It was the most wonderful time of the year. Yuletide treats, family, and gifts. Days were cold, and nights were spent beside the fire and reading books and sleeping beneath as many quilts as could be found. Warm tea in chilled fingers. Powdery snow on dark green pine branches.

Christmas time had come at last.

My other absolute favorite thing about this time of year was the number of elaborate balls to attend. Almost everyone celebrated with large banquets, dinners, and dancing, with tall and handsomely decorated trees in every corner, and candles glistening on every surface. Everything was warm and comforting.

The Walford estate hosted a magnificent ball, and I was quite honored to receive an invite. Of course, Lord Walford and my father had been friends for many years.

Golden ribbons glittered in every window, and only the finest crystal was used as serving bowls and goblets for wine. The Christmas trees were decorated with fruits, berries, and glass ornaments. The air smelled of pine, cranberries, and cinnamon.

More red ribbons and berries decorated the ballroom, and it seemed that green was the popular color for ladies’ dresses. I myself had chosen a red dress with golden ribbons and ivory lace. It had cost my parents more than they had expected, but it was so handsomely made that my mother said she would have paid four times the amount.

Mother and Father had long lost the desire to dance at these sorts of social outings. Mother was shy, and Father’s feet often hurt him if he stood too long. Age, he had told me, waited for no one, not even busy men. They found much more enjoyment speaking with their friends and other social acquaintances.

And that was what they did this night. As I made my way between circles of my own friends, I watched as they spoke with some very influential people. At least, I assumed they were. It was hard to tell, given that everyone wore a mask. Mother’s dress was white, hanging beautifully over her still youthful frame. Her blonde hair, much like my sister’s, was pinned up behind her head, a few loose curls hanging around her face. Father, dark-haired with bright blue eyes behind his bird-shaped green mask, was nodding to a man who stood beside them.

Yes, one of the most exciting reasons I loved this particular ball at the Walford estate was the fact that it was a masquerade. Everyone came with a mask, and most of the fun was that it was hard to tell who was who. Of course, my friends and I had shared our plans and our masks with one another beforehand, so we knew each other when we met at the ball. But it was still exhilarating to not recognize most people just by standing in front of them.

I had made my very own mask, with papier-mâché and dye made from cranberries. I had cut out some pretty filigree and roses. It had taken me nearly a week, but when it was all finished, the mask matched my dress perfectly.

I had been asked to dance by a few men I did not recognize. One of the men revealed himself, and I laughed heartily when I realized it was my dear friend, Lord Gregory. He said that he had recognized me by my golden hair pin, a gift that his sister had given me for my birthday one year. Another man had hardly spoken to me, and while I found him to be quite an admirable dancer, I did not accept when he asked if I wished to dance again.

The third man that asked me to dance was tall, dark-haired, and had brilliantly blue eyes surrounded by dark lashes behind his simple black mask. His smile was wide and easy, and he bowed before me with a handsome flourish.

My sister Sarah and our friends had all shoved me a few steps toward him, giggling furiously behind me. He held out his hand and I gracefully took it.

And what a magnificent dancer he was. He was confident and knowledgeable. I had yet to meet a man who such an agreeable dance partner. Not only was he a fabulous dancer, but he was a wonderful conversationalist. He was anything but shy, asking me how I was enjoying the ball, what I thought of the decorations, and if I enjoyed the tempo of the music. It was a whirlwind, emotionally and physically.

We danced for two songs, and I had forgotten everyone else in the room. It seemed he had forgotten the others as well. And all the while, I did not know his name.

The mysterious man and I had much more in common than I could have ever expected, and I found myself attracted to him. His eyes sparkled as he spoke to me, and he told me about his love of books and fencing. His voice was smooth, like velvet, and his hands were gentle around my waist.

“I just love Christmas,” I said with a sigh as we spun in a circle in time with the music.

“It is simply delightful,” he replied, beaming at me.

“This year has been the best by far,” I went on. “My sister has come of age and is able to attend the balls with me.”

“How wonderful,” he said.

“It has been the most magical evening.”

“Would you like to see something else rather special?” he asked me.

My eyes grew wide. “I certainly would.”

He took my hand and led me toward the back of the ballroom. He threw open the doors and we stepped out onto the cold terrace. It was entirely empty apart from the two of us, at least for the time being.

I saw small puffs of air hung in the air between us as I murmured my awe of the gardens stretching before us. Sculptures of ice dotted the landscape, surrounded by flowers and fountains. Stone benches stood beneath them, and a few guests strolled between them, arm in arm. The terrace itself was round, with candles along the rail, and a single strand of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling in the very middle.

It was breathtaking.

He led me to the very middle of the terrace, directly beneath the mistletoe. We could still hear the music streaming out through the doors leading back into the ballroom, but it was much softer, much gentler.

“May I have one last dance?” he asked quietly.

“I thought you might never ask,” I replied, and I allowed him to sweep me into a close spin.

“My lady…” he began a few moments later, his voice like silk. “I have had the most enjoyable time with you this evening.”

My heart was swelling as he spoke. Had he just said the very same thing that I had been thinking?

“Coming to this ball, I feared that my night would be wasted, as I do not always find ladies that capture my attention as you have. And then I met you…”

He spun me in a slow circle before drawing me back to himself. The candles around us made his eyes sparkle brightly, as bright as the stars overhead.

“You are the most beautiful woman here this evening,” he said.

“How do you know that, truly?” I asked, grateful that my mask covered my blushing cheeks. “You do not know what I look like.”

“I do,” he replied. “Your hair is like the fading sunset, rich and comforting. And your eyes are as bright as the warm sea, your soul as strong as the waves crashing against the shore. All of this I can see without needing to fully see your face.”

“My lord,” I said breathlessly. “You are making me blush…”

“I only am speaking the truth,” he insisted. “Your soul is far more important. And the mask that you wear, as beautiful as it is, is allowing me to see right into it.”

My hands trembled as he held them in his own. His eyes searched my face, and he smiled at me as if it were the first time he did so, as if he had never smiled at anyone else before.

He leaned in closer to me, and I found that I did not pull away. I did not even want to resist. In fact, I welcomed it. Heartily.

My heart raced, my breathing came in quick, small gasps. My palms grew moist, and my eyes widened.

“My lady,” he murmured. “I…”

“We…” I began to reply, but the words faded away like wisps of smoke in the wind. I could not think clearly. A small voice in the back of my mind attempted to warn me of something, but I could not be bothered enough to care to think about it further.

He leaned in even closer, and all I could see were his eyes, all I could hear was his breathing and the beat of my own heart in my ears. I could smell the cold in the air and the lavender from the soap I had washed my hair with earlier that day. Everything was moving slowly around me, as if time itself had stopped.

And then we closed the distance between us, both of us leaning into each other at the same moment.

His lips were warm against mine, which were cold and trembling. But he was gentle as he pressed them more firmly to mine.

An explosion of heat rose up from inside of me. I leaned into him, embracing the kiss, ignoring the sensibilities inside of me telling me how dangerous this was. I did not care. In that moment, it did not matter.

As soon as the kiss had started, it was over, as we pulled away from one another. I sought his eyes, his piercing gaze, to see if his heart had just split in two like mine had. He stared down at me, and I could see his soul as clearly as he must have seen mine. That kiss had meant just as much to him as it had to me.

And then reality washed over me. The truth of what had happened hit me square between the eyes. I could still feel the echo of his kiss on my lips. I could feel his hands at my waist.

He had kissed me. And I did not even know his name.

As if the same thought had passed over both of our minds, we stepped away from each other, both of our faces flushed. If anyone were to see us, they would assume it was due to the cold. But the two of us would know the truth.

“I—” he began.

“Well—” I started at the exact same time.

We stared at one another, and we fell silent.

“I should return inside,” I said. How was it that I was suddenly at a complete loss for words? My head was swimming, and I needed some space. I needed to understand what had just occurred.

“Of course,” he agreed, and smiled as he bowed.

I hesitated, and before I went back inside the doors, I turned back to him.

“My lord?” I asked.

“Yes?” he replied quickly, excitedly.

“I had a wonderful time this evening.”

He seemed to relax. I did not want him to believe that I was angry with him. In truth, I was just as involved in the kiss as he had been. I had wanted it. I had allowed it.

“I did as well,” he said.

And then, before I dashed across the terrace and kissed him once more, I returned indoors.

I found my sister, Sarah, who immediately recognized something had happened to me. She commented on the color of my cheeks, and I insisted it was the cold. She asked who it was that had been my dancing partner.

In shock, I realized that, even after the kiss, I still had not asked him his name. With a small flush of surprise, I realized that he had not asked me my name, either. My sister was not satisfied with my answers, but I just smiled at her, and told her that was the fun of the evening, was it not? Everything was a mystery.

I saw him as he walked back into the room a short time later. His eyes scanned the dance floor until he found mine, and we stared at one another from across the room, the dancing couples in the middle passing between us.

The night was winding down, and some of the guests began to make their way back to their carriages and then back home. I could see Mother and Father bidding their farewells, and Sarah began to complain that her feet grew tired.

I caught the eye of my mystery gentleman once more, and he stared at me just as intently as I stared at him.

It would have been unwise to leave that night and not know the man’s name, I decided. I knew that if I left and never discovered who he truly was, I would forever regret it. Perhaps I knew him, and we could have a nice, friendly laugh about it. Or perhaps I would not find him very attractive, and I could move on with my life, knowing that our encounter was a one-time experience.

But I honestly wished to know if he was as handsome beneath that mask as I believed him to be. Fear made me question if he was a single man, an honest and upstanding gentleman. Racing emotions made me believe that he was my soul mate.

I fought with myself, back and forth, wondering what would be best for both of us.

Eventually, I decided it was better to know than to wonder, and so I set off through the ballroom, among the remaining guests, looking for the mysterious gentleman and his black mask.

I found friends of mine, many of whom echoed the very questions that my sister had asked; who was the man that had danced with me? I simply smiled in reply, and was greeted with giggles.

My Father found me standing on the terrace, my arms wrapped around myself against the cold night air.

“Come along, darling,” he called, “it is time for us to go home.”

I sighed heavily, glancing up at the mistletoe once more.

I smiled.

“Coming, Father.”

I followed him back inside, through the ballroom and into the foyer, where the maids returned cloaks to the guests as they made their way out.

I supposed that the mysterious gentleman must have left before I had, or had perhaps been looking for me at the same time I had been looking for him, and we had simply missed each other.

“Something is truly different about you,” Sarah commented as we climbed back into the carriage, the cold winter wind growing stronger. Her green eyes glinted behind her silvery mask adorned with stars.

Mother and Father were engrossed in their own conversation as we pulled away from the house.

I looked happily out the window up at the large estate.

“Perhaps you are right,” I replied. “This has been a very interesting evening.”