Once Upon a Masquerade Read Online Free PDF Page B

her face belied the unsteady rise and fall of her chest. “We should return to the festivities inside.”
    “As you wish.” He offered his arm. “Let’s see how the celebration is faring without us.” Hesitantly, she placed her hand on his arm, and he escorted her back inside the noisy ballroom, the dimness of the balcony replaced by glaring brilliance from the chandeliers hung high above. In her hair, a glitter of green reflected the light. He leaned closer for a better look, and spied a comb with emerald and diamond butterflies.
    Nathan’s comb. His breath left him in a rush as sure as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. How could it be? Miss Bailey didn’t even live in New York. How could she have known Nathan? And yet, there was no denying the comb was an exact match, custom made here in the city.
    He drew in a deep lungful of air, the shock ebbing, replaced by a pang of disappointment. Disappointment? Where was the relief? He’d finally found the woman Nathan had loved. He could “save” her, whatever that meant, just as Nathan had asked, and put the matter behind him. And perhaps alleviate some of the guilt that had plagued him this last year. Or possibly even unmask Nathan’s killer if the police had it right. The thought lasted only an instant, but it was there nonetheless.
    “Would you care to join me for dinner? I understand there’s an impressive feast offered upstairs.” Once they were in a quieter place, he’d explain himself and find out what assistance she needed.
    “I shouldn’t,” she said, her hands wringing together. “I was waiting on the balcony for Philip Westerly.”
    Damn. When he’d seen them dancing together, he’d hoped the two were merely acquaintances. Frankly, he disliked the man—even more so now. “The two of you are betrothed?”
    “No, we’ve only just met.” She scanned the crowd. “He went off to get refreshments. I think it would be terribly rude to take my leave without telling him.”
    He spotted Westerly talking with an elderly man, two glasses of champagne in his hands. “Over there,” he pointed out.
    A crush of guests blocked the path between them and the two men. Miss Bailey threw her arm boldly into the air, and Westerly waved back with an apologetic grimace.
    Christopher seized the moment. “He’s talking with Charles Lipton, a man known for his lengthy political debates. It may be some time before he’ll be free again.”
    Her brows furrowed, before a sweet smile touched her lips. “Then I suppose we’ll have to see what fare is provided upstairs.” She motioned to Westerly her intent, and he signaled his acceptance with a shrug, offering one of the glasses to his companion.
    All too aware of her every movement and gesture, Christopher escorted her to the second floor, where they entered what appeared to be a tropical garden. Numerous tables were arranged among tall palm trees, each with clusters of orchids tied to its branches. Roses and lilies of the valley covered the doors to the opulent room and fountains bubbled in two corners.
    They crossed to a long buffet table. Miss Bailey closed her eyes and inhaled as if in heaven. “I’m famished and this smells incredible.” She piled sugar-cured ham, chicken croquettes, and delicate pastries on a plate.
    They sat down at a small linen-covered table, and Christopher attempted to ignore her enchanting grin of pleasure, wracking his brain for the right way to start the conversation about Nathan. With a sheepish look, Miss Bailey sank her teeth into a fruit-filled tart, only to frown and set the pastry aside to take a sip of champagne.
    “Anything wrong?”
    “A bit dry.” She shrugged. “Too much flour, I think.”
    “It sounds as though you speak from experience.” Strange. Although many women in attendance might notice the dryness, few would know the cause with such certainty.
    She flinched, and then smoothed the tablecloth with an unsteady hand, the movement a caress of glove to linen.