Page 64 of How the Earl Entices

That reminder of her hidden identity pricked at him. But there was no time for an argument now. “Tonight, you are Francesca Bianchi, Contessa di Capodimonte, an old friend of Ellsworth’s whose family holds lands near Florence. She’s in London for the season, ostensibly to become reacquainted with European society after the death of her husband last year.”

“Andun-ostensibly?”

“Let’s just say that the real contessa is most likely spending her evening becoming reacquainted with Ellsworth.” His lips curled into a knowing half-smile. “Wellreacquainted.”

“Which is why he has no problem staying out of sight tonight while you pretend to be him.”

“Dominick Mercer is one of the most-respected peers in the Lords, with an impeccable reputation above reproach. He is staid, conservative, and always restrained when he is in public. In private, he’s none of those things.”

“I see.”

Ross was certain she did. She was no stranger to living beneath a well-crafted façade.

“Then we have a small problem.” She gave a slight nod to the guests gathered just outside the massive front door as he led her inside the townhouse. “I cannot speak Italian.”

“Then you’re in luck, because you don’t have to.” He helped her remove her fox stole and handed it to the waiting footman, then froze for a beat at how lovely she looked, her bare shoulders as smooth and silky soft as the gold gown that shimmered exotically beneath the chandeliers. He couldn’t help but let his eyes travel appreciatively over her, and murmured honestly, “Your beauty speaks for you.”

Not breaking his gaze from hers, he took her hand and placed a lingering kiss in her palm. When she shivered, he felt that tremor travel up her arm, all the way to his lips.

She peered at him from behind the mask with dark desire, her lips parting delicately. Not even her satin gloves and his cotton ones could mute the fierce tattoo of her pulse when he caressed his fingertips over her wrist.

That she could want him so much that just his nearness made her tremble should have stroked his arrogant male pride. Instead, it irritated the hell out of him. How could she deny herself what they both yearned to have?

He forced his attention back to the task before them, placed her hand on his arm, and led her into the entrance hall. He handed his invitation to the Master of Ceremonies, who did not call out the guests’ names in order to heighten the drama of the midnight unmasking.

“We’re in this together now,” he whispered to her as the man bowed to him and handed back the invitation. Instead of tucking it inside his jacket, Ross continued to hold it in his hand while he led her forward. “If one of us gets caught, so does the other.”

“Then let’s not get caught.”

“I don’t intend to.”

Good God.How had his life come to this? Six months ago he never would have imagined that he’d now be wanted for treason and the murder of his mentor, that the country he loved would consider him a traitor. That he would be sneaking into a party under mask in order to prove his patriotism with a woman who refused to let him bed her.

Tonight, one way or another, the charge of treason would be decided.

His eyes slid sideways to Grace. Not so the other problem that plagued him.

“My apologies for our earlier argument,” he offered sincerely as he lowered his mouth close to her ear, although he wouldn’t have been overheard in the noisy crush around them if he’d shouted. “I’m certain you have good reasons for hiding your identity.”Whatever the hell they were.Although, to be honest, what frustrated him wasn’t that she was keeping her identity from him, but that she was keepingallof herself from him. Including her vulnerability and trust.

“I do.” Her eyes glistened behind her mask.

“And I apologize for going through your things this evening.” He gave her hand a repentant squeeze as it rested on his arm. “It was wrong of me.”

She accepted that with a piqued sniff. “Yes, it was.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. Her ice might have been melting beneath his contrition, but her claws were as sharp as ever.

“I understand why you would want to keep that ring.” Yet it still grated like hell. “A reminder of how much you and your husband loved each other.”

She stiffened. The tightening of her fingers on his arm stopped him. He looked down at her, but the mask prevented him from reading any emotions beyond what he could see in her eyes and lips.

“I didn’t keep it because of that.” The chocolate depths of her eyes grew dim. “I have it because it’s the last of the jewels I was able to take with me when I fled London. I’ll have to sell it in order to afford a solicitor to press for Ethan’s inheritance.” Then her voice grew impossibly softer, but every word pierced him. “It has nothing to do with love.”

A peculiar relief seeped through him. What kind of marriage she’d had shouldn’t have been any of his concern. Yet it mattered. A great deal.

“You won’t have to sell it,” he promised, leading her forward. “I’ll take care of everything.”

He didn’t dare glance her way to try to read the expression in her eyes, because he was afraid of what she’d be able to read in his.