Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Nine Years Ago

Kitty was right, Lydia should not be there.

The words of warning seemed years away now instead of only a few hours. If Lydia had been wiser, then perhaps she never would have snuck out of the house in the first place. Father’s wrath was not something to be trifled with. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lydia knew that the consequences of her actions were going to be severe if she were to be found out.

Lingering somewhere behind Lydia was her ladies’ maid to act as chaperone. A woman old enough to be Lydia’s mother, but the woman was anything but motherly. Rather, she seemed the opposite. Her maid encouraged her to act in ways not conducive to society’s standards.

If it weren’t for her influence, Lydia would not have been able to come to the masquerade ball. Father had expressly forbidden it. He claimed that a woman ought not to ever have a reason to deceive a man and that a young lady would be tempting sin to pretend to be something other than herself.

“Do you have a favorite yet?” Martha, Lydia’s maid, asked with a secret smile.

Lydia’s face flushed at the implication of the words. “Even if I had decided on a favorite, it is not as if I should know who the gentleman truly is.”

“Sometimes that is part of the fun, is it not?” Martha smirked and extended a hand with wiggling fingers for the glass of wine in Lydia’s hand. “A lady is only young once, and certainly has even fewer opportunities to be as mysterious and alluring as she could possibly wish. It is best if you capitalize on it while you can.”

Lydia laughed softly, as Martha sipped the wine she had just taken from her.

“It is rather exhilarating, I will admit.”

Lydia reached up to carefully adjust the lace and pearl mask that she wore to obscure her facial features from view as she looked out over the seat of bodies. If she were being honest, this particular ball did have an entirely different mood than the others that she had attended this season.

Given that it was her first year in the marriage mart, she had to uphold every one of her father’s very strict opinions on what it means to be a lady. Which left her very little room to have any fun. Even less so when father had given her a list of approved topics of conversation that she was not allowed to deviate from, no matter the circumstances.

Tonight, however, she could say anything that she wished. She could be anything that she liked.

She might still be a young girl of eighteen, but she knew her own mind. She knew her ow wants and desires.

Martha had taken great care in getting her ready for this event tonight. They had carefully chosen pearl accents to pin in her hair and a deep purple lace that matched the plum color of her gown. White satin gloves came up over her elbows, and a hint of rouge on her cheeks was only barely visible under the bottom half of her mask.

“There is still one more spot open on your dance card, miss, I suggest that you choose carefully.” Martha advised and finished off the glass of wine before starting to look for another. A poor chaperone, at best, but it was needed at an event like this one.

Despite having grown up around these people, Lydia could not have named a single one. So long as they also could not name her, she was safe.

Besides, there was one man in particular that she did have her eye set on. The only man in the room who had both refused to drink and dance with anyone. Lydia could not help but take it as a challenge that his standards seemed so impossibly high. Though, standing as tall as he did, she supposed he had room to be choosey.

No doubt he was titled. She could see it in the confident way that he stood, watching everyone in the room with those enchanting eyes. Even through the black mask that he wore to conceal his identity, those striking gray eyes so light they were almost silver held her attention time and time again.

Timidly, she turned her gaze in the direction of the man with such an intense stare. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized that he was already looking in her direction. Lydia summoned more courage than she knew herself to have and straightened her posture, attempting to appear more… well, something.

The man in the black mask smiled, but it was not a kind gesture. It did not feel as if he were inviting her over; rather, challenging her to see if she was worthy of standing by his side. It felt like a test, the way that his head tilted ever so slightly to the side and never broke eye contact with her.

A thrill ran through her. A ripple of sensation that worked its way up from her spine to her chest and down around her fingertips. What might happen if she were to accept his challenge? What sort of prizes would lay there before her?

The choice clear. Stay there and enjoy the party then run home, or fully step into her ruse and see what might await her in his tempting gaze.

“If you don’t go, I will.” Martha chuckled from Lydia’s side, elbowing her softly in the ribs to encourage her.

It was all the push that she needed.

Lydia had never felt quite so powerful or important as when she took that first step and the man in the black mask’s smirk transformed into something she could only interpret as proud. Such a strange thing to wish to make a stranger proud. More than that, she wanted to impress him for reasons that she could not name.

When she reached his side, he stood at least a head taller than her, as she had to look up to see him properly. His broad stature was even more impressive up close. She could swear that she could see his muscles through the sleeves of his coat and yet, when he extended out a hand toward her, he did so with grace and softness.

“I was beginning to think that you were going to make me wait all night.” The man said, laughter in his voice despite the fact that his face no longer smiled.

Up close she could see that he could not be much older than her, only a couple of years perhaps.

“The proper thing would have been to come to my chaperone and ask for an introduction.” Lydia answered with a secret smile of her own.

“Yes, but allowing you the space to come to me gave me a lovely opportunity to get a feel for the sort of woman that you are. I can normally read most women at functions like this.” He said as he led her toward the dance floor.

The moment that her slippers crossed the threshold while holding this man’s hand, whispers erupted around them. Lydia glanced around herself to those whispering behind their fans. She was no wallflower, but she was not accustomed to so many people talking about her either.

“Oh? And have you reached a conclusion as to what sort of woman I am?” Lydia asked.

“I shall let you know when I have finished making my assessment.” He teased, pulling her just a touch closer than was strictly modest as he led her around the dance floor.

A woman was always supposed to follow the lead of a man, that’s what father always said.

But father was not here tonight.

Lydia bit down on her bottom lip, and attempted to flip the direction of the dance so that she was in the lead. She knew that with so many eyes watching them, that he could not afford to make a scene here, but she was curious as to how he would handle it. He moved with surprising ease and swiftness considering how large of a man that he was. Though, he quickly resumed control of their moves with a chuckle.

“You shall have to try harder than that, my lady.” He taunted. There was a glimmer in his eyes that she could not deny, the compulsion to compete was far too strong.

“Just keeping you on your toes… well, I do not know what I am supposed to address you as, sir.” Lydia said as she took the lead once more.

“You can ask me my name, my lady, but I might lie. Is the allure of this evening not supposed to revolve around mystery?”

“True, I suppose that I could give you a false name as well.”

“Why stop there? Why not invent a whole new persona and backstory? It is certainly the time and place for such games.”

“Do not tempt me, sir. You will quickly come to find that I have a very expansive imagination.”

“You are going to make me regret that we only have tonight to spend together if you keep saying things like that.”

“You say such bold things, sir.” Lydia said while holding direct eye contact.

The man’s answer was to trail his hand down the curve of her spine, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. The air between them seemed to heat. She could read his intentions in the way he moved against her without him having to say a single word.

Their song was quickly coming to an end, and she did not wish to be parted from him so quickly. There was something electric about the way that he touched her and the moments where his fingers brushed against even the smallest patches of bare skin that seemed to set her on fire deep within her core. She had never felt such a connection to somebody before.

When the first song ended, an intimate waltz took its place. Feeling somewhat defeated, Lydia started to take a step away, but the mysterious man pulled her closer once more. It was hardly out of place. They were far from the only couple who was using the present anonymity to flirt far more than society’s standards would ever have allowed.

The masked man leaned down closer, whispering in her ear softly. “Come walk with me.”

It was more of a command than a question, but as he pulled her into a waltz pose, she could not think of anything that she would rather be doing.

As he pulled her upright, he winked. “Meet you outside.”

The choice was hers. But there was only one true option. Lydia had this feeling that if she did not go into that garden for a walk with him, that she would spend the whole rest of her life wondering ‘what if’.

Stepping outside she found something magical. The pathway down into the gardens was lined with rounded archways covered in vines and pretty flowers of bright colors. Small lamps illuminate the way to where the masked man waited for her.

Lydia walked slowly, letting her intuition guide her. She could hear others in the garden, hidden in small alcoves created by shrubs and bushes, making sounds that she had never heard before. Her same imagination could only wonder as to what they might have been up to.

Something that she might wish for herself.

Assuming, of course, that she could find the man in question. The further that she traveled into the garden maze, the harder it was to see. Lydia was moments away from pulling the mask off of her face when an arm caught her around the middle from behind, and pushed her mask right back down on her face.

“Leave it on,” he said.

Lydia waited for the nerves to settle in. Followed by that gnawing feeling that she normally got whenever she was about to do something that she knew that she wasn’t supposed to do, only it never came. The man’s hand cupped her neck softly as he stood behind her, the hand around her waist pulling her back into his firm body.

A thrill shot through her, and she bit her bottom lip as his fingers splayed over her stomach. She had certainly heard about her share of rakes in her years. Not only from Martha or the warnings from her father, but from the gossip mill that she always pretended that she did not cling to. She never thought that she would be alluring enough to tempt one of them, and wanted to capitalize on the experience.

On her own terms.

Lydia spun in the man’s arms, placing a bold hand against his chest and pushing him back against a lamp pillar. A soft yellow glow encircled them boldly, and she had to hope that they were the only couple this deep into the maze. The man’s arms encircled her, resting low on the backs of her hips, allowing her to have the control in this setting far more easily than he had on the dance floor. Her chin lifted, but her gaze dropped to his lips.

“Have you figured out what sort of woman that I am yet?” She asked, unable to stop herself as her gloved hand lifted, brushing her fingertips over his full bottom lip curiously.

The man hummed low in the back of his throat in response. “Perhaps you should show me the sort of woman that you are? If you continue this bewitchment, I shall be far too deeply under your spell to think for myself.” He smiled then, a soft gesture of how pleased that he was to be in her company. Something inviting that she could not stop from returning.

Lydia lifted onto the tips of her toes, her lips nearly brushing his own, a witty response waiting to tumble from her—when he moved. He closed the distance and pulled her right off her feet. It was like something had unleashed in him the moment that she had been about to give the go ahead.

His kiss was unlike anything that she could have imagined. No amount of scandalous stories or innuendos made by Martha would have properly prepared her for such feelings. How was it possible that she could feel the echoes of his kiss everywhere? What bliss would it be to have him kiss her elsewhere?

All rational thought left her mind. The words died unspoken on her lips as a world of new sensations was opened up to her. She fisted the lapel of his coat, pulling herself closer even as he lifted her to mold against his body. It was as if she had been made to fit against the firm planes of his body.

Somehow, her limbs seemed to know just what to do as, in this, she allowed him to have the lead. Lydia’s arms wrapped around his neck, and she molded herself against the firm planes of his body, wanting more, needing more. The man’s mask bumped against her own, threatening to lift and expose to her who just this mystery man was—

Somebody called her name.

In the distance a hushed, frantic voice called her name again. It seemed to be looming closer.

The man’s mask started to slip as he kissed a heated path over the curve of her jaw and down the side of her neck. His hand shifted, holding her effortlessly with one arm while the other cupped her breast. Oh, she wanted to explore those feelings more than anything.

Martha, it was Martha.

Which meant that something bad had happened. The older woman never would have dared to interrupt what was happening for anything other than an emergency.

“Go,” Lydia breathed. “I have to go. I am—forgive me.”

“What?”

Lydia pushed out of his arms, leaving everything that the evening might have turned into behind her. The last thing to let go of was her hand, which the man seemed to wish to pull her back and keep her closer for as long as possible. She did not even see her handkerchief fall from where she had it as she hurried to Martha’s side.

Perhaps leaving was the part that she was going to forget.

Perhaps this man will be the one who got away.