Read Online Masked Love (A Christmas Regency Novella) by Nicole Zoltack - Free Book Online Page B

came for the food,” the louse continued. “It’s satisfactory, by the way. The meat is a little overcooked, too dry for my tastes, but then again, what did I expect? Not all parties are created equal.”
    “My lord,” Adrian spat out, wishing he could dispense with courtesy and say what he truly wanted to, “if you do not congratulate us, I will demand—”
    “Fine, fine. Congratulations. Happy now? You have the blessing of a baron for whatever it is I just congratulated.”
    Isabelle must have walked away because she returned with the butler, who promptly herded the drunken away and not a moment too soon.
    “Baron?” Lady Theodosia asked.
    Isabelle’s eyes widened. “Have you ever seen that man before, my lady?”
    “No. Of course not. I would never waste my time with someone so ill-mannered and poorly bred. Baron or no baron.”
    “Not even with a mask on?” Adrian asked.
    “Mask?”
    “That was Baron Malcolm Thrush, was it not?” Isabelle directed the question to Adrian, but he didn’t bother to answer. He didn’t need to.
    Lady Theodosia’s blue eyes looked ready to pop out of her head. She placed her hand on Adrian’s shoulders, trying to look over the crowd, so he lifted her up from the waist. Almost immediately she waved to him to put her down. Without a word, she rushed forward, soon melting into the crowd. Not two minutes later, she brought over another red-haired man.
    Lady Theodosia looked like a completely new woman. Her blue eyes were so bright they were azure, her cheeks stained a bright red, her laugh light and airy, her delight visible in every gesture, every breath she took. “Lord Adrian, Isabelle, allow me to introduce Lord Lionel York.”
    This gentleman Adrian had never had the pleasure of meeting before. They shook hands.
    “You’re Lord Adrian? Lady Theodosia’s betrothed?” Lionel looked as if he had eaten an eel.
    No one answered.
    The lord was tall, taller than Adrian, but not quite as broad or muscular. Lionel seemed more a scholar than a fox hunter.
    “Do you typically skip out on fox hunting?” Adrian asked him.
    “I’ve never had the chance to, I’m afraid.” Lionel seemed almost abashed to admit it while also appearing unlikely to rectify that.
    Adrian grinned as the ladies giggled. Yes, Lionel and Theodosia would make a fine match.
    Too bad their parents thought differently.

 
     
     
     

     
    The quartet talked easily. Even Lionel talked to Isabelle, as if her inferior status meant little or nothing to him. No wonder Theodosia had been so taken with him. Adrian felt almost ashamed at having assumed she had fallen for the dreadful baron, until he remembered that she had feared the same.
    He was working up the nerve to tell Theodosia they should take her parents aside and perhaps try to reason with them when a heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder.
    “Adrian, my boy, has your Christmas been everything you ever wished?”
    His heart skipped a beat, and he had to force himself to turn around. “Father, how fares Mother?”
    She was standing just behind his father, looking the picture of good health.
    “You are all better then?” He enveloped her into a warm embrace. His mother he loved completely, but he and his father butted heads more often than they had civil conversations.
    “I am,” she said.
    “Not exactly,” his father said at the same time.
    “I’m confused.” Adrian stepped to the side, bringing his parents slightly away from the trio, who eyed them with curiosity. The ladies’ faces had paled once they realized who the older couple was. Even Lionel looked stricken. When they were far enough away not to be overheard by the trio or the other guests, he whispered, “Speak plainly.”
    “Your mother’s sickness … it’s not of a physical sort.”
    “Meaning?”
    “Oh, Owen, stop. I’m not ill. I’m ashamed.”
    “By?”
    “Your father.” She crossed her arms and glowered at the tall, thin man she had been married to for twenty-two