They reached the curve in the path. His Grace’s grand house stood, a daunting edifice, atop the tallest hill. Violet shivered as she always did when she laid eyes upon the place.
“Ah, is that Groveswood?” asked Captain John.
“It is,” Liza replied.
“Hm.” The captain paused, looking thoughtful in the gloom of the coming night.
“Have you ever met the Duke of Farnham?” Liza asked.
“I have,” Captain John confirmed. “On a handful of occasions, actually. I also attended his wedding to the late Duchess of Farnham.”
Violet bit the inside of her cheek, her interest piqued. She had never met one of the ton who knew His Grace. Did Captain John’s impressions of the duke differ from those held by the people in the village? Was his impression of His Grace more or less charitable? Violet knew that it would be distasteful to ask.
“What was Her Grace like?” Liza inquired. “I do not believe I ever met her.”
Violet had not either. Her Grace had died under strange circumstances six years before, and she had only been the Duchess of Farnham for a year’s time. She had visited the village, far more than most of the ton might care to, but that had been the year when Violet’s mother’s health first began declining.
Violet had other concerns than trying to glimpse the famously beautiful Duchess of Farnham, and so their paths had never crossed. She was said to have been a remarkable beauty, though, and with an uncommonly clever wit.
“She was a lady beyond compare,” Captain John said, glancing at Liza. “Well, almost. It was a great shock to the ton when she died.”
Silence settled between them as they kept walking. They left the duke’s house behind them, but Violet still felt as if the country estate loomed largely behind her. A strange, foreboding feeling filled her. Violet shook her head and forced her attention on the town square, all alight with a blazing fire and brightened with laughter and music. It was far too wonderful of a night for her thoughts to linger on murderers and dark houses.
Chapter 5
The dancers whirled around, clapping their hands in beat to the lively tune that filled the air. Leo swallowed hard and kept towards the edge of the crowd, concealing himself as best as he could in the black shadows cast by the flickering firelight.
There were some others who kept towards the shadows and did not join the dance. Leo kept some distance between them and himself, too. Regrettably, this meant that he was unable to hear much of the conversations around him.
He felt as if they were whispering about him, gossiping about his unexpected appearance at such a joyous event as this. Leo took a steadying breath. He needed to be rational. Not only had Leo not left the manor in the year since he had returned, but he had been away for five years before that.
It had been six years since anyone except his servants had seen him, and he had donned a black costume and mask for the occasion. Sure, the materials were of far higher quality than most in the village could afford, but he was not the sole aristocrat to live near the village.
No one will recognize me. I told no one I would be here, except for Mrs. Gunderson,Leo thought.
The song ended, drawing riotous applause and laughter. Partners bowed to one another, and Leo’s heart hammered so violently against his ribs that he felt as if he might be ill. No one would recognize him.
Why, he could very well claim to be someone else! He couldbesomeone else! Leo could very well be a person who the villagers liked, and even if at the night’s end he had to return to his estate and cast off the illusion that he was liked, he would at least have those few lovely hours.
When the next dance began, he joined it. This was not one he was familiar with, a quick provincial thing rather than any of the popular dances he knew, but Leo did his best to keep pace with the music. Slowly, his worries melted away, and by the dance’s end, he felt the most wonderful sort of exhilaration course through him. He had missed this feeling of enjoying himself without fear of someone gossiping or whispering about him. If only his life could return to that!
A sudden force pressed against his back, and Leo staggered a little. “Oh! I apologize, Sir!” a woman’s voice said.
She had stumbled into him. Leo turned, prepared to assure the young lady that there was no need for apologies, but when he saw her, his breath froze in his throat. She wore a gown and mask, which reminded him of candlelight. The lady’s gown revealed a classical, curvaceous form, like a statue of Aphrodite, the goddess of love. Leo felt within him the strong desire to trace his hands over her slender waist and wide hips, to touch all the delicate and soft shapes of her body.
The young woman’s breasts were pale and full, their shapes only alluded to by the bodice. Her auburn hair, threaded with flowers, was pinned up save for a few curls which cascaded over her slender, rounded shoulders. Loveliest of all were her eyes, which were the most remarkable shade of violet.
“I did not mean to…” she trailed off. “Someone trod on my skirts, and I lost my balance.”
Here was a young woman who he would not mind becomingacquaintedwith and not in the way that Mrs. Gunderson had suggested he ought to be acquainted. He cleared his throat, trying to force the thoughts away. “It is fine.”
She seemed to search his face for a long moment, but Leo could not decide what she was looking for, much less if she found it.
“Have I seen you before?” she asked. “It is difficult to recognize anyone beneath the masks.”
“I think it adds a little romance to the occasion.”
“I completely agree,” she replied. “You might be dancing with anyone.”
