Jacquie ’Alessandro - Confessions at Midnight

Clearly Mother did not know of what she spoke, because her wedding night had been a beautiful, tender experience that marked the beginning of her and Edward's deeply satisfying and intimate bond.

"My mother has never spoken of such things with me," said Emily. "Indeed, if it weren't for the fact that she gave birth to six children, I'd be tempted to say she didn't know how we were conceived. I think it very fortunate that an Anonymous Lady wrote the Memoirs to drag us all from behind the shroud of ignorance. Someday soon some lucky, handsome, wealthy man will have the good sense to fall in love with me, and he will be very happy that I've read the book."

Carolyn glanced up at the portrait of Edward that hung above the fireplace and a flood of sadness swept over her. Love and intimacy were over for her. Edward had been such a wonderful, honest, kind and loving man. To this day she considered it a miracle that the very eligible, very handsome Viscount Wingate had singled her out for his attention. Indeed, if her father hadn't been a physician and the viscount hadn't happened to injure his hand in the same London bookstore where she and her father were browsing, they most likely never would have met. But from that first moment, she'd felt as if she found a piece of herself she hadn't even realized was missing.

Blinking away the memories, Carolyn forced a smile and said, "Well, perhaps we'll hear of more notes being received at Lady Walsh's masquerade tonight. It is rumored to be a gala event."

"I heard more than three hundred guests are expected," reported Sarah. "Matthew told me this morning that Lord Surbrooke is arriving in London today and will attend."

For reasons she neither understood nor cared to examine, Carolyn's pulse jumped at the mention of her new brother-in-law's closest friend. She'd met Lord Surbrooke several times over the years, as Edward had known him, but she herself had only become better acquainted with him earlier this summer during a house party at Matthew's country estate.

At first she'd categorized the handsome, charming earl as nothing more than another shallow aristocrat, spoiled by too much money, free time, and fawning women. Yet when he believed himself unobserved, his dark blue eyes turned pensive and seemed to harbor sadness. It was an emotion she understood well, and she couldn't help but wonder if some manner of tragedy had befallen him in the past.

But there was something else in his eyes… something that disrupted her calm and made her insides flutter in the most unsettling way. Something she wasn't quite certain she liked.

She was saved from commenting when Julianne chimed in, "Mother told me that Mr. Logan Jennsen will also attend the party."

Emily wrinkled her nose. "I'm certain he'll be easy to spot in the crush. He'll no doubt be garbed as a serpent. Or perhaps a wolf."

"I don't understand why you dislike him so," Sarah said. "He's very entertaining."

"I simply can't credit that he's invited everywhere," Emily said with a sniff. "Has no one besides me noticed he's an uncouth American?"

"He's invited everywhere because he's obscenely wealthy," Julianne said. "No doubt he'd like to find himself a peer's daughter to marry to ease his way into Society, and with his vast wealth he'll surely succeed." She gave Emily a teasing nudge. "Best watch out or he'll cast his eye upon you."

"He'd best not, unless he'd like to lose his eye. Perhaps he'll cast his net in your direction."

"He'd be wasting his time, as Father would never consent to a match outside the peerage, regardless of the gentleman's wealth. And there's not enough hartshorn in the kingdom for Mother to consider it."

Carolyn had no doubt Julianne's assessment was true. Julianne's mother, the formidable Countess Gatesbourne, was overbearing in regards to her only child in a way that made other overbearing mothers seem like tame kittens. She was determined to see Julianne make a brilliant marriage. On the basis of her stunning looks alone, Julianne could attract any man. Combined with her sweet disposition and her family's vast wealth, she was one of the most eligible young women of the ton. And sadly, very much under the crushing weight of her mother's heavy thumb. Carolyn prayed that Julianne's gentle, romantic nature wouldn't be trampled by some philandering, jaded peer, but she'd seen enough of the breed to know that men like her Edward were rare amongst the species.

Her gaze shifted to Emily and sympathy filled her. Emily had recently confessed that her family was suffering severe financial difficulties, thanks in part to her father's excessive gambling. She feared her father planned to arrange for her to marry some old, creaky lord with nothing to recommend him save a great deal of much needed money. Carolyn dearly hoped such a fate wouldn't befall her lively, spirited friend.

In order to break the silence that had descended, Carolyn asked, "What sort of costumes are you all wearing?"

"You're not supposed to tell," said Emily, shaking a finger.

"But how else will we find each other in the crush?" asked Julianne. "I need to know who to look for in case I get an opportunity to escape Mother."

"Matthew and I will be attired as Romeo and Juliet," said Sarah, "except in our version of the story clearly neither of them die, as we are older than the teenage lovers. And besides, I cannot abide unhappy endings."

Emily heaved a sigh. "I shall be the tragic Ophelia. I wanted to be Cleopatra, but Mama said 'twas too scandalous." She grinned. "Perhaps I should go as the Anonymous Lady."

"Yes," Carolyn said. "For a costume you could wear your skirt inched up about your waist and carry a copy of the Memoirs."

They all laughed. "I'll be dressed as an angel," said Julianne.

"Very appropriate," Carolyn said.

"And boring," Julianne said with a sigh. "But Mother insisted."

"Wait until you see Carolyn's costume," Sarah enthused. "I helped her choose it."

Carolyn shot her sister a mock frown. "More like you ordered it, had it delivered here, then demanded I wear it." She looked at her two friends. "Since her marriage she's become very domineering and demanding."

"My husband likes me that way," Sarah answered tartly. "If I hadn't helped you with your costume, you'd have dressed as a shepherdess."

"Most likely," agreed Carolyn. "I certainly would not have chosen Galatea."

Julianne's eyes lit up. "Oh, the beautiful ivory statue that comes to life. You'll be stunning, Carolyn."

"And feel as if I'm only half dressed."

"Be happy that you're wearing anything," Emily said with a devilish grin. "Galatea was nude, you know."

Carolyn shot Sarah a frown. "I think you should go as Galatea and I'll go as a shepherdess."

"Heavens, no," said Sarah. "What on earth would Romeo want with a Greek statue? As Julianne said, you'll be stunning. There is nothing the least bit improper about your costume."

"Of course not," agreed Julianne. "Indeed, based on some of the costumes worn at Lady Walsh's ball last year, you'll be overdressed." She lowered her voice to impart, "A shocking number of women dressed as harem members."

"And nearly as many men were attired in togas-men whose rotund figures most assuredly should not have been draped in sheets." Emily gave an all-over shudder.

"I'm almost sorry I missed it," Carolyn said with a smile.

"With a few minor adjustments we could turn you from Galatea into Aphrodite," Sarah said to Carolyn with a speculative air. "The goddess of desire is who I wanted you to be to begin with."

"Absolutely not," Carolyn said firmly. "What would people think?"

Sarah reached out and lightly clasped her hand, her brown gaze serious as it rested on her. "That you are a young, vibrant woman who deserves to enjoy herself."

"I'm a thirty-two-year-old widow who is too old and too sensible to parade about in an unbecoming fashion." She said the words softly, to take any sting from them. She knew Sarah meant well, and truly she appreciated her sister's efforts on her behalf. But ever since she'd reentered Society, she sometimes felt as if in her determination to get on with her life everything was moving too quickly. As if she were losing part of herself, of the person she'd been for the last ten years-Edward's wife. She occasionally had difficulty recalling images of him that used to be so clear in her mind. Couldn't precisely recall the sound of his laughter. The warmth of his touch. The slow leaching of those memories confused and saddened her. And frightened her. For if her memories of Edward faded away, she'd have nothing left.

"There is nothing unbecoming about you," Sarah said gently, squeezing her hand. Then she smiled. "And we are all going to have a grand time this evening."

Carolyn returned her sister's smile, although she wasn't as optimistic. The idea of a costume ball had sounded exciting when she received the invitation, but now that the day was here, she felt decidedly less enthusiastic. She'd allowed Sarah to talk her into the Galatea costume, because as her sister pointed out, Galatea was brought to life, just as she herself wanted to be brought back to life. What she hadn't pointed out to Sarah was that the statue of Galatea was only brought to life because Pygmalion, the sculptor, fell passionately in love with his work of art. Love had brought Galatea to life. At one time, love had done the same for her, but she knew in her heart it would not, could not, happen again.

Standing in a shadowed corner of the crowded ballroom, Daniel Sutton, Earl Surbrooke, was about to sip from his glass of champagne when he saw her. His hand froze partway to his lips, his drink forgotten as he stared at the Greek goddess garbed in pure ivory across the room. Flickering light from the dozens of candles in the overhead crystal chandeliers cast her in a soft, gilded glow. Her costume left both slender arms and one shoulder bare. His avid gaze drifted over the exposed creamy skin, and his imagination instantly conjured his fingers skimming along the silky smoothness. His lips tracing a trail along her delicate collarbone. Her name whispered through his mind and he had to clamp his jaw shut to keep from saying it out loud.

Carolyn…

Desire, hot and fierce, gripped him. Even with her honey-colored hair powered white and a mask covering most of her face, he'd recognize those perfect, lush lips, that slender neck, the curve of her cheek, that regal posture anywhere.

She stood alone, scanning the crowd. He would have given a great deal to be the person she sought, but he knew she'd be searching for her sister Sarah or one of her close friends, Lady Julianne or Lady Emily.

Someday very soon you'll be looking for me, his inner voice promised. Yes, her gaze would seek him out just as his did her at every opportunity. He intended to see to it. For he'd wanted her with a bone-deep intensity from the first instant he'd laid eyes upon her.

To this day he recalled that moment with such vivid clarity it could have happened ten minutes ago rather than ten years ago. He'd seen her-a vision in a blue gown-across the ballroom during a party hosted by one of his Eton friends, Edward Turner, Viscount Wingate. For a few brief seconds it felt as if time had stopped. Along with his breath. And heart. A ridiculous, inexplicable, visceral, and unprecedented reaction. True, she was beautiful, but he was accustomed to stunning women. Of course, he'd prevailed upon his friend to introduce him. And Edward had obliged, presenting Miss Carolyn Moorehouse.

They'd exchanged pleasantries, and Daniel fell more deeply in lust with the blushing beauty with each passing moment-a state of affairs he couldn't understand, as innocents were not at all to his taste. But something about her grabbed him by the throat and wouldn't let go. He wanted her, in his bed, naked and trembling with desire, and by God he was determined to have her.

Perhaps the fact that she wasn't an aristocrat was what he found so utterly refreshing and alluring. Regardless of the reason, he'd never been so wildly and instantaneously attracted to any woman. He was about to begin his seduction by asking her to dance when Edward requested everyone's attention-then announced that Miss Moorehouse had consented to be his wife.