How to Steal a Thief's Heart - Bree Wolf Page 0,98
feathery mask shimmering in the room’s dim light and realized that while their masks might hide their faces, their voices might still reveal who they were.
“Perhaps we should split up,” Charlaine mumbled as she, too, looked around the room. “We might have more luck going separate ways.” Her gaze met Caroline’s. “And I doubt we’ll have trouble finding each other again in these gowns.”
Caroline smiled, then nodded. “I suppose that’s tru—” Her voice broke off when her gaze fell on a gentleman clad in black, an equally black mask fastened to his face. He was one of many, and yet, Caroline knew in her heart that it was Pierce. After all, she’d seen him like this before.
With a drink in his hand, he stood off to the side, here and there exchanging a word with a rather tense young man beside him. His hand rose and he gestured toward the dance floor where a group of masked ladies stood, chatting and laughing.
A moment later, the other man set off, heading in the group’s direction, his jaw squared as though he were acting against his better instincts. Caroline had to admit that he looked familiar, nevertheless, she couldn’t place him. “Might this be the man you’re looking for?” she whispered to Charlaine.
The other woman moved to look at the man Caroline had gestured to and then stilled, her gaze narrowing. “Why, I do believe you’re right.” A surprised chuckled escaped her. “How on earth did you spot him?”
“I didn’t,” Caroline admitted, and her gaze moved back to the man who’d caught her attention. “I spotted Pierce.”
“I see,” Charlaine whispered teasingly, then once more squeezed Caroline’s hand. “Good luck then. Don’t let him get away.” And with another warm smile, Charlaine disappeared, moving closer to the dance floor and the man she had her eye on.
“May I offer you a drink?” an unfamiliar voice whispered in Caroline’s ear.
Flinching at the feel of another’s warm breath against her skin, Caroline spun around, finding herself face to face with another dark-clad gentleman with a black mask. His gaze swept over her in frank perusal, and she felt a sickening shiver run down her back at the leering look in his eyes.
Only when his hand reached to touch her arm did she snap out of the paralysis that had fallen over her at being addressed in such a manner. “I apologize,” she snapped as her chin rose and she met his gaze with a haughty one of her own. “However, I’m already otherwise engaged.”
“Is that so?” he drawled, clearly disinclined to abandon his intentions.
Caroline held his stare, her hands rising to settle on her hips. “Yes.”
For a moment, he seemed to falter until another man appeared by his side. “What do we have here, Kearsley? Are you on the lookout for a new mistress?”
Shocked by the words so openly exchanged by the two men, Caroline only belatedly realized that the newcomer had addressed his friend by name.
Kearsley. Lord Kearsley?
Caroline wondered why the men were not more careful with their identities, but then recalled that men often did as they pleased, needing to fear very few repercussions while women were faced with an altogether different situation. Indeed, if she were discovered here, she’d be ruined, an outcast of society, not welcomed anywhere. However, if a man like Lord Kearsley were known to have attended this masquerade, very few would take note, let alone be shocked.
It was, indeed, an unfair world, not that Caroline was surprised. After all, she’d known so all along. It had, in fact, been the reason for her own deception.
“Would you care for a dance?” the newcomer asked, all but pushing Kearsley aside as his gaze drifted over her appearance.
His voice was harsh and commanding, and despite the music lingering over every spoken word, she could not shake the feeling that she’d heard it before.
More than that.
That she knew it.
“I’m afraid I must decline,” Caroline replied, feeling more and more uncomfortable the longer this conversation lasted. All she wanted was to find Pierce and see if he recognized her.
“One dance,” the newcomer said and his hand reached out to take a hold of hers without a moment’s hesitation.
As though she’d agreed.
Anger at his audacity swelled in her chest, and she glared at him, yanking her arm backward in order to free herself.
Without success though.
“I demand that you release me immediately,” Caroline thundered, shocked by the way respectable gentlemen behaved when society’s eye was not on them.