Chapter 1: Page 2
They were on their way to a house party at Helmhurst,
the country estate of Lord Kinneas's cousin, Squall
Leonhart, to celebrate the baron's betrothal. The
culmination of the gathering was to be a splendid
masquerade ball. Kinneas had accepted the invitation
eagerly, hoping the romantic atmosphere might make
Selphie more receptive to the notion of him as a lover
and a husband.
When she had returned to England recently after a year
abroad, Kinneas had fallen in love all over again, for she
had matured into the clever, vivacious, beautiful woman
he'd always known she would. Exultant that his time had
come at last, he'd been crushed to discover she had no
wish to encourage his romantic attentions. Nor ever to
wed him.
"Why, it means Lord Leonhart has met a special lady and
fallen in love with her, I hope." Selphie's gaze strayed
out the carriage window to drink in the lush hedgerows
of England's heartland. The wistful look on her delicate
features made Kinneas ache to hold her. "I am so happy for
him, poor man, after what happened to him during the
war, and how cruel everyone has been since."
She glanced back at Kinneas again, an unexpected glint of
steel in her dreamy blue-green eyes. "No one who called him
Lord Lucifer in my hearing was ever fool enough to do it
a second time!"
Kinneas laughed, in spite of his burdened heart. That was
one of the things he'd always loved about Selphie — her
spirit, her loyalty and her kind heart. Though it was on
account of those latter admirable qualities that he
dared not show her the true depth of his feelings. If
she knew of his dogged devotion, she would do anything
to keep from hurting him. Even if that meant wedding him
against her inclination. He cared for her happiness far
too much to let that happen.
But perhaps the exposure to his cousin's happy betrothal
would make her reconsider, and give him the smile or
word of encouragement he had craved for so long.
Lord Kinneas had the kindest eyes, and the saddest,
too. Selphie had always thought so. Even as a young girl
she had sought to draw him out, to make him laugh and
enjoy himself a little. Though otherwise the very best
of men, he had always been too shy and too solemn.
"I wonder how Lord Leonhart came to meet this Miss
Heartilly?" she mused. "I heard he never goes anywhere,
and then only in the dead of night."
She remembered Squall Leonhart as he had been before
Waterloo. "The Handsomest Beau in Britain" everyone had
called him then. Selphie had heartily agreed, though
she'd always thought Lord Kinneas's face had more
character. She hoped her own face would not betray any
aversion when she met the baron again and saw the black
mask with which he concealed his war wounds.
They were on their way to a house party at Helmhurst,
the country estate of Lord Kinneas's cousin, Squall
Leonhart, to celebrate the baron's betrothal. The
culmination of the gathering was to be a splendid
masquerade ball. Kinneas had accepted the invitation
eagerly, hoping the romantic atmosphere might make
Selphie more receptive to the notion of him as a lover
and a husband.
When she had returned to England recently after a year
abroad, Kinneas had fallen in love all over again, for she
had matured into the clever, vivacious, beautiful woman
he'd always known she would. Exultant that his time had
come at last, he'd been crushed to discover she had no
wish to encourage his romantic attentions. Nor ever to
wed him.
"Why, it means Lord Leonhart has met a special lady and
fallen in love with her, I hope." Selphie's gaze strayed
out the carriage window to drink in the lush hedgerows
of England's heartland. The wistful look on her delicate
features made Kinneas ache to hold her. "I am so happy for
him, poor man, after what happened to him during the
war, and how cruel everyone has been since."
She glanced back at Kinneas again, an unexpected glint of
steel in her dreamy blue-green eyes. "No one who called him
Lord Lucifer in my hearing was ever fool enough to do it
a second time!"
Kinneas laughed, in spite of his burdened heart. That was
one of the things he'd always loved about Selphie — her
spirit, her loyalty and her kind heart. Though it was on
account of those latter admirable qualities that he
dared not show her the true depth of his feelings. If
she knew of his dogged devotion, she would do anything
to keep from hurting him. Even if that meant wedding him
against her inclination. He cared for her happiness far
too much to let that happen.
But perhaps the exposure to his cousin's happy betrothal
would make her reconsider, and give him the smile or
word of encouragement he had craved for so long.
Lord Kinneas had the kindest eyes, and the saddest,
too. Selphie had always thought so. Even as a young girl
she had sought to draw him out, to make him laugh and
enjoy himself a little. Though otherwise the very best
of men, he had always been too shy and too solemn.
"I wonder how Lord Leonhart came to meet this Miss
Heartilly?" she mused. "I heard he never goes anywhere,
and then only in the dead of night."
She remembered Squall Leonhart as he had been before
Waterloo. "The Handsomest Beau in Britain" everyone had
called him then. Selphie had heartily agreed, though
she'd always thought Lord Kinneas's face had more
character. She hoped her own face would not betray any
aversion when she met the baron again and saw the black
mask with which he concealed his war wounds.
