Lord of the Masquerade by Erica Ridley
Chapter 18
Unity had yearned for Julian all week, but her days and nights had been filled with preparations and rehearsals for the theatre’s newest play, which had opened to great acclaim the evening before.
In fact, the success of tonight’s performance was why she was late to the masquerade. The actors had taken bow after bow, and Unity’s friends had been so bubbly with excitement, they scarcely sat still long enough for her to remove their wigs and prosthetics and cosmetics.
Thanks to the extravagantly generous wages Julian was paying her, Unity no longer needed the meager salary she earned at the theatre. The costumes, however, were invaluable.
The night butler held open the door.
“Cleopatra!” he exclaimed with admiration. “You look absolutely resplendent.”
She inclined her head regally. “Thank you, Mr. Fairfax.”
It was after midnight. Unity was the last to arrive. The party would be in full swing, every inch overflowing with giddy revelers.
In seconds, she was across the entryway and through the opposite door, bursting into the crowded ballroom to cries of, “Lady X!” amid the music of crystal champagne flutes clinking in toast.
Julian found her at once.
He didn’t just lock eyes with her. He parted the crowd with his bold stride, caught her by the waist and pressed her to him, then covered her mouth with his.
She kissed him back, putting six days of longing into the kiss.
His kiss tasted the same way. Desperate, delighted, decadent. Society might not condone intermingling of their worlds, but one could always build a bridge between any two people. She could no more keep herself from his embrace than the sky could ignore the stars.
“I missed you,” he growled against her lips.
She fluttered her lashes. “You cannot have been afraid I wouldn’t come. I’m still waiting for a proper tour of the abovestairs accommodations.”
He gave her a strange look.
Perhaps the eye-fluttering had not been clear. He was maskless, as always, but Cleopatra wore a glittering ebony mask framed by white feathers before her eyes.
She looped her arm through his and infused her voice with a teasing tone. “I’m here. What completely unnecessary and eye-wateringly boring minute change would you like to show off for me today?”
“We shall inspect the perimeter,” he informed her and all but dragged her to the closest refreshment table.
Her shortbread had a place of honor atop a multi-tiered silver dessert tray.
Not just her shortbread. Several of the ideas she’d presented to him over the past weeks were on display, here and throughout the ballroom.
She gestured at a new arrangement of armchairs. “You accepted my sketches so begrudgingly, I thought you were ‘testing their efficacy’ under duress!”
“I was,” he agreed shamelessly, his eyes twinkling. “I condescended to conduct the experiments only to prove you wrong.”
“But I wasn’t wrong?”
“Not always,” he said grudgingly.
She pressed a hand to her throat. “Such... high praise. I fear I may faint. The emotion... it’s overwhelming.”
“If you swoon, I’ll catch you,” he promised. “I have studied the precise angles and proper stance for maximum efficiency when rescuing overset young ladies.”
“I’ll bet you have,” she said with a laugh. “Go on, show me the rest. Which of my other ideas were slightly less terrible than the ones you came up with?”
But as he led her about the ballroom, pointing out this slight modification and that subtle difference, Unity’s eyes were not on the improvements she’d brought about, but rather gazing at Julian’s animated countenance.
He was pleased. He was delighted with her. With them. No one else understood his obsessions. Not only didn’t she think him mad, she matched his meticulousness with her own. She matched him.
Her heart filled to bursting. Not out of pride for being useful, but because it was she who had brought these smiles to his infamously hard, intractable face.
She loved him.
It was as simple and as awful as that. He hadn’t even ravished her in his sin alcoves upstairs, and she was ruined beyond measure all the same. She wanted to put those smiles on his face forever. She wanted—
“Unity?” blurted a disbelieving voice.
She could feel the frost hardening over his good spirits.
“Out,” he said in the softest, most terrifying tone she had ever heard.
“It’s all right,” she said quickly, and took the mortified actress’s trembling hand. “Lady X, your instincts are correct, but this is not the moment for this discussion.”
“I’m so sorry,” the theatre’s lead soprano babbled, blanching at whatever she saw on the duke’s face. “I didn’t mean—I just—I—”
“Banned,” Julian said coldly. “For life. As are whichever guests brought you. The rules—”
“Stop it,” Unity hissed. “It was an accident. Of course she was surprised to discover someone like me as your guest. I don’t belong here and we both know it.”
“Guest?” he repeated, his tone laced with warning.
She lifted a palm. “Employee? Charity case?”
He dragged her away from the actress, leaving the dumbfounded soprano openmouthed and pale.
Unity’s feet could barely keep up as he parted the crowd and hauled her up the grand marble staircase to the first landing.
“Lords and Ladies X,” he called out over the railing. “Are you enjoying the ball?”
Deafening whoops filled the air as champagne glasses shot skyward, clinking and spilling over.
Julian laced his fingers with Unity’s and lifted their linked hands high. “You have Lady X to thank for all of the recent improvements.”
“Lady X! Lady X!” The crowd was in raptures.
“Leave it to Lambley to poach the prettiest maiden,” called a male voice in the back. “I never even got my dance.”
The Robin Redbreast. Her cheeks burned.
Julian grinned at her.
“Prettiest and cleverest. I’ve an entire journal filled with her ideas.” He slipped his free hand beneath his lapel and pulled out the second journal Unity had given him. The one where she wrote down all of her ideas for improving his parties.
The revelers cheered as though their duke had produced the holy grail.
Julian held the book aloft. “I have rigorously tested each suggestion and empirically proven them to be sound.”
“I thought you said ‘some’ of them,” she whispered.
“A few of them,” he corrected, his eyes teasing.
Changes that no one in the teeming ballroom was likely to have noticed except for Unity and the Duke of Lambley.
“Kiss her!” yelled another voice.
The crowd whooped its approval.
Julian tucked the journal back inside its nook for safety and cocked an arrogant eyebrow at Unity. “Lady X, who most definitely belongs in this ballroom, may I please have this kiss?”
“I suppose I could test your skills empirically,” she returned cheekily.
The revelers roared with laughter. “Test him! Test him!”
Before Julian could move, Unity rose on her toes and kissed him.
She had understood his message. He was giving her the recognition she’d always craved. Not just admitting privately how much he appreciated her, but showing that appreciation to the entire ballroom.
He was sharing not just the credit, but control. Possibly for the first time since inheriting the dukedom. Sharing his throne, as though she ruled at his side, as his equal. Her head swam.
Julian wasn’t ashamed to have her in his world. He was proud. He was showing her off in front of his peers and hundreds of witnesses. For the first time in Unity’s life, she wasn’t acting behind the scenes.
She was on stage. In the footlights, not hidden behind the curtain. Acknowledged. Valued.
This was her opportunity to make a name for herself in a way that she’d never been offered before. For all these people to know who she was—and to associate her with wonderful masquerades. To look at her golden-brown face and see someone successful, someone who mattered. Someone who was going to achieve her dreams.
“W-would you untie my mask?” she managed to stammer as she stared up at him.
He gave her another kiss. When he pulled away, the ebony mask with the white feathers dangled from his hand.
“Shall I introduce you to my friends?”
She took a deep breath and turned to face the crowd. “I’m ready.”
He laced his fingers with hers again. “Lords and Ladies X, the one and only Miss Unity Thorne!”
Fresh bottles of champagne popped in unison from every corner. The crowd’s ebullient cheer shook the chandeliers, clinking the crystals together in a dazzling array of light.
Her heart raced wildly and her mouth could not stop smiling.
“What now?” he asked softly. “The night is yours.”
She fluttered her lashes, this time knowing he could see them. “Shall we take our private party upstairs?”
“I have a better idea.” His voice rasped and his gaze was hot. “Come with me.”