The Jacobite's Return (The Georgian Rebel Series) by Jane Godman Page B

who was enjoying himself.
    As though aware of her eyes upon him, Jack turned his head and stared directly at her. Rosie knew that, in spite of her mask, he would recognise her instantly. An insistent pulse thudded in her throat as she gazed at him. Jack looked away first. Addressing a few quiet words to Perry, he deliberately turned his back on Rosie, walking with his friend towards the dance floor. Rosie, her cheeks burning with shame at what she could only construe as a deliberate snub, bit her lip in vexation. Any enjoyment she might have taken in the evening had now been completely destroyed.
    As the revelry increased in intensity around her, Rosie had never felt more alone. Why did her mind insist upon taking her back to a happier time? A time when she had been secure in Jack’s love? As always when she thought back to their betrothal, her thoughts tried to shy away from the memory of Captain Overton’s death. I killed a man. She forced herself to face the truth. I didn’t mean for him to die, but that is what happened. At the time, she had been beyond distraught, and it had been Jack she turned to for comfort. It had been his words of reassurance, his strong arms around her, his gentle kisses that had made her torment bearable. How times have changed. Now he cannot even bring himself to look at me.
    Her restless, maudlin thoughts were interrupted by her fellow party-goers, and she allowed herself to be drawn into their conversations. It had become second nature to her to wear this mask of poise. It was the barrier behind which she retreated and hid her feelings.
    Some time later, her eyes were drawn once more to Jack’s grey-domino-clad figure when he reappeared alone and purposefully entered Mrs. Henderson’s booth. Rosie, who had been chatting to a rather intoxicated young gentleman about the forthcoming firework display, tried to ignore this intrusion and the uncomfortable pounding of her heart. She was unsuccessful on both counts.
    “Walk with me.” Jack unceremoniously interrupted her companion and held out his hand to Rosie.
    She was torn between the desire to be alone with him and the promptings of her better judgement that told her to do so would be dangerous. She wasn’t in control of her emotions where he was concerned. Common sense lost the battle. Pausing briefly to question the wisdom of her actions, she rose and strolled with him along the lantern-strewn paths. They didn’t speak, a circumstance which gave Rosie time to master her breathing and regulate the uncomfortable rhythm of her heart. To be so close to him, to feel the strong sinews of his arm beneath her fingers once again! She remembered a time when walking with him this way was natural. When she could touch him any time she wanted to. When being held in his arms was her right. The ambitions of cruel princes had separated them, and she had been forced to make hateful decisions. There could be no return. Yet whatever his feelings might be towards her now, she felt alive in a way she had not since he’d left her that day to go and fight for the Jacobite cause. In spite of everything, having Jack in the world made it a more bearable place.
    The path became less well-lit, and Rosie decided this must be one of the infamous dark walks. Jack led her unerringly to a decorative summer house in a secluded corner of the gardens. She took a moment to speculate on how many assignations he had engaged in here in the past. Jack had never pretended to be saintly before he met her. Only that he would be faithful forever after. The thought made her breath catch oddly in her throat.
    Inside, a faint light was cast by one of the few lanterns on the walk outside shining in through the single window, and the furnishings consisted of a day bed and an occasional table. It could not have advertised its purpose as a place of romantic assignation more clearly.
    “Why have you brought me here, Jack?” Rosie put back the hood of her domino and removed her mask. She