Escaping the Earl, page 2
“I thought we were to attend the ball at Lady Germain’s tonight,” Prudence whined.
“Not tonight. I am in a foul mood,” Jereym growled.
“But my dear, it is a masquerade. You know how I enjoy those . . .”
The conversation died out as Jereym and Prudence moved out of her hearing. But it didn’t matter. Sabrina had found a way out. She’d thought at first to simply run away, but now she had a way to make sure that tomorrow morning she would not have her precious maidenhead and Mr. Booker would leave her alone for good.
She slid out of bed and once more opened her armoire. She had one gown worthy of a masquerade, her mother’s court gown. It was silver silk and pearls with a silver-threaded embroidered bodice. She pulled on the bell cord to summon Louisa. When the maid arrived, she clasped the girl’s hands in her own.
“Louisa, I need your help. I must leave tonight for a few hours. If my brother or Prudence asks after me, can you tell them that I am ill?”
“Yes,” Louisa said.
She embraced the maid. “Thank you.”
“Now, let me help you change, miss.” Louisa assisted Sabrina as she changed into the silver satin gown. Sabrina was lucky enough to have a masquerade mask that had also belonged to her mother. It was a gold-and-silver glittering thing that had exquisite decorations painted on it. It also covered most of her face except for her mouth and chin. A perfect disguise.
Once she was ready to leave, Louisa kept watch in the corridor so that Sabrina could escape to the front door of the cottage and leave. It would be a long walk to the Germain estate, but if she left early enough she should reach the grand manor house just in time for the ball to start.
2
Peregrine Ashby was incredibly grateful for the protection of his domino as he watched the crowds flow across the ballroom in Lady Germain’s grand manor house. The mask allowed him to move through the well-dressed people with more anonymity than he’d had in the last few weeks.
As the new Earl of Rutland, he’d risen from a somewhat obscure gentleman to a man with far too much popularity, in his opinion. Most of it had to do with the Lady Society column posted in the Quizzing Glass Gazette. She’d told the unmarried ladies of London far too much about him, despite her attempt not to name him directly.
After his great-uncle Frederick had died, the earldom had passed to him. It was entirely unexpected. There had been at least three other gentlemen ahead of him, yet all of those men had also died in the last year. All three of them had been together on a small cutter ship that had sunk off the coast of Egypt, and all lives were lost.
Now at thirty years of age, Peregrine had opportunities in abundance. He had moved out of his cramped bachelor residence in a rough part of London and into his great-uncle’s townhouse in Grosvenor Square. He’d also inherited the family estate, Ashbridge Heath, in the Cotswolds, and though he had not visited it yet, he’d been corresponding with the butler and housekeeper there. He hoped to see it in a few weeks’ time, but until then, he was enjoying himself here as much as he could.
“Ashby? That you?” a familiar voice greeted him. He saw a tall blond-haired man wearing a dark-blue domino striding toward him through the crowd. Despite the mask, Peregrine recognized his friend. Those bright-blue eyes were unmistakable, along with that wicked smirk that promised trouble.
“Lennox, keep your voice down,” Peregrine said as Rafe Lennox joined him at the back of the crowded ballroom.
“What? Afraid someone will recognize you?” Rafe asked.
“Yes, exactly,” Peregrine grumbled. For the last three weeks, it seemed he had dodged every young female and scheming mother in London and the surrounding boroughs. That was not an easy thing to do, but he was determined to avoid marriage, at least for the time being. He was in no hurry to get leg-shackled. He’d only just been given a new life, and if he was burdened with a wife, he feared he would be obliged to stay at home, or at the least feel duty-bound to stay home. He was also wary of English society for the moment. He’d been at the bottom of society for many years and had been treated poorly. Now he was out of his depth in his new position, and he needed to take the time to sort out the good from the bad in the upper echelons of the ton.
When he did eventually have to marry, he wanted to marry someone he could tolerate. Until then, he just wanted his freedom, and marriage was the opposite of that. At least, it had been for his parents. Neither of them had liked each other, and they’d lived much of their lives as far apart as possible, even while under the same roof. And given how little money his father had had to support them, this had been most of the time.
It became easier when his mother died, because his father’s temperament had softened a little. But he had died not long thereafter, leaving Peregrine entirely alone.
Rafe jovially put an arm around Peregrine’s shoulder and hollered at the people nearby. “We’ve got Lord Rutland here.” He pointed at a gaggle of girls. “You lot, line up and be ready to dance with him.”
Peregrine rammed an elbow none too gently into Rafe’s stomach.
Rafe doubled over, his breath escaping in a rush. “Bloody hell, man. I was only teasing.”
“Yes, well, now you’ve outed me, and those ladies look ready to hunt me down and mount my head on their mantels.”
The young women Rafe had so recklessly shouted at were now huddled together, their fans flapping and their heads bent as they whispered to each other. Occasionally one girl would glance at Peregrine over her shoulder.
“Christ, they do look rather serious, don’t they?” Rafe smoothed his waistcoat out as he now eyed the ladies in return with no small amount of trepidation.
“I think, given how you’re raising that adorable little ward of yours, that you should be the one to get married, Lennox.”
“What? The devil take you, man. Marriage is not for me. The world is full of women in need of a proper kiss, and it is my solemn duty to provide myself to them. Besides,” Rafe chuckled, “Isla would never be content to share her new papa with any woman.”
It never ceased to amaze Peregrine that Rafe, a man known for his devil-may-care attitude, had returned from visiting Scotland with a small child in tow. More surprising was the fact that she was not his by blood, but he’d taken her in as his daughter all the same. Fatherhood had wrought many positive changes in the notorious rogue, but he would always be a brave and irresponsible troublemaker as well as a damned loyal friend.
“Well, given that you caused this mess, I believe you ought to do the honorable thing and throw yourself upon the sword for me.” Peregrine pushed Rafe into the crowd of young ladies who had broken up their little war council and were headed toward him.
Rafe wobbled comically as he stumbled through the pack of husband hunters, giving Peregrine a moment to duck out of sight. He used the tall marble pillars in the ballroom to hide and moved far enough away that the pack could not find him so easily. He reached the orchestra at the back of the ballroom near the doors, where a servant was announcing the newly arriving guests.
This glittering world of silks and gold-tinged laughter was still so new to him. He hadn’t grown up with the luxuries one expected an earl to have. His great-uncle had held out hope for another heir, any one of his sons or their children, but none had survived. It was only him, the son of a lesser son in their noble line. Peregrine had never even met his great-uncle Frederick. Yet he was prepared to do his duty and fit into this world. He knew all the dances, the modes for proper address, and table manners, but that didn’t make him feel suitable as a peer of the realm. That was all the young women here tonight saw: his lands, his title, and his fortune. Not him.
I wish for one night to be seen as just a man—as myself.
A few more guests entered the ballroom, each of them announced, all except the last one, a young woman. She waved the servant away with a polite smile when he inquired her name. It was a bold move, one that caught Peregrine’s attention. Fascinated, he studied the woman. Her gown was a silver silk creation that seemed to glow beneath the lamplight. Hundreds of pearls covered her bodice, capped sleeves, and the silver outer skirts of her gown. Her hair was piled atop her head in delicate curls, with silver ribbon running through the strands.
She tilted her head to one side and he saw that her mask was a soft gold and silver. He could only guess at her features above her lips, but the rest of her was regal and yet almost dreamlike. She seemed like a fae queen destined to marry a handsome fae prince. She was incomparable to the mere mortals around her, so much so that as she walked deeper into the room, the crowd parted around her. Ladies bowed their heads, and men did the same.
Who was she?
Peregrine moved into the shadows, keeping pace with her slow progress into the room. Just as the music ended, he moved toward her. He was barely aware of his feet until the moment he reached her. Where other men dared not tread, he now boldly stepped forward. He had come here to dance, after all, and one dance did not mean he would have to marry this mysterious beauty, whoever she was.
“A dance, my lady?” he asked, then bowed before straightening and holding out a hand to her. She hesitated, her dark-brown eyes fathomless, her lips parted as she drew in a quick breath before she responded.
“Thank you.” She placed her palm in his, and a spark of something shot between them.
He led her onto the dance floor, never more thankful that Lady Germain had forgone dance cards to allow for people to dance with whomever they wished, and to maintain some mystery with their masks.
He swept the woman into his arms as the musicians began a waltz. He didn’t worry about the steps as he guided her across the floor.
“You dance beautifully,” she said as they moved as one.
“As do you, my lady.” He sought her eyes, and she looked away as though shy. Such a contrast to the bold woman who had arrived through the door unannounced.
Who could she be? A clever debutante, a widowed woman, a spinster seeking a night of excitement? Whoever she was, she had set fire to the imaginations of everyone in the ballroom tonight, himself included. He’d never been a romantic man, but something about this woman left him with dreams of gardens and dances at midnight through the roses and wisteria.
“Will you tell me your name?” he asked.
“I thought it was supposed to be a mystery,” she remarked with a melancholy smile.
He recognized in her a kindred spirit. Whoever she was, she wished to be left alone by the world, and tonight would be her only escape. A sudden fear that she would vanish in his arms like mist the moment the dance ended set him on edge.
“You’ll stay for another dance?” he asked as they twirled past a crowd of young women who looked on in envy. “Or will you vanish, my fae queen?”
“I may do either,” she laughed. “What can you offer me to stay, dear mortal? Tempt me,” she commanded in a soft, enchanting voice.
“Let me see . . . I could entertain you with jokes. Or perhaps riddles? A walk in the gardens?” He would have offered her everything he had to give, even his heart. But this was merely madness born of infatuation, that was all. Love at first sight was nonsense. It was a story told to debutantes before they faced their first balls. It did not exist for a thirty-year-old gentleman.
“A walk in the gardens . . . and perhaps a riddle or two?”
“Done, my lady.”
Peregrine escorted her off the dance floor as the waltz ended. It seemed as though everyone was still watching them.
“Heavens, we are being watched most diligently, aren’t we?” she mused.
“Yes, it’s rather irritating. Give me a moment.” He studied the various exits. “Come, let us fetch some ratafia and make our escape out the doors just beyond the refreshment tables.”
They retrieved the drinks and began to move slowly backward toward the open terrace doors.
“Almost there,” Peregrine murmured as they stood on the threshold. “No sudden moves now . . .” The fall breeze came through the white curtains which had been pulled back to the edges of the doors.
The woman took another sip of her drink. “On three?”
He nodded. “One . . . two . . . three.” And they plunged swiftly out onto the terrace together.
He pulled her down the steps that led to the gardens. “Come, this way.” They set their glasses on the terrace railing as they left. She laughed as she picked up her skirts with her free hand and followed him. They sprinted across the perfectly manicured lawn and vanished into the tall hedges. Only when the house was no longer visible did they stop.
“I believe we are quite safe to enjoy our walk in peace.” Peregrine tucked her arm in his. “Now, I believe I promised you a riddle, did I not?”
“You did.”
Rather enjoying himself, he tapped his chin. “What walks on four feet in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three at night?”
She grinned. “I asked for a riddle, not a history lesson. If I remember correctly, that is the riddle of the Sphinx from Oedipus Rex . . . and the answer is man. As an infant, he crawls on all fours, as an adult he walks on two legs, and when he is old, he uses a walking stick.”
“Ah, I forgot I was matching wits with an ancient fae. Very well . . . What of this one?” Then he recited a poem:
As I was going to St. Ives,
Upon the road I met seven wives,
Each wife had seven sacks,
Each sack had seven cats,
Each cat had seven kits:
Kits, cats, sacks and, wives,
How many were there going to St. Ives?
“Oh dear, would you tell it to me again?” she asked.
Peregrine dutifully repeated the riddle.
“May I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
“I assume this person going to St. Ives is traveling upon a road and is not going faster or slower than any other travelers upon the road and is alone when he first sets out?”
It took Peregrine a moment to think the questions through as they related to the answer.
“Yes. Your assumptions are correct.”
She hesitated only a moment before answering. “One. One is going to St. Ives. The others mentioned are a mathematical misdirection. One would assume he could only pass these other travelers as they passed by him coming from the opposite direction.”
“Well done, my fae queen. Very well done. Would you like one more?”
“Yes, and be careful—if you choose one that’s too easy, I shall vanish forever.” She laughed.
“Very well. It is a short one but a very hard one. There are two doors, one leading to heaven and one leading to hell. Each one has an identical guard. You may ask one guard one question and then make your choice as to which door to pass through, with your goal to enter the gate to heaven. One of the guards always tells the truth and one always lies. What question would you ask of which guard?”
They stopped by a white marble bench and sat down beside each other. Peregrine was lost in the beauty of the moonlight upon her alabaster skin.
“Now that is difficult,” she said. “I would ask either guard what the other guard would say, then go through the opposite door.”
“My God,” Peregrine murmured. “You’ve heard of that one too?”
“No, but it is logical. Sometimes the answer to a riddle is the easiest solution one can manage. Assuming one does not overthink it.”
She stood and walked farther down the path, and he followed.
“My lady, please tell me your name.” He reached for her hand, pulling it into his own and stroking his fingertips over the inside of her palm. She took in a breath as he pressed a kiss against her inner wrist. She started to tremble, and he nearly forgot himself and tried to wrap his arms around her. He stopped at the last minute and instead released her hand, and she seemed to calm.
She chuckled softly as she composed herself. “I’m sorry. I cannot tell you. Even if I did, it would do neither of us any good.”
“Why?”
She looked up at the endless inky black sky. “Because after tomorrow, I shall be no one.” She stood and started to walk away
Peregrine went after her and caught her hand, halting her. “You frighten me with your talk of becoming no one on the morrow. Why do you say this?”
She turned her face away, but when he gently turned her back to look at him, tears trailed down the edge of her mask.
“You’re crying,” he breathed. His concern for this woman he didn’t know twisted him inside until he felt an almost physical pain. He’d never felt so connected to anyone in his life, and yet she was an utter stranger. But in that moment, it was the truth. He was connected to her somehow.
“I am, but it does not matter.”
“It doesn’t? Then what does, my lady?”
She cupped his face and rose up on her tiptoes. “This . . .”
She kissed him, and the world around that kiss ceased to be.
3
Sabrina could think of only one way to distract this man before her. She grabbed him and kissed him. She’d never kissed a man before and therefore had no idea how it should feel, but her initial clumsiness faded as the mysterious man pulled her closer and his lips eagerly met hers. He was so tall, so wonderfully warm and hard against her own body as she leaned into him. The man kept her within the circle of his embrace, leaving her feeling safe in a way she hadn’t imagined possible. She surrendered herself to him, hoping the kiss would last forever.
She quickly learned how to move her mouth, how to savor the sensations and the tingle of excitement the kiss sent through her entire body. When he licked at the seam of her lips, she pulled back a little, startled.
“Easy, my darling, I don’t wish to frighten you. Open your mouth for me.”
“Open my mouth?” She reluctantly moved back into his arms, uncertain if she would like this or not.
“Trust me.” He brushed the backs of his fingers down the side of her throat in a tender caress. She did trust him. It was strange . . . but it was also true. She trusted this man.
