Unmasking Of A Lady. Sophie Dash

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      “Excitement,” explained Harriet, bunching her fingers into fists until her nails bit half-moon indents into her palm. “I do so love to dance, don’t you?”

      Edward’s reply was calm, still surveying her, attempting to get her measure. “It’s a necessary evil.”

      Harriet couldn’t meet his eyes, for she only saw her executioner. Mere moments ago, he had been a simple, if affecting creature. Pale eyes that pierced her, a dark humour that already shone through and matched her own, a connection eager to be woven between them.

      Now, she saw an enemy.

      And it excited her more than it should have.

      A new song began, the musicians ready, the melody fast. Dancing couples found their positions opposite one another, joined by the new pair, who made a handsome couple.

      The farce would continue. Harriet had to act accordingly: smile when he smiled, respond to his enquiries, play her part to the man who would see her killed if ever he knew the truth. Tonight was simply a game and one she would play. It would not be the first time she was forced to entertain a man she disliked or mistrusted.

      “You seem preoccupied?”

      “I – no, not at all.” Edward’s question forced her to shut down her inner thoughts, ignore the nagging doubts and tingling fear. “It’s been a long evening.”

      “I see,” he said, offering a small bow at the dance’s beginning. “Then I can only assume I am boring you?”

      “Hardly,” replied Harriet, a curtsey following. “You’re interesting.” That, at least, was true. “Everyone else comes to these such gatherings to share gossip and brew scandal. This is purely a space for people to talk of the excitement others partake in, being too scared to pursue adventure themselves.”

      “And do you pursue it, Miss Groves?”

      A weapon in her hand, damp earth kicked up as she ran, a laugh on her lips and adrenaline surging through her veins. That was what she pursued and no man would take it from her.

      “Not in the same ways you do, I am sure,” she said sweetly. “We women must find our amusements elsewhere.”

      “By embroidering cushions and singing pretty songs?”

      “You mock me, sir.”

      “Only a little.” Edward had a soldier’s charm, all hard edges and brash wit. “Does that upset you?”

      “On the contrary,” said Harriet, close enough to feel his breath ghost upon her jawline, down her neck, across her collarbone. “But you haven’t seen my embroidery, it is quite thrilling.”

      He laughed again and she found, mutinously, that she wanted to prompt further outbursts. See his head tilt back, those teeth flash, the easy countenance waiting behind those guarded eyes. No. There was a brief respite from him, when dancing partners changed during the song’s course, where she caught her breath and roped back her common sense.

      “I imagine capturing that highwayman of yours will spark many discussions, sir,” said Harriet, finding satisfaction in his ignorance, her own words dampening that tiny affectionate spark he’d kindled. “Your name will be on everyone’s lips up and down the country.”

      “Only after I catch him.”

      “And you think you will?”

      “I’ve never failed before.”

      Harriet kept her sweetness, that unaffected smile, as she replied, “There’s a first time for everything.”

      She would lie low; she would find other ways to reach her financial aim. If only her brother would keep himself from trouble, she could tide them all over by selling off more land and securing a loan or two and making that one, final investment. The Groves family would survive.

      “Is it fame and glory you want, Major Roberts?”

      “No, only justice,” said Edward, eyebrows drawn together. “Wouldn’t you rather sleep safer in your bed at night?”

      Safer. Soon she would not have a bed to sleep in – or even a roof over her head. Men like him would take it from her. And God, she lost it then, for a small moment, the faux serenity she had cloaked herself in.

      “I sleep well enough, but your concern is appreciated.”

      “You are an odd creature, Miss Groves.”

      “Thank you, sir,” she replied, ice in her tone, frost on her lips. “That is quite the compliment.”

      “I mean it is refreshing,” he amended, taking her hand once more where the dance allowed it. The touch felt like a burn, a brand. “The other ladies present are tittering, simpering fools.”

      “You cannot blame a woman for wanting to secure a husband and you are prime marriage material.”

      An officer, good connections, a grand reputation and handsome features. For any other girl, he would be hard to resist, despite his tactless nature. In fact, as she and Edward moved across the hall, Harriet felt many a jealous gaze land upon her.

      If only they knew this was the last place she longed to be.

      “It is wrong to be hard on them, for they only want to secure your attention,” said Harriet, more harshly than intended, too eager to find fault. “The fairer sex has no other way to survive, but to depend on artless men like you.”

      “I am not here to be depended on, madam.” She’d struck a nerve. Good. “I am here to capture a criminal and then I will go back abroad to fight.”

      “Is fighting all you do?”

      “Yes,” said Edward. “It is.”

      God, she should have shot him when she had the chance.

      The music ceased abruptly and applause began. Edward stood before Harriet, stock-still with that same unfathomable expression. She longed for a pistol’s weight in her hand, for protection.

      “But a man cannot fight all the time. I dance as well – or had you not noticed, Miss Groves?” The room was still aflutter with chatter and laughter, though nothing could distract the couple from one another. “Life is a fight; we do what we must to get by.”

      Chin angled upwards, her question bold, she asked, “How many men have you killed?”

      Edward’s strength and tall frame were impossible to overlook as he took a step towards her, too close for comfort, and his answer too honest for her liking. “More than I can count.”

      “And you will kill again before you leave the county, will you not?” The anger was there, the hurt, the betrayal. It should not have felt like one, but it did. She had been charmed by him; she had let him in – if only for a moment – a moment too long. It would not happen again.

      Not ever.

      “Yes,” he answered simply. “If I have to.”

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