Chapter 1
ONE
The sound of chatter from the ballroom fills the air and I smooth down my dress, wondering if I'm going to have to be in the room for long or if I can sneak off to the library with Linc.
Except that I definitely can't do that. We shouldn't be alone together. I know that the moment we are, it's going to be too difficult to keep to our promise of absolutely nothing happening now that our betrothals have been formalised.
I adjust my mask, a little nervous about going into a masquerade, but at least we'll have this smaller one before the All Hallow's Ball at the end of the month, I'm not sure I'm ready for something on that scale.
Though maybe now that I'm officially betrothed, Lord Fallmartin won't care about whether or not I dance with anyone.
No one announces us as we enter, but a servant does go over to where the House Rothorne crest hangs on the wall and lights the candle underneath. Anyone who looks at it will now know that we've arrived, even if they're not supposed to know who we are.
Though I do think it somewhat defeats the point when we're all wearing black and red. There are other Houses with the same colours, but it still makes it obvious who belongs to what House.
Bella and Thomas slip away from us immediately, and I watch them leave with interest. Everything Bella says about her husband makes it sound as if she doesn't care for him, and yet they often seem to spend time together at events like this, and they disappeared together in order to avoid the feast for Eliza's wedding.
I don't dare ask though. Not when Bella is finally starting to warm to me.
"Make sure you dance with your future wife," Lord Fallmartin says to Bastian.
My brother scowls. "What's it matter? We're all wearing masks anyway."
"Because people are watching, and people know," Lord Fallmartin responds.
"Are you going to give Beatrice the same reminder?" my brother mutters.
"Your sister doesn't need it."
The response surprises me. Not just because it implies that Lord Fallmartin thinks that I'm the more politically astute of the two of us, but because I have no idea who I'm supposed to dance with.
Bella did say that I'd danced with the Prince I'm betrothed to a few times, but I have no idea who that actually is, which makes it hard to guess his identity.
Perhaps my best way of dealing with it is saying yes to anyone who asks. If Bastian is being given the advice to dance with Lady Ermentrude tonight, then no doubt the Prince is also being instructed to dance with me.
Bastian seethes and I take it as a reason to leave, heading over to the refreshments table. I'm interrupted by a man with dark brown hair asking me to dance. I agree and let him lead me into the dance floor while trying not to think about how much I would rather it was Linc's hand on my waist.
I refocus my thoughts on the man in front of me and search for any resemblance to Marcus beneath the mask. I know my betrothed is only Marcus' half-brother, but there has to be some. And right now, it's the biggest clue I've got.
By the time I've danced with three different partners, my feet are aching and I want nothing more than to get something to drink and not make awkward small talk with anyone.
I have to admit that I've gotten fairly good at it since coming to court, but having to wonder which one is the Prince is making it more difficult to focus than normal.
I get myself a goblet of blood and take a moment to survey the dance floor as I drink it. Maybe I should find Marcus and ask him where his brother is. I can't ask him who his brother is without risking sounding very rude, but if there's some kind of hint, that would be useful.
In any other circumstance, I wouldn't want to know. But I don't want to be surprised by who I'm standing opposite when it comes to the day we're supposed to get married.
"Beatrice."
I jump at the sound of my name and turn, surprised to find Linc standing beside me. "The masks don't do anything, do they?" I joke.
His lips quirk up into a smile. "They do enough. "May I have this dance?" He holds out his hand to me.
"Is that wise? We're supposed to be staying away from one another."
"It is a masked ball, who's to know?"
"We are." Despite my protests, I set down my empty goblet and put my hand in his.
I should stay away. But what's the harm of a dance?
Especially when there are so many people in the room.
It's not like we're about to kiss in the middle of the dance floor and that's the only reason we're meant to be staying away from one another.
He leads me into position and I dip down into a curtsy, feeling his gaze on me the whole time.
"You can't look at me like that," I murmur as I take my position in his arms.
"Like what?"
I clear my throat. "Like you're thinking about kissing me. Or biting me."
"But that's what I am thinking."
"Linc, you can't. We can't."
He spins me around, and I try not to think about how easy it is to dance with him compared to everyone else. "I was actually thinking about how much I miss you," he responds as he pulls me back into hold. "This week has been lonely."
"It has." My words come out as more of a whisper than anything else.
"It's why I came tonight. I wasn't going to, but the thought that you might be here and that we could have a single dance convinced me that I needed to come. But now I'm here, I'm not sure that a dance is going to be enough."
My breathing hitches. "It's going to have to be," I remind him. "Our betrothals..."
"I know, Bea," he says softly, leaning closer than he should, but I do nothing to pull away even though I should.
I hope the masks are hiding at least some of our identities so we're not too obvious in what we're doing or we could get into a lot of trouble for this.
"You should come to the library tomorrow. "
I suck in a breath. "We can't..."
"We'll stay outside the private room," he promises. "And we won't touch."
Despite every part of me knowing I should tell him no, I find myself nodding. "All right." I meet his gaze, trying not to think about how much I want to spend time with him. "I'll come after lunch, I have an etiquette lesson in the morning."
"I'm surprised you're still having those."
"I've been at court just over a month," I point out. "I definitely still need etiquette lessons, especially if I'm currently planning an illicit rendezvous."
"There'll be nothing illicit about it," he promises.
I meet his gaze. "I think just the fact we want to spend time together and not with the people we're supposed to be interested in is enough to make it illicit."
"Ah, then it is. But we'll make it so that nothing untoward happens," he promises. "We'll discuss history and drink tea."
"It sounds wonderful." I've missed him more than I imagined possible, especially for someone I've only just met. And staying away has been making me miserable. So perhaps it's best if we try something else.
The dance comes to an end and disappointment grows within me.
"I don't suppose I can convince you to dance again?" Linc asks.
"We shouldn't," I respond.
"No, you're right." He steps back and bows deeply.
I immediately miss the contact between us, but know there's nothing we can do to change that. I dip into a curtsy, knowing I can't draw more attention to us than we already have.
I meet Linc's gaze and I can see reluctance that echoes my own looking back to me even through his mask. I wish this could be different, but I know that there's nothing we can do to change it. At least not yet.
It takes everything I have to tear myself away, but even as I do, I spot Lord Fallmartin watching me.
My whole body goes on edge and I prepare myself for some kind of admonishment.
It's not that I'm not allowed to dance with anyone who isn't the Prince, it's more that anyone with any sense whatsoever would be able to see that there's more between us than one dance, even if I'm trying to do my best to make sure that isn't obvious.
Instead of responding in anger, he merely nods in my direction, only confusing me more about the whole situation.