Chapter Twenty-Four #2
She regarded him speculatively, as if she were trying to decide if he were being truthful. He had, at least, nodded at her that evening, avoiding giving her the cut direct. But only just. He deserved her ire.
She blew out a breath. “I cannot pretend I was not affronted. However, I suppose I have been guilty of listening to the wrong voices myself on occasion. Presuming it does happen again,” she said, raising her brows, “I accept your apology, my lord.”
He gave her his most charming smile. “I am very glad to hear it. Are you enjoying your evening thus far, Miss Girard?” he asked.
“Very much, Lord Hugo,” she said, seeming much more relaxed in his presence now that they had cleared the air over their previous confrontation. “You?”
“Very much. Though much more so now.”
Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him, but she didn’t say anything for a moment. Neither did he.
Inwardly, he cursed himself. This was ridiculous. They were obviously both suspicious of something. And all logic told him what that something was. Yet…if he asked outright, and she wasn’t Millie… No. He couldn’t risk it just yet.
“Your costume is quite clever. Joining in with the apparent theme for the evening,” he said, waving vaguely at the other peacocks in the room, “while still being unique. And quite lovely as well.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes narrowed further, as though she were trying to ascertain the true meaning behind his compliment.
He chuckled. “You needn’t be so suspicious every time I pay you a compliment.”
“Well, it happens so rarely…”
Hugo cocked an eyebrow, and Adaline flashed him a wry smile. “My apologies, Lord Hugo. Old habits, I suppose.”
Her eyes strayed to the feather that curled around the left eye of his mask. “Your feather is quite lovely as well.”
“Thank you.” This was getting them nowhere. Time to be a little less subtle. “I thought myself quite debonair until I arrived and found myself lost in a sea of peacocks. I had thought to be unique, as peacock feathers are not the easiest to come by.”
She snorted gently though her gaze sharpened on him. “Yes. Though you’d never know that by the display tonight.”
He followed her glance around the room and chuckled. “Well, you are correct in that. It seems everyone is sporting at least one peacock feather.”
“Or an approximation of one,” she said, nodding toward a woman with a full faux spray of peacock feathers sprouting from her turban. They seemed to have been made from ostrich feathers and painted to resemble those of a peacock. Clever that.
“Hmm, yes, a bit of a miscalculation on my part.”
Her eyes flashed back to his. “Miscalculation?”
The steps of the dance took them apart for a few moments, though their eyes never left each other, even as they wove between the other dancers.
“Yes,” he said once they came back together. “I had hoped to stand out tonight.”
Her gaze sharpened. “You wish that every night.”
“True,” he said with a wolfish grin. “But tonight is special.”
Her steps faltered. “Is it?”
“Hmm, yes.” When they came together, hands pressed against each other, he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I had hoped to attract the attention of someone in particular with my peacock plumes.”
Her face drained of color aside from two bright pink spots high on her cheeks.
“Who?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
The music ended—a good thing as Miss Girard had stopped dancing entirely—and everyone politely clapped.
Hugo held out his hand to escort her from the floor. She took it, her fingers tightening on his after a few steps.
“Who, Lord Hugo?” she asked again, her voice more strained.
He led them to one of the refreshment tables that was a bit less trafficked than the others and handed her a glass of ratafia.
“Drink this,” he said. “You look like you need it.”
“Lord Hugo,” she bit out. “Will you answer my question or not?”
He let a slow smile spread across his lips, more sure than ever that she was who he had thought. Hoped.
“No one of your acquaintance, I am sure,” he answered, deliberately drawing out her suspense.
He leaned in again, enjoying the hitch in her breath at his proximity.
“I was to meet a young woman tonight, who I would know by her peacock feathers.” He chuckled.
“A futile plan, as it turns out, with so many peacocks milling about. As I said, a miscalculation on my part.”
He watched her as he spoke, his eyes not missing a single twitch, nor the dawning realization in her eyes. He kept chattering, waiting for her to say something first. There was still the slightest chance it was not she, though that chance grew more and more slim with each passing second.
Perhaps she needed a stronger nudge.
“I am normally quite fond of a bit of mayhem, but I confess, so many peacocks at one ball—”
“It can’t be!” she blurted out. Then her eyes darted about, belatedly realizing her outburst had drawn attention.
“What can’t be?” he asked, ignoring everyone else. All his attention was now completely focused on her. The rest of the world be damned.
Say it, he mentally urged her. Say it.
She stared at him. He could almost see her thoughts warring with each other in her mind. She opened her mouth…and then shook her head and turned to go.
And that…he could not allow.
“Millie,” he said, taking a step toward her.
She froze, and so did he.
He waited, his pulse thundering in his ears.
Then she rounded on him, her face frozen in shock. He wasn’t sure yet if that shock was good or bad.
“Mayhem?” she whispered. Or at least he thought that was what she whispered. It was so quiet he couldn’t actually hear. “I…I thought…” she whispered a little louder.
He raised a brow. “What did you think?”
She stepped closer, her eyes boring into his before they narrowed. Though he wasn’t sure if it was in suspicion or confusion. Perhaps both. “You…you’re… Mayhem?”
He let out a breath, his smile spreading again to finally hear that name from her lips. “In the flesh. And you’re Millie.”
“I…” She let out a choked sound that was half laugh, half pure disbelief. “I think I may need to sit down.”
He laughed again. “I understand the sentiment. Drink your punch,” he said with a nod to the glass in her hand. He took a healthy swig from his own glass, his head spinning.
He had been right! A jolt of pure excitement flowed through him. Followed closely by a spike of anxiety. This would present some problems. Several problems. Several significant problems.
But it solved a rather important one as well. The relief that flooded him that the two women he was pretty sure he was in love with were one and the same nearly made his knees buckle.
He let out another deep breath. She, however, still hadn’t spoken, and he looked her over. “Are you well?”
“Yes. No.” She blinked up at him. “I do not know.”
That drew another smile to his lips. “Are you surprised?”
“Yes.” Then she let out a sharp laugh. “And no.” Her gaze met his again. “You?”
“Yes and no,” he said, his lips twitching. “How do you feel about…” he waved a hand between them, “this surprising yet not surprising revelation?”
“I…” She stopped and blinked again. Then she laughed and let out a deep sigh. “I truly do not know.”
His chuckle echoed hers. “Now that I understand completely.” He drained his glass and then held out his hand. “Shall we dance again? It will give us the chance to talk. With a few less prying ears.”
He glanced around at a few of the other guests who had started to mill closer to them. Trying to eavesdrop, no doubt.
She hesitated only a moment and then placed her hand in his. “A second dance? It will only fuel the gossip.”
He laughed again. “I think we are past that at this point.”
She gave him a wry smile. “True enough, May…my lord.” She snorted softly. “I do not know what to call you.”
He leaned in so only she could hear him as they took their positions on the dance floor. “Call me Hugo.”