22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

T he night of the masquerade ball arrived in a swirl of anticipation and excitement. The grand ballroom of Alex's townhouse transformed into a glittering wonderland of music, laughter, and dance. Alex and Rosalind made their entrance, a vision of elegance and grace in their finery, their masks unable to conceal the joy and love that radiated from every inch of their beings. As they entered the ballroom arm in arm, the assembled guests turned to watch in awe, their eyes widening at the sight of the Duke and his beloved, the very picture of romantic perfection.

Rosalind was resplendent in dark green shot through with gold. She wore a gold mask that highlighted the comely curve of her eyes and silk flowers all over it. Matching silk flowers peppered her hair, and a simple gold circlet atop her hair, which was piled loosely at the top of her head. With her bare shoulders and a necklace with garnets in the shape of a pomegranate, it was clear that she was Persephone.

The Duke, standing tall and proud by her side, wore a piece of dark midnight blue silk draped over one shoulder on top of his jet-black evening jacket. He, too, wore a circlet of gold, but his was in the shape of serpents. His mask was also dark blue, and cut sharply to emphasise his cheekbones. His dark attire only highlighted his dark hair and eyes, giving him a slightly sinister air that secretly thrilled Rosalind to no end. He was the Hades to her Persephone.

As Lady Rosalind entered the grand ballroom on Alex's arm, she felt as though she had stepped into a dream. The room was awash in a sea of glittering candles, their soft light casting a warm glow over the assembled guests. Great swathes of silk hung from the ceiling, undulating softly as the ballroom windows had been opened fully to allow the summer breeze to circulate within. Sideboards were piled high with jellies in fantastic shapes, candied fruits that glistened in the low light, and small pastries dusted with gold. Much of the food was gilded, and that which wasn't gilded had been thickly glazed so that all of it glistened and shone like a feast for the gods. The air was filled with the gentle strains of a string quartet, which was artfully concealed behind a screen painted with a pastoral scene.

As they stepped into the ballroom, the guests parted like the Red Sea, making way for the Duke and his beloved. Rosalind could feel the weight of their gazes upon her, could hear the whispers and murmurs of speculation that followed in their wake, but she paid them no mind; her attention focused solely on the man at her side and the love that burned brightly between them. She ignored them imperiously, as grand as any queen.

It was Alex's duty to open the ball as the host, and there had never been any doubt in either of their minds as to who he would be opening it with. Truthfully, Rosalind had almost foregone the customary dance card, as she had no desire to partner with anyone else that night. She had been persuaded, however, by her sisters, who insisted that she maintain the look of propriety. The dance cards were beautifully embossed, and the gold string that was meant to be worn over the wrist had a tiny charm in the shape of a seashell that shone like a pearl.

They arranged themselves into the formation with the other couples, but they couldn't take their eyes from one another. They stared at each other with a heat that couldn't be concealed by their masks. The rest of the guests stared at them in turn, at such a blatant display of regard in public between unmarried people. It didn't matter–Rosalind had decided that she didn't give a fig for their opinions, and she wasn't about to start caring now.

As the final notes of the aptly named The Kiss faded away, Alex bowed as was required, and continued to gaze right into Rosalind's eyes. He folded his arms tightly behind his back, the very picture of prosperity. It looked to Rosalind, though, as if he did so to keep from openly embracing her right there on the dance floor. "I love you," he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion. "I love you more than I ever thought possible."

Rosalind's heart swelled with joy, the broad smile that bloomed under her mask all the answer that was needed.

Alex took his place at the head of the ballroom, receiving guests with congenial smiles and nods to those of rank. It was his duty to see that every guest was officially welcomed, and to ensure that the evening progressed as was expected.

Rosalind, acting as de facto hostess, remained by his side, adding her own smiles of welcome. Most of the guests gave her querying looks, as if they couldn't quite understand how she fit into this picture. She didn't care–she was just pleased to be by Alex's side, especially when he would give her a sideways glance and their eyes would meet for a moment.

They were at the point of the evening when there would be entertainment provided, giving the dancers a moment to catch their breath. At great expense, Alex had arranged for a troupe of Chinese acrobats, their faces delicately painted and flowers in their hair. Some walked on their hands, others balanced teacups or plates on poles, twirling them as they wound through the crowd. It was a mesmerising sight, which all of the guests seemed enraptured by.

Rosalind, however, was beginning to feel the strain of the evening. She had been so busy preparing for the masque that she'd had hardly a moment to herself, and she felt a little wrung out from having to put on a polite face.

Quietly, without anyone noticing her, she slipped from the ballroom. The delighted gasps and murmurs of the crowd faded as she moved through the dimly lit halls, finding her way upstairs to a room that had been set aside as a dressing room for the ladies. To her relief, there were no maids in attendance.

Probably gone to sneak a glass of punch in the kitchens , Rosalind thought with a wry smile. She couldn't exactly blame them. She closed and latched the green-backed door to the servants' stairs, ensuring that she would have her moment of solitude. She walked to the window which overlooked the expansive garden that backed the Duke's townhouse–a real luxury in London, and proof positive of his status. She leaned forward, braced her hands on the windowsill and touched her forehead to the cool glass. It was soothing, this moment of calm and reflection before the excitement that would surely follow the announcement of their engagement.

Her eyes fell softly closed as she contemplated the man that she was going to be marrying. That thought alone sent a thrill through her. Her cheeks grew warm again as she thought of his smiles, the way that his eyes followed her every move. He loved her, and she loved him, and damn the rest of them.

The door creaked softly as it opened, and Rosalind half-turned, expecting to find another young lady who wished to mend her hair, and mentally braced herself for any conversation that might ensue. To her great relief and equal shock, it was no lady that stood there, filling the doorway–it was Alex.

He stared at Rosalind, a blatant hunger on his face that made Rosalind's mouth go dry and warmth pool in her stomach. He stalked toward her like a lion on the hunt, and Rosalind found herself tripping lightly toward him, and they crashed together in the centre of the room.

They came together in a searing kiss, their lips meeting with a hunger and desperation that stole the breath from Rosalind's lungs. Alex pulled back long enough to nudge the door closed with his foot, the lock clicking into place with a satisfying sound. He quickly scooped Rosalind back into his arms, and she melted into Alex's embrace, her body moulding to his as though they were two halves of the same whole. His hands roamed over her curves, tracing the delicate lines of her shoulders and the swell of her breasts as they rose from her stays, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Rosalind's own hands explored the hard planes of his chest, the ripple of muscle beneath his finely tailored evening jacket, the strength and power of him both thrilling and comforting. Their hands were everywhere, as if they couldn't possibly get enough of one another.

They lost themselves in the sensation of each other. The world beyond the walls of their sanctuary fading away until all that remained was the two of them and the love that consumed them, body and soul. Rosalind's heart swelled with the intensity of her emotions, the depth of her feelings for this man who had captured her heart so completely. With trembling fingers, they began to undress each other, each article of clothing falling away to reveal the truth of their love and the commitment they had made to one another.

Rosalind fumbled a little with the unfamiliar men's garments, her fingers trembling as she reached for buttons and unwound his cravat. Alex's touch was reverent, his eyes filled with wonder and adoration as he gazed upon her, his fingers skimming over her skin like a whispered prayer.

As they came together, their bodies joining as one, Rosalind felt a sense of completeness, a rightness that she had never known before. All of the doubts, the sniping from the ton, even the hesitation of her own heart to allow herself to love all melted away. They moved together in perfect harmony, their passion building with each thrust, each caress, each breathless moan. The pleasure coursed through her veins like molten gold, building and building until she thought she might shatter from the intensity of it all. Alex's lips found hers once more, his kiss a promise and a vow, a pledge of his love and devotion. Rosalind clung to him, her nails digging into the firm muscles of his back, anchoring herself to him as they climbed higher and higher towards the peak of their ecstasy.

When the moment finally came, when the world exploded in a kaleidoscope of colour and sensation, Rosalind knew that she would never be the same. She had found her other half, her soulmate, the one person who completed her in every way possible. As they lay together in the aftermath, their bodies intertwined and their hearts beating as one, she knew that this was only the beginning of their forever.

Rosalind savoured the warmth of Alex's embrace, their bodies still intertwined in the afterglow of their passionate lovemaking. His skin was slick against hers, and she could feel the pounding of his heart, a rhythm that matched her own. In this moment, nothing else mattered but the two of them and the love they shared.

"I love you, Alex," Rosalind whispered, her voice raw with emotion. "I never knew it was possible to feel this way, to be so completely consumed by another person."

Alex's hand came up to gently cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her kiss-swollen lips. "You are my everything, Rosalind," he murmured, his eyes shining with adoration. "I promise to love you, to cherish you, to stand by your side through whatever life may bring. You are my heart, my soul, my reason for being."

Rosalind's eyes filled with tears at his words, the depth of his devotion overwhelming her. She captured his lips in a searing kiss, pouring all of her love and passion into the embrace. They clung to each other, lost in the moment, until the distant strains of music from the ballroom below reminded them of the world beyond the four walls that had framed their loving embrace.

With a final, lingering kiss and a squeeze of their hands, they reluctantly parted, untangling their legs. Alex chuckled a little as Rosalind wobbled slightly when she stood, and she sent him a mockingly doleful look. They straightened their clothing, Alex obligingly helping Rosalind with her stays and watching with curiosity as she inserted the wooden busk into the centre. She sat at the dressing table with a puff of a sigh and stared at her hair for a moment. She attempted to right it, pushing the pins back in. She didn't dare to call a maid, so she just made do herself.

"At least it was tousled to begin with," she grumbled, which made Alex laugh again and drop a kiss on the back of her neck that made her shiver.

When she was at last done, Alex raised a brow at her as if to silently ask if she was well. She nodded, pressing her mask to her face again and tying it on, just as the mask of propriety slipped back into place as they prepared to rejoin the masquerade. Even as they composed themselves, the memory of their secret moment of passion lingered, a cherished memory that would stay with her always.

For the first time, Rosalind felt truly at peace, truly complete. Here, on Alex's arm as they nonchalantly re-entered the ballroom, she was not just Lady Rosalind, the unconventional daughter of a nobleman. She was not defined by society's expectations or the constraints of her gender–she was simply a woman in love, a woman who had found her other half, her soulmate.

As the final notes of the song faded away, Alex took a chance and snaked his arm about her waist, pulling her close. "I love you, Lady Rosalind, Duchess of Somerton," he whispered, his voice filled with reverence and awe.

Rosalind's heart soared at his words, at the realisation that this was real, that this was her life now. She would be the Duchess of Somerton, the wife of the man she loved more than life itself. As they stood there, surrounded by the glittering splendour of the ballroom and the ton, she knew that this was only the beginning of their forever.

As Rosalind and Alex swayed to the music, lost in a world of their own, a figure emerged from the shadows at the edge of the ballroom. It was a woman dressed all in black, her face hidden behind an intricate mask that seemed to shimmer and shift in the candlelight.

For a moment, Rosalind rationally thought that she was a shadow made real. Rosalind's heart skipped a beat as she watched the mysterious figure glide across the floor, moving with a grace and purpose that was both mesmerising and unsettling. Her eyes never left Alex and Rosalind, ignoring the dancers and weaving about them with ease.

The woman approached them, her steps deliberate and measured, her gaze fixed on Rosalind. As she drew closer, Rosalind could see that the mask was adorned with intricate patterns of black lace and glittering crystals, a work of art that seemed to come alive in the low light of the ballroom.

Alex's arm tightened around Rosalind, his body tensing as he sensed the change in her demeanour. He turned to face the approaching figure, his eyes narrowing behind his own mask as he tried to discern the woman's identity and intentions.

The woman stopped just a few feet away from them, her head tilted slightly to the side as she regarded Rosalind with an intensity that made her skin prickle. For a moment, the three of them stood frozen, the music and the chatter of the other guests fading into the background as they faced each other in a silent standoff.

Then, the woman spoke, her voice low and melodic, with a hint of an accent that Rosalind couldn't quite place. "Your Grace," she said, her lips curving into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time."

Alex's voice was cold and hard as he addressed the woman, his words sharp and biting. "What are you doing here?"