Belle of the Ball Page 5

  He hardly blinked.

  “You said you were done playing games with me. You said you would leave me alone and now you’ve done far more damage than you could possibly know.” Anabelle stood angrily.

  “Don’t be so dramatic.” Draven stood setting his mask on the bench. “It was one dance and one kiss.”

  “You tricked me. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you for two weeks, and then suddenly you appear and think not to reveal your identity.”

  “You seemed to already know me.”

  “I thought you were Lord Marcus. It was him I wanted to dance with, him I wanted to kiss. Not you,” she said with derision.

  Draven wanted to act hurt, but even though he felt the sting thoroughly, he knew he had royally screwed up tonight. He had taken advantage of her, and he was man enough to admit it. “You’re right,” he admitted.

  “Excuse me?” She whirled towards him.

  “I should have been up front about my identity.”

  “And now you’ve ruined my potential engagement,” she fumed.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “How so?”

  “Like I said, it was one dance and one kiss, the later only witnessed by us. You can return to the ballroom and find your—whatever he is to you. However, keep in mind that he hasn’t yet sought you out even though you are irresistible tonight in that costume.”

  “Only because you were there. He must think I’m not interested in him now. You’ve ruined my chances.” Anabelle turned away again and began to pace around the fountain. “I had such hopes and you’ve crushed them all. Why, Draven? It was clear you didn’t even enjoy our first kiss.”

  Draven’s conscience was beating at him. “I can’t rightly explain it, and I did enjoy kissing you, a bit too much. Even though I avoided you for two whole weeks, when I saw you tonight, I couldn’t resist you. You acted as if you were open to it.”

  “Because I thought you were someone else!” she cried.

  “I’m very aware of that now.”

  “I don’t understand, Draven. I don’t understand how you can be so careless and heartless. This is my future and you don’t care. You are at the mercy of your baser self and you don’t care who you hurt in the pursuit of that.”

  Ouch. “I said I was sorry, but can you really stand there and act like you don’t enjoy what we share?”

  Anabelle refused to answer that. If she admitted she liked his kisses, it would only encourage him. She wanted what she felt in his arms to be with someone else, someone who was far kinder and considerate than he could ever be.

  “Leave me alone, Draven.” She strode away from him and left the courtyard. He didn’t say a word, but he did follow, but not closely. He had disappeared before she turned the corner into the light and view of the other guests. She climbed the steps and surprisingly, her sister and Lucy were only just returning with the ices.

  “What happened to Lord Marcus?” Hazel asked.

  “It wasn’t Lord Marcus,” Anabelle murmured.

  Lucy’s eyes widened. “Who was it?”

  Anabelle shrugged. For whatever reason she didn’t wish to tell them, not unless she absolutely had to. And there was still the matter of Lord Marcus and his failure to appear tonight. She was angry enough to cross him off her list right now, but as it stood, she only had five more names on her list and almost half the season was over. She would give him one chance to redeem himself and then move on if she had to. She felt more discouraged than ever now and twice as confused. How could she be so affected by Draven? His mere presence set her nerves alight, even when she didn’t know it was he. He did something to her, made her body feel things and yearn for things. She couldn’t deny that she liked it, but she wanted it to be with someone else.

  She refused to believe she couldn’t have those feelings with someone else.

  She finished her ice and a footman took their empty glasses. They decided to return to the ballroom and Anabelle resumed her search for Lord Marcus. It was impossible how there seemed to be even more people squished into the ballroom now that the dancing had started. The trio clung to the walls until they found a gap in the crowd to inch closer. Anabelle tried to see beyond the guests immediately around her, but it proved impossible with the dramatic costumes and masks. She sighed in defeat. Even if Lord Marcus were here, they might never find each other in the crush.

  “Lady Anabelle, I have searched far and wide for your radiant presence. At last, I have found you.”

  Anabelle turned in astonishment. Her prayer had been answered and Lord Marcus bowed before her. “Lord Marcus, I had begun to give up hope that I might see you this evening.”

  “A Phoenix?” Anabelle admired the shimmery orange and red feathers of his mask.

  “Yes, exactly.” He smiled in delight. “Have you been here for some time?”

  “Since the dancing began yes, but we’ve been enjoying the cooler climate of the terrace.”

  Lord Marcus looked towards the open doors. “Ah, yes. How thoughtful of our hosts. Would you care to dance?”

  “I’d love to.” Anabelle smiled warmly. The set just finished and a new set was forming. He took her hand and Anabelle assessed her feelings. There was no spark like when Draven touched her, no tense energy of anticipation mixed with excitement.

  Perhaps that was because, unlike Draven, Lord Marcus was not devouring her with his eyes. Lord Marcus was his usual patient and reserved self. But he had looked for her, she reminded herself. He had explicitly sought out her company. That had to mean something. Anabelle did her best to enjoy the dance. There was very little time for speaking as they moved through the steps. When it was over, she let him escort her to the refreshment table and took an appreciative sip of lemonade. Hazel was there with a gentleman dressed as a ram. Lord Marcus was in discussion with a horse headed man and talking eagerly of a race soon to occur.

  “How nice that Lord Marcus finally found you,” Hazel remarked quietly.

  “Yes, now I can enjoy the rest of the evening in his company.”

  “I must confess…” Hazel hesitated.

  Anabelle turned to her sister with a frown. “What is it?”

  “I saw Lord Marcus in the drawing room when we were getting ices.”

  “Then why did you ask about his whereabouts on the terrace?”

  “I didn’t know if you would want Lucy to know. Did you know it wasn’t him?”

  “Not until it was too late,” Anabelle said quietly.

  “I knew from the beginning,” Hazel admitted sheepishly.

  Anabelle turned wide eyes to her sister. “What didn’t you say anything?”

  “You seemed quite enamored of the mysterious dragon. Who am I to deny you that sort of fun?”

  Anabelle felt a hollowness in her stomach. “Only because I thought it was Lord Marcus and the dragon now knows that.”

  “Who is the dragon, Anabelle?” Hazel whispered.

  “You don’t know?” Anabelle laughed bitterly.

  “I suspect I do,” Hazel finished and turned away to set her glass down.

  “Lady Hazel, Lady Anabelle,” Lord Marcus turned to introduce the gentleman he had been conversing with, “May I present Lord Daniels. He and I attended university together.”

  Anabelle and Hazel smiled and nodded. Another set was forming, and Lord Daniels requested Hazel’s hand. They departed and Anabelle waited awkwardly beside Lord Marcus. A second dance would indicate a definite intention on his part, and suddenly, Anabelle was not ready to take that step. She needed to know if she could feel more than just a liking for him, and that wasn’t going to happen on a crowded dance floor.

  “Have you seen the lanterns in the garden, my lord?”

  “I have not had the pleasure,” he answered.

  “Then it is my duty to show you. The topiaries are not to be missed.”

  He presented his arm and together they made their way towards the terrace doors. It was slow going, but eventually, they made it to the cooler air
. Anabelle was extremely nervous. If they kissed and she felt nothing, how was she going to respond?

  They stepped down into the gardens and followed the path around the topiaries. They paused and viewed each one until they were almost at the very end. Anabelle was losing her nerve. It had been Draven who directed their course from here. A rake always knew the places to find privacy at ton events. It was clear Lord Marcus was no rake.

  They paused at the last shrub that was shaped like an octopus. Anabelle pretended to admire it half-heartedly.

  “What a splendid little gate. I wonder where it leads.” Lord Marcus tugged her in the shadow of the octopus and there was indeed a gate hidden in a cascade of ivy.

  “I never would have seen it. What excellent vision you have,” Anabelle said in astonishment.

  Lord Marcus looked about quickly as he pushed it open and ushered her through.

  Anabelle was perplexed by the sudden change of events but remained calm. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for, and she was glad that Lord Marcus was taking the initiative finally. It was much darker on the other side of the wall and the surrounding foliage, not as tamed. Anabelle lifted her skirts to keep them from dragging in the dirt. She stepped away from the gate and stopped. Lord Marcus seemed apprehensive.

  “Anabelle… May I call you Anabelle?”

  Anabelle nodded.

  “It would please me to hear you use mine privately, though I suppose until now, we have never been private. I hope I have not offended you.”

  “It’s quite all right, Thomas.” Anabelle hoped her hesitation wasn’t evident in her voice. Things were going exactly as she wished them to, but something was lacking and she knew exactly what it was. She was nervous, but not in that excited, heat of the moment way. It was like tasting a dish one wasn’t certain they were going to enjoy.

  Lord Marcus stepped closer and took her hands. “I haven’t frightened you, have I?”

  “No.” Anabelle smiled.

  “I’ve had the honor of spending a great deal of time with you these past two weeks. I hope you have enjoyed my company, as well.”

  “I have,” Anabelle assured him. He looked very nervous now and she found it endearing.

  “I want to assure you that I have the utmost respect for you and I would officially like to ask your father for permission to court you,” he blurted.

  Anabelle put a finger to his lips. She didn’t know what to say at first, but there was one thing she needed to know before they could go any further. “May I make one small request?”

  He nodded enthusiastically.

  “I’ve given marriage and courtship a lot of thought. I know what I want from a husband. To truly know if we will be suitable, and if we should continue in that manner, I think …” Her courage failed her.

  “Yes?”

  She took a deep breath. “I think you should kiss me.”

  He didn’t respond at first. “It would be my honor.” He leaned forward.

  “Wait—” Anabelle stopped him. “I know this is terribly forward of me, but you must understand why. It is a marriage of love and passion I seek, and if I don’t feel a modicum of emotion from a kiss then…” She felt a humiliated blush climb her neck. How could she have said such things?”

  Lord Marcus cocked his head to the side. “I think I understand you.”

  “I’m not asking you to profess your love for me,” Anabelle clarified, “but I think if two people are meant to be together, then there will be great emotion felt when even a simple kiss is shared.” Even as she said the words, she knew she would feel nothing when Lord Marcus kissed her. If she had already felt she had to explain it to him, then she was already doomed to not feel it. The something she was looking for just wasn’t there. She was trying to force it and it took all the joy from it.

  “I agree with what you are saying.”

  Anabelle nodded. She had run out of words. All that was left was the doomed kiss.

  “May I kiss you now?” he asked tenderly.

  Anabelle nodded again. He didn’t pull her close or even step closer to her. With a single finger, he tipped up her chin and set his lips to hers, and Anabelle felt… nothing. Well, not nothing exactly. His lips were soft and nicely formed. The kiss was not demanding or overly assertive. He pulled away and her eyes popped open. She felt no urgency for another, no desire for a deeper thorough kiss. She released her held breath in a weary sigh. Her search would continue.

  Lord Marcus didn’t look impressed either. “That was… nice.”

  Anabelle wanted to laugh but didn’t. “We should return now.” She turned to leave.

  “Wait. It wasn’t good enough, was it,” he said blatantly.

  Anabelle faced him again.

  “You can be honest, Anabelle. You were quite honest about what you want.”

  “It wasn’t what I was hoping to feel.”

  He nodded. “I suppose some things just can’t be feigned.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I enjoyed your company and I hope you find what you are looking for.” He smiled kindly.

  “You are such a good man, Thomas. Your future wife is a very lucky woman,” Anabelle said sincerely.

  He looked down at her intensely. “But that wife won’t be you.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He took her arms and stepped closer to her, his chest brushing her bodice. “I’d like to try again. One last time.”

  Anabelle sucked in her breath and nodded. What did she have to lose? He kissed her with more passion this time, his lips firm and eager. She opened her mouth, because from somewhere deep inside, she thought maybe she might feel that elusive something if he kissed her the way Draven had.

  His tongue slipped into her mouth and she resisted the urge to kiss him back. She didn’t want him to know that she was no longer a novice in that regard. He explored her mouth, alternating between deep caresses and gentle sucking of her lips. It was actually very nice in Anabelle’s opinion, but it was still lacking. Her wits were firmly in place. She had no fevered urge to feel more and give more of herself. He finally pulled away. And she wiped at her mouth with her gloved fingertips.

  “Well?” he asked. He sounded out of breath.

  “That was much more exciting.” She tried to sound as affected as he.

  His face fell. “But?”

  Anabelle shook her head.

  “Well, then, I will escort you back to the ball,” he mumbled.

  “Thomas.” Anabelle put a hand on his chest. “Your wife will melt from your kisses. I say that with absolute certainty.”

  He brightened at that. “Melt, you say?”

  “Like butter over a hot roll.” Anabelle laughed.

  He laughed too, and the tension eased. They snuck back to the garden and into the ballroom, parting ways as friends.

  Chapter 7

  Draven kept his back to the wall and watched the terrace doors. In they strolled together—and then they parted ways? Draven analyzed her face for signs of a thorough kiss. That was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? Just not from him. He knew Lord Marcus and could even say he liked the chap, but presently, he felt like burying his fist in his gut. What he could not figure out was why they had suddenly parted. There wasn’t any warmth in the parting. Draven knew from personal experience how warm one could feel after an embrace with Lady Anabelle Darling.

  Should he investigate? If there were an angel on his shoulder, it would be screaming no, but luckily, he was standing beside the devil.

  “Rigsby, what do you make of the relationship between Lady Anabelle and Lord Marcus?”

  Rigsby gave him a side-eyed glance and shrugged. “They seem to be doing the usual rounds together. Chatting, dancing, you know how early courtship goes.”

  “They just returned together from the terrace,” Draven replied.

  “Things must be progressing. She is hard to ignore in that dress.”

  He had no idea. “She doesn’
t look ravished.”

  “That dress aside, I’m not sure she inspires one to ravish.”

  Draven could have ardently disagreed. He wanted nothing more than to peel her mermaid costume from her creamy skin. He kept his thoughts firmly to himself. “I see someone I need to speak with.”

  Rigsby turned to look at him. “I see an angel who is on her third glass of champagne and a shepherdess who needs help finding her sheep. Stay out of trouble, Draven.” Rigsby paused and shook his head. “Between you and Lucy, I feel like a nursemaid.”

  Draven clapped him on the back. “I can take care of myself. I will see you later.”

  Rigsby and Draven parted in different directions. Draven went in the direction of Lord Marcus, intent on finding out the depth of his relationship with Anabelle. He had no right, and absolutely nothing good could come of knowing, but he couldn’t stop himself. Anabelle would be furious. She would think he was purposefully ruining her attempts to find a husband, but that was far from the truth. He wasn’t trying to ruin anything for her—he simply had to know.

  What if Marcus didn’t deserve her? What if he mistreated her? Draven was only looking out for her best interest, even if she couldn’t see that. Never mind that he would be looking out for his interests too, which was she—something he could no longer deny. And now that he had admitted it, he didn’t want to deny it. Most women fell to his feet, but she hated him at this point, and it was rather entertaining. He was on the border of obsession, and it made him feel good, like waking up after a long rest.

  He was pleased by the effect of his mask. Few dared to approach him, which saved him from annoyingly bland conversations. Masquerades were far more entertaining than typical balls, and offered abundant opportunities for illicit trysts, but that was not in the cards tonight. He had succeeded in claiming another kiss from Anabelle’s sweet lips, but that would probably be his last. If he wanted to get close to her, and remain close to her, he needed to show her that she could trust him to keep his hands to himself and not get in the way of her plans.

  He honestly had no urge to interrupt her matrimonial plans. It wasn’t as if he wanted to be the champion of heart, but he did need his infatuation to run its course. It would fade as all lust induced obsessions often did. He was sure of it. What he needed now was to find out how serious things were between Marcus and Anabelle. Chasing the skirts of an engaged woman was beyond his moral boundaries.