“Loneliness is a great misery.” A poignant note in the lady’s voice assured Rupert she had experienced that emotion herself, perhaps even longer and deeper than he. But how that someone with so many attractive qualities should ever be lonely, he could not fathom.
She looked toward the great house all lit up from within and fairly pulsing with the sounds of revelry. “It is possible to be lonely even in the midst of a crowd. Indeed, I believe a person can feel more isolated than ever when everyone around them is making merry.”
“I agree.” Rupert recalled his miserable forays into London society in search of a wife. “Yet all it takes is the company of one truly congenial person to dispel that feeling.”
The lady’s hands reposed on the railing of the bridge. Rupert edged his left hand over, not to cover hers, but to rest beside it, barely touching. He held his breath, fearing she might move away and break the tenuous contact between them. To his relief she did not.
A ripple of warmth spread through his hand and up his arm toward his heart. Prudence warned him he had no business engaging in such conduct when he was on the verge of proposing to another woman. No, his freshly stirred heart responded, what he had no business doing was planning to wed a woman he did not love. Perhaps meeting this masked beauty tonight was a warning to that effect. Suddenly he pitied anyone who did not feel as alive and alight as he did—even a great cold orb of rock circling the earth.
“Perhaps the fireworks will cheer up our mournful moon maiden,” he suggested.
“Fireworks?” his companion echoed, though not in the tone of excitement he expected. In that small strip of flesh where their hands touched, he fancied he could feel her pulse race.
“Just before midnight.” He arched his hand then lowered it again to brush against hers in a subtle caress. “To celebrate our glorious victory and signal the traditional unmasking.”
He could scarcely wait for that, to see her entire face in all its beauty and discover if he recognized her. How their acquaintance might progress from there, it was far too soon to speculate.
But his heart had its hopes.
The prospect of unmasking at midnight alarmed Grace more than if a Roman candle were aimed directly at her with its fuse lit. Her feet itched to flee as fast as they would carry her. Yet she could not bear to bring this sweet interlude to an end one moment sooner than she must.
This evening walk and chat with Rupert reminded her of the ones they had shared at Nethercross. It was a hundred times better, though, for she was not obliged to constantly guard her tongue to keep from betraying her feelings to him. As the mysterious masked lady, she was able to say things Miss Ellerby would never dare and thrill to words he would never address to his daughters’ governess.
Had his brush with the masked lady given him second thoughts about marrying Mrs. Cadmore? Grace hoped and believed it must have. He was too honorable a gentleman to trifle with her if he still intended to wed another. Even the innocent contact between their hands was a greater intimacy than he would have undertaken if he meant to pledge himself to someone else.
The girls would be delighted to hear that.
But Grace knew better than to let herself believe Rupert Kendrick truly cared for her. If he had, then surely he would have expressed his feelings to Miss Ellerby, in spite of her plain appearance and humble station. He only imagined himself smitten with a lady of beauty. Such feelings had no more substance than a fairy tale, no more truth than a masquerade.
For all that, she sensed they were coming to know one another on a different, deeper level through tonight’s conversation. Seeking to avoid subjects that might reveal too much about their identities, they spoke instead about the feelings common to every person regardless of outward appearance or rank. It was as if their masks and costumes allowed them to shed the facades they wore in daily life to reveal glimpses of their truest selves.
“Tell me,” she asked him at last, “what is it you want from life and the future?”
They were still standing beside one another on the ornamental stone bridge, the sides of their hands barely touching. Yet Grace found herself as intensely aware of that glancing contact as if it had been a full embrace.
Rupert gave her question several moments of silent reflection, perhaps searching his heart for a nugget of precious truth to offer her. “I used to think I wanted to be the kind of hero you mentioned—doing my duty to those who relied upon me without seeking anything for myself. At least nothing beyond a bit of relief from the ache that has gnawed at my heart for so long.”
“But that has changed?” Grace prompted him in a gentle murmur, as she would to one of the daughters who sought to unburden herself. “What is it you want now?”
He shook his head slowly. “It is too soon to tell. I only know that... meeting you here tonight has made me question whether perhaps I am settling for too little. You have made me hope life may have something better in store for me yet.”
She had done that for him? Grace’s eyes tingled. There was so much she wished she could do for him, so many things she would have liked to give him, but this one favor might satisfy her.
“Am I a fool,” he asked, “to raise my hopes on the strength of a chance meeting and a few brief hours with you? Am I intolerably selfish to think of disregarding my duty to those I hold most dear?”
“Never!” She pressed her hand harder against his, wishing she dared offer him greater reassurance. “Even on the strength of a chance meeting and a few hours, I know you are neither foolish nor selfish. You deserve far more from life than you were prepared to seek. I am certain those you care for would not want you to give up any hope of happiness on their account. If it were me, I could not bear that.”
Her voice caught and she was obliged to pause to gather her composure. “I hope with all my heart you will find a way to do your duty without sacrificing the happiness you deserve.”
“Perhaps I will.” He lifted his little finger and brought it to rest upon hers. “Perhaps I have.”
Tonight might be an elusive fancy, with no more substance than moonshine, but the happiness it brought Grace was as genuine as any she’d ever felt.
“What about you?” he asked in a murmur warm with concern yet shaded with doubt. “Do you want the things to which most women aspire—a brilliant marriage, children, a glittering social life?”
What did she want? Grace had never truly considered that question until now. What had been the use in wanting things her circumstances made impossible? Now she searched her heart and struggled to articulate what she found there. “I would prefer a soft, steady glow to brilliance and glitter. I would rather have tender devotion, or even simple friendship, than the most advantageous marriage without love. As for children, I did not always have a hankering for them, but now I do.”