Lady Dearing's Masquerade by Greene Elena

Author:Greene, Elena [Greene, Elena]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-08-17T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Jeremy flung a handful of coins at the hackney driver and dashed from the dark street into the Pulteney. Candlelight from the massive chandeliers above blinded him, causing him to cannon into some idiot loitering near the entrance. Muttering an apology, Jeremy moved on, suddenly aware that he’d no idea which of the Pulteney’s expensive rooms Livvy had hired.

In a stroke of luck he could only suppose came from Heaven itself, he recognized her maidservant—Alice, he thought her name was—disappearing down a dark corridor. He dashed after her, dimly aware of his lunacy in skulking around a hotel after a notorious widow.

This was what she had brought him to.

He followed Alice up the servants’ staircase and down a luxuriously carpeted hallway, keeping a discreet distance between them, then slipping into the deep embrasure of one of the doors to watch her scratch on the door at the end.

Straining, he barely caught the sound of Livvy’s voice. Though he could not hear the words, the soft tones plunged deep into his heart.

A moment later, Alice came back out and trotted back down the hall. Jeremy turned, pretending to be entering the doorway he’d hidden in, and she passed without noticing him.

The enormity of the risk he was taking slammed into him. Pain and exposure threatened, but he was so close.

Swiftly he padded down the hallway, entered the last door and closed it quietly behind him, then turned the key in its lock.

Gilded tables and chairs with delicately embroidered cushions stood before him on an elegant Aubusson carpet. Tasseled curtains were closed over long windows overlooking Green Park. The most luxurious of sitting rooms.

Empty.

And no sound came from the interior doorway that must surely lead to an equally luxurious bedchamber.

Nothing to suggest she was entertaining a lover.

His heart pounded a deafening beat as he passed through. “Livvy?” he whispered.

A large four-poster hung with rose and blue silken curtains stood empty, the snow-white coverlet pulled back.

A small sound pulled his head around.

There she was, sitting at a dressing table. All he could see was the back of a peacock-blue silk dressing gown, glorious golden hair loose down her back, a silver-handled brush in her hand.

She was alone. Entirely alone.

He had known it. He had known it all along.

“Alice, is that you? What is it?” Her voice sounded muffled and weary.

“Livvy.”

She gasped and whirled in her seat to face him.

“Jeremy! My God, what are you doing here? Think of the scandal; if we are caught everything will be ruined!”

“Hush, Livvy.”

He came toward her, enraptured by her fragrance, by soft skin glowing in the flickering candlelight. How he’d missed her over these past weeks of numb misery and vain attempts to lose himself in estate and Foundling Hospital business. His eyes devoured her beloved features: the arching eyebrows, the lusciously curved lips . . . But her cheeks were as pale as the diaphanous nightrail peeking from her half-open dressing gown. Her beautiful blue eyes . . .

“You’ve been crying,” he said abruptly.

She averted her face.

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