BLURB:
When Miss Cecilia Powell attends her very first masquerade on All Hallows’ Eve, she’s thrilled when a mysterious reveler pays court to her. As their encounter continues, Cecilia is charmed, then smitten with this masked stranger, even though she senses something odd about him. Is he truly the man of her dreams, or will Cecilia find her dream a true nightmare?
I’ve skipped ahead a few paragraphs, in which Cecelia sees another happy couple getting ready to dance. So now the stage is set for…something to happen. 🙂 Enjoy!
EXCERPT:
His graceful, light carriage sent more anticipation buzzing through her and Cecilia could not stop staring as he halted in front of her and made a deep bow.
“Goddess Astraea, I come to make obeisance to your loveliness, fair one, for I am rendered weak by the beauty and grace that stands before me.” The rich, deep baritone of his voice fell oh-so-pleasurably on her ear.
Disappointment tugged at her, however, when she didn’t recognize his voice. It was softened somewhat by the charming compliment, which caught her by surprise and sent a wave of shyness cascading through her. “Thank you, sir, for your kind tribute–Astraea is always appreciative of those who worship at the altar of innocence and virtue, but I fear you have me at a disadvantage. From my garb, you have apparently easily ascertained my identity,” she swept her hand down the white and silver Grecian gown, “although how you did so is a wonder, for I could have been any number of goddesses instead of Astraea.” Making her curtsy, she continued, “I give you great credit and must bow to acknowledge the sharpness of your acumen.”
He smiled, and her heart melted at the warmth he radiated.
And a little more for good measure…
“Would you do me the honor of dancing this waltz with me, Astraea?” The blue pools deepened to darkest sapphire.
“Oh, yes,” she whispered and extended her hand. She would dance after all tonight, and with a mysterious and exciting gentleman. Still, caution raised its bothersome head. Goddess or not, there were rules to be followed. “At least, I should find my mother and inform her of my intention. I can’t think why she has left me alone all this time.”
“Of course, my dear. Do you see her?” The dark stranger turned his head this way and that. “What manner of costume is she wearing?”
“She is wearing…” Cecilia knit her brows, trying to concentrate. But the mere nearness of the man seemed to steal her wits. “I must sound very dull-witted when I tell you that I cannot recall how Mama is dressed this evening.”
What on earth was the matter with her?
“Not at all.” His soothing tone calmed her. “I am certain it will be permissible for you to partner me and enjoy the dance together. It is a masquerade, after all. No one knows who one’s partner is until midnight.” He drew her arm through his and patted her hand.
At his touch, confidence returned to her. “Of course, how silly of me. It is, as you say, a masquerade ball. We have this good company to act as chaperones, even if we have not been introduced.”
“But we have been, I assure you.” He chuckled as he led her onto the dance floor.
“Then you know who I am beneath my disguise?” A trifle disappointing. The point of the masquerade was to remain as anonymous as possible for as long as possible. To think this man knew her already took a little of the joy from their encounter. But only a little.
“I confess I do know you, Astraea. Or I should say, Miss Powell. And I hope you will remember me when we unmask.” He nodded to the longcase clock just visible in the corridor through the open doors of the ballroom. Its hands stood at ten minutes to twelve. “Once we finish our dance, I believe it will be time.”
“Lady Letitia, I am certain you’re fit to drop right now,” he cut his gaze at her partner, who seemed annoyed at the intrusion, “but might I ask you for the supper dance? I believe there will be sufficient time for you to recover, should you need to.”
Drat! Caught like a mouse in a trap. Letitia looked from Mr. Symmons, with whom she wanted to stand up, to Lord Kettering, with whom she now must dance, to Aunt Alexandra, who was shooting daggers at her from coal black eyes. Letitia sighed. If she had her wish, she’d be in bed alongside her sisters right now.
Jenna Jaxon Romance--because passion is timeless. 