My Lady Rival (2 page)

“The ton does not gossip with servants, Kat.” Nor did they have cause to blush when speaking the first footman’s name.

when speaking the first footman’s name.

A lex was usually an amiable man, but at the moment Peter’s continued employment at Holcombe House came into question. He had no tolerance for the male servants acting inappropriately toward any of his sisters. Jo he could throw to the wolves without care, as she would always be able to defend herself well.

But he didn’t need to think of secret whispers and stolen kisses in regards to his other sisters—and especially not if any of it involved Kat. Not after her almost elopement with the cobbler’s apprentice last year.

From across the carriage came an amused chuckle. It was amazing the condescension Jo could ascribe to any sound. Of them all, she who loathed the aristocracy most would probably fit in best.

He gave his head a little shake and lifted his gaze to the dark expanse of the carriage ceiling in supplication, causing Kat to giggle. “Yes, Jo? You believe I should encourage her to gossip with the footman?”

Jo waved her mask before her face, as if moving the stagnant air could relieve its offensive properties. “You are the only one who pretends we are equal to the aristocracy. Even these”—she fluttered the rose mask, its white feathers rippling in response—“are not enough to disguise the fact that we are inferior.”

“You know we’re not. A nd remember our soft and mushy banknotes.” A lex wagged his finger. “The members of the ton would never dare say such a thing while they try to court our good graces.”

“But it’s what they believe. Do you think a mask will hide the pattern of my speech? No number of Miss Ross’ lessons will keep them from recognizing my common blood as soon as my mouth opens.”

“Please don’t make me dance, A lex.” This, pled by Kat. “I’ve tried as best I can to remember all the steps to the quadrille and to be graceful when I waltz. But I’ll forget. Poor Mr. Doiseau’s feet must be bruised from all my mistakes. Please, let’s return home. In a few weeks, after I’ve practiced longer—”

“No. We are going to the masquerade.” Sometimes one simply needed to be blunt. He knew that their fears would always give them cause to delay entering Society, and now that the period of mourning for his father was over, there was no reason to wait.

A lex glanced at his mother, certain she would be next in the queue of complaints. She met his gaze with the same dark brown eyes most of the eight Laurie siblings had inherited, including him. Then she raised her mask to her face and tied the ribbons behind her head, and A lex vowed to give her a dozen more pretty gowns that she could secretly admire. A nd one of them would be the same color as the gown in the Queen’s Madonna portrait with Princess Louise. A ll he had to do was successfully re-create the dye.

Soon the carriage slowed before the Winstead town house, the sound of the horses’ hooves and the vehicle’s groans smothered by a swell of voices.

“We’re here,” A lex announced cheerfully, tying on his mask. The silence which greeted his announcement was decidedly uncheerful. Jo didn’t make a sound—not even so much as a sigh—as both she and Kat followed suit. Ready or not, willing even so much as a sigh—as both she and Kat followed suit. Ready or not, willing or not, they were all at their first event of the Season. Their first ball, their first masquerade, their first test to see if they of common-born origins could be accepted—even anonymously—into this realm of idle nobility.

The metal snap outside signaled the groom’s unfolding of the steps. Then he opened the door, and a waft of West End London air rushed in—scented with flowers and coal and perfumed bodies. It was a distinct smell A lex still hadn’t become accustomed to, even after two months, and refreshing in contrast to the—

supposed—stench of death permeating the late Lord Holcombe’s carriage. But it wasn’t at all welcoming when compared to the scents of his youth—of ink so thick upon the air one could nearly taste it, of burnt fat from the tallow candles as his father worked into the early morning, of the lye heavy upon his mother’s hands, strong and yet still unable to mask the odor filtering in from the streets outside.

He inhaled the West End London air into his lungs. This was their future—that of his family and of the dye-making business his father had created from little more than scribbles on advertisements and late-night dreams. Joseph Laurie might have died and left A lex to take his place, but he would not prove a failure. A lthough his father had wished for investments from those with exalted titles, he had never dreamed of establishing ties with the aristocracy through marriage. But the Lauries deserved the best, and once their merchants’ money lured in the proud but destitute, they would never be snubbed again.

The groom appeared in the opening. “Mr. Laurie? Will you come out, sir?” A lex grinned at Jo and held out his hand. “Shall we go pretend to be their equals, then?”

She snorted and stood, clasping his hand momentarily before moving to take the groom’s. “Give me a moment to lower my intelligence and morals.”

“Only a moment?”

She paused, her eyes flashing with laughter behind the mask as she looked at him over her shoulder. “You do have your good points, you know. A nd I love you, even if I despise you for making me come tonight.” A lex placed a hand over his heart. “Soft and mushy, Jo. Soft and mushy.” A lex handed their invitation to the Winstead butler, then waited as the man sniffed and peered at the script. It was a ceremonial gesture; no names would be announced tonight at the masquerade ball.

“He let us in,” Kat whispered as they walked past the butler to the landing which overlooked the ballroom.

“Of course he let us in,” A lex replied. “We had an invitation.” He would have reminded himself to thank Lunsford for arranging their attendance but was fairly sure his friend would have no qualms in prompting his gratitude at the first opportunity.

“Did you hear him sniff?” Jo asked. “If that smell from the carriage is clinging to our clothes, then I’m leaving right—”

“Good heavens.” His mother stopped short, three feet before the first stair. The

“Good heavens.” His mother stopped short, three feet before the first stair. The hand lying over his arm tensed, her fingers digging into his coat sleeve.

Directly in their line of sight hung a row of four grand chandeliers, each sparkling with crystal teardrops and heavy with the flame of what seemed a hundred candles. The scent of candle smoke filled his nostrils as thin black streams lifted from the chandeliers to waft toward the ceiling.

Ten marble pillars, five on each side, stretched from the ceiling to the floor below, where a host of masked men and women milled about the perimeter of the dancing. Their movements were stuttered, their numbers allowing only small steps in any direction. Heads bobbed from left to right as the guests greeted others who brushed against their shoulders by virtue of the crowd’s crush; feathers stacked high on masks waved from each corner of the room, and half faces obscured by silk and velvet disguises drew attention to the mouths beneath: laughing, smiling, pursing, frowning, drinking, gossiping, shouting to be heard above the din of gaiety. Strains of music floated overhead from the balcony, pushing and pulling the dancers in the center of the ballroom, their mouths huffing for breath.

The noise should have been overwhelming, the wealth intimidating in its brash opulence of crystal and gold, marble and jewels. The sight of so many people, each with the potential to sneer or unmask him for the common upstart he was, should have been at least the tiniest bit disconcerting.

Instead, it felt like a welcome.

A lex smiled and bent his head toward his mother’s ear. “I was hoping at least for elephants to ride upon. Or a river of gold. Harem girls would also have been nice—”

“I don’t want to hear about harem girls,” Susan said, her skin pale and the corners of her mouth pinched.

Behind him, a finger jabbed his ribs. “They’re pushing us back here,” Jo complained. “Keep going!”

A lex led his mother down the stairs, pointing out the strange and ludicrous to ease her nerves. “There appears to be a bull over there by the terrace. See his horns curved above the mask? No, don’t smile—he’ll surely see us and charge.” Halfway down. “A h, a unicorn! A nd it appears she even applied some sort of paste to her face. Now, that, Mother dear, exhibits a fair amount of creative dedication.”

“Hmm.” His mother’s hand still clung to his arm, as if she would tumble down the stairs to her death if he were to withdraw his support. He had never seen her afraid, not once in his life, not even after his father had died. Yet now her touch held the slightest tremor—she who had always been his definition of strength and bravery—and he felt like a damned monster for forcing her to come. She’d refused at first, hadn’t she? She hadn’t wanted to relinquish her widow’s weeds for a ball gown, her melancholy expression of mourning for one of pretense. But he’d coaxed and charmed as he did best until she agreed to attend the masquerade, knowing that neither Jo nor Kat would come without her acquiescence to his knowing that neither Jo nor Kat would come without her acquiescence to his plans. She’d agreed for his sake. A lex’s jaw clenched. God help anyone who dared to scorn her tonight.

“It might take a bit of creativity if she were the only one masked as a unicorn,” Jo said snidely behind them. “There’s another one by the refreshments. Do you suppose they’re unicorn lovers?”

“Were we meant to dress as animals?” his mother asked.

“I wish I was a swan,” Kat said.

“No, not at all.” A lex looked at his mother, at the golden bolts radiating from the eyes of her purple mask, at the deep violet skirts flowing gracefully from step to step as she descended. Regal, he’d told the modiste. Though he still hadn’t replicated the color of the Queen’s Madonna gown, which she adored, she deserved to look like royalty. A nd she did. “He would have approved,” A lex murmured.

“Thank you.” It wasn’t precisely what he expected in response to the reference to his father, but it was better than silence. A nd she didn’t immediately try to exit the room as she did at home. When the touch of her hand lightened on his arm, it seemed like true progress. If nothing else, her reaction proved that they’d been right to come to the masquerade; for a few hours, at least, she would be distracted from the memories.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and A lex drew her to the side, trusting that Kat and Jo would follow. It was difficult to move through the throng, and a few “beg pardons” later, he simply stood and waited to be pushed along like the others around them. Someone bumped into his shoulder and he turned, then smiled at the woman who glanced up at him with wide green eyes behind her peacock-feathered mask.

“Oh, good evening,” she exclaimed, then twisted to tug at her skirts, which had been caught under another man’s heel. “I’m certain he did that on purpose,” she told A lex. “If that’s not Sir A lfred Crowley, then my name’s not . . .” She paused and winked, her smile mischievous.

“What is your name?” A lex asked.

She shook her head and leaned closer.

“What is your name?” he asked again, more loudly.

“Why, Lady Peacock, of course, sir. A nd you must be Mr. Midnight.” A lex inclined his head, then scanned the other nearby male guests, several of whom also wore simple black masks. “There appear to be many Mr. Midnights at tonight’s ball.”

“I think you all do it deliberately, so we— Oh!” Lady Peacock jostled against him again as the crowd shifted, then grimaced. “I must go before I’m trampled. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Midnight.”

“A nd you as well, Lady—”

She had already turned, holding her hands to her mask to protect the peacock feathers as she shoved her way through the crowd.

“She was nice,” his mother said beside him, a tight smile on her lips as she

“She was nice,” his mother said beside him, a tight smile on her lips as she nodded at the greetings directed toward her.

“Yes, very nice.” If one could draw such a conclusion from a minute of conversation.

“A good quality to have in a wife, but unfortunate that you don’t know her name. We could leave and you would already have a lady to begin courting tomorrow.”

A pparently being distracted did not mean that his mother was enjoying the event. A lex smiled. “I see you’re anxious to return home in the ca—” He nodded toward those inching past. “Good evening. I beg your pardon. Yes, good evening to you.” Each syllable spoken required great concentration; even after several years of tutelage, the crisp aristocratic pattern of speech still felt foreign on his tongue.

His mother sniffed. “The carriage?”

“Yes, the carriage.”

“Perhaps you can ride in it next time, while the girls and I take a hansom cab.” A lex grinned. “I’m heartened to hear you say there will be a next time.”

“You know very well I meant later this evening.”

Loudly, a few feet away, over the other voices: “No, I won’t dance with you!” Heads swiveled toward A lex’s left. He groaned.

“Surely you’re not surprised,” his mother said.

Of course he wasn’t. Why should he have been surprised to find his older sister shouting a refusal to a man who’d probably complimented her on how lovely she was and then kindly asked her to dance?

He tugged his mother toward Jo, intent on intervening and reminding Jo of her good manners, even if he did have to wade through a sea of peacocks, bulls, and unicorns to do so—when another woman crashed into his side.

He stumbled, lifting his hands to steady himself and the masked stranger. He half expected to see Lady Peacock again, with her large green eyes and wide smile. Instead, as the woman removed her head from his shoulder and looked up, he found himself staring into blue eyes—eyes the color of the ocean, surrounded by a landscape of diamonds and bordered by gold. She glanced away, laughed, then looked back, her eyelashes sweeping. “Oh, I do beg your pardon!” He knew her.

The thought was faint but immediate, a shock of familiarity. How did he know her? Was she someone he’d met on the Continent, or the daughter of a duke Lunsford had pointed out during a ride in Hyde Park?