia took one last glance in the looking glass and couldn’t help but smile.
She picked up her staff, a tree branch someone had cut to her height and whittled off the bark, making it smooth as butter.
It was exactly half eleven when she stepped foot in the entry hall and found Mr. Henry standing at the door, facing her.
“A carriage just pulled up, my lady.” He handed her a dark brown cloak, which she didn’t don, as she wanted Greyson to see her costume first. Mr. Henry opened the door, and she found herself face-to-face with Greyson, dressed as what she presumed was an American frontiersman, complete with a raccoon-tailed hat and a black half mask.
He wore buckskin breeches and brown boots.
A cream shirt, open at the throat, showed a smattering of brown hair, and he wore a brown buckskin vest with fringe.
Her insides tingled. He looked wild and untamed, much like the American frontier. Or so she’d heard.
“You’re staring, my dear.”
Greyson’s amused voice tore her thoughts away from the American frontier and back to the gentleman in front of her.
“Forgive me,” she said, heat painting her cheeks. “I was thinking you look ready to join a wagon train, wrestle bears, and fight the elements as you stake your claim in the wilds of America.” For one brief moment, she could see herself with him there.
He chuckled. “Then I’d say Dalton did his job with my costume.” He looked her up and down, then grinned. “Where are your sheep? Have they run away, little shepherdess? Would you like my help finding them?”
His remark made her laugh. “Perhaps later. Right now, we have somewhere to be.”
He held her hand as they descended the stone stairs. Greyson helped her into the carriage and joined her on the seat.
“My dear Letitia, you look positively alluring as hell, dressed all in white.”
“I’m not supposed to be alluring. I’m supposed to be attracting my flock of sheep,” she teased.
“I’ll be one of your sheep. Just don’t bring me to slaughter.”
“Never.”
“That’s a relief,” he chuckled. “You must be chilly. Let me help you with your cloak.” Greyson took the cloak from her hands and draped it over her shoulders. She fastened the toggle at her throat and pulled the hood up.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
The rest of the ride was silent. Greyson held her hand in his, and she wondered what he was thinking.
She thought about tonight and being alone with him in one of the private upstairs rooms. Had he reserved one for them?
Would he take her upstairs as soon as they arrived?
Oh, my, her stomach did a silent tumble.
She was nervous but excited about the prospect of making love with Greyson.
No doubt he could teach her how to please him.
And she could explain what she liked. Would she satisfy him? Again, her stomach tumbled.
“Is something amiss?” Greyson asked, his voice laced with concern.
“Just a little nervous.”
“Don’t be. As with our last visit to Club Knight, I will not leave your side unless you wish me to.”
“Thank you.” She squeezed his hand.
“Good. We have arrived. Oh, I forgot.” He pulled a card from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “This is your membership card. Guard it with your life.” She took it from his hand. It looked identical to his. “Tonight, we pull up to the front door. No one will recognize us with our masks on.”
She hoped he was correct in his assessment.
He exited the carriage first, then leaned back in with his hand out, which she took and exited.
They went to the back of the line to wait their turn to enter the club.
She recognized the gentleman at the door from her previous visit.
Tonight, he scrutinized the guests’ cards and faces more closely because everyone was wearing masks.
At times, she heard him ask questions, no doubt trying to recognize them by their voices.
When Greyson handed over his card, he merely glanced at it before handing it back. With trembling hands, Letitia handed hers to the doorman, held her breath as he studied it, and then said, “Welcome to the Club.”
When he handed it back to her, she immediately slipped it into her white drawstring pouch that matched her costume. “Thank you.”
The door opened, and they entered. Greyson helped her with her cloak, then handed it to a footman just inside the door. As they walked hand in hand up the stairs toward the ballroom, Letitia said, “That was terrifying.”
“He was just doing his job.”
“I know. But still terrifying.” They entered the ballroom, and she took a moment to look around the dimly lit room full of costumed people.
Some of the men and women were scantily dressed, and she tried not to gawk or gasp.
An orchestra played a waltz, but the couples were not dancing it properly.
They held each other shockingly close and swayed to the rhythm, their bodies nearly attached.
“What do you think?” Greyson asked, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music but not so loud that those around them could hear.
“I’m still taking it in.”
“Me too. You forget I just became a member, and this is my first time attending a masquerade here.”
“I’ve never attended one anywhere. Are the ones at the Pantheon and Vauxhall Gardens like this one?”
“No and yes. Masquerade balls usually attract some of society’s seedier residents. Costumes can be just as bawdy. Some people let their inhibitions down, but once the masks are removed, ton standards are restored, at least for the members of the ton.”
“Oh.”
“Is that a good oh or a bad oh?”
“Just an oh. Not good or bad. More of an observation.” She inhaled, her eyes fixed on a couple on the dance floor. “He’s cupping her b-b-buttocks.”
She could tell Greyson found her amusing, though he tried to hide it. “Yes, I believe he is. Like I told you, this is a place where people can engage in activities frowned upon in polite society.”
She swallowed her nervous laugh. “Frowned upon? Come now, Greyson, she would be ruined, and the gentleman called out at dawn by a family member.”
“There is that. Good thing nothing like that happens here.”
“Should they not go upstairs?” she suggested.
“Part of the excitement is the prelude. Some people enjoy being on display.”
“But . . .”
“No judging. We are members in attendance, so who are we to condemn another’s actions? Come, let’s dance.”
Letitia allowed Greyson to lead her to the center of the dance floor, where couples surrounded them. He took her into his arms and said, “Follow my lead.” He side-stepped, one, two, three, but they mainly moved in place. The crush left nowhere to go. “Relax.”
She closed her eyes, her arms around his neck, his around her waist, their bodies brushing with each movement.
With her eyes closed, she moved to the melody’s rhythm, easing her tense muscles.
She leaned into him until they touched more intimately.
The swaying of their bodies, moving as one, the warmth of the room, and the intimacy of their mingled breaths transported her to another place, another time, where only the two of them existed.
One song turned into another, the melody similar, so they continued as they were.
Greyson stroked his hands up her back, sending awareness throughout her body.
Every nerve ending took notice. Heat pooled low in her belly and spread outward.
It took effort not to rub her center against his thigh to find release.
She was no better than the other couple.
What was happening to her? Whatever it was, she would enjoy it while she could.
Tomorrow, everything would go back to normal.
But they had tonight. Greyson, his hands on either side of her hips, pulled her close to him, and she felt the hard bulge in his breeches press against her stomach. A moan escaped her lips. “Forgive me.”
“Forgive me. I’m the one who rubbed against you. But I wanted you to know what it does to me to hold you close. I want you, Letitia. I want to make love to you until neither of us can move, until our bodies and muscles are pleasantly sore. I want to taste your lips, and I don’t mean your mouth.”
She moaned, and her head fell back as she remembered what she had overheard in a drawing room. So it was true?
“I believe now is the perfect time,” he murmured in her ear.
Even though he spoke cryptically, she knew exactly what he meant. “Yes,” she exhaled.