No Occupation for a Lady by Gail Whitiker

Author:Gail Whitiker [Whitiker, Gail]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Romance, Fiction, Historical, Usernet, C429, Kat, Extratorrents
ISBN: 9781459241794
Google: Hy4f_Erjw_sC
Amazon: B008EMY0L6
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-09-30T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

It was, Alistair decided, the last time he intended to give way to Isabelle’s demands. He liked attending masquerades even less than he liked attending the theatre, but at least at the latter, he wasn’t required to perform.

‘I think you make a wonderful Prospero,’ Isabelle assured him as the two mingled with a host of other masked guests. ‘Very mystical, but very powerful. And it goes perfectly with my being Miranda.’

Alistair grunted. He had bluntly refused his sister’s suggestion that he go as Mark Antony, but after hearing that Isabelle intended to go as the shipwrecked heroine from The Tempest, he’d decided that donning the robe-like costume of Prospero would not go amiss. If nothing else, appearing as Isabel’s fictitious father would hopefully lay to rest any speculation that he was romantically interested in her—a ridiculous notion some miscreant in society had had the audacity to put about.

‘I’m glad it meets with your approval,’ Alistair said as a sword-wielding gladiator strode by. ‘I would hate to disappoint on this, your very first masquerade.’

‘It is exciting though, isn’t it?’ Isabelle said. ‘All these beautiful costumes.’

Watching a rather tipsy Nero stumble past, Alistair was inclined to think otherwise, but given that enjoyment of the evening was not his main reason for coming, he kept the remark to himself. He was about to say something less controversial when Isabelle’s hand suddenly gripped his arm. ‘Oh, dear Lord, he’s here!’ she gasped.

Alistair turned in the direction Isabelle was staring. ‘Who’s here?’

‘Valentine Lawe! Look there, standing next to the lady in that beautiful Venetian gown. It’s him! It has to be!’

Alistair quickly picked out the couple in question, and though it was the gentleman who had caught Isabelle’s eye, it was the lady upon whom Alistair fixed his gaze—because she was nothing short of magnificent. Her costume was exquisite: the rich golden gown liberally trimmed with lace, the bodice cut daringly low, the waist nipped in tight. Her hair was piled high and adorned with an elaborate headdress of feathers and jewels, and her face was hidden behind a white, three-quarters mask into which eye slits and small nose holes had been cut. She could have stepped out of a seventeenth-century gondola.

It wasn’t until the couple started towards him, however, that Alistair began to smile. Only one woman of his acquaintance walked with that degree of confidence.

‘I’m afraid you are destined for disappointment, cousin,’ Alistair whispered in Isabelle’s ear. ‘The gentleman approaching is not Valentine Lawe.’

‘He isn’t?’ Disappointment rang in the younger girl’s voice. ‘Then who is he?’

‘I shall leave the determination to you, but I venture to say all will be revealed the moment he speaks.’

While his cousin waited breathlessly for the romantic playwright to approach, Alistair kept his eyes on Victoria. There could be no mistaking that measured gait. In the glorious Venetian gown, she could easily have taken her place on her uncle’s stage. Her poise and confidence would have assured her of the audience’s approval and her appearance would have inspired lust in the heart of every man present.

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