A Marquess’s Masked Encounter (Preview)

Chapter One

London, 1819

Masquerade Ball

Rachel

Leaning against a wall, Rachel released a great sigh and dabbed her brow with a lace-bordered handkerchief. It was still winter, but the heat generated by the numerous bodies in the ballroom created a furnace straight from the depths of hell, not to mention the odors wafting from the moving guests. She couldn’t possibly dance another set or remain a moment longer in the room. 

“Aunt Josephine,” she said, turning to the sitting woman beside her. “I’m sweating like a decadent sinner worried about entering a church building. I need to get some fresh air.”

“What do you know about decadent sinning, dear?” her aunt asked, adjusting her gold mask. “You haven’t yet begun to live to understand the true effects of sin.”

“I think at twenty-two, I should very well understand what sin is,” Rachel countered. “I hear all the scandalous stories from the maids. Besides, a sin is a sin, whether big or small. Lying about the cards you have is just as bad as having an affair with a married woman.”

“Not so loud, dear,” her aunt chided, her voice a desperate whisper.

“Not so loud about what?” Rachel asked, lowering her voice as she tilted her head. “The fact that you always have a trick card or knowing about Cousin Rupert’s secret affair with Baron Melville’s wife?”

“Both!” Aunt Josephine cried, looking around her. “Do you not know that Baron Melville and his wife are here? So is Rupert. They could overhear you. Worse yet, others may overhear you and carry the news like fire to a dry field.”

“My, oh, my,” said Rachel, shaking her head. “The level of shamelessness is rather high in the ballroom this evening. But how can you possibly see who is who? Everyone is wearing a mask.”

“Lady Melville wears the same mask at every masquerade ball,” Aunt Josephine explained. “Someone once complimented her, which was seemingly enough for her to never change it. Cousin Rupert is easy to spot, as he is the only man here with orange hair.”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Rachel, looking for the culprits. “I still think what they are doing to poor Baron Melville is awful. I know he’s old enough to be his wife’s father, but that is hardly the way to deal with the matter.”

“Would it be more acceptable if the baron allowed it?” Aunt Josephine asked.

Rachel widened her eyes. “A husband allowing his wife to cheat? Does such a thing happen? It doesn’t sound like it makes for a happy marriage. What about an heir? How can they be sure who fathered the child until he is old enough to resemble someone? Mind you, a child can greatly resemble the father at birth.”

“You so quickly dismiss a husband allowing his young wife to cheat,” her aunt said. “You know nothing of the world and its sins, dear. It’s a complicated evil that can sometimes become one’s truth, but others will still find it unacceptable because it’s a sin.”

“People are complicated; sin isn’t,” said Rachel, shaking her head as she looked around. She was suddenly hit with a gust of hot air and a strong onion odor as a group of guests walked past her. “Can they not at least open the doors and let in fresh air? The lack of flowing air is making me considerably warmer and ill.”

“Winter air, dear?” her aunt said. “No one wishes to freeze to death. There’s still snow on the ground.”

“Do you not feel too warm, Aunt Josephine?” Rachel asked, desperately fanning herself with the handkerchief. “Is it really just me? You’re even wearing more layers than I am.”

“Well, I haven’t been on my feet the entire evening,” her aunt pointed out. “How many more partners do you have on your card?”

“Too many to count, but I’ve already lost the will to dance,” Rachel said. “Look at my shoes,” she added, pointing at them. “They’re filthy! One out of every three dancers has stepped on my feet. Papa seems to have chosen mostly bad dancers for me, or rather, the worst potential suitors on his list.”

Rachel’s father, the Earl of Somerset, had recently compiled a list of all the potential suitors that could assist him in his endeavors to become more powerful, both socially and politically. The men had to be wealthy and well-connected, or they were not good enough to marry his daughters. Unfortunately, Rachel was the lesser-loved twin, so she was stuck with the less desirable men. Her twin sister, Juliet, had the best of the lot and appeared to be immensely enjoying herself. Juliet was most like their father, making her the preferred twin. Their father wasn’t able to distribute his affection equally, likely because he didn’t have their mother to keep him grounded and fair. Seventeen years was a long time to form bad habits and isolate a daughter who didn’t meet his standards.

Rachel flinched slightly when her aunt unexpectedly placed a warm hand on her arm. “I know it’s hard, dear,” said Aunt Josephine. “I’ll speak to him if I think a suitor isn’t acceptable for you. I mean, beyond the dance floor. I will not let him marry you off to someone who cannot make you happy.”

“That will not do any good,” said Rachel. “Once Papa makes up his mind, he seldom changes it.”

“But he has yet to make up his mind,” Aunt Josephine replied. “You’re merely dancing with potential suitors. I can speak to him before he makes his decision. He still listens to me at times.”

Aunt Josephine was her mother’s older sister and was still respected by their father. She had accompanied them to London to act as a chaperone for most of their outings, but their aunt also had her own social life and intended to enjoy her stay in London unheeded by constant responsibilities to a husband or children. She was widowed several years ago, and all four of her children had successful marriages. Aunt Josephine had earned the right to enjoy the rest of her life.

“Can you convince him to stop forcing me to attend parties to further his goals?” Rachel asked.

“Now, that is a deep-seated issue. I have no sway over,” said Aunt Josephine apologetically. “It’s something he used to overcome the grief of your mother’s death, so I doubt anything but a miracle will change his need for power.”

Rachel sighed. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “Could you not perhaps create a list of potential suitors for me? Ones who Papa and I will approve of? You know my likes and dislikes, and you know Papa’s, too.”

“I did, but he gave them to your sister,” Aunt Josephine revealed. “I didn’t know until this evening, or I would have protested.”

Rachel groaned. “Knowing that makes me feel much worse. Papa must truly hate me.”

“No, dear,” her aunt protested. “Not hate. You merely remind him of your mother. You’re both a lot alike in disposition, and that must affect him more than he reveals. I know asking you to be patient and understanding is unfair, but do not assume he hates you.”

“That is not easy considering how differently he treats Juliet,” said Rachel. “I feel that I can do no right in Papa’s eyes. I’m only useful as a lure for a suitor he can use.”

Aunt Josephine didn’t have a chance to reply because Juliet appeared, her radiant smile giving away how she felt.

“This ball is truly wonderful!” she exclaimed, fanning herself with a fan.

It belonged to Rachel, but Juliet had broken hers along the way to the ball. Juliet had insisted she needed the fan more than Rachel, taking it away with their father’s permission. Rachel could have argued, but she didn’t want to give her father another excuse to call her a disappointing daughter. Aunt Josephine had been asleep at the time, or she might have protested the unfairness of the situation.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Juliet dear,” said Aunt Josephine. “You must be tired. You’ve hardly taken a break in between dances.”

“I have so many dance partners, so I can hardly rest,” said Juliet. “They’re all brilliant dancers and so handsome. I’m glad Papa gave me first pick from the list of suitors, or it would have been a dreadfully boring evening.”

“You discussed the list with Papa?” Rachel asked.

“Of course I did,” said Juliet. “Papa respects my opinions. If he wishes me to bring a good husband into the family, he needs to allow me to choose and be prepared for the gentlemen I’ll meet. I did my research before I met them, so we had good conversations during our dances. Well, as much as the dance allows.”

Rachel looked at her aunt, her anger rising. Not only had her father taken the list of suitors from her aunt, but he had also discussed them with Juliet. Rachel had been given her sister’s unwanted leftovers. She wasn’t surprised, but she couldn’t deny that it vexed her to constantly be treated unfairly by the ones who should love her. Unfortunately, Juliet and their father were much alike, stepping over others to get whatever they wanted without considering the person they hurt. Perhaps it was time to finally leave home and accept her aunt’s suggestion to live with her. Aunt Josephine had made the offer two years ago after her last child was married, but Rachel wanted to stay with her father and twin sister, believing they needed her to keep their lives balanced.

Rachel was the one who ran the household and their lives, ensuring everyone kept their appointments, had their meals, hosted their parties, and sent letters on the family’s behalf. She did a lot for her family, responsibilities her mother would have taken care of had she still been alive. Juliet wasn’t remotely interested in such things, preferring to spend time with her friends or go shopping. Rachel believed all would fall apart if she left, which kept her at home as well as any ball and chain. Now, she almost didn’t care if things fell apart. She had had enough of her father and sister treating her as though she wasn’t part of the family.

“I hope you have listened to Papa’s advice,” Juliet said, drawing Rachel’s attention. “We do not wish to hear complaints from the suitors we picked for you.”

“What advice would this be?” Rachel asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Papa says a lot of things. And you didn’t pick any of the suitors. You just didn’t want to dance with them.”

“Do not speak so foolishly, sister dear,” Juliet warned. “You know precisely what I’m talking about. Papa told you not to be yourself this evening, or you run the risk of repelling every gentleman remotely interested in you.”

Rachel pursed her lips. Yes, her father had given her strict instructions for the evening. Rachel couldn’t be herself—that was the first and biggest rule. Second, she had to be docile and weak-looking, showing a potential suitor that she needed a man to take care of her. Apparently, men needed to be wanted, to be the protector, whether or not they were capable of it. Rachel didn’t want to behave differently to fit a man’s idea of the perfect woman. She wanted to be accepted, just as she was. However, for the sake of getting her married by the end of the year, her father had warned her to pay attention to his instructions or suffer the consequences. Rachel had almost asked what the consequences could possibly be because he already mistreated her, but she had held her tongue. Arguing with him would have done her no good.

“Are you finished?” Rachel asked her sister, tired of their conversation.

“I beg your pardon?” Juliet spluttered.

“You always have so much to say that it becomes rather boring,” Rachel replied, yawning. “Especially when you repeat yourself. Do you not have another perfect partner to dance with? After all, you personally selected them.”

“I certainly did,” said Juliet. “Which is why I know that you have quite a few interesting gentlemen on your dance card. Have you enjoyed yourself, sister dear? I hear Mr. Austen is quite a spitter, or was it Mr. Sykes?”

Rachel laughed—she had to. Juliet always had something to say to indicate she had the upper hand in every situation. It wasn’t enough that she had ruined their relationship as sisters because she had been so keen to impress their father. At first, Rachel hadn’t minded—she had been too young to mind. However, as they grew older, and she realized that Juliet was using her as a tool rather than treating her like a sister, she grew wiser and stopped wearing her heart on her sleeve.

“What is so amusing?” Juliet demanded.

“Nothing ever changes, does it?” Rachel said, wiping tears from her eyes. “You never miss the chance to gain pleasure from my suffering. It’s rather amusing in a dark, rather somber way. You could simply push me off a cliff if you hate me that much, but you prefer to make several cuts that you can re-open at any time you wish to see me bleed. Oh, what a lovely sisterly bond we have.”

What might have been guilt flashed in her sister’s eyes for just a second before it was replaced with anger.

“Why, you—” she began, pointing a finger at Rachel.

“Girls, girls,” Aunt Josephine interrupted. “Perhaps you should go your separate ways, yes? Rachel, you can get your fresh air, and Juliet, you can return to your wonderful dance partners. You’ll both be happier that way.”

“Gladly,” said Juliet before stalking off, her arms swinging almost violently by her sides.

“Your mother’s heart would break to see her daughters like this,” Aunt Josephine commented, shaking her head with a sigh.

“I’m not the one to blame,” said Rachel. “I have simply learned to protect myself against my sister’s schemes and taunts. Pleasing my father is more important than being my sister. Every now and then, I let her know that I understand what she’s doing and why she’s doing it. I suppose she doesn’t like to hear it. Perhaps I should just act like a fool who cannot see, hear, or speak.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” her aunt said. “I know this is difficult for you, but you’re the only level-headed one left. You’re the one who builds bridges, smooths rough roads, and takes care of everyone—just like your mother.”

“So, I should allow my father and sister to do whatever they please and just accept it as my life?” Rachel asked incredulously.

“No, that is not what I’m saying,” said Aunt Josephine. “Just do not give up on them, dear. They are your family and need you, even if they do not realize it.”

Rachel looked skyward for a moment. She was so tired of doing her best and looking after everyone while being treated like the worst daughter and sister. Now, her father wanted her to marry by the end of the year to further his ambitions. She didn’t want to marry to please her father. She wanted to marry for love. She was only following his instructions to keep him happy and give her time to come up with another solution. Living with Aunt Josephine looked like a good option, but he would need some convincing.

“I’m too hot to remain here, Aunt Josephine,” said Rachel, not responding to her aunt’s request of not giving up on her father and sister. She didn’t want to. “I’m going to take a walk. I’ll return when I feel less suffocated.”

“Very well, dear,” her aunt replied. “That should cool your anger, but do not take too long. Your father would not like you being alone.”

“Yes, Aunt,” she said. “I’ll be sure to return in a timely fashion.”

She left, touching her mask as she briefly thought about removing it. However, she liked the anonymity it provided, so she left it on. No one knew who she was unless they were the partners on her dance card or her family.

As she entered the seemingly endless hallways of the Duke of Richmond’s home, she wanted to release her hair from its pins, kick her shoes off, and run past the pillars and mirrors into another world. One that would provide her with peace and happiness. However, life wasn’t so generous.

Stopping at one painting, Rachel tilted her head and examined the old gentleman. Generations of family members littered the hallway’s walls, their smiles or austere expressions expertly painted. The Duke of Richmond was the ostentatious sort, making nearly every frame gold-gilded, with a short pillar and vase of flowers beneath every second painting. She could only imagine how many fresh flowers they went through every week.

Continuing on her way, Rachel eventually stopped outside a large oak door that looked different from the rest. Unlike the others, it was carved and looked like it opened into another world.

“Just what I wanted,” she said to herself, pushing it open.

A library revealed itself, surprising her. She didn’t expect to find one on this level, but was beyond pleased. It was considerably large and as ostentatious as its owner, but it was also comforting with its book smells, softly blazing fire, and armchairs dotted about. It was strange to have a fire in an empty room, but it was well kept, so a servant was likely coming into the room occasionally to watch it.

Smiling, she further entered the room and gravitated toward a shelf with colorful books. The leather covers had been dyed jewel shades, from greens to blues and rich reds. Intrigued, she picked one, finding it to be a faerie tale book. Rachel adored faerie tales now, as much as she did when she was younger, and found them an escape from her world. Her mother used to read them to her and Juliet, even when she was weak and could hardly lift her head. At that point, their mother would tell a story from memory or make up her own. It was one of the best memories Rachel had of her mother. A song suddenly came to mind, a silly one her mother had made up when Rachel couldn’t sleep.

“Glittering gold and bright rainbows are well and good for the day,” she sang softly, “but twinkling stars and velvet skies are friends of sleepy heads.”

She continued singing, quickly stilling when she heard movement. Rachel looked over her shoulder, dropping her book, when she saw a very male leg hanging over an armchair. She assumed she had been alone!

“Who’s there?” she demanded. “Show yourself!”

A tousled head appeared at the other end, bright blue eyes blinking at her. His mask covered most of his face, but she could still see fairly full lips that she was certain she had once seen on an Adonis statue—they were nearly that perfect. Rachel couldn’t recall seeing him in the ballroom—she would have remembered. 

“You have disturbed my sleep,” the man complained, his voice deep but with a lightness that indicated he was still young.

Rachel wanted to apologize and leave immediately, but she paused. She had lived the last seventeen years bending to the will of her father and sister. Frankly, she was tired of it. She wanted to be in the library and continue looking through books. If anyone should leave, it should be that man… Even if he was there first. A library wasn’t the place to sleep, anyway. He should have found a room.

“Either find a bed or go back to sleep,” she said. “Or you can just pretend I’m not here.”

It was rather cheeky of her, considering she shouldn’t be in a room alone with a man, but she was going to stand her ground. Besides, he didn’t know who she was, especially with the mask on. Dozens of other girls were wearing pink gowns and white masks, including her sister. Of course, her sister likely looked the most like her, although they had slight differences in appearance. Rachel’s hair was auburn with noticeable streaks of warm reds, whereas Juliet’s was more brown. Their eyes held the same almost cat-like shape, but Rachel’s eyes were honey-colored, whereas Juliet’s was light brown but looked honey-colored under some lighting. Their beauty spot above their lips was on different sides—Rachel’s on the left and Juliet’s on the right—but they had the same mole on their necks.

When the man said nothing, Rachel shrugged and picked up her book. He could do as he pleased as long as he left her to do the same. However, she itched to turn around and look at him again, finding herself surprisingly intrigued by the stranger. A man like him would turn heads even with his mask on, which meant her sister would certainly be interested in him. The thought of her sister talking to him made her momentarily annoyed, but she shook the feeling away. The gentleman was a stranger who she probably would never see again once she left the library. It was useless feeling irritated that her sister might sink her claws into him and latch on, provided he was worthy enough. 

Rachel inwardly sighed. She entered the library to seek peace, not wrestle with ridiculous thoughts. With that in mind, she continued to look through the faerie tale book, although part of her thoughts remained on the man behind her. 

“Silly fool,” she muttered under her breath.

 

Chapter Two

Colin

A surprised chuckle escaped Colin. The woman was either brave or foolish. Most women would have run away once they knew an unknown man was in the room with them, but she held her ground. She appeared determined to stay and browse through the books. Her defiance to following what society expected of her was strangely appealing, but it also made Colin wonder if she was so accustomed to being alone with men that having him in the room meant nothing. That would make her a rather scandalous woman. However, she looked so innocent standing there and paging through a book that he couldn’t imagine her being a bit of a Jezebel. Looks could be deceiving, though—he needed to take that into consideration.

Colin had noticed her right away when she entered the room and was going to let her know about his presence, but he didn’t want to frighten her. He had assumed she would soon leave and decided to remain still until she did, but then she started singing. Her clear, soft voice was soothing and lovely to listen to, making him change his position in the armchair to listen better. He hadn’t expected the armchair to squeak so loudly and reveal his presence, but he was somewhat glad it did.

“I suppose you can stay as long as we are not caught together,” he finally said, grinning at her.

She looked at him over her shoulder, gave him a shrug, and returned to reading her book, eventually returning it to the shelf and taking another one. She appeared to like shrugging—she had done it twice in less than two minutes. Most women didn’t shrug around men—it was considered unladylike by many. Clearly, she didn’t care what he thought of her.

Grinning, he stood up and moved his chair until he could comfortably watch her. She didn’t turn around once to see what he was doing, disappointing him a little. It was probably rude of him to move his chair just to get a better view of her, but she was quite amusing, and he didn’t really think she would mind. They were still wearing masks and protecting their identities, after all. The fact that she didn’t remove hers revealed that she liked her anonymity as much as he did. 

No one at the ball besides his family was aware of his presence just yet; that was how he preferred to keep it. However, after spending years away from the city, his father would soon announce his arrival in London. Colin would have continued to stay away to avoid the bloodthirsty Season, but his father had put his foot down and insisted this year would be the one he found a bride. Although Colin had arrived with his parents, he quickly hid in the library to avoid his father for as long as possible. He didn’t expect anyone to have the same idea and come into the very room he had taken refuge, but he oddly didn’t mind. The woman didn’t look like she would bother him. Rather, he might be a bother to her.

“Do you like the book you’re reading?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“It’s one of my favorites,” she replied, not bothering to turn around. “Probably my favorite faerie tale, although I might feel differently tomorrow.”

She continued paging and showed no signs of saying anything else. Still curious, Colin wanted her to elaborate.

“What is it called? And why do you like it?”

She half-turned to him, holding up the book. “Petrosinella,” she replied. “It’s a faerie tale, but I like to think of it as a love story.”

“Why?”

“Why do you want to know?” she countered.

“I’m merely curious.”

She sighed. “Very well,” she said. “I like the idea of knowing, from the moment you meet someone, if you’re meant to be with that person. Love at first sight. It’s silly, but I’m sure it exists. Perhaps it’s not necessarily love at first sight, but love at first meeting.”

“I see.”

She was undoubtedly a romantic at heart. Colin saw nothing wrong with that, but he hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed when life was anything but romantic.

She eventually returned the book to the shelf and took another one. Stretching his neck, he noticed she was reading one of his favorites. Colin had never met a woman who would willingly read the Epic of Gilgamesh. The woman leafed through it, stopping at a few pages as though she knew precisely what she was looking for.

“Have you read it before?” he asked.

She partially turned. “I beg your pardon?”

“Have you read the Epic of Gilgamesh before?”

“I have,” she confirmed. “I suppose you have as well?”

He nodded. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“I see,” she said and turned away.

“Well, what did you think of it?” he pressed.

The woman sighed and turned to him. “I thought we were going to ignore each other’s presence.”

“I was, but I see no reason why we cannot make the best of our company,” he said. “I came here to get away from the ball, and I’m guessing you did the same, or you would be out there and not here. That makes us alike in at least one thing. You’ve also read the Epic of Gilgamesh, which makes it two things. I’m just interested to know what you think of it. I do not know of any women who have read it.”

“Neither do I,” she said. “Nor do I know of any men who have read it. At least, until now.”

“A good friend of mine read it had my behest, but he didn’t like it,” said Colin. “I’m afraid he’s not much of a reader.”

“You’re bookish?”

“I am,” Colin admitted. “Proudly so.”

She widened her eyes slightly. “Interesting. Not many would admit that.”

“Usually, people do not mind bookish men too much, especially if the man is wealthy and handsome,” he revealed. “I call it the privilege of wealth and beauty.”

“But they do mind bookish women, be they beautiful or not,” she said. “That is a cruel double standard, don’t you think?”

“Certainly,” he agreed. “Personally, I would prefer a bookish woman because she has more to talk about. I’m not keen on gossip, fashion talk, or whatever people prefer to discuss. I want a conversation I can sink my teeth into. It needs to be luscious and overflowing in juices to tantalize my mind.”

“Well, you’ve certainly painted a picture in my mind,” she said. “All I can think about is a hunk of roast meat with the word ‘conversation’ written across it and you taking a large bit out of it. The word messy comes to mind.”

Colin chuckled. “It was the image I was hoping for,” he said. “So, what do you think about the poem? Some would call it a story, though.”

“Honestly speaking, I thought it was rather foolish in some parts,” she revealed. “For instance, why does a woman always have to be the downfall of a man? Adam, Samson, Uriah the Hittite, King Ahab, the Watchers, and now Enkidu. Why did the author have to make a woman his downfall?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say a woman was his downfall,” said Colin. “He simply couldn’t return to how he lived before. That is not necessarily a bad thing, if you think about it. You could say she liberated him.”

“But he was happy living with the wild animals,” she argued. “They ensured he could never live with the animals again by using a temple prostitute to seduce him. Why did it have to be a woman?”

“I suppose you have a point,” Colin replied thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “I didn’t see it in that way before.”

“And isn’t it just like mankind to create gods that behave just like people?” she said. “Take Ishtar, for example. She decides she wants to marry Gilgamesh, but he refuses because she does not have a very good record with her other lovers. She then seeks revenge. Why on earth would a goddess wish to marry a mere human, anyway?”

“For the same reason the Watchers took daughters of men as wives?” he suggested.

“Watchers were angels and, therefore, servants,” she corrected. “Ishtar is a goddess. It comes across as rather strange for a goddess to marry a being created by the gods.”

“I suppose I cannot fault your conclusion,” said Colin. “Do you usually take apart a story after you have read it?”

“I do not think I take them apart,” she said. “I merely have questions.”

“Are you going to shrug again and turn away?” he asked.

“Why do you ask? And what an odd question at that.”

“It seems like a habit,” he replied. “I didn’t mean to offend you if I did. If you do not mind, would you like to take a seat so we can discuss the Epic of Gilgamesh a little more?” he asked. “I rather like your viewpoint and would like to know what else you think of it. It’s refreshing.”

“Refreshing?” she repeated. “Please do not take offense, but is your life so stale that discussing a poem seems refreshing?”

Colin laughed. “I suppose so,” he said, not feeling offended at all. He quite liked her frankness. “So, please, take a seat. You can sit closer to the fire if you prefer. I know it’s rather cold outside.”

“No, thank you,” she said, eyeing the fire with distaste. “I ran away from the ballroom because it was too warm and cloying with mingled scents. Some people apply far too much perfume, and others do not bother to bathe before coming to a ball. I understand that not bathing every day is quite normal for many, but at least be clean when one knows they’ll be surrounded by others.”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” he said. “I assure you that I have bathed today. Quite thoroughly, I might add. You are welcome to smell me. In fact, I do not think I wore any perfume today. Just the soap I bathed with. However, the laundry maids do press flowers between my clothing to make them smell good. I tend to smell like whatever is in season.”

“If only others would do the same,” she said. “And smelling you is not necessary, but thank you for the offer.”

The woman smiled faintly as she took a seat furthest away from the fire, but was still close enough to converse. He could help but admire her form as she moved, finding her well-proportioned and wonderfully curved. The shininess of her reddish-brown hair showed good health, and what little he could see of her skin was almost flawless, except for a few beauty spots and one mole on her neck, but that added to her loveliness. However, what truly stood out to him were her eyes. It looked like someone had poured honey into her eyes and used a black band to contain the thick liquid. They were striking and stood out against the white mask, but he couldn’t quite see their shape. However, she didn’t need to remove her mask for him to know she was likely pretty.

“You said the poem was one of your favorites,” she said, crossing her ankles. “Why? What about it was worthy of your affection?”

“It’s filled with adventure, I suppose,” he replied. “The vicar from our parish recommended it to me. He said Gilgamesh wasn’t a mere man but a giant, and the flood they spoke of was the one used to wipe out the giants that roamed the earth. As a boy, I found that terribly exciting, so I read it.” He leaned forward in his seat. “I shouldn’t be surprised that a woman thought differently about it. We are different creatures, after all. We were created differently; thus, we think differently.”

“We are the same, yet different where it matters,” she said. “I was just reading about the flood in the story when you interrupted me. I was inwardly laughing about its similarities to the flood in the Good Book. The poem was said to have been written in Mesopotamia a few hundred years after the Great Flood. Despite so many years passing, the story was preserved well enough for the author to create his own version.”

“Do we not always use history to create something new?” Colin asked. “We draw inspiration from what has already happened. We cannot create something out of nothing.”

“I agree,” she said. “Our minds are shaped by many things. We can only create ideas by seeing other things around us. It might be a new idea, but something or someone still influenced it.”

“Precisely!” he exclaimed. “Although it takes some brain work to think differently from others or to see the world differently. Without those willing to think and see more, we could not have advanced in the arts, sciences, or anything else.”

The woman sighed and leaned her elbow on the armrest. “I wish I was a great thinker. Someone able to think so splendidly that I can influence my very life and those around me.”

“You wish to influence people?”

“Don’t you?” she countered. “Is your life so perfect that you do not see the need to influence people?”

She had a point there. “You have put into words what I have only thought about,” he revealed. “I would like to influence the people in my life, but wouldn’t influencing them also be considered manipulation?”

She shrugged. “You could say it is,” she said. “Although I do not necessarily see manipulation as being a great evil. It can also be useful for good, especially if a loved one is on the wrong path.”

“Can you not simply gently sway them to another path?”

She chuckled. “Gently swaying them is still manipulation. You should be more concerned about your intentions than finding a gentler word. Speaking of which, who do you wish to manipulate?”

“A loved one. What about you?”

“A loved one, too.”

“Interesting,” he said, smiling.

“Quite.”

They didn’t speak for several seconds, but maintained eye contact. “We’re not going to say more on the subject, are we?” he eventually said.

She laughed. “No.”

“Then we should move on,” he suggested, grinning.

“I agree,” she said, leaning back in the armchair. “I rather like your mask. The black contrasts with the paleness of your hair. Is that why you selected it?”

“Honestly, I wasn’t going to come to the ball,” he said. “I changed my mind at the last moment to avoid an argument. This mask belongs to my mother. She decided it would contrast my coloring and match my attire well, achieving an eye-fetching effect.”

“Your mother was right,” she said.

“Mothers tend to always be right.”

Colin adored his mother and often wondered why such a gentle woman married a man like his father. Theirs was a love match, which he still couldn’t wrap his head around because they were so different. Perhaps their relationship was one of balance, as there couldn’t be too much of one thing. His mother’s gentle nature softened his domineering father, while she always had a champion to defend and protect her. Still, being with a man who was so calculating in all he did, even using his son to further their family’s power and influence, had to be challenging.

“How long have you been here?” the woman asked. “I mean in this library.”

“Probably an hour. I came here as soon as I arrived.”

“Do you know our host well?” she said.

Colin nodded. “He’s my father’s friend from their Cambridge days,” he replied. “Do you know the host?”

He didn’t mention that the duke was also his mother’s older brother. His mother met his father through the dukes’ friendship. 

“Not personally, but I believe my father has interacted with him on several occasions,” she told him. “You must have known this library existed. I only found it by chance.”

“I’m glad you did, or I would have been quite bored,” said Colin.

“You were sleeping—how bored could you have been?” the woman pointed out. “Sleep does not know what boredom is.”

“I fell asleep because I was bored,” he said. “I do not wish to be here, but I cannot avoid my responsibilities forever. I merely wish to prolong needing to fulfill them.”

She chuckled, surprising him. “You sound just like me,” she said. “I’m prolonging my responsibilities, too. At some point, I’ll have to leave and return to the ball, or I’ll have several dance partners looking for me. My father will not be pleased.”

“I have yet to dance with anyone, but it will happen soon enough,” said Colin. “Perhaps we can lessen our burden by dancing with each other. I believe I could easily find you.”

Her lips pulled to the side as she smiled. “What makes you think dancing with you would lessen my burden?”

“Wouldn’t it?” he challenged. “We’re both doing something we don’t want to do, and we understand each other. Why not dance with each other and avoid the others for that moment?”

“Because I will likely feel worse when we part, and I will have to continue dancing with my partners,” she revealed. “They’re not what I would call good dance partners.”

Colin lifted his eyebrows. “You seem to think quite highly of me,” he commented.

“Well, I assume you know how to dance well, so you won’t step on my feet,” she said. “You did suggest we dance with each other—why would you suggest it if you couldn’t dance?”

“That is true,” he said. “I am rather light on my feet. My mother insisted I learned how to dance well. She would not accept anything less for her son.”

“Your mother sounds like a formidable woman,” the woman said.

Colin smiled. “When she wants to be.”

“We seem strangely comfortable in each other’s presence, don’t we?” she asked after a heartbeat’s silence. “Perhaps it’s the masks or understanding our burdens because we’re in a similar situation. I just know I’d rather be here speaking to a stranger than out there dealing with the rest.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Even though that stranger is a man and you stand to be embroiled in a scandal, should anyone discover us together?”

She said nothing at first and leaned forward, her legs kicking back and forth slightly. “Granted, I didn’t come in here thinking anyone was in the library,” she finally said. “I do not think I would regret our interaction, even if it caused some trouble.”

Colin smiled. “I feel the same way,” he said. “I also feel that I’ve been agreeing with you throughout our time together. I wonder how we would fare if we got into an argument?”

“Hmm,” she said. “You do not seem unreasonable, and I’m always ready to hear what the other person has to say before I form my final opinion. Perhaps we wouldn’t argue too terribly.”

“The only way to know that is to argue, but I’m not prepared to do that yet,” he said.

“Yet?” she asked. “You say that as though there will be a next time. Are you so confident that we’ll see each other again? We have not even shared our names, but that has worked well for us so far.”

“But wouldn’t it be a shame if we never met each other again?” he asked. “I feel like I’ve known you for some time. Our interaction has been rather natural. Don’t you agree?”

The woman lowered her head, and oddly, her reaction made his heart sink. Colin had genuinely enjoyed her presence, and it felt like they had been friends for far longer than some minutes. However, it wasn’t just the feelings of friendship he was experiencing. Colin liked what he saw, how she sounded, and the way they spoke to each other. It had been a while since he had felt true attraction toward someone whose face he had not seen yet.

“Is knowing our identities important to you?” she asked, raising her head.

“Perhaps not at first, but now I feel I will lose something potentially important to me if we parted ways and never gave each other a chance to get to know each other.”

Colin could sense rather than see her surprise. “I do not know what to say to that,” she admitted.

“Perhaps I’m the only one who feels that way,” he said, somewhat disappointed and embarrassed that he had been so revealing.

“No!” she quickly cried, sitting forward.

“No?” he asked, smiling.

She looked away and cleared her throat, touching her chest briefly. “What I mean is that you’re an interesting person, and perhaps we could explore a, um, a friendship. Or at least become better acquainted.”

Colin’s smile widened. “I’m glad you feel that way. Then perhaps you’d do me the honor of telling me—”

He abruptly broke off when he heard voices outside the library. “We can talk in here,” a man said. “The servants have kept the firing burning, so we’ll be warm while we discuss business.”

“I take back what I said!” the woman whispered. “I would rather not be caught with a gentleman in my company. My father might lock me up in my room and never let me out again.”

“He would do that?” Colin asked.

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

The panic in her voice pierced him right through to his heart. She was genuinely scared, making him wonder what kind of man her father was. He didn’t want to hear or see her so worried—it made him feel terrible. Fortunately, he knew the house well, even the secret passageways mainly used by the servants. After all, his mother’s oldest brother owned the house, and he had visited many times as a child.

“You leave through the front door,” he told her, getting up. “I’ll escape another way.”

“How and where?” she asked, also standing. “There is only one exit.”

“Do not worry about it,” he said, stepping closer to her. She didn’t step back. “Just trust me. Can you do that?”

She stared at him for a second or two before she nodded. “Yes, I can.”

He smiled at her, their eyes locking onto each other in a moment of silence. Time was suspended very briefly as he gazed into her honey-colored eyes, knowing this couldn’t be their last time together. They were both reluctant to leave—that much was obvious. It was crazy that they had met each other by chance, but now they didn’t want to part.

“I’ll come look for you,” he promised her.

She smiled and nodded. “I should leave. You need to go as well.”

“You leave first,” he said. “Meet them at the door before they enter the room.”

She nodded once more and turned away, looking back with a smile. Colin’s heart lifted as he waved at her before she approached the door. He reluctantly turned away, hurrying to the hidden door. Pressing on an area near a bookcase, it immediately gave way, opening wide to let him slip inside. It was dark and a tad smelly, but he didn’t mind. Colin knew the passageway well enough to feel his way around, keeping his head low for any cobwebs. He wanted to come out near the servants’ staircase, then move on to the ballroom, where he could look for his mystery woman. Colin had made a promise he intended to keep.

---

“A Marquess’s Masked Encounter” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Rachel Mayweather’s life revolves around family, with compromise being her companion for the sake of her twin sister and father. Yet, when a marriage of convenience is orchestrated for her, she stands firm in her resolve seeking love above all else. Fate takes an unexpected turn when during a dazzling masked ball, she encounters a captivating stranger. Yet, their tender encounter is abruptly shattered, only to reveal that her enigmatic suitor had mistaken her for her conniving twin sister. As the mysterious Marquess becomes the object of both sisters’ affections, another suitor appears, perplexing the situation even further…

Will she decide to follow her heart’s desire and take the reins of her own life?

The Marquess of Coltonwood, Colin Spencer, never imagined he would find himself entangled in a web of intrigue and love. Seeking a suitable bride, he instead stumbles upon a mysterious woman in the dimly lit library, setting his heart ablaze. His joy turns into despair when he discovers his mistake, leading him to confront a maze of lies and family responsibilities. As duty calls upon this misunderstanding, he must court the twin sister of the woman he really loves. However, when another man claims Rachel’s interest, Colin must decide between honoring his word and pursuing the only woman he ever loved.

Will he go after her or will he bow to responsibilities and marry another?

As Rachel navigates a tempting suitor’s advances and Colin grapples with the demands of tradition, their hearts stand at a crossroads. A love born from a chance encounter and masked identities leaves two souls struggling against the tide of duty and romance. Will they forsake society’s expectations and protect a love that defies duty? Will they sacrifice their own happiness for the approval of their families, or will they dare to risk their futures for a love that refuses to be denied?

“A Marquess’s Masked Encounter” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Get your copy from Amazon!