Page 13 of Unmask Me My Love

“You look beautiful this evening. Très belle.”

“You cannot even see me in the darkness.” She tossed her head, though his words sent an alarming thrill through her.

“I can see enough.”

“You are very bold for a valet who has stolen away from his master.” She certainly didn’t want him to be dismissed on her account. “Shouldn’t you be cleaning the marquess’s boots?”

He laughed and motioned her back toward the bench. “They are already taken care of. My master doesn’t mind if I step out once my duties are finished. But it’s sweet of you to be concerned about me.”

“I would hate to think I caused you to get the sack.” She clutched the slats of the bench to keep from fidgeting. Lord, he made her want to fly to pieces.

“Thank you, but I will be fine.” He relaxed against the back of the bench, his presence hulking, and dangerous, and exciting. “Are you well?”

“Oui. As well as one may be with madame calling for me every moment she is not eating, sleeping, or paying calls. Tant pis. It is my lot.” As soon as she met the duke, however, all of that would change, Dieu merci.

“You must be very skilled that she relies so heavily on you.” He never took his gaze off her, which should have made her uncomfortable but did not. Not even when it seemed to linger on her mouth.

“She is overly concerned with how the people of the ton think of her. Possibly in the past they have been unkind, and she is now determined to be above reproach in her appearance.” She shrugged. “Lady Chalgrove annoys me at times, but she has served her purpose in getting me to England.” Now it was up to her, and perhaps Monsieur Carpenter, to meet the duke.

“So, have you managed to see the Duke of Rother yet?” He shifted, and the faint moonlight blazed in his eyes.

“Non. Yesterday, madame went for a drive with the duke, and I thought it might be my chance, but I caught a glimpse of him only.” She fisted her hands in her lap. Mon Dieu, why was a simple introduction so difficult? “I suppose you have not been able to arrange a meeting either, Monsieur Carpenter?”

He freed her hand from the folds of her gown, his grin broadening. “As a matter of fact, mademoiselle, I have.”

“What?” She squeezed his hand, shock making her grip him tighter than she should have. Her quest was at an end. Her dream would come true at last. “Why did you not tell me immédiatement? This is wonderful.” She threw her arms around him, unable to contain the joy within her. “Oh, merci. Merci beaucoup.”

Her lips met his, and suddenly nothing else mattered. The world disappeared as she clung to him, her anchor in a turbulent sea. When, at last, loud laughter from the house brought her back to herself, she thought she might die of shame. She twisted away, her face hot as though she’d stood too close to a fire. Indeed, she had scorched herself in his flames. “Mille pardons, Monsieur Carpenter. I should not have done that.”

“I didn’t mind, Gabriella.” He smiled, rubbing his finger over his lips. “And having done it, I insist you call me Horace.”

Her whole body like a lit match, realizing too that he had called her Gabriella, she jumped up and stumbled away from the bench. “I do not think that is wise, Monsieur Carpenter.”

“Horace,” he said firmly, following her.

“And how am I to meet the duke?” She turned to him, infusing her words with determination, willing him to allow them to continue as they had before.

“How am I to meet the duke…Horace?” His grin assumed her defeat.

Wretched man to leave her no choice. “Horace.” Having said the name, she grew warm again, from the inside out.

He took her hand, tucked it in the crook of his elbow, and led her back to the bench. “My master has a distant relation, Lady Celinda Grantham, who also happens to be the duke’s goddaughter. I once did her a kindness, so in return she has agreed to introduce you to the Duke of Rother.”

Ah, that explained it. She had wondered how a valet had managed such a thing.

He sat, not relinquishing her hand, and patted the seat beside him. “Sit. I promise not to bite.”

“I am fine to stand, merci.” She tugged and, reluctantly, he let her go. Lord, so difficult to remain true to her goal. More than anything, she would have loved to sit beside Horace, to feel his lips on hers once more. Non, she must not allow herself to be distracted. “When will Lady Celinda arrange the meeting?” She scowled. “It will not be easy to steal away from madame.”

“I will speak with her shortly and tell her when you can meet her.” He cocked his head. “Is there some impediment?”

Gabriella bit her lip. This might be the most difficult part yet. Lady Chalgrove led such an active social life, she might call upon Gabriella almost any time of the day or night to assist her. Her afternoon off moved at her mistress’s whim. Unfortunately, if she asked for a particular day off, madame might ask why. Or simply refuse. She sighed. “My time is seldom my own.”

“There is your half day on Sunday.”

“Pardon?” Frowning, Gabriella glanced around to assure herself they were alone. “Qu’est-ce qu’un demi-journée?”

“What? A half-day?” Monsieur Carpenter cocked his head. “The Sunday afternoon you have off each week or the evening during the week. When you are allowed to go out and shop for yourself, or go to an entertainment or a park?”