Chapter Sixteen #2
As the final notes played, White bowed with exaggerated gallantry, then clasped her fingers in a lingering, possessive grip. “Now I shall escort you to supper.”
The supper gong rang out across the ballroom. Guests began removing their masks amid animated chatter and compliments. Rose lowered hers to dangle from its ribbons. When White turned to acknowledge another gentleman’s greeting, she saw her opportunity.
“Baron White, might I refresh myself before we dine?” She spoke sweetly, touching his sleeve with what she hoped appeared wifely deference. “I’m rather overheated from dancing, and I shouldn’t wish to embarrass you with such a flushed complexion.” She smiled, soft, obliging, utterly docile.
His chest swelled with satisfaction. “Very well. Don’t tarry.”
She curtsied and turned, her stomach already twisting as she hurried across the ballroom floor. The moment she cleared the doorway, she gathered her skirts and ran toward the rose garden, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Please be there. Please be waiting.
*
Lanterns illuminated the garden pathways for guests who might wish to take the evening air, thus she had no trouble finding her way. As she approached the rose arbor, she spotted the shimmer of emerald silk. It was him.
“Hello. Wait, please.” Her slippers flew over the gravel as though the devil pursued her. Which, she reflected grimly, he very well might be.
She arrived breathless seconds later. The lanterns cast dancing shadows but couldn’t disguise the masked figure who had stopped before the wooden swing. He stood with his back to her, shoulders rising and falling as if he too struggled for breath.
“Please, tell me who you are.”
Slowly, he straightened and turned. The intricate details of his mask remained barely visible in the lamplight. He had not yet removed it.
She swallowed hard and stepped closer. “Please. Take off your mask. I must see who you are.”
A pause stretched between them, filled only by the distant sound of music and laughter. Finally he spoke: “You already know the answer.”
She did know. The way he moved, the way he had touched her during their dance, the way her treacherous body responded to his mere presence. No one but Sebastian had ever stirred such feelings. She suspected no one else ever could.
He hooked his fingers beneath the mask’s edge and pulled it away with one fluid motion. Sebastian stood before her, transformed by elegant evening dress yet unmistakably himself. She drank in the sculpted planes of his face, the waves of dark hair, that determined mouth she had dreamed of kissing.
Sebastian had risked everything to infiltrate her ball. But why?
Her temper suddenly blazed. He would tell her the truth, or she would walk away and never look back. “What are you truly doing here? You’re no gardener. No man dances as you do without years of proper instruction. You’re a gentleman, aren’t you?”
“Lady Rose, it’s difficult to explain.”
Heat, fury, and desperate longing crashed through her in equal measure, leaving her breathless and shaking. “Why are you at the ball in disguise? What game have you been playing with me?” The worst possibility struck her like a physical blow. “Did my father employ you to watch over me?”
“God, no. I want nothing to do with your father’s vile enterprises.”
“Then what?” Her pulse thundered so loudly she could barely hear her own voice. “Your continued silence only compounds your deceptions. Can’t you see that?”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened visibly. “I hardly know where to begin.”
“Try the truth.” Her voice cracked. A reflection of her breaking heart.
Sebastian stepped toward her, regret flickering in his dark eyes. “I came here seeking vengeance. For what your father did to my family.”
“What do you mean?” Her mind raced through possibilities but could settle on none that made complete sense. “What did he do to your family?”
Sebastian exhaled slowly, as if steeling himself for battle.
“Forgive my bluntness. I know no gentler way to tell you this. I am Sebastian Ashford. Lord Ashford was my father. Your father orchestrated his execution for your mother’s murder—a crime of which he was entirely innocent.
Since I was twelve years old and watched Papa hang, I have thought of little else.
My sole ambition has been proving what Wentworth did and reclaiming what was stolen from us.
Your father murdered your mother, Rose. Then he had Hargrave plant evidence in our gardens.
He allowed an innocent man to die for his crime, leaving us orphaned.
He stripped us of our titles, our inheritance, our only surviving parent.
He destroyed our lives, and I came to destroy his. ”
At first, she couldn’t even process what he’d said.
Her heartbeat stuttered, her hands trembling around the fabric of her gown.
“You’re an Ashford? But why pretend to be a gardener?
” Even as she asked, she realized how foolish the question was.
They had left him nothing when they found Lord Ashford guilty.
“Where did they send you after…after the execution?”
Sebastian’s expression darkened like storm clouds gathering.
“We were dispatched to a distant cousin who set me and my brother to work in stables and gardens while my sister scrubbed floors. The Langstons treated us little better than slaves for years. In fact, their cruelty rivals your father’s.
Lord Wentworth consigned us to hell on earth.
You’ve seen the evidence carved into my back. ”
Her thoughts tumbled wildly, unable to fully grasp what he was revealing. “You came here to ruin my family?”
“Your father. Not you.”
It was too much to comprehend. All these weeks, he had been performing an elaborate charade.
“I came to expose Lord Wentworth, to gather evidence proving my father’s innocence.”
“You’ve been lying to me this entire time? Sneaking about, collecting information?”
“Keeping this secret has been eating me alive. I’ve desperately wanted to tell you, but I was terrified you wouldn’t understand. He is your father. I’m merely a stranger seeking to destroy him.”
Her shoulders sagged as she exhaled. “You haven’t discovered any evidence, have you? It’s impossible. My father always prevails.”
“I’ve heard testimony from servants convinced of his guilt, but nothing that would stand in court.”
“No magistrate would heed them,” Rose said. “Servants’ words against a lord’s?”
“Precisely. Your father has won. He will escape justice for everything. Murdering your mother, orchestrating my father’s death, condemning us to years of abuse. The death of Lizzie.” His voice grew heavy with defeat.
Rose crossed her arms, studying him carefully. “How did you gain entry tonight?”
“Hale assisted me. He discovered my true identity and proposed we collaborate. He’s known who I am for weeks.”
“Because he loved Lizzie.” Understanding dawned. “He wanted to help you achieve vengeance.”
“Indeed. But it’s hopeless. Your father wields too much power.”
“Are you certain he committed these crimes?” Rose asked, though something deep within her already knew the answer. “Killed my mother, framed your father—how can we be absolutely sure?”
“Earlier this evening, I followed him and White onto the terrace. I concealed myself behind the shrubbery and heard him speak the words plainly.”
“What words?”
“That he’s wedding you to White to ensure his silence regarding their illicit business. And that he murdered your mother.”
Black spots danced before her eyes. “He confessed outright?”
“He stated in absolute terms that you would suffer your mother’s fate should you prove rebellious.”
A sob tore from her chest. “How could he? How could he steal my mother from me?”
“I cannot fathom such evil. Nor can I understand how he allowed an innocent man to hang. We may never comprehend his motives, but we must face the truth of who he is and what transpired twelve years past. Everyone in this household knows it, though we cannot prove it.” He paused, his voice softening.
“But I can choose to live in freedom, releasing these futile desires for justice. I want to do so—for you. I’ve learned something profound since meeting you.
Love proves stronger than hatred. I choose love over vengeance. ”
She stared at him, certain she must be dreaming.
“I’m desperately in love with you,” Sebastian said softly. “My heart has belonged to you since first I saw you. Come away with me. We’ll build a new life together.”
“But how could we ever manage it?”
“You would have to accept me despite my lack of title or fortune. Abandon all this luxury to live on a working man’s wages.”
“Is such a thing truly possible?”
“If you wish to be with me, then yes. I can protect you, provide for you.”
“No.” The word escaped before she could stop it. “It won’t succeed. Father will hunt us down.” Her father would find them, and they would both suffer his wrath.
“I’ll find a way to keep you safe.”
But she couldn’t focus on his promises. Another voice echoed in her memory. Mrs. Blythe’s words from weeks ago.
They never found her mask. We all thought it peculiar. Lizzie searched the lady’s quarters thoroughly, but it had vanished entirely.
The loose floorboard in her father’s study. He had noticed her staring at it and grown defensive. Had he hidden the mask there? Finding it would prove his guilt beyond question. Could there still be hope?
“They never found my mother’s mask.”
“What?” Sebastian asked, confusion clear in his voice.
“The mask she wore that night. The night he killed her.” Yes, she had said it aloud. She knew it was true now. Had known it for weeks, buried beneath layers of desperate denial. “Sebastian, I believe I know where it is. Father concealed it in his study.”
“Why would he retain such evidence?” Sebastian asked. “Why not dispose of it with the candlestick?”