Jacquie ’Alessandro - Confessions at Midnight

"That's called happiness."

"How leg-shackling yourself to the same woman for all eternity could induce any sensations other than dyspepsia and nausea is beyond me."

"You say that because you haven't met the right woman."

"Of course I have. Many times."

"By right I mean a woman with whom you can share your life-not just your bed."

"Ah. Obviously our definitions of 'right' differ greatly."

"As recently as a few short months ago I might have agreed with you, but no longer. You'll feel differently after you fall in love."

"Are you foxed?"

"Not a bit."

Daniel shook his head. "My dear bedazzled, bamboozled, besotted friend-just because you plunged into the sticky quagmire that is love doesn't mean I plan to succumb."

"Ah, but that is where you shall meet your nemesis, because as I discovered, falling arse over backward in love isn't something you can plan-or not plan. It just… happens."

"Perhaps to you. I, on the other hand, am extremely adept at sidestepping all manner of unpleasantness."

"Including sticky, messy emotions."

"Absolutely. If you'd kept your head about you, you'd still be an eligible man about town."

"Yes. And I'd be missing out on sharing my days and nights with the most amazing woman I've ever met."

"And where, pray tell, is your amazing woman? Why is she not keeping you occupied so you don't torment me?"

"She is chatting with Lady Emily and Lady Julianne, no doubt concocting some scheme or another."

"My sympathies."

"On the contrary, I find Sarah's schemes most entertaining. Especially one she mentioned to me this morning."

"And what is that?" Daniel asked without much interest.

"It concerns a note she wishes to receive from me, one that simply states a time and place."

"Good God, women request the most ridiculous things. For what possible reason would she want such a missive?"

"So we can meet at the appointed time and place, where I'll… remind her how glad she is to be my wife."

That got Daniel's attention, and he turned toward his friend. "Intriguing. Wherever did she get such an idea?"

"Some book she recently read which is apparently very popular with the ladies. A note of that sort was mentioned in the story and is now all the rage."

Daniel returned his gaze to Carolyn then said in his blandest tone, "Perhaps your wife suggested this little game because she's grown bored."

"I doubt it. I keep her quite busy. You, on the other hand…" He made tsking noises.

"What?"

"Do you even know how to seduce a woman?"

Daniel swiveled his attention back toward his friend then leaned forward and sniffed. "How is it that you don't reek of brandy?"

"I told you, I'm not foxed. On the contrary, I'm perfectly sober, and perfectly serious. Obviously you're experienced in the bedchamber, but have you ever had to actually work to get a woman there? From what I can tell, you've never needed to expend more effort than to crook your finger toward a female to entice her to do your bidding. One look at your exceptionally handsome visage, your devastating smile, and they fall at your feet like raindrops."

Daniel blinked, nonplussed. Bloody hell. Of course he'd had to charm and convince women to become his lover. Surely he had. Of course he'd been the instigator. Many times. Exactly when, he couldn't quite recall at the moment, but that didn't mean he hadn't.

Shooting his friend a glare, he said, "Why I converse with you remains a mystery, as I already have two annoying younger brothers."

Rather than looking abashed, Matthew grinned. "Neither of them possess my charm. Besides, you've clearly forgotten that I'm older than you."

"By a fortnight."

"Admittedly a narrow margin, but one that renders me older nonetheless. Which would actually cast you in the role of the annoying younger brother. Lucky for you I've always considered you a sibling."

"Yes, lucky is precisely what I'm feeling right now. As to your question, of course I know how to seduce a woman. And as soon as I manage to shake loose of you, I intend to get on with it."

"I don't believe I've ever seen you quite so undone." Matthew chuckled and clamped a hand on his shoulder. "You know, it's going to give me a great deal of pleasure to someday say 'I told you so' while watching you slip into the sticky quagmire."

"Absolutely, positively, not going to happen."

"Hmmm. Isn't there some saying about pride going before a fall?"

"Yes, but it doesn't have any bearing on this situation."

Matthew smirked. "I disagree. Care to make it interesting?"

Daniel narrowed his eyes. "How interesting?"

"Twenty pounds says you'll be betrothed by the end of the year."

Daniel stared, struck momentarily mute with amazement. Then he threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, by all means. Only please let's make it fifty pounds."

"Very well. Fifty pounds."

Daniel grinned, held out his hand, and they shook on it. "This is going to be like taking a sweet from a child."

Amusement glittered in Matthew's eyes. "Clearly you've never actually attempted to take a sweet from a child. I wish you luck."

"That fifty pounds is as good as mine already."

"We shall see. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to ask my wife to dance."

Chuckling, Matthew moved off. Daniel turned toward Carolyn and Jennsen, but before he could take a step, a costumed Julius Caesar blocked his path.

"I heard you'd be garbed as a highwayman, Surbrooke," said a familiar male voice in a slurred undertone that hinted of bitterness. "How appropriate, considering all you stole from me."

Daniel resisted the urge to step back from the brandy fumes that pelted him with Lord Tolliver's every word. He'd heard the earl had taken to drinking heavily since his shipping venture failed, and clearly those rumors were true. "I've no idea what you're talking about, Tolliver."

"Of course you do. Been told you had a meeting with that bastard Jennsen just before you pulled out of our deal. I'd wager he's the one who told you to not to invest with me."

"My decision was my own. And a wise one, as it turns out."

Tolliver's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "I know you, Surbrooke. Know all about you. You'll be sorry."

Daniel shot him a cold glare. "Blackmail and threats don't become you. Although you're so foxed you most likely won't even remember this unfortunate exchange. God knows I intend to forget it."

Without another word, he moved away from Tolliver. He could feel the earl's stare boring into his back, but Tolliver made no move to follow him. Daniel's attention returned to Carolyn and Jennsen, who stood less than twenty feet away. Determined not to be waylaid again, he headed toward the woman who'd ignited his fantasies for far too long.

Let the seduction begin.

Carolyn stood near the edge of the dance floor with the dashing pirate. She'd recognized Logan Jennsen by his distinctive American accent the instant he spoke to her, and now she couldn't help but laugh at his disgruntled words and expression about donning a costume.

"Utterly ridiculous," he said, shaking his head and waving his hand to encompass his pirate garb, complete with tall boots, rakish hat, and a long black cape. "Wouldn't be caught dead wearing something like this in America."

"It could be worse," she replied in an undertone, nodding toward a rotund frog passing in front of them.

He tossed back a generous swallow of his champagne. "Good God." He turned toward her, and she felt the weight of his regard. "You, however, are stunning, Lady Wingate. Indeed, seeing you looking so lovely is about the only thing making this soiree bearable."

Carolyn blinked at his use of her name. "Thank you, Mr. Jennsen."

He winced. "I suppose my American accent gave me away?"

She smiled. "I'm afraid so. But I have no such accent. How did you guess my identity? I believed myself quite unrecognizable."

"Oh, you absolutely are. If your sister hadn't told me what you were wearing, I never would have known this exquisite creature was you."

"Because I normally look so unexquisite?" she teased.

"On the contrary, I've never seen you look anything less than stunning. However, you are normally less… uncovered." His gaze skimmed down her gown, which left one entire shoulder bare and hugged her body to her hips before falling in a straight column to the floor. There was no missing the appreciation in his eyes. "Your ensemble is extremely becoming."

Heat flooded her cheeks at his admiring assessment and compliment, followed by a sense of relief that he wouldn't have recognized her. She felt disconcertingly bare in her costume and had no wish for people to know that the normally demure Lady Wingate would don such a revealing outfit. Botheration, she should have dressed as a shepherdess. If she had, surely Mr. Jennsen would not be eyeing her in such a speculative manner. Although she couldn't deny the unexpected fissure of feminine satisfaction at his open admiration.

"Thank you, sir. And although you might not care for masquerades, you make an excellent pirate."

His eyes gleamed behind his mask. "Thank you. Perhaps because I've spent a fair amount of time on ships." He returned his attention to the swirling couples. "Forgive me for not asking you to dance, but I haven't yet learned the intricacies of your English steps. I would only embarrass myself and bruise your toes."

"No need to apologize. Pirates are more renowned for their sea legs than their dance legs."

In truth, she'd been relieved to skip the dance. Despite her determination to move on with her life, she hadn't yet ventured onto a dance floor since Edward's death, and she feared the first time she did so might prove emotionally draining. But she was enjoying Mr. Jennsen's company, as she had at Matthew's house party where she first met him. He was unpretentious, outspoken, and sprang from humble beginnings, as did she.

The first strains of a waltz lifted over the crowd, and Carolyn craned her neck, despairing of ever locating her sister, Emily, or Julianne in the crush.

"You mentioned seeing my sister," she said. "Where was she?"

"I saw her outside, before I entered the house. A carriage bearing the Langston crest arrived just ahead of mine. If not for that, I wouldn't have recognized her, either." He smiled. "Although, the fact that Juliet wore spectacles over her mask was a rather broad clue."

Carolyn laughed. "I suppose so." Given his imposing height, she was about to ask Mr. Jennsen if he might be able to see a costumed Juliet, Ophelia, or an angel when a deep, masculine voice behind her said, "Good evening, my lady."

Although only four words had been spoken, the way her heart tripped over itself and a warm tingle skittered down her spine made her suspect they'd been said by Lord Surbrooke. She'd wondered if they would encounter each other this evening. Indeed, while searching the crowd for her sister and friends, she found herself examining the gentlemen as well, wondering which mask he might be hiding behind.

She turned, and realized that even if she hadn't known his voice, she would have known his eyes. Through a black mask that covered the entire upper half of his face, they gazed at her with the same heated intensity that stole the air from her lungs every time he looked at her. She'd have known his mouth as well. Not only because it was perfectly formed, the bottom lip slightly fuller than the upper, but because of how one corner tilted upward, skewing all that perfection with a hint of lopsidedness that shouldn't have been attractive but was. Annoyingly so.

Her gaze skimmed over his all black highwayman costume. He looked tall and dark and dangerous-as if prepared to abscond with whatever might take his fancy and the consequences be damned. A thrill she couldn't name raced through her.

"Rather than good evening, shouldn't you say, 'Stand and deliver'?" she retorted, proud that she sounded so calm when she suddenly felt anything but.

He made her a formal bow. "Of course. Although by 'Stand and deliver' I actually mean 'May I have this dance?'"

Carolyn hesitated, surprised at how much she wanted to accept his invitation. If this had been any occasion other than a masquerade, she most likely would have refused. She was well aware of Lord Surbrooke's reputation, and had no desire to say or do anything that might lead him to believe she would consider being his next conquest.