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Eloise smiled, holding Fenella’s hand. “I’m so happy for you. Thank you for trusting me.” And suddenly, she had an epiphany. “I can help you get ready too, how wonderful does that sound?”
“Oh my, you would do that? That would be lovely!” They giggled between each other quietly, not to raise any suspicions.
“Kiss me.” The masked woman breathed deeply, her body inviting her to his and her hands trembling as she wrapped them around his neck.
He trailed a finger over her pale skin, the outline of her jaw and her silky hair, thrilled with every second he spent with her—wanting this to last longer. But there was one thing still on his mind: who was she?
Without hesitation, he clasped the mask firmly, needing to reveal her identity. And as he pulled it away, his breath hitched, and his eyes widened upon the sight. It was Ellie.
A vixenish smile was pasted on her face, and she acted as if he shouldn’t be surprised at the reveal. “You are—”
“Shhh, don’t say a word,” she said, leaning forward into his lips once more.
Simon raised his throbbing head gently, expecting to see Ellie next to him, her nude body tangled with his and her lips yearning for his touch. But it was empty. The crumpled sheets laid by the bedside, their cream color now a bright white as the light from sun-soaked clouds fell on them through the window.
It took him a moment to gather himself and realize what he had seen in his dreams. But his stomach dropped at the realization: Ellie. Was she the masked woman? He saw it in his dreams; her skin held the same softness, her hair the same silkiness, and her scent, that of spring lilies.
Ignoring his crippling headache, for now, he stretched his sore muscles and threw on a shirt to cover his bare body. And with that, he hurried outside, intent on scavenging through the list of names, seeking just the one, Ellie. If Ellie was there, she must indeed be the mystery woman he had been searching for, for so long.
He squinted his eyes as the bright light from nearby sconces gleamed out to him, worsening his headache. But he didn’t care; he strode on, intending to reach his office as quickly as possible, his sole focus being the masquerade ball’s list of attendees. He thought back to Ellie, then to the masked woman and he could see the similarities. The delicate voice, soft features, hazel eyes, the enchanting body, yet he never thought of placing them together, until now.
You fool…
He kicked open the study door, his boots hitting the floor with a blast, forcing him to focus on his surroundings. The room was dim with minimal light, but enough for him to navigate to the hulking bookcases—rush to them. Time seemed to slow as he rummaged through a slender bookcase for a bright blue book hidden among others of similar appearance, his shaky hands studying each one of them and throwing them to the ground in pursuit of that fateful guest list. It had only been a few moments, and he had already made a mess of the room.
Finally, he found it. He held it firmly as if it was the most precious treasure in the world and guided it to his desk, where the light from the window illuminated its inky handwriting. With a finger tightly pressed across each name, he looked for ‘Ellie’…but Ellie what? He didn’t know her second name and, he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember her obnoxious relatives' names.
“Your Grace?” Richard’s voice rang against the walls, reaching Simon’s ears before his steps did. He was standing by the door, his face contorted in confusion as he tried to make sense of all the mess. Eventually, he closed the door, stepping inside. “Is everything all right? Do you need help with something?”
“Do you remember Lady Alexandra’s last name?” Simon quickly asked.
“Lady Alexandra? Ah, you mean Lady Lyndon. Lady Alexandra Lyndon, the Viscountess.”
“Lyndon, Lyndon, Lyndon…” he recited as he continued scanning the list. “Ah, here it is!”
He licked moisture to his lips as he read the two names on the list: Kate Lyndon, Felicity Lyndon. But not Ellie. He raised an eyebrow, until he exclaimed, “It’s her aunt, they wouldn’t share the same surname, correct?”
“I suppose so, Your Grace.”
After that small confirmation, he looked for every name starting with the letter ‘E’, but it was all a jumbled mess. The names alone were in the hundreds, and none of them were ‘Ellie’. Elisa, Eleanor, Emmanuela, Eloise…but none of them Ellie. He groaned in frustration, trying to make sense of it. She was at the ball, so she should at least be one of the candidates, right?
Was she at the ball? This isn’t making sense…
He didn’t know if it was because he wanted Ellie to be the masked lady, or because something felt wrong. But he needed confirmation. He needed to be certain no matter what.
“Richard,” he quickly said, placing the list down with a loud smack, “do you still have the list of the candidates we excluded?”
“Indeed, Your Grace. I have it safely stored in my chambers.”
“I understand…Can you,” he ran a hand through his hair, still searching on for her name, “prepare it for me? Only the women, of course.”
Richard nodded.
“And before you leave, make sure Lady Ellie doesn’t hear a word about this, understood?”
“As you say, Your Grace.”
Richard bowed, turning on his heels and exiting the room. Simon nested in his leather chair, rubbing circles on top of a brandy glass, deep in thought.
“Is it you?” he muttered to himself. “Please, be you.”
