Secrets and Lies

Two

The handsome stranger jumped to action. His long arms caught her around the waist before she sprawled on the floor in a mess of silks and satins. She stared into his eyes, and breathed in his musky scent. Good Heavens, he smelled enticing. For the first time in a long time, she was tempted to press her nose against a man's clothes and inhale.

"Oh, dear," she breathed deeply. "Thank you for catching me. I cannot believe how clumsy I am tonight." She glanced at his chest again, decorated like royalty. "I suppose I should be grateful that a prince chose to rescue me."

One corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other. "It was my privilege to have caught such a lovely woman."

As she stepped away, her shoe slipped off her foot. She turned to retrieve it, but he crouched down and took it before she could. Picking it up, he lifted his gaze to hers.

"Will you allow me the honors...Cinderella?"

Her heart leapt, and she wished the twittering in her belly would cease as well. Lightly, she chuckled. "You think I'm Cinderella?"

He shrugged. "You did lose a shoe, did you not?"

Smiling fully, she nodded. "Since you appear to be a prince—and a most charming one at that—then I shall allow you the honors."

She stuck her foot out beneath her gown only far enough for him to slip on her shoe. His fingers grazed across her ankle longer than should have been allowed. Heat spread through her limb from his touch. The man certainly knew what he was doing. The meaningful gleam in his eyes let her know he was aware of what his touch did to her.

Slowly, he rose to full height, keeping his gaze on her the whole time. He mocked a bow. "Is there anything else Cinderella needs me to do for her?" He motioned his hand toward the ballroom. "Perhaps escort her for a dance?"

Nicole's acceptance was on the tip of her tongue, but the feel of the leather-bound journal outlined in her hidden pocket reminded her that she couldn't enjoy his company until she delivered the book to her brother. "As much as the offer tempts me, I need to find someone. However, I will return shortly. If you will excuse me..." She moved past him, but kept looking in his direction.

Nodding, he grinned wider. "Until later then, Cinderella."

Her cheeks hurt from smiling so wide as she made her way to the front door. That man was certainly doing a great job of charming her, and she'd better not let him become a distraction—well, until after she delivered the journal, of course.

For several months she'd yearned for a moment to just be herself. She wanted to laugh and enjoy life. She wanted to meet new and interesting people—and not because she was investigating them, either. She and her brother had been helping their father with the whiskey-ring fraud case, and now that it was almost over, she deserved time off. She sorely needed to relax and do whatever she wanted, if only for a little while.

Weaving between people coming in the door, Nicole made her way outside. Trying not to appear in a hurry, she walked toward the side of the house where the guests' buggies and horses were kept.

It didn't take long to spot her brother. Of course, Gordon was the only driver standing in the seat and looking her way. Medium built with sandy brown hair, he appeared much younger than the other drivers. When he noticed her, he jumped down from their relative's coach and acted as if he was tending to the horses.

As she neared him, her steps became slower. "I have it," she whispered as she walked past him and to the vehicle.

"May I help you, Miss?" Gordon asked in a louder voice, staying in his role as the driver.

"I think I dropped my wrist fan." She opened the door and peered inside.

He stopped behind her. "Nobody is watching," he whispered.

Quickly, she took out the journal and slipped it under one of the blankets. Before pulling out of the vehicle, she withdrew her fan. "Oh, I found it," she said loudly, just in case someone happened to overhear.

He grinned and nodded. "Father will be very pleased that we have the journal." His voice was very low.

"I know." She squared her shoulders and cleared her throat, speaking louder, "I must go back to the party now."

Feeling very victorious, she walked away from her brother. It wasn't until now that she realized the wind was stronger than it had been earlier, and a lock of her hair came loose from her hairstyle and fell across her forehead. She grumbled aloud and hurried her step. She reached the house, and released the heavy sigh she'd been holding. The journal was in her brother's care, and he'd protect it until it was delivered to President Grant.

As she walked inside the ballroom, she was surprised to see how many more people had arrived since she'd gone outside. On tiptoes, she searched the crowd for her relatives until she found them. Smiling, she zigzagged in between couples on her way toward her family.

Her uncle, Mr. Michael Thornock, was a prominent fellow in Staten Island, and well-liked by his friends and acquaintances. He wasn't a tall man, but he still towered over his wife and daughter. For as long as Nicole had known him, he'd always worn a cheerful smile.

Aunt Anita—the bubbly woman in the family who cared for everyone—was the sister to Nicole's father, and knew about Conrad being a Secret Agent. Ever since Nicole's mother died, Aunt Anita had always treated Nicole like one of her own children. It helped that Nicole looked enough like the Thornocks to be considered one of them.

Cousin Emily was only two years younger than Nicole. But because she had matured at an early age and had been treated differently, Emily sometimes seemed much too innocent and naïve than a young woman of twenty-and-one should be.

Emily's gaze locked with Nicole's, and the girl's eyes widened. She excused herself from her parents and met Nicole only a few steps away. Emily grasped her cousin's hands.

"Where were you?" Emily asked softly.

Nicole didn't like her cousin's expression. "Why? What happened while I was visiting the powder room?"

"It's not what happened while you were there, but afterwards."

Nicole arched an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"That man, the one who captured you by the steps as you fell—" Emily swung her gaze around the ballroom, "was asking about you, and he looked very concerned."

Panic consumed Nicole. She didn't enjoy this feeling, only because she'd been in control of her own life for a few years now. Panic was not a pleasant feeling to have. "What do you mean he was asking about me? He doesn't even know me."

"Well, you see," Emily twirled her fingers in one of her long, blonde, ringlets, "Father saw you nearly fall off the steps, so after you left, he went over to the man and struck up a conversation to find out what happened."

Nicole didn't like where this was heading. "What did Uncle Michael say?"

"I don't know. I wasn't standing by them. But once you left the ballroom, that man kept watching for your return." Emily squeezed her cousin's hands before a wide grin spread across her face. "I think he might be sweet on you."

Breathing in deeply, Nicole tried to relax. Her cousin's panic was all for show, apparently and certainly unfounded. "If he's sweet on me, then I'm sure he'll come find me soon enough."

Emily's gaze wandered over Nicole's shoulder, and the younger woman's blue eyes suddenly widened. "From your lips to God's ears. There he is, and I think he's going to come over."

Nicole tried to calm her excitement. But truth be told, she hadn't had a man pay her any mind since Mr. Hugh Greenly had courted her for those two whole weeks, a little over three months ago. Although it was one of the worst experiences of her life, at least she was able to get a man's attention.

Now that the whiskey-ring fraud case was within days—or weeks—of being over, she would really like to enjoy a man's attention. After all, she wasn't getting any younger. If she waited too much longer for the perfect man, she might become an old maid.

She couldn't let that happen!

So tonight, she'd live in a fairytale for as long as she could, playing the part of Cinderella, and trying her best to make the handsome stranger become her very own Prince Charming.

****

Ashton Lee watched the very lovely woman he'd helped earlier on the steps walk back into the ballroom. He wasn't certain exactly what was different about her, but she looked even lovelier now than she had before she'd left the room. Perhaps it was her pink cheeks, or the satisfied smile she wore when she had returned to the ballroom. Seeing her this way stirred his interest up another notch.

To think, he almost didn't attend the Babcock's masked ball tonight. If Ashton had stayed home, he would have missed feeling so surprised—and amused—by the lovely Cinderella. Thankfully, he'd allowed his friends Glynn Nickerson and Steve Larson to convince him into coming. Ashton needed to remember to thank them later.

It was still too soon to know if the mysterious woman was General Babcock's mistress, or if she had been sneaking around in the general's study without any lighting for some other purpose. Had she stolen something of value? Was that the reason she seemed in such a hurry to leave Ashton's side by the wide staircase?

He'd dealt with enough deceitful women in the past five years to know when one had a secret. Cinderella most definitely was hiding something. For some odd reason, he would enjoy discovering what that secret was. Perhaps his eagerness to prove that women lied to him stemmed back to when his fiancée jilted him two days before their wedding. Nevertheless, he'd relish the hunt in finding this new woman's mysteries.

She'd captured his curiosity, and the only way he could start figuring her out was to walk over and talk to her. Naturally, she wouldn't confess to being the general's mistress, and for certain she wouldn't admit to being a thief, but getting to know her would be worth the trouble to see what this woman was trying to hide.

Once she'd reentered the ballroom, another woman had hurried to the beauty's side. This other woman appeared much younger, mainly because of the girlish pink gown she wore and the way her blonde hair was styled...as if she had barely left the schoolroom. Cinderella's gown wasn't the rags the fairytale character wore, neither was it the ball gown created by a fairy godmother. Instead, the mysterious woman was adorned in an elegant pale blue gown with lavender skirt, trimmed with a white chiffon scarf that lined the bodice and the fallen-shoulders that came to tie at her slender back in streamers. Elbow-length white gloves gave a final touch to her ensemble. Pearl-drop earrings hung at her lobes, and a simple string of pearls circled her slender neck. For certain, this was no Cinderella, unless the fairytale character had suddenly become sensual.

He definitely needed to get to know this woman tonight.