Excerpt:
The Duke's Masquerade
Ianthe had danced every dance, and her feet hurt. Beneath her chair, she surreptitiously slipped off a shoe and wriggled her toes. There was no sign of Tate, and the unmasking would take place at midnight. She searched for a tall dark-haired gentleman among the crowd of chimney-sweeps and foreign potentates, dancing with queens, shepherdesses, dairy maids, and exotic gypsies.
The waltz would soon be announced. Ianthe hoped to avoid any gentlemen who looked as if he would approach her for the dance, as they had in numbers all evening. But if Tate didn’t come soon, her mother would insist she stand up with the first man to ask her.
She prayed he would suddenly appear. He was always kind and wouldn’t deliberately disappoint her. He’d never laughed at her like Stephen when she’d escaped her governess and demanded they let her ride with them. And when she left the schoolroom and nervously dressed in her new habit, Tate had invited her along before she’d even had to ask. She’d felt so grown up and very much aware of him atop his big chestnut stallion, controlling the animal easily with powerful hands and thighs. So handsome it made her sigh. And she’d said to herself: one day I shall marry you.
She held up her fan to hide her disappointment from her mother. If only she could forget him. Her mind might consider they would never be together, but her heart wasn’t listening.
“His Grace Duke of Lindsey,” the butler announced in a loud, important voice.
“Tate is here,” her mother said. “I didn’t expect to see him in London.”
Ianthe sat forward in her chair as she looked toward the doorway. She spied a dark head above the crowd of well-wishers surrounding him with a shiver of anticipation.
Tate emerged from the crush dressed in black and white, and a striking black and gold mask. At first, she thought he would miss her, as annoyingly, his gaze flicked over the row of debutantes. But then he saw her and nodded. She quickly slipped her foot into her shoe.
He crossed the floor to her, smiling, his teeth white beneath his mask. This would be his first ball as the Duke of Lindsey. Already there was something different about his walk and the way he carried his shoulders. The responsibility would change him from the carefree man she was accustomed to. She wasn’t sure what she felt about that. She had seen so little of life. Would he seek a more sophisticated woman for his duchess?
He bowed over her mother’s hand and then held hers, while through the slits in his mask, his green eyes studied her, as if taking in every feature. As if he’d never seen her before. Her toes curled in her shoes. Did he approve of her costume? She thought it flattering and had chosen it with him in mind.
“You make a delightful fairy queen, Lady Ianthe. Will you grant me the pleasure of the next dance?”
How formal he was. Not like Tate at all. Ianthe missed his mischievous smile which held the implication that she could never pull the wool over his eyes, because he’d always see through her.
Trembling a little, she rose. She had always wanted this. To dance with Tate at a ball. The debutantes still seated looked on. They must be envious. As Ianthe rested a hand on his arm, she reminded herself not to forget that he did not belong to her. And was unlikely to now. Confused and hurt, she lifted her chin wishing she could see more of his face.
The musicians struck up. “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she said as he led her through the steps. She felt jittery in his arms, not that soaring delight she’d expected. It was as if he wasn’t Tate at all. How silly. What was wrong with her? Had she put too much store on this one dance?
https://www.amazon.com/Dukes-Masquerade-Improper-Lords-Book-ebook/dp/B0BZ1C3QTC
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