The Season (Season Series #1)

Chapter 22.2: The Masquerade (Part 3)

"He's going to tell her!" I hissed, as Andrew closed the door behind us.

"He won't," Andrew said, but I wasn't at all reassured.

"He recognized me!" I said, pacing because of the nervous energy racing through my veins.

"You're wearing a mask and a wig," Andrew pointed out, watching me with a half-smile tugging at his face.

"How can you be so...so nonchalant about this!" I demanded, turning on him, "Ella will send me home if she finds out!"

"She isn't going to send you home," Andrew said, interrupting my pacing by taking my hands in his.

"You can't know that," I said, as he led me towards the banister and away from the lights of the ballroom. My thoughts were racing as I panicked, my goal for the night surfacing to the forefront of my mind. I'd been so distracted by the dancing and the laughter and the food that I'd completely forgotten about Ashley.

"Come back to me, we were having such fun," Andrew said, resting his elbows on the banister as he watched me. I crossed my arms against the night's chill, bracing myself for what I had to say next.

"We need to talk about Ashley," I said. Andrew sighed, slipping off his mask.

"You certainly know how to charm a man," he said as he massaged his face.

"Yes, charming men is my life's purpose," I snapped, "I'm being serious, Andrew, she's-"

"I don't particularly care what she is or is not," Andrew said, turning to face me, "Because I don't particularly give a damn about her,"

"What's gotten into you?" I asked, "Why won't you listen to me?"

Instead of replying, he reached up to toy with the feathers at the corner of my mask. I ducked away, too tense to play games.

"I'd appreciate if you listened to me instead of trying such tricks," I said, a warning in both my voice and my eyes.

"What tricks? I was simply admiring your mask," he said, taking a step towards me to close the gap between us, "It really does improve your face, you know,"

"Andrew," I cautioned, "I'm not some coquettish little fool who-"

"I know who you are, Libby," he said, resting his hands on my bare shoulders. I cursed Audra for neglecting to add sleeves to the gown as my skin tingled under his warm hands.

"You shouldn't be out here with me, you should be figuring out which debutantes care for you and not just for your crown," I said, attempting to shrink back from him, but his hands held me firm.

"I don't need to," he replied.

"How can you say that? Of course you do!" I protested, my heart aching as I added, "You need to choose a wife, Andrew, and you'd do better to choose one who loves you for who you are,"

I turned my eyes towards the gardens if only to escape his green ones. Andrew took advantage of my movement to snatch the end of the ribbon tying my mask on. I whipped my head back around, reaching up to hold the mask, but he'd chucked it away with a flick of his wrist.

"I'll need that back please," I said as sternly as I could manage when faced with the impish grin on his face.

"I've changed my mind, your face is much more improved when you scowl so," he said, his free hand tucking the hair he'd disheveled from my wig back into place and lingering by my cheek. The intimacy of his movements flamed my cheeks scarlet.

"Andrew," I started, reaching up to take his hand.

"Promise me you'll be here tomorrow," he said, linking his fingers with mine to stop me from pushing him away.