Masquerade by Sarita Leone

talking to reach for another carrot, Sophie pushed the dwindling pile of fresh vegetables across the table. Rachel took her time choosing one to peel, but Sophie didn’t rush her. She knew well enough to keep quiet and let Rachel’s story unfold at its own pace.
    Sometimes she was as slow as cold molasses, but that was her way. The family loved her despite her snail-ish tendencies.
    “As I was saying, Penny and I both had a completely delightful time at the dance. Not that you would have noticed.” Rachel raised one eyebrow in reproach, waving her paring knife in small circles beside a half-peeled carrot. “You were far too busy dancing the night away to observe whether I was dancing my feet sore or holding up a wall.”
    “That isn’t fair. I did see you—several times. Any time I turned your way, you were either dancing or talking with someone. Mostly, you were chatting with men—as was Penny. You only think I was preoccupied, and didn’t notice you. That wasn’t the case, dear sister.”
    Rachel seemed satisfied with the explanation, because she smiled. She turned her attention back to the carrot. “All right. I suppose you did keep a sisterly eye out for me, didn’t you? I am sorry for not noticing you were watching. It is just that you seemed so smitten with your tall handsome suitor that I didn’t think you even noticed anyone else in the room.”
    Allowing the conversation to turn before she got to the heart of Rachel’s night wasn’t something Sophie was prepared to do.
    She was not ready to admit that some of what Rachel said was true, either. There were times when she hadn’t seen anyone save her partner, but that was something she intended to keep to herself. For now, and probably forever. How could one admit they lost a whole roomful of people—even for a moment?
    “We aren’t discussing my time at the party. This conversation centers around you, remember? Whom you danced with and how any particular gentleman did or didn’t affect you is what we’re attempting to discern here. I have known you your entire life. When you aren’t as open as a book I begin to wonder what you are hiding.”
    Sophie tapped her fingertips idly against the tabletop. The drumming synchronized with the velvety-soft swish of orange peels dropping onto a growing pile. Her sister kept her eyes averted, acting as if all her concentration was needed to accomplish the kitchen task. As she knew that both she and Rachel could peel carrots with their eyes closed, she could only assume the younger woman’s evasion was intentional.
    “You did meet a man, didn’t you? Oh, Rachel, you must tell me the truth.”
    It was hard to believe it had taken so long for her to notice Rachel’s countenance, but now that she had several pieces of the puzzle everything slipped into place. Since the Atwell’s party, Sophie had caught Rachel daydreaming, simply staring off into space with a half smile on her pretty face. She had been so caught up in her own reminiscences about the affair that her sister’s introspective attitude had gone unnoticed—until now.
    When Rachel didn’t answer, she reached across the table and stilled the hand wielding the knife. Fortunately, she did not lose any fingers in the motion.
    “Put down the carrot and talk with us. We are dying to know who finally caught your eye. Aren’t we, Louisa?”
    Louisa nodded. Now that her fingers had thawed and the conversation was well away from the glove issue, she looked happier by far than she had since she was blown through the doorway. She poured herself another cup of tea, then, without asking whether they wanted more or not, refilled the other two cups as well. Sophie and Rachel had been mothered in that manner their whole lives. It didn’t even occur to either of them to protest.
    Sophie raised her cup and took a sip, slowly swishing the tepid liquid around in her mouth. It provided her an opportunity to study her sister. Rachel, for her part, had not yet raised