A Lord of Many Masks (Wycliffe Family, #2)

by Jessica Scarlett

None of the three men fit my imagined ideal—for that, I could be grateful. I didn’t want my future husband to view me as a dimwit. Even if I was one.

What kinds of men talked of a woman’s worth so flippantly? “And how would you know this?” “Because,” William said, “at particularly dull functions, I join them.” “Then you must be wishing yourself over there now—for you said yourself how dull the evening is.” “To be sure.” He tapped my nose. “But someone must ensure you don’t fall in love with the drapes.”

“A husband? What the devil would you do with one of those?” “Live the rest of my life with someone I love unconditionally, basking in mutual friendship and trust.” “Sounds atrocious.”

“Then what is troubling you?” I glanced up, then wished I hadn’t. Mama was being shrewd too, detecting some hesitation within me that I barely knew was there myself. About what, I didn’t know. Or rather, I did, but didn’t want to think on it. To think on it would be to acknowledge it, and to acknowledge it would be catastrophic.

“Oh, ‘Liza . . .” Again, he sighed. “I have no wish to quarrel. Not with you.” Clues to the heart he kept locked away were the little phrases that fell from his lips—phrases where, when twisted, sounded as if cared for me as more than a friend. Not with you. As if I were an exception—a gemstone so valuable and rare that he never handled it for fear of tarnishing it.

“And how did you know I would refuse?” “Because you love William.” By all England. Was I so transparent?

“If he is lost, then I will find him. If he is confused, then I will enlighten him. And if he has no place, then I will make him one, with me.”

“At least you have a sister,” he said quietly. Peter stopped wading, sobering. “I’m sorry, Will.” His head dipped to his chest a little. “It’s all right. It’s been two years now. I should just get over it.” Peter sloshed out of the pond, grabbed his discarded shirt, and put it on. “Well, if it’ll make you feel any better—if you’re ever in need of a sister, you’re welcome to mine.” William laughed as he re-dressed too, his somber mood suddenly vanished. “That makes it sound like you’re giving her to me.” Peter shrugged, but his eyes sparkled. “If you want her.” Shaking his hair, William said, “Now it sounds like you’re giving her to me to marry.” Peter gave another shrug, a large smile stealing across his lips. “If you want her.”

You act as if you are madly in love with every woman you pass, and then do not commit to them. You teach me to flirt while simultaneously accusing me of playing with a man’s heart. You read everyone else like they are open books, and yet refuse to be read yourself—say we are dear friends, but refuse to let me into your trust. I hardly ever know what you think, and rarely do you offer it.”

Time ground to a halt as he breathed. In. Out. Deciding what he wanted. When at last he found his answer, his hand slid back to pull my neck forward, he bent his head, he closed his eyes, and his lips brushed mine in the softest touch. And against his lips, I whispered, “I love you.”

Finally, he said, “I see no reason why we cannot continue as we did before. We will forget the words that were spoken—we were both tired and did not mean them anyway. We shall forget everything.” “Even the kiss we shared?” “I . . .” He swallowed and roved my face, taking his time with his response. “. . . I could not forget it if I tried. But I will put it from my mind—and you should do the same.” Raising my chin, I said, “I meant it.”

“And I meant every word. I don’t want to forget. Though I feel ashamed at it all, I would not do it any different.” I had confessed at the right time—that much I knew. If William hadn’t loved me in that moment, then he’d never loved me at all. “You may be comfortable sweeping your feelings aside, William—and you may be used to doing the same to Miss Nagel’s or Lady Iris’s—but you will not do it to mine. Pretend what you want, but I will not forget what I said. Neither will I take it back.”

“I am not your plaything,” I said, chest heaving, voice trembling. He straightened slowly, looking me over. His head knocked back, face growing solemn. “No,” he said softly. “You are not.” Though his eyes held an apology, he did not utter it.

It wasn’t fair of me to force him to choose between love and friendship, and then strip him of both. But neither was it fair to myself to stay at his side, forcing smiles, trading silly poems, wearing a facade while never growing into more. And if anyone knew this, it should be William.

“Is nothing I say to be taken seriously?” I enunciated. “I am out of time, and no one else has offered. By all appearances, he is healthy and handsome and rich and in love with me.” My voice broke, and I hated myself for it. “He is in love with me, William. So why should I not marry him?” He stood there a long moment, jaw working, lips tight. I collected myself, gratified when my voice didn’t shake. “There is absolutely no reason why this match is unsuitable.”

Those things you just said—do you not realize that is what you have been doing to me for years? Pushing me away, never letting me get too close—but keeping me near enough to admire, and fawn over, and play with like a doll! If what you say of Allerton is true, then he is exactly like you. That is why you do not like him.” “And that is why you do.”

I missed him. Terribly. It felt as if a great hole had been blown through my chest, and as I lay bleeding on the floor, someone had set a bag of bricks on that hole. The weight stanched the blood, but it did not make it better. In fact, it arguably made it worse—for now I was being crushed under the weight of it all.

Our courses are set, William had said. Though it eats me away inside, I will respect her decision. I will be anything you want me to be. If it is marriage you want, I will give it to you.

“Are you all right?” I put a hesitant hand on his back. He shook it off and straightened, wiping spittle from his lips. “No!” His face set. “Mama is on her deathbed, Peter’s left town, William’s fled the country, my hand feels like I broke every bone from punching that idiot, an angry steward might be trailing at our heels, and you keep making me run around like a headless chicken harnessed to a runaway horse! Turns out committing crimes and learning of your loathsome cad of a fiancé doesn’t agree with me! Who the devil knew.”

The tears flowed freely now, so overcome that I was past feeling any shame. “Now I am free of Allerton, but I am without a husband, and back to where I started—worse off, in fact, because now I have no prospects and no time in which to find one. My reputation is ruined. I am scorned, and pitied, and now no one would take me even if I begged.” William loosened his hold to look down at me and glance between my eyes. “. . . I would take you,” he murmured.

He neared, sweeping a knuckle down my tear-stained cheek. “’Liza. Surely you see it is not guilt, nor pity that drives me, but pure selfishness. For I would have you for my very own, and that—that is all I have ever wanted.”

“I have always been selfish when it comes to you, and I think I always will be. But these past weeks have taught me that, even above the deepest and most cherished desires of my heart, what I want most is for you to be happy. If that happiness includes me, then I will take you in a heartbeat and never let go. And if not . . .” He swallowed. “Well. What else can I do, but try to find happiness on my own?” His eyes started to sparkle, a corner of his lips turning up. “But Eliza, it’s going to be devilish difficult finding it. I do wish you’d save me the trouble.”

Fingers splayed against the glass next to my head, his other hand tangled in my hair, moving my head whatever way he pleased. I could feel his heartbeat through his clothes, a beat that matched my own rapid pulse. A little thing like air was irrelevant next to William’s fiery lips sliding against mine, seeking, exploring, needing. Then he broke away, trailing soft kisses along my jaw, until his mouth came to my ear. “Oh ‘Liza,” he murmured, his breath tickling my hair as his lips brushed my skin. “How I love you . . .” He nuzzled my neck with his nose, stealing the air from my lungs. Ohhh. My heart sighed in happiness.

His voice grew quieter, less playful and more serious. “How silly she was, so completely absurd—yet within me a feeling awakened and stirred. It’s as wide as the heavens and nearly as deep. And this thing she awoke in me never shall sleep. And the stars will shine down, and our course they will chart—for they know she and I . . .” Intertwining my hand in his, he brought it slowly to brush my knuckles against his lips, stare unbreakable. “. . . are two beats of one heart.”

You’ve always been in my heart, Eliza—I just never realized how much. Through the years, you silently took it over, bit by bit, piece by piece, without ever having to try. I don’t know when I began to love you, only that I did, and that I couldn’t stop. And when I finally woke up to it, I panicked and tried to take it back. But it was hopeless from the start. Because if I carved you out of my heart, I wouldn’t have any heart left.”

William turned to me and smirked. “Well darling, now we’re married—and I am forced to give you that happily ever after you’ve always dreamed of.” I glanced at him from the corner of my eye and hit him with my shoulder. “Yes, sorry for inconveniencing you.” “Just so! True love is terribly inconvenient.”