Page 8 of Reading the Viscount
The man redirected his gaze to Rose, and Sophie let out her breath. He hadn’t even noticed her, just as she liked it.
“Lady Rose? Is that you?” Though Lord Tamworth appeared shocked, his brown eyes twinkled with merriment.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Is not the purpose of such costumes to remain a mystery?”
“For some. For others, we simply enjoy the dress and merriment.” His gaze moved to Sophie. “And which are you, my lady?”
Sophie’s throat closed, his attention so unexpected and his eyes such a light crystalline brown that she felt as if he could see through even her black mask.
Rose came to her rescue. “She is a mystery, even to her friends.”
Lord Tamworth’s brows rose, though his gaze never wavered. “Indeed. Then there is nothing for it, my lady, but that I must ask you to dance once the dancing starts.”
Sophie swallowed hard, wishing more than ever that she could get her voice to come out, but it steadfastly refused. Instead, she lowered her head to break their eye contact.
“Superb. I look forward to unraveling your mystery.”
Realizing her movement had indicated assent, she looked up again, anxious to disabuse him of his assumption, but Georgie caught his attention.
“First, you will have to find her. I, on the other hand, can be found easily, and I dearly love to dance.”
Georgie’s forwardness got a frown from her father and a nod of approval from her mother.
The lord accepted the information and even smiled at Georgie. “I can see the rest of my evening will be even more enjoyable than it has been thus far.”
Lord Harewood snorted. “That will be quite a feat for you, Tamworth.”
Sophie watched, mesmerized, as Lord Tamworth laughed. It was not a quiet laugh by any means, but neither was it overly loud and irritating. If she had to describe it in a book, she would call it honest and…and joyful. No, not joyful. Happy. Yes, happy. Yet even that seemed redundant, since the man laughed, and that often indicated happiness. She couldn’t quite identify what it was about his laugh that made her think of walking through a field of flowers on a pleasantly warm summer day.
This inability to describe what she felt was one reason why she didn’t try to write her own stories. She observed people and places and cataloged them in her head, but she didn’t attempt to share much, as she didn’t have the talent. It was one reason why she admired authors so much. With nothing more than words, they could make her feel.
Lord Tamworth nodded to Harewood. “I must agree with you, but I’m quite willing to try making the rest of the evening even better than the beginning.”
As the man’s gaze returned to her, a shiver raced up her spine. Now she felt as if she were prey, but instead of being afraid, it excited her. Like a game. Surprised by the feeling, she cocked her head inresponse, and an unusual feeling of confidence filled her. Could she, for one night, be someone she wasn’t?
Lord Tamworth’s lips lifted in a slow smile as if he encouraged her, but that was silly. He had no notion as to her thoughts. Still, as he spoke to others, he continued to glance at her as if seeking her out.
She straightened in her seat, her heart beating a bit faster as anticipation filled her chest.
Chapter Three
Christopher had onemore shepherdess to speak to. So far, none had been the lady he’d inadvertently accosted in the corridor, so he was more than determined to ask the last lady to dance. He could finally apologize and explain himself. Unfortunately, the night was almost over and he’d spent far too much time ducking away to avoid Durham, Manning, and Wellsley, as he was at the moment. As much as he enjoyed his friends’ company, his goal was paramount. Come the morrow, there would be no shepherdess left to beg forgiveness from.
He hid behind a column cleverly decorated in stars against black fabric, helping him to blend a bit in his dark-brown leather. He’d left his helmet next to a high plant stand near the terrace doors as a decoy, and had almost laughed when Durham headed for it. Luckily, the man—
“Oh.”
At the feel of someone bumping into him from behind, he turned around to find the back of the mysterious woman in black from his brother’s table. He’d hoped to look for her after he talked to the last shepherdess, but as he inhaled to apologize for being in her way, he noticed the scent of vanilla and his words escaped him.
“I do beg your pardon, sir.”
The soft-spoken words floated into his mind as if on a wisp of a cloud. “My lady, it is an honor to have kept you from crushing theuniverse.” He held his hand out toward the decorated column.
Her green eyes stared back at him from the holes of a black mask, making them appear even more striking, and he knew, even though he didn’t know, that she was the one. But she couldn’t be. It was the wrong costume.
Her lips twitched below the black material. “Your kindness is truly boundless.”
He grinned, more than pleased that she enjoyed his humor. “Are you also hoping to hide among the stars?”
