Unmasking Lady Innocent Read online

  “If they reform,” James said dryly.

  “You don’t have an ounce of romance in your soul do you, Lord Grey?” Diana smiled to take the sting out of her words even as she heard the rather cutting edge in her voice.

  His eyes widened a fraction. “Not a smidgen,” he agreed, his gaze considering, and perhaps even a small smile playing about his lips as if he thought her notions ridiculous.

  She plied her fan vigorously to hide another burst of heat. “Let me tell you, there was nothing more romantic than seeing Kate being whisked off to Gretna Green by a highwayman.”

  “A highwayman, indeed,” Kate said, laughing. “Harry didn’t fool me for a moment.”

  The hard line of Lord Grey’s mouth softened into a smile. Diana’s heart caught at the too rare sight. She bit back the compulsion to ask why he didn’t smile more often. He used to smile as a youth, she remembered. And tease.

  In those days he’d been as reckless as Peter. A sportsman. Up to every rig and row in Town and the devil take the hindmost. Until Peter died.

  “Is it every woman’s fantasy to be carried off by a highwayman?” He looked down at her and her heart gave an odd sort of leap at the intensity in his gaze. She felt quite fluttery at the warmth she saw there. As fluttery as she had felt at the stranger’s kiss. Was she becoming so wanton? How embarrassed he would be if he knew. She swallowed. Took a breath. “I am sure I don’t know. Do you go to Vauxhall tomorrow? For the mask?” she asked, clumsily changing the subject. “It is Lizzie’s last night of entertainment before she goes home.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. The frisson of awareness struck her anew. As if something else ran beneath the surface of their conversation. Was she really so desperate that two such different men could fill her with longing all in one evening. Or was her fear of loneliness playing tricks with her mind and her body?

  Grey shook his head. “I am sorry. I am engaged for dinner with friends.”

  She felt a pang of disappointment. But if he knew what she intended tomorrow, he would be the one dreadfully disappointed. In her. Perhaps she was making a huge mistake. She could still cry off. Just not go. It was not as if anyone but herself and Kate would know what she’d planned. She still had time to change her mind.

  “If you ladies will excuse me,” Grey said. “I really must offer my congratulations to our hosts. May I take you into supper later, Miss Buntin?”

  So thoughtful, as always. She smiled up at him. “Thank you. You are very kind.”

  His mouth tightened as if the thought of his kindness did not please him. He bowed and strode away.

  Chapter Two

  James left his carriage in his groom’s capable hands and strode up the steps to Diana’s front door. He didn’t remember ever feeling quite so disturbed, so ill at ease at the thought of seeing her. Finally, when Dee would be free of her niece, and there were no deaths in her family or other encumbrances to hold him back, she’d delivered a blow to his kidneys. Knocked the breath from his body.

  Thank God, Lady Godridge had enough sense to come to him first. He just wished he could be certain her advice was right. Her suggestion, when she brought him the letter, was utterly outrageous, yet she insisted her plan was the only way.

  For years he had stood aside, waiting out the required periods of mourning, waiting for her to get over her grief. An honorable man did not propose under such circumstances. But when her brother-in-law blithely saddled Diana with his chit of a daughter, James had been ready to tear out his hair. It was her duty, she’d said. And now that her duty was done? She’d taken it into her head to kick over the traces.

  Was he mad to let her follow through on her plan?

  He’d let Peter’s shadow stand between them for far too long. And now this.

  Let her have her fairy tale, Kate had advised, the little wretch. He’d wanted to wring the woman’s neck. He glowered at the innocent front door, wanting to bash it in with his fist.

  Everything now depended on what Dee had to say for herself. Only then would he decide whether he followed the script. But dammit, last night, for the first time in a long time, he’d seen a light in her face, a hint of sparkle in her eyes, a shadow of mischief, even a touch of pride. An ache filled his chest at the thought that Dee had finally woken to the world and wanted to give herself to some stranger.

  How could he allow it?

  The butler opened the door and took his hat with a warm smile. “Miss Buntin is in the drawing room, my lord.”

  “Thank you, Meade. I’ll find my own way.” As he’d been finding his own way for the past two years since her parents died. A concession to their friendship. It had always felt like a noose round his neck.

  Upon entry, he found her seated at her writing desk, her blond hair catching the light from the window as she wrote. How lovely she looked in pale blue. It brought out the deeper sapphire of her eyes and complemented her pale skin. His body responded to her beauty, hardening instantly, his blood running hot. He wanted to plunder the depths of her warm mouth. Press her sweet body close. Sink into her and claim her.

  Bloody hell.

  “Diana,” he said. “Good morning.”

  She glanced up, her full rosy lips forming an O of surprise. “Why, James. It is you.”

  Not the response he had hoped for. Had she forgotten he planned to call? Devil take it, was he so wrong to hope she would finally see him as more than a friend.

  She held out her hand.

  He crossed the room to take it, a brief touch and release of a small hand that seared his skin when it seemed she felt nothing at all.

  She did smile, though, and he basked in its warmth.

  “I came for the letter,” he said.

  Color rushed up from her neck to her face. “The letter. Of course.”

  A paper floated off the desk. She grabbed for it and missed. It landed on the toe of his boot. He bent and retrieved it. He tried not to read it. Not to see the words leaping off the page. It was a list. Of men. The worst sort of men.

  A cold hand fisted in his chest. Kate hadn’t mentioned a list. Was Dee planning to sample them all? His shoulders tightened. He forced a smile. “Oh, I see what this is. A list of men you wished Lizzie to avoid.”

  The pink on her cheeks turned to vermilion as she took it from his hand. She opened the drawer to her desk and crammed the paper inside. “It is nothing.” She got up and with jerky steps moved away from the desk with a laugh, a brittle little sound that jarred his bones. Because she was hurting in a way that was beyond his power to understand.

  The cold feeling spread outward, not only because of the embarrassment in her face, but also because of the way her hands trembled and twisted at her waist. He was losing her. The thought cut like a whip. Bile rose in his throat. His gut knotted. It was all he could do not to clench his fists and strike out at the nearest inanimate object.

  He breathed in through his nose. Filled his lungs with air and let it go. It had been a mistake to think patience and honor would win the day. He clearly needed to act.

  He curled his lips in what he hoped was a smile. “I shall not give it another thought.” How easily lies tripped from his tongue. Lies about Peter. Lies about why he was here. And the thoughts churning in his head would not be denied. For years, Diana had been a living shadow of herself and now she’d returned, vibrant and alive. He had to feel glad, for her sake. He just wished he was certain it would not end in disaster.

  No. That he would not allow.

  “I have the letter ready,” she said, returning to the desk and handing him a sealed note. “Please give your mother my warmest wishes when you see her.”

  “I will. Thank you.” He bowed over her hand. As he did so, he couldn’t resist a parting shot. “Enjoy yourself at Vauxhall tonight.” He strode for the door, stopping as he pulled it over to look back with a sober expression. “After all, a mask is one of the few places a lady can enjoy herself with anonymity.”

  Her mouth dropped open in asto
nishment.

  He left her to make what she would of his words.

  To Diana, Vauxhall seemed more crowded than usual, more full of the obnoxious sort of reveler a lady would do well to avoid. Her gaze darted hither and yon among the many male forms around her, some strolling, some dancing or lounging in the boxes around the edge of the floor. Was he here? Somewhere in the crowd, waiting his chance to pounce? Her heart raced at the thought. And yet there was another man her gaze instinctively sought. James. Lord Grey. He had said he would not come, and still she expected to see his tall figure striding toward her. Few evenings passed when he did not stand at her side, offering his support. As a friend. She could no longer wait for it to become anything more.

  A strange ache filled her heart. She pushed it away and searched the crowds for a glimpse of the man she had come here to meet.

  Kate had slyly taken Harry and Lizzie off to meet some friends and left her alone in their box beside the dance floor. Glancing down, Diana watched her fingers play with her fan.

  Perhaps the stranger wouldn’t come after all. Perhaps he hadn’t found her attractive, but hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings. She didn’t know if she would be sorry or terribly relieved. Last night, in that darkened room, it had all been so exciting. She couldn’t remember feeling so alive or so feminine.

  It was a good thing James hadn’t come tonight. His presence would warn any one of those rakes away. How mortifying that he’d seen that foolish list. How low she must have sunk in his estimation. And yet his last sally had left her feeling weak, and off-kilter. Confused. Perhaps even hurt that he had not taken her to task.

  She shook off the dismal thought. She was here. She’d made up her mind.

  Dominos of every hue milled around her, their wearers sauntering from one gilded box to another, or twirling to the music in the center of the floor. Her gaze wandered the crowds again, looking for some indication of a man taking more than a casual interest. Looking for the form she’d but glimpsed in the doorway. She remembered how his voice caressed her like the touch of his lips on her mouth. Their kiss had been a thing of wonder. The memory stirred a flutter deep inside her.

  She pulled her hood forward. Fiddled with her mask. Wear red, he had said. She leaned forward, worried that he might not see her in the shadows of the box. Then drew back thinking she might think her overanxious. Hating the wait.

  Obviously drunk, a squat man in a rust-coloured domino wandered up and leaned over the front of her box. The smell of brandy rolled off him in waves. “Hello, pretty lady. Want to dance?” His nasal voice was coarse. This was not her stranger.

  Diana drew her domino closer around her. “No, thank you.”

  He reached out. “Na need ter be shy.”

  Diana rapped his knuckles with her fan. “Go away.” She glanced around for Harry and Kate. They were deeply engaged in conversation with a couple in matching gold dominos in a box on the other side of the dance floor. The Dunstans, she was sure.

  “Stuck-up bitch,” the man said. “All right, don’t dance. I’ll have me a bit of slap and tickle instead.” He raised his knee, preparing to climb into the box.

  There was no sense trying to face down such an ill-mannered brute. She rose from her seat.

  A man in black, his mask covering most of the upper part of his face, came up behind the drunk. Her heart thumped in her chest. Two of them? She backed away.

  “The lady said no,” the new arrival said in a menacing whisper, a voice she instantly recognized. This was her stranger. The man from last night.

  The man in rust blinked owlishly. “I saw her first, mate. Get your own ladybird.”

  The newcomer grabbed the drunk by the collar, hauled him off the boards, spun him around and gave him a hard push. With a glare he staggered off.

  “Thank you,” Diana said, scarcely able to breathe after such a show of force on her behalf.

  He bowed. “I apologize for the idiocy of my fellow man,” he said, in his deep husky tones that seemed to strike a chord in the pit of her belly. “And for my lateness.”

  “It is you,” she said, smiling with relief.

  White teeth flashed a wolfish grin. “It is indeed.” His eyes glittered behind his mask.

  “May I join you?” He glanced over his shoulder at a group of drunken young men making their way from box to box harassing the demi-mondaines in their nearby boxes. “No lady should be left alone in this place.”

  Her heart tumbled at the low, protective note in his voice. He seemed so strong. So forceful. Her insides fluttered. “Please do.” She had the strange feeling she knew him. She couldn’t, could she? “I must thank you for your courageous rescue.”

  He easily cleared the front of the box, and bowed over her hand. Her heart gave a quick little jolt. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, but he wore the hood of his domino close about his face, creating dark shadows on his square-cut jaw below the mask. Close up, he was larger, more imposing, than he’d seemed in the darkened room. Blood pounded in her ears. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think for the burst of excitement thrumming through her veins.

  He flashed another devilish grin, revealing straight, even teeth. “Thank me by granting me the honor of a waltz?”

  There was nothing dangerous about a waltz with a stranger in public view. She was not committed to anything by dancing. She still had time to change her mind. She took a quick breath. “I would like that.”

  His eyes twinkled wickedly. “It will do as a beginning.” Her breath caught at the boldness with which he regarded her through the slits of his mask. He was wicked indeed.

  “Come, sweet lady,” he murmured softly in her ear. “Let me hold you in my arms and be carried to heaven.”

  Her hand trembled in his, but he held it gently, as if it were made of porcelain, and as she looked into eyes dancing with the light of many lanterns, she felt rising anticipation, but no fear. Once more she had a sense of familiarity, but it would not do to guess his identity, or she could never go through with this.

  He drew her close to his side, one hand at the small of her back, and led her out of the box to the dance floor, where the waltz was already in progress.

  His touch was light, his steps lithe and his movements assured and athletic. Before long she was swirling around the room thrilling to his touch as he guided her effortlessly through both sober and drunken revelers.

  Diana chuckled softly.

  “What amuses you?” he asked in a low, seductive tone in her ear.

  “It is years since I waltzed. I am surprised I remember the steps.”

  “How can this be?”

  “Chaperones and those in mourning do not dance. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed it.”

  “Then I am doubly pleased.” His deep voice vibrated low in her abdomen and sent little pulses of heat rushing upward to tingle in her breasts. It seemed as if her body had come to life after years of being dormant. This was what she’d been missing these past years.

  He twirled her under his arm. Colored lanterns swirled in a dizzying blur. She smiled up at him as he brought her back within the circle of his arms.

  “You dance like and angel and look like one, too,” he whispered close to her ear as he drew her far closer than was proper.

  “You cannot know what I look like.” She sent him an arch look, exhilarated by their verbal sparring and the heat generated by his hand on her waist.

  “I know you have hair the color of spun gold.” He lightly touched one of the curls resting on her cheek. “I know you have full rosy lips. If that is not angelic, I don’t know what is.”

  “Oh, if we are talking only of looks, then you must assume what you please,” she retorted.

  “Are you saying you nature is not angelic?” He smiled, a sly smile designed to charm an admission of wickedness. He was a stranger. It didn’t matter what he thought of her, they would never meet again after tonight.

  “I’m no angel, sirrah.” She was surprised at the sensual throaty quality
of her voice, at how feminine she felt in his strong arms, how bold in her disguise. It was the ultimate freedom for a bird who had spent all its life in a cage. She wanted to stretch her wings and soar to the sky. “Indeed, you should never judge anything you see by its appearance.”

  “Then I should call you a devil?”

  “Time will tell.”

  “How much time?” His lips brushed her neck and a delicious shiver ran down her back.

  “You are the devil, sir.”

  “I try my best.”

  Diana laughed at his modest smile. And became aware that he had swept her off the dance floor and down one of the walks. One of the darker ones.

  The music faded behind them. And still they danced, more slowly now, the rhythm of their bodies in tune with their own shared music. The breeze off the river rustled in the trees and swung the lanterns so shadows danced around them. She felt as if they’d arrived in a fairy-tale land where no one else traveled but the two of them.

  He put one arm around her waist and she leaned her head on his shoulder and they wandered quietly along the walks. Aimlessly.

  Or perhaps not, for they came to a gate. He bent his head and kissed her lips. It was like no kiss she’d ever experienced. It warmed her through and through. Her toes curled up in her slippers, her breathing became labored. And then he touched her lips with his tongue. She opened to him and he tasted her tongue.

  It felt strange and wonderful and heart-stoppingly wicked.

  She tentatively licked him. “Mmm,” he murmured softly into her mouth and her insides pulled tight in a burst of strangely pleasant sensation that started between her thighs and spread outward, until her limbs felt peculiarly languid.

  “Dearest lady,” he whispered in that rough low voice, “my carriage awaits to transport you to a place where we can be alone. Are you ready to leave?”

  This really was the point of no return. All her lingering doubts had fled with his kiss. “Yes. But there is something you must know.” Her heart fluttered wildly. “I should have explained. I am not—” Good Lord how did one announce one’s virgin state without making him laugh. “I am neither a widow or a married woman.”