How to Steal a Thief's Heart - Bree Wolf Page 0,97
curls shone in a full, vibrant brown, appearing even darker with the tiny, white pearls woven into it.
“You look different without your spectacles,” Charlaine observed, her own golden gown making her dark eyes glow. She shimmered like a star in the night sky. “You don’t need them, do you?”
Caroline smiled as she met her own gaze in the mirror, her eyes now glistening in a dark blue. “No, I don’t.” Perhaps the last time she’d worn them had already come and gone.
Perhaps it was time not to hide any longer.
“I have a confession to make,” Charlaine told her as they sat in the carriage on their way to the Whithertons’ townhouse. “There is someone I wish to see tonight.”
Caroline’s mouth opened slightly in surprise. “Who is he?”
Charlaine chuckled wholeheartedly, no sign of embarrassment on her lovely features. “Oh, he’s a kind young man who believes the world has nothing left to offer him.” Her brows wiggled devilishly. “I intend to disabuse him of that misconception.”
Caroline laughed, looking at the young woman across from her with unadulterated awe, wondering how she could ever have thought her the villain in this story. Indeed, Charlaine had such a caring and vivacious character that Caroline had no doubt the young gentleman would not stand a chance against such a force of nature. “Thank you for…for sending that message,” Caroline told her, reaching out to grasp her hand. “Thank you for helping me.”
A hint of red darkened Charlaine’s cheeks as she smiled at Caroline. “Oh, we all need someone to turn to. No one can exist on their own.” Sadness misted her eyes, but she blinked it away quickly. “Life is beautiful, and we must not ever allow it to be anything but.”
The strength in the young woman’s gaze overwhelmed Caroline, and she realized how afraid she’d been lately, how consumed by doubts and fears and suspicions. They’d darkened her days and weighed heavily on her heart. Yes, there was a chance that Pierce did not love her the way she loved him, but was there not an even greater chance that he did? Was she not a fool for hesitating to risk her heart to claim his?
More than once, he’d shown her that she mattered to him. More than once had he gone out of his way to ensure her safety. More than once had he confided in her, revealed his vulnerable side, trusting that she would keep it safe.
“Are you ready?” Charlaine asked, her hand gently squeezing Caroline’s as the carriage pulled to a stop outside a large townhouse.
Caroline swallowed, gathering her courage, and then nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
With their masks securely fastened, the two women proceeded to the entrance and then stepped into a foreign world. Although a masquerade was still a ball, a ball with music and dancing, this ball had a distinctly outlandish character to it.
The lights seemed dimmer than usual, casting an eeriness across the large room that sent a chill up and down Caroline’s arms. Masks met her gaze wherever she looked, disguising those underneath, making them all strangers. Men seemed to favor simple black ones while the women’s shone in many different colors, matching the scandalously revealing gowns they’d chosen to wear that night. Music echoed through the crowd, dark and almost foreboding, as the dancers moved across the dance floor, their bodies entwined in a highly indecent manner.
Her parents would have an apoplexy if they knew she was here!
Beside her, Charlaine inhaled a shuddering breath. “I hadn’t expected this,” she confessed, then turned and met Caroline’s gaze with a widening smile. “But I must admit I’m intrigued.”
Swallowing, Caroline nodded for although her pulse thudded wildly in her veins, she knew that there was no way she would turn around and head home. “How do we find them?” she whispered to Charlaine as her eyes once more flew across the faceless crowd.
In that moment, a moment when the music died down and a momentary silence fell over the room, a woman’s voice nearby echoed to her ears, commenting rather shockingly on a man’s presumed sexual prowess. Caroline felt herself turn dark red. It was not solely the comment itself that shocked her, but rather the fact that she recognized the woman’s voice.
If Caroline was not at all mistaken, then the woman was no other than Lady Brockton, the matron of their embroidery circle, a woman who always portrayed herself as the embodiment of propriety and respectability!
For long seconds, Caroline stared at the woman’s blue,