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The only bright part of the day was the delicate diamond ring on her finger. After two days, it still felt unfamiliar. Whenever she caught sight of it, she was reminded of her engagement, and she felt a delicious thrill of excitement and wonder mixed with a dash of trepidation.
But it was for another reason the day wasn’t as pleasant as it could have been. She hadn’t yet told Luc about her masquerade. And until she did, it didn’t matter what the weather was like. To her, every day would be dark and dismal.
Luc arrived as she was still trying to placate Mrs. Clover and the other servants. By the time she was finished, he was ensconced in the library with all the ladies.
When she walked in, Flowerday had just brought tea and Aunt Charity was pouring cups of the fragrant beverage for everyone. Luc and the ladies were sitting in chairs and sofas drawn up between the fireplace and the library’s tall windows so as to enjoy both the warmth of the fire blazing in the hearth and what little winter light there was to be had.
Ria looked at him as he reclined on a library sofa, relaxed and at ease with the ladies’ undivided attention and apparently not at all nonplussed by their never-ending stream of questions.
When he saw her, he stood up with a welcoming smile. She sat down on the sofa he’d just vacated, and he sat beside her.
The patter of rain hitting the library windows and the crackle of the fire had a soothing effect on her, and for the first time that day she began to calm down. The sweet aroma of the tea Aunt Charity handed her further helped her relax.
Her serenity ended abruptly as Aunt Faith said, “Of course you can’t be married for at least a year. Ria is still in mourning; it wouldn’t be seemly.”
Ria, with a quick glance at Monty in his usual position by the fire, said, “I believe Monty would be happy for me to marry without waiting for my mourning period to end.”
At her words Monty nodded and smiled, and Luc looked relieved.
Before Aunt Faith could proffer any further objections, Luc took Ria’s hand and firmly stated, “I will obtain a special license, and we will marry quietly in a small private ceremony, then honeymoon abroad until her mourning period is ended. Once abroad, she can come out of her mourning weeds.”
Looking at him, Ria stated, “It will seem strange to wear colors again. I must confess to being heartily sick of black and, in particular, black bombazine.”
The ladies murmured in agreement, and Agnes plaintively commented, “I look forward to attending a ball. I vow it is an age since I have been to one.”
“Perhaps when you return we can hold a ball?” suggested Agatha.
“Oh, I would like that,” said Agnes.
“Maybe it could be a masked ball.” Agatha turned to Ria. “Could I borrow your mask? The gold one you embroidered with pomegranate seeds?”
At Agatha’s innocent words, the blood in Ria’s veins turned to ice. A quick glance at Luc confirmed her dread that he had immediately recognized Persephone’s mask.
All trace of emotion was wiped from his face, but sitting as close to him as she was, she’d felt it as every muscle in his body went rigid.
A very grave sign.
Unable to think of anything to say, she was glad when the silence was broken by a clatter in the fireplace. Looking over, she saw the poker had fallen onto the hearth, taking charcoal from the bucket with it.
With an oath, Luc stood and cleared up the mess.
Silently, Ria gave grateful thanks to Monty. Surely he had arranged the distraction.
Luc stood up from the hearth, stumbled slightly as he turned, and then stiffly bowed to the aunts and cousins. “If you will excuse me, ladies, there are matters I must see to this afternoon.”
He then turned to Ria and held out his hand. Not knowing what else to do, she stood and placed her hand in his. His hand closed over hers—his grip tight.
Her heart pounding, mouth dry, she walked with him from the library. As they passed the empty drawing room, he drew her into it.
When he looked at her, his eyes no longer held the tender look she had become accustomed to. Instead the green had turned so dark as to be almost black.
Finally unable to stand the silence, she answered the question implicit in his eyes. “Yes. As you have guessed, it was I you met at the masquerade.”
“Met,” he drawled. “What an interesting turn of phrase.” The tone of voice was Luc at his most chillingly polite.
The aristocrat was back.
Ria shivered. “After you asked me to marry you, I said I had something to tell you. That is what it was. I was trying to tell you yesterday.”
