Page 40 of Unmask Me My Love

Sated at last, her body relaxed, she lay motionless, completely happy.

“Christ, did I hurt you?” Hal started up from the bed, turning an alarmed face toward her.

“If so, it wasn’t enough to give a thought to. But can you please do it again right now?” Her racing heart slowed, returning to something like normal. Still, she couldn’t wait to feel that connection to Hal once more.

He laughed and kissed her, long and slowly. Let it never end. Finally, he lifted his head. “You were exquisite, my love. I’ve never felt such passion with a woman.” He clutched her tighter, kissing her lips, nose, eyes one by one. “Now you’re mine as never before.”

“And you are mine. Forever.” Fiercely possessive now, she clutched at him until finally he eased out of her, and she drew him back to her.

A sigh escaped his lips as he slid his hand over her breasts. “I hope your wedding gown isn’t in total ruins.” He pulled the short, puffed sleeve of the dress off her shoulder. “All we need do is rid ourselves of the rest of this clothing, and I will be happy to start again.”

Epilogue

October 1820

All Hallows Eve

Dressed in a frothy pink ballgown from an earlier era—one in which the skirts of the noble ladies had stuck straight out to the side like large baskets—Gabriella twirled around the ballroom floor in the arms of a valet, for that was the masquerade costume her husband had insisted on coming in.

“It is the best costume I’ve ever worn, my dear, as it brought me you,” Hal had said when she’d looked shocked as he entered her dressing room attired as he had been when he’d pretended to be Carpenter. “Don’t tell me you’ll be ashamed to appear on my arm at Lady Hamilton’s masquerade, will you? You didn’t used to be so squeamish about standing up with a valet.”

“Well, I never actually stood up with Horace, now did I, mon cher?” Gabriella had laughed softly. She’d slipped her arms around her husband’s neck, leaned close and whispered, “I’d much rather lie down than stand up with you, mon amour.” Fortunately, Grimes hadn’t been in to help her dress yet, or she’d have had to change clothes yet again. Hal had a habit of visiting her chamber just as she was getting dressed—which always made them late for whatever function they were going to.

Now, however, they were sailing around the ballroom floor in a lovely waltz, no one remotely interested in a lady dancing with a servant. That was the beauty of a masquerade. You could be anything you wished to be and no one cared a sou. Of course, Gabriella wished to be no one but who she was—the luckiest woman in the world married to the handsomest, kindest man alive.

“Penny for your thoughts, my love.” Hal twirled them around, speeding through the steps of the dance as though they were in a race.

“I was thinking how lucky I am to have married you.” She gazed up into her husband’s eyes, smiling so broadly she feared she would burst with happiness. “Who would have thought the night I stole onto the balcony seeking my father, I’d instead find the man I was destined to marry.”

Hal grinned down at her. “Almost everyone at that ball, I daresay.”

“What? Que veux-tu dire?” Gabriella frowned at him.

“Only that everyone knows Lady Hamilton’s ball is The Matchmaker’s Ball.” He dipped her over as they changed course again. “An amazing number of couples who meet at that particular ball end up married. So our chances were rather good from the beginning.” He chuckled. “I should have remembered that and not been so concerned when you wouldn’t speak to me for days.”

“So Lady Hamilton is the matchmaker, est-elle?” Hal turned them swiftly again, and Gabriella’s stomach dropped sickeningly. “Does this ball also have name? The Masquerade of Matrimony, perhaps?”

Her husband laughed. “Not to my knowledge. Just a lovely party where everyone can be as boisterous as they wish, because no one knows who they are until midnight, and by then no one cares what they have done.” He turned them again with a flourish as the orchestra ended the waltz.

None too soon for Gabriella. Her stomach wasn’t very happy with Hal’s skill as a partner. “I need some fresh air, mon cher. Quickly.” Not waiting for Hal to lead her, Gabriella picked up her massive skirts and ran for the French doors. She had to turn sideways to get through them, and it was a near thing. She just made it to the balustrade overlooking a flower bed in time to cast up her accounts safely into the dirt. Mon Dieu, but that had been a close one.

“Gabriella! My God, are you ill?” Hal ran up beside her, as she straightened, breathing hard. She fished a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her mouth.

“It is all over, mon cœur. Do not be concerned.” Her breath had returned to normal, and her stomach rested much easier. “Although, in future, I think it best if we not dance the waltz.” She cut her gaze up into his worried eyes. “At least not for the next seven months.”

“Seven months?” He put a shaking hand on her arm. “My love, we never have to dance again if it makes you this ill.”

She smiled and slipped her arms around him. “It was not the waltz that has made me ill, mon cher, but the dance we enjoyed just before we left the house that is ultimately the culprit.”

He lowered his voice to an urgent whisper. “Our making love has made you ill?”

“Oui, mon amour.” She gazed up into his troubled face and cupped his cheek. “Because of the babe I now bear. Votre bébé.”

His eyes opened wide and dropped from her face to her stomach, hidden by layers of frothy pink fabric. “A baby? You are carrying my child?”

Gabriella nodded. “It would seem so. I consulted Maman several weeks ago, and she called in a midwife who says your son or daughter should be born in the early spring.” She smiled up at him. “You are pleased?”

“Pleased? Oh, Gabriella.” He grabbed her up in his strong embrace and spun them around. “I couldn’t be happier if someone had handed me the moon.”