The Masquerade Read Online Free Page A

heart broke. “Here.” She emptied her purse, giving the woman all of her coins, never mind that Mama would be distressed to no end. “God bless you,” Lizzie whispered.
    The woman gaped. “God bless you, my lady!” she cried, hugging the coins to her chest. “God will bless you, for you are an angel of mercy!”
    Lizzie smiled at her. “The good sisters of St. Mary’s will find you a bed and a meal if you go to their door,” she said. “Why don’t you do that?”
    “Yes, I will,” the woman nodded. “Thank you, my lady, thank you!”
    Hoping the woman would do just that, and not go to the closest inn for a pint, Lizzie stepped into the street. The moment she did, a horse-drawn coach careened around the corner. Lizzie heard it first, then quickly looked that way.
    Two black horses pulled a very fancy carriage at high speed. Three gentlemen were in the back, which was open, and another two were in the driver’s high seat, whipping the horses on. All were laughing and shouting and waving a wine bottle. The coach was coming directly toward her. Lizzie froze in disbelief.
    “Watch out!” a buck shouted.
    But the driver whooped, as if he had not heard or did not see her, and whipped the horses. Their pace increased.
    Lizzie realized what was happening. In sheer terror, she leapt back toward the sidewalk to get out of the way.
    “Turn away!” one of the gentlemen suddenly shouted. “Ormond, turn away!”
    But the carriage kept coming. Terrified, Lizzie saw thewhites of the horses’ eyes, the pink of their flared nostrils. She turned to run—only to trip instead.
    Lizzie fell on her hands and knees in the muddy street.
    The wheels sounded, a harsh grating noise; hooves pounded. Mud and rocks sprayed over her back. On her belly, Lizzie somehow looked and saw iron-shod hooves and iron-rimmed wheels, dangerously close. Her chest exploded in fear and she knew she was about to die even as she desperately tried to crawl away from the oncoming coach. Suddenly, strong hands seized her.
    Lizzie was hauled to the safety of the sidewalk just as the coach passed by.
    Lizzie could not move. Her heart was pounding with such force and speed that she thought her lungs might burst. She briefly closed her eyes, dazed with shock.
    Hard, powerful hands still gripped her beneath her arms. Lizzie blinked. She lay on the sidewalk now, her cheek scraping stone, her face level with a man’s knees as he knelt on the sidewalk with her. Utter comprehension sank in. She had just escaped a certain death. This stranger had saved her!
    “Do not move.”
    Lizzie barely heard the man who had saved her life. She still found it hard to breathe, as her heart refused to slow. She was also in some real pain, her arms felt as if they had been pulled out of their sockets. Otherwise, she thought she was in one piece. Then an arm went around her shoulders. “Miss? Can you speak?”
    Lizzie’s mind began to work. Surely this could not be! The gentleman’s voice was remarkably familiar, the timbre deep and strong yet oddly soft and reassuring. Lizzie had eavesdropped on Tyrell de Warenne at every single St. Patrick’s Day lawn party, not to mention that she had heard him speak to the town onseveral political occasions. He had a voice she would never forget.
    Trembling in absolute disbelief, she began to sit. He quickly helped her, and she looked up.
    Blue eyes, so dark they were almost black, met hers. Her heart leapt in disbelief, and then it thudded in wild excitement.
    Tyrell de Warenne was kneeling on the street with her—Tyrell de Warenne had saved her life yet again!
    His eyes were wide and his expression grim. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his arm remaining firmly around her.
    Lizzie lost any ability to speak as she gazed into his eyes. How could this be happening? She had dreamed of one day meeting him, but in her imaginings, she had been as beautiful as Anna and at a ball in a stunning gown, not sitting on a muddy street, speechless as a