“I should have known better,” she murmured. “I should… never have gone into that room.”
What good did it do? So what if he scratched a line through my name?
She clenched her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her palms to try and hold back the tears that wanted to flow. She had lost so much for the most foolish reason of all: pride. All that man had done with his quill was what the rest of society did with their sly looks and whispers and insults. She should have dealt with it the way she always had before, by ignoring it, retreating to a quiet corner.
Cursing herself under her breath, she hastened to brush away an errant tear that had snuck free. Yet, she could do nothing to suppress the trembles that shook her from top to toe.
“There, there,” Julianna said softly, moving over to Teresa’s side of the squabs. In a gesture that broke the dam of tears, Julianna put her arms around Teresa and hugged her, gently stroking her hair as she whispered soothing words. “Perhaps, it will not be so bad. Perhaps, the gentleman will do the proper thing and propose.”
Teresa buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, not entirely for comfort, but so her mother would not see the doubt etchedupon her face. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that that gentleman would not be made to do anything he did not wish to.
What if Vincent demands a duel?
Her blood ran cold, remembering an earlier thought: the man in the lion mask was not the sort of man who retreated from anything. Nor did he seem like a man who often lost. If it came to a duel… She shuddered, refusing to think about it. Not until she had to.
“You realize what you have to do, do you not?” asked Silas Rowland, the Duke of Merrowfield, as he swirled his brandy and cast a pointed look at Cyrus.
“He does not have to do a blasted thing,” Anthony interjected, knocking back the contents ofhisbrandy in one go. “Why should he be held responsible for the brazen behavior of the Wilds girl? The way I see it, there are only two reasons that an odd creature like that would attempt to compromise our friend here: she sought revenge from wounded pride, or she is so desperate for a husband that she decided to trap him in a scandal.”
Silas gestured with his brandy glass. “Which, however you consider the reasoning, she successfully managed to do. There has been a scandal and, like it or not, Cyrusmustdo the honorable thing.”
Cyrus let them argue his fate between themselves, his own glass of brandy untouched. The liquor clouded his head, and he needed his mind clear. The noise of his two friends was already a distraction, destroying the customary peace of his study. Still, at least he was at his own estate, rather than stuck in the clamoring chaos of that wretched masquerade ball.
“Hemustlet the Wilds girl take advantage of him?” Anthony scoffed, getting up to pour himself a fresh measure. “Balderdash! If he permits her to do that, every desperate lady in society will be trying it and no gentleman will be safe from their schemes.”
Silas shook his head. “I thought you said the Wilds girl was the most wilted wallflower of them all? Why would you assume she did this on purpose? It hardly sounds like the actions of a hermitess—if that is even a word.”
You are right, it does not.Cyrus’s attention drifted to the fireplace as a log crackled loudly, spitting a spark onto the floor.And neither of you saw her face…
When the door had opened in the private library, her eyes had opened so wide that they filled the eyeholes of her bear mask completely, her mouth gaping in abject horror, her grip on his lapels so tight that her knuckles had turned to ivory. Frozen in fear, clinging to him only because she had not known what else to do, or perhaps hoping that she might be able to hide behind the bulk of him.
I was not fast enough.Instinctively, he had turned at the sound of the door opening, and with that movement, the ladies that Anthony had brought with him had glimpsed the bear mask. Within a second, one of the ladies was shouting, “Lady Teresa! My goodness, it is her! It is Teresa Wilds!”
“I do not think it was deliberate,” he said, at last. “I cannot explain why she was in the walls, but I doubt it was a snare.”
After all, it was not like he was the most eligible bachelor of the Season. If it had been an ordinary ball, without masks, no woman would have wanted to go near him. No mother would have shoved their daughter into his path. No father would have suggested a ‘meeting’ over tea or something stronger.
“But shedidtry to kiss you?” Anthony pressed, returning from the side-table with a full glass and a scowl upon his face.
“I do not know what she was doing,” Cyrus replied, though that was not entirely the truth.
Shehadseemed like she meant to kiss him and he, in turn, had done nothing to push her away or prevent her. It was why he could not risk so much as a sip of brandy, for his mind was already struggling to forget that moment, when she had grasped his lapels and risen up on tiptoe, leaning in with those soft, plump lips.
She had been so close that, if he thought about it too hard, he could still feel the tickle of her breath on his mouth… and theslow release in the back of his neck, where he had begun to bend his head into that potential kiss.
Why did I not stop her?He had asked himself the same question over and over since leaving the ball, yet no answer would come: Because she had not been afraid of him? Because it had been a long time since he had been that close to someone? Because he had been curious? Because she had not been repulsed?
“Yes, well, the Earl of Grayling is not someone to be trifled with,” Silas pointed out, reclining in the armchair. “If it was my sister in this kind of situation, I would be at the door, challenging you to a duel.”
Cyrus nodded slowly in agreement. If he had a sister, he would have done the same. Indeed, though he did not know much about the Earl of Grayling, he would think far less of him if he did not make such a demand.
Although, he might not need to.
“So, does this mean we are toasting to a marriage?” Anthony asked drily, his eyes glassy with inebriation. “I suppose shehassaved you the bother of searching for a bride, when she has rather advantageously stumbled into your lap. No need to find a wife now, when one has thrown herself at you.”
Lifting his glass to his lips, Cyrus looked at his two friends, realizing he was at a somewhat treacherous fork in the road: if he asked Teresa to marry him, he feared he might ruin her life far more than any scandal would, but if he did not ask her to marryhim, her life would be ruined anyway, and only one of those options came with the possible risk of death: his or Teresa’s brother’s.
He took the long-awaited sip. “I will propose,” he muttered, as the liquor burned down into his stomach. “First thing tomorrow.”
