Authors: t
Stuart shrugged. “Maybe you didn’t grease the right palms.”
André snorted. “I paid the bailiff plenty, but they still take their sweet time to impress their importance upon you.”
“Look, why don’t you go to White’s and meet some of your friends and play a few hands of cards to relax. Catch up with the latest gossip.”
“Stuart, if I go, I want you to come along. There is no need any more for you to act as my manservant. Once Snowden is brought to justice, we can live normal lives again.”
“Thanks for the offer, André. But in all honesty, I won’t mind staying at your apartments and just read a good book. It’s been a while since I could indulge myself.”
The apartment facing Grosvenor Square had belonged to André’s parents and was seldom used. Jonathan and Maude Billings managed a small contingent of servants, who saw to it that his simple needs were met.
As André shrugged his broad shoulders into the dark tailcoat, he realized that it fit less snug around his waist than the last time he wore it, but that it tugged across his shoulders. He grimaced. Life on the run apparently wasn’t all that bad for one’s physique.
“You look every inch the duke you are, my friend. You will knock the ladies dead, if they get a look at you.”
André’s stance turned to one of defense. “I have no intention of knocking anyone dead.
My heart belongs to Stormy. That became very clear to me on our ride back from Liverpool.
You’d think she was spoiled, but she isn’t. She has a mind of her own and an iron will to see any situation through to the end. If she’ll have me, I can consider myself a lucky man.”
He grinned abashed. “I know she’ll make me dance to her tune at times, but I think I will never be bored in her company.”
Snatching up his gloves and hat, he turned back to Stuart. “I can see the disapproval in your expression, and to be honest, I never thought I would fall so hard or so fast. Don’t think yourself exempt.”
Stuart wisely kept his mouth shut and pretended to be engrossed in his book.
André chose to walk to White’s. A crisp wind ruffled his hair and the bite in the air heralded that autumn was definitely here. He wished he could ride back to Emerald Hills and press his suit for Stormy’s hand, but until he had concluded his business with the magistrate he could not simply leave London behind. Besides, not before Snowden was behind lock and key would she be safe from the man’s wrath.
Several of his friends had already gathered at the exclusive men’s club. André basked in their attention and soon found himself ensconced in one of the deep leather chairs that were part of the luxurious experience of the club, a tumbler of brandy in his hand.
Sir George Fitzsimmons took a seat next to him, a cigar clamped between his teeth. “It’s good to see you André. Where have you kept yourself so long?” He opened his silver cigar case and offered it to André, who nodded his thanks as he took one.
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“Of course, I realize that you have your duties to the residence in Paris and the one near your friend Mowbray, but still, it has been a while.”
“I’ve been busy, George. I am here to present my case to the magistrate.” He bent to accept the light George held for him and lowered his voice. “That estate you just spoke of, Greenbriar is in the hands of the local sheriff and he claims ownership. He maintains that Aunt Victoria signed the property over to him. I knew it for a lie from the beginning. It took me several months, but I finally have proof that he coerced her into signing it. I am positive that he also killed her.” He did not want to elaborate on his own misfortunate imprisonment at the hands of the sheriff, but it afforded him a small vindication to be able to voice the fact that Aunt Victoria had been murdered.
Fitzsimmons looked aghast. “You don’t say, old chap? What are you aiming to do about it?”
“I am hoping that the magistrate will side with me and send a troop of soldiers to Greenbriar and arrest the bloody bastard.”
Fitzsimmons lifted his glass in a toast. “Good luck to you, André.” After taking a hefty swallow, he leaned close. “But while you are here, you might as well have some fun. The Duke and Duchess of Wessex are giving a masquerade ball this weekend.”
André decided not to comment. After all, he barely knew the couple and he was here only for a few days.
Fitzsimmons was not so easily put off. Rubbing his palms together, he elbowed André with a knowing wink. “You know how those masquerades often end up. There are always ladies who become daring in their pursuit, because they are sure their costumes give them a certain anonymity. Most do not feel disinclined to a bit of dalliance.” He guffawed, then took a liberal swallow of his drink and tilted his head once more in André’s direction.
“I have an entrée with the Duke and I will have an invitation delivered to your apartments by the morrow.”
“I am not sure, George, I have lots on my mind.” Not withstanding my feelings for a certain unconventional miss, who is playing havoc with my senses, he concluded the sentence in private.
“Old chap, the more reason for you to come and get your mind off your troubles.” He rose, having spied someone across the room. Bowing, he started to walk away. “It’s done then.
Expect a courier from Wessex to bring you that invitation.” He wagged a long finger. “And don’t forget to come in costume. It’s an absolute must.”
The Mowbray carriage pulled up in front of the Grosvenor apartment the Cormac’s had acquired almost immediately upon their return to England. Marry loved the view of the park and spent many hours watching the traffic pass by from behind the curtains. Being at the lowly end of the noble lineage table, Marry had little knowledge of who lived where, but she did recognize the different carriages and their emblems.
When the carriage pulled up, she could not withhold her joy. It was such a thrill to have her granddaughter and great-granddaughter for a visit. John had pulled some strings and called in some favors and received an invitation to the masquerade the Duke of Wessex was going to throw at the end of the week. There would be plenty of time to find costumes for all of them.
She was especially pleased that she could offer this experience to Stormy. Young people had such fun at those affairs.
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Despite her initial misgivings about London, Stormy got quickly caught up in the bustle of the large city, larger than any she had ever visited. Ah, and the sights and the gowns. They simply amazed her.
And Marry had the foresight to hire an accomplished seamstress, whom she installed in one of the upper rooms with her two helpers.
“We simply have to think of a costume that will turn the heads of all the eligible young men and be the envy of every other woman in the room,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands in glee.
“I don’t care to turn any heads. However, I wouldn’t mind leaving a few broken hearts in my wake.”
The flippant remark surprised Annemarie for an instant, but she knew that it had been said out of hurt. She would make sure that her daughter would have such a marvelous time that she would forget all about André.
Turning to Marry, she said, “Stormy still has a bit of summer color left. What do you say we make a Spanish dancer out of her, complete with Castanets? A deep red skirt with a white blouse and embroidered bolero should do the trick. We’ll put her hair up and festoon it with blood roses. A black half mask would complete the ensemble.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely.” Marry clapped her hands in glee. “And let’s put a little beauty mark next to her mouth, though I doubt anyone would recognize her.”
Stormy became quickly caught up in all the preparations. By the time the seamstress had the costume ready for her first fitting, she had scoured the small shops in London for jangling bracelets, bejeweled combs and large hoop earrings. Jokingly, she stuck a rose between her teeth and started to stamp out a staccato rhythm with her high-heeled shoes.
Annemarie and Marry looked at each other, their eyes gleaming with pride. “She’ll make a perfect dancer, and she’ll have so much fun.”
“I’ve never been to a masked ball either. I’ve already told Trevor that he will have to use a separate carriage, because Stormy and I will ride ahead. I want to see how long it will take him to pick me out of a crowd.”
“Oh, did he agree to that arrangement?” Marry’s eyes were round with surprise.
“Well, he wasn’t exactly happy about the prospect, but I will give him a small clue, if I find that he is having too hard a time.” She grinned like an urchin about to eat a purloined sweet.
Marry shook her head, not convinced that was such a good idea. “You know your little ploy could backfire on you. What if you don’t recognize Trevor and you start flirting with the wrong gentleman? It’s not as if it hadn’t happened before.”
Though Annemarie lost some of her confidence in her scheme, she refused to change her mind. “I think Trevor will not only recognize me, but he will derive a great deal of amusement from my idea.”
Marry shrugged a shoulder and busied herself with helping Stormy out of her costume, so the seamstress could finish the last touches.
By the time the weekend arrived, Stormy was a bundle of nerves and Annemarie couldn’t help but be excited as well.
Their carriage arrived at the front of the house as the mantel clock on the foyer struck ten.
Dressed in hooded black capes, Annemarie and Stormy rushed out of the house, giddy with excitement, to embark on their night’s adventure.
Stormy squeezed her mother’s hand. “Mama, I have to confess that I am rather scared. I won’t know anyone. What should I do?”
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“Just mingle. You know my costume and if you find yourself out of your depth, you can always seek me out. I will stay well within view and I will keep an eye on you. But a masquerade is an opportunity to have uninhibited fun. I am looking forward to leading your father a merry chase.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. We may seem ancient to you, but we feel still young. In fact, in my eyes your father has not grown older. I love him more today than when we married.”
Stormy looked out the window and wondered if she would ever be so lucky to find someone to love like her mother had. It saddened her for a moment. What if André had been her true love? She would never find another.
Stormy watched in awe as they arrived at the residence of the Duke of Wessex. A never-ending stream of carriages jostled for position at the front steps. Footmen hurried forward to unfold steps and help the gentlemen down, while the men in turn helped their ladies disembark.
“We’ll be here all night, if that keeps up,” Stormy muttered. “We probably should have arrived earlier.”
“Nonsense, a masquerade gets interesting at this time. Those revelers who arrived early are a little tipsy by now and those like us won’t have to suffer through close scrutiny.”
“But you said you’ve never been to a masquerade, so how would you know?”
Annemarie shrugged delicately. “People everywhere are much the same. I am just guessing that a masquerade ball doesn’t differ from a regular ball, except that people in costume and hidden behind concealing masks will feel freer to be themselves.”
Stormy’s heart beat an uncertain tattoo in her chest, when they finally arrived at the steps and were handed down from their carriage.
“We’ll go in together and then we’ll just mingle. Don’t talk much. Your accent will give you away. Just smile and act mysterious.” On impulse, she turned and kissed Stormy’s cheek.
“Have fun, darling. And remember, at midnight we all unmask, unless we choose to escape before we are recognized.”
They parted company after they handed their cloaks to a waiting footman. Stormy stood poised for a long moment at the top of the stairs that led down into a sumptuous ballroom. Lit up with close to a thousand candles that reflected in strategically placed mirrors, and festooned with overflowing baskets of hot house flowers, the room resembled a fairy garden.
Her breath caught at the splendor spread before her. She gaped at the colorful costumes fashioned of silk and velvets, the sea of people dancing and swaying. If it hadn’t been for the opened doors bringing in fresh air, she would have swooned. A reveler dressed as a courtier with a powdered white wig distracted her before she could succumb to her apprehension.
Dark eyes glittered behind a silver silk mask and his mouth curved into an inviting smile.
Taking her hand into his, he brushed a light kiss across her knuckles. “May I have this dance, my beauty?”
Without waiting for her reply he tugged her into the crowd of dancers. He cut her a courtly bow and she automatically curtsied. Before she had time to think further, they were swept away into a quadrille.
Stormy took to the dances like a duck to water. She thrilled to the excitement of the music, and counted no less than nine musicians. Though nearly an hour later and quite out of breath, she begged her latest dance partner for a small respite. Fanning herself, she made her way to the room set aside for the ladies to rest, restore their coiffures or simply press some cool cloths to their heated faces.
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Annemarie jumped to her feet, when Stormy entered. “Is everything all right?” She had removed her half mask and concern showed in her expressive eyes.
“I am fine, Mama. I just needed to get away from my latest dancing partner. He was holding me too close for comfort and his breath reeked of onion.” She wrinkled her nose. “But what are you doing here?”
Annemarie grimaced. “I thought I’d have fun dancing with a few of the revelers, but I find that I don’t have the stomach for it. I miss your father. I had envisioned this evening quite differently in my mind. You know, I wanted to flirt shamelessly with him and act as if I didn’t know him. But he isn’t even here yet.”