Moonlight Masquerade by Ruth Axtell

Author:Ruth Axtell [Axtell, Ruth]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: FIC042030, FIC042040, FIC027050, Aristocracy (Social class)—Fiction, London (England)—Social life and customs—19th century—Fiction, Great Britain—History—George III (1760–1820)—Fiction
ISBN: 9781441240736
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

14

It was long past midnight and Rees had almost begun to believe Lady Wexham merely meant to be having a lark by pretending to be a slim young gentleman dressed as Harlequin. After he bowed over her hand a final time, she continued dancing and wending her way through the crowd like any other partygoer.

Rees continued to watch her from the recess of the potted palms. He regretted having asked her to dance. Why had he yielded to the impulse? Foolish, foolish man. He could not berate himself enough. Had she seen through his disguise?

There had been something unsettling in the smile playing about her full lips during the waltz.

Unsettling! Unsettling had been the feeling of holding her in his arms and having to keep himself from crushing her to him and giving all away. All he’d been able to do was pray for strength and self-control.

Dear Lord, You said You would not give us more than we could bear, but would with the temptation provide a way of escape. Where is my way of escape? I have kept myself from sinning with a woman all these years. He thought of his years at sea as a young man when the ship would be in port and all the other sailors would head to the taverns to drink and carouse with the wenches available. He would stay away, seeking a church mission or library, a quiet place to read and while away the hours in edifying pursuits.

To come now to the ripe old age of one-and-thirty and be bowled over by a lady not only so far above him socially—but a traitor to the country he’d been willing to give his life for!

Yet, as he watched her pretend to be a gentleman, bowing over a young lady’s hand then leading her in a dance, all he could think of was the feel of her in his arms. He clenched his hands, willing himself to forget.

His one and only purpose here was to discover what information Lady Wexham was sending back to France. He must never forget their two countries were at war. They were enemies.

Repeating the facts did nothing to strengthen his commitment. It only filled his soul with a bleak desolation as he watched her perform the steps of a minuet.

The hour was growing late, and he wanted only to leave and seek the solace of sleep—dreamless sleep—when Lady Wexham neared one of the arched doorways and gave a quick look about her.

His shoulders stiffened, every sense immediately on alert.

He straightened from the wall to weave once more around the dance floor, his heart pumping from fear of losing his quarry.

He exited the ballroom, peering rapidly every way, no longer seeing the bright blue, red, and gold outfit.

There—disappearing down the wide marble staircase.

Stifling his frustration at the numerous people still milling about the long gallery, he wended his way around them, hoping he wouldn’t be too late to see where Lady Wexham was headed.

At the top of the wide stairs, he peered over the balustrade.

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