Page 57 of An Extraordinary Lord

Veronica pulled in a deep breath to calm herself. A mistress! Or a mistress’s carriage at least. She’d gotten the information from the countess in the most improper, terrible way, but the prick of guilt that brought was overshadowed by the realization that they had their next link in their investigation.

She hurried toward the door. When Merritt heard about this—

A woman’s reflection in the mirror startled her. She halted.

For a moment, she didn’t recognize herself in the elegant styling of her hair and the length of neck and nape it revealed, the drape of her satin gown as it fell from her tight bodice to her slippers, the long white gloves that stretched to her elbows. Her life had given way from satin to steel since her mother died, and she’d forgotten what it was like to dress so elegantly, to move through the world of the aristocracy. The woman in the mirror wasn’t who she truly was anymore, yet every inch of her longed to be her again. The one who enjoyed grand parties beneath shimmering chandeliers, who strolled in the morning sunlight down wide avenues, who rode in fine carriages through the park.

The woman Merritt thought was beautiful and mysterious.

She’d stepped into a dream, right down to the delicate pearl teardrops at her ears. Veronica smiled at her reflection as she reached up to touch one. Claudia said they’d complete her outfit, and she’d been right. As if they’d been chosen specifically with this gown in mind—

A harsh sound of self-recrimination fell from her lips as the truth struck her. Oh, she felt like a complete nodcock! They looked as if they’d been chosen for this dress because they had been. By Merritt.

“You devil,” she whispered as she caressed the earbob. “You wonderful, surprising, and utterly frustrating man.”

Perhaps, that was what he’d said. That perhaps she could convince him, that perhaps he was receptive to being convinced. The pearls might very well have been his first concession toward seeing her as something other than criminal, as a woman as fine as the other ladies in attendance tonight.

This was an opportunity she fully planned on seizing. Because shewasjust as fine as they were, just as deserving of Merritt’s attentions.

Her soul ached to be part of his world with a longing she’d never felt before. It should have been hers…the glamour and sparkle and magic of nights like this, along with the calm and security that such a privileged life bestowed long after the party ended and the candles were extinguished. After all, she’d been part of this world once, before it was stolen from her.

Tonight, she might finally have her chance to reclaim the life she’d been meant to have.Perhaps.

Hope blossomed in her chest as she hurried from the retiring room. When she entered the ballroom, she stopped to catch her breath and cast a searching glance around the crowded room for Merritt. Her pulse spiked when her eyes landed on him as he stood so casually yet confidently at the side of the room, talking and laughing with his friends.

With a slow smile, she whispered to herself, “Mrs. Fitzherbert.”

But then the crowd parted. The moment lasted only a heartbeat but long enough for her to gain a good look at the people standing with him. A duke and an earl, a duchess and a countess, a High Court judge, distinguished society gentlemen and beautiful ladies…surrounding a man who was both a baron and King’s Counsel. All of them distinguished and regal, all of them possessing power and status.

None of them like her.

An invisible fist crushed her chest, and all hope squeezed out through its fingers. Perhaps…not.

Oh, what a fool she was to think she could ever be one of them! Madame Noir was right. She didn’t belong here. The door to this world had shut to her over a decade ago and would never reopen. No matter how finely she dressed, no matter how many lessons she subjected herself to, she was still an outcast. And now always would be.

Merritt looked up and caught her staring. When he smiled at her across the room, the realization of all she could never have sliced into her like a blade.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. It took every ounce of strength she had to simply stand there and return his stare without breaking into tears.

His smile slowly faded into a frown. He knew something was wrong, she could read his concern on his brow, yet he didn’t have any notion of the truth. And she fully intended to keep it that way. To see his look of disbelief that she would even consider a future in his world, to hear him laugh at her—worse, to see his pity for her… Dear God, it would end her!

She sucked in a deep, ragged breath and willed herself to be strong. The night was at an end, as was their mission now that she knew who was in the carriage with Smathers. Only a few minutes longer to endure. Then it would all be over, and she’d go back to doing what she’d always done before—whatever it took to survive.

He excused himself from his friends and made his way through the crowd to her. His concerned frown deepened with every step.

“Veronica, are you all right?”

When he reached for her elbow, she moved away. She couldn’t have borne his touch!

He dropped his hand to his side. “What’s wrong?”

“I know who was in the carriage,” she answered instead, gladly steering his attention away from her and onto their mission. “Malmesbury’s mistress.”

“A mistress?” Incredulity colored his voice.

“She has access to a carriage bearing the earl’s crest.”

“Are you certain?”