Page 24 of Red Masquerade

I felt her hand on my cheek.

And I realized it was pity in her eyes. I knew she would never be forced into marriage. Never be forced to take a man. Not unless she wanted to.

Her blonde hair was curled so perfectly, framing her small ears, her headband holding the waves away from her eyes. Her skinglowed.Sheglowed. She always did. It was how she had gotten Dixon’s attention. How she kept it.

I envied her.

“Would it be so bad?”

“Wouldwhatbe so bad?”

“Marrying.”

“Let me emphasize that mybrotheris returning home.” I willed my voice not to shake. “To pick out my husband.”

She thought for a moment, a crease forming between her perfectly manicured brows.

I wished we could switch places.

No, I didn’t want to subject her to Lucas and whomever my husband would be. I just wished perhaps we were sisters.Realsisters.

Often, we felt like sisters, cut from the same cloth. But as I sat before her, I felt a wall, even one as thin as those curtains, build between us. I didn’t know if she felt it, too.

But how could she possibly understand?

“Maybe I can have Dixon do something.”

I shook my head. “He can’t do anything.”

“He is aviscount,” she said. “That has to mean something to your mother.”

God, I wished that were true. But if Lucas was on his way, her mind was made up. “Dixon can do nothing. He could bring a duke, aprince, to my mother, and she still wouldn’t agree unless Lucas said so.”

“Then let’s make him say so.”

I let my arm fall limp above my head, the curtain once more swaying over our heads. I sighed, the sound being covered up bythe wind coming in the window. It whistled against the frame, sending a chill into the room. I shivered, wishing I had worn a sweater, too early in the year to be forgetting them yet.

“Perhaps you can refuse,” Flora broke the silence.

I propped myself up on my elbows. “Yeah, right.”

She lifted one shoulder. “Why not?”

Because I will be flayed. Because Lucas would notletme refuse. “I could be cut off,” I said instead.

“You could stay here.” She smiled.

“I’m sure that’ll go well with your parents.” I reached up once more to feel the gossamer against my fingertips. I had known her parents as long as I had known her; we were friends since childhood, and some of my earliest memories were of us playing in the small garden behind her house, running up and down the stairs, sneaking into the pantry with their cook, who gave us extra tarts and candies. Her parents always giving me closed-mouth smiles, tolerating the girl who seemed never to want to go home.

I shook my head again. “Flora, you cannot solve this for me.” I struggled to feign a smile.

“But—” She sighed, seemed frustrated. “It is just notfair.”

Of course it was not fair. Nothing ever felt fair. Nothing had since I realized what it meant to be born a woman.

“I know you want to help,” I said, grabbing her hand. She linked her fingers with mine.

“Of course I want to help,” she said, her frustration lacing her voice. “Lucas has been getting his paws all caught up in your business foryears.”