Moonlight Masquerade by Kasey Michaels

anything and he would
understand. “As it is, Aunt Nellis had to wait until now, when I am
about to turn eighteen, to have her dream for me come true. She
means to sell her jewelry.”
    “The pearl necklace and the diamond
bracelet, I imagine,” Vincent said, nodding his head.
    Stopping in her tracks so that he had to
halt as well, Christine exclaimed, suddenly feeling violated,
“Well, is there anything you don’t know? Tell me, how many gowns
are packed in my trunks? How many gloves? How many ribbons for my
hair? How dare you!”
    Vincent turned to take her hand, dragging
her along behind him. “You are overreacting, Christine,” he warned
coldly. “I live a solitary life here, and discourage visitors.
Having two unchaperoned ladies tumbling onto my doorstep was
unexpected, to say the least. I had Lazarus check your luggage that
first night as a matter of course, just to confirm your aunt’s
story.”
    Christine sniffed derisively, nearly
stumbling as she tried her best to keep up with the furious pace he
was setting. “I don’t believe you. What possible danger could two
ladies pose the great Earl of Hawkhurst? And I was unconscious, for
heaven’s sake! Really, Vincent, I know I am young, but I’m not
entirely stupid. And stop running—I’m not a giant either, like
you!”
    Vincent stopped abruptly, behind a tall
evergreen that blocked any view of them from the house, so that
Christine roughly cannoned into his chest.
    He did not apologize, but only stepped back
a pace, putting a small space between them. “I have been, in past
years, the object of some curiosity, Christine, although the
tongues should have stopped wagging by now. I admit it. I
overreacted. You hadn’t misrepresented yourselves to gain entry to
my home.”
    “Thank you for that kind admission,”
Christine said nastily, still slightly breathless and not convinced
she shouldn’t be angry.
    “But that does not mean your presence here
isn’t the greatest danger to my solitude, my hard-won peace, that I
have ever faced,” he went on, his voice hard. “God, Christine,
don’t you know yet? Haven’t you guessed why I hide myself away here
like some wounded animal? The other night, when I told you my name,
I thought you might have made the connection, but you didn’t. You
must be the only person in the whole of the British Empire not to
have heard the story.”
    Christine’s heart was beating so fast, so
hard, it hurt. She was too close to him, her face upturned so that
she could see the naked pain in his eyes, feel the warmth of his
breath as it formed vapor clouds in the cold air. “Manderley...
Manderley is very isolated,” she explained nervously, longing to
wrap her arms around him, to lend him her comfort. “Scandals grow
very cold before they reach us.”
    “Scandal?” Vincent’s tone was scathing.
“What unlovely names the world puts on heartbreak. How the world
sniggers behind its hands at despair, at the needless waste, the
horror of it all.”
    “Tell me, Vincent,” Christine begged,
placing her hands on his chest, her muff tumbling to the ground,
forgotten. “Nothing is so bad that it cannot be shared.”
    “Nothing, Christine?” he repeated bitterly,
staring at some empty space a few inches above her head. “This
scandal, as you call it, was considerably more than a nine days’
wonder.” He looked down at her for a long moment, then raised his
hand to lightly cradle the back of her neck beneath her collar. “Do
you know what the worst sin of all is, infant? The very worst sin
man can commit, his worst, most damning failing? It’s love,
Christine. Not theft, not murder, not even treason. Love.”
    Christine was frightened, more frightened
than she had ever been in her young life. Vincent was on the brink
of telling her something, something that would force her to change
her opinion of him, something that might destroy their tenuous
peace. “Stop this! You’re speaking nonsense. I don’t want to hear
any