a moment when he did get to his feet and looked thoughtfully down at Mary while she beamed back at him.
“Mary,” he said, “have you ever wanted to go to a masquerade?”
* * *
Masquerades, or costume balls, as they were often called when they were given by members of the ton (and were therefore assured of precluding any so-called riffraff who gave the public masquerades at the opera house such a disreputable name), were always more popular than almost any other entertainment the Season could offer. They gave grown men and women a chance to dress up, to spend a whole evening playing a role and a guessing game at the same time, though most disguises were easily penetrated, it was true. They gave an extra burst of excitement as the evening grew old, when midnight brought with it unmasking time and they could all discover whether their guesses had been correct. They gave everyone a chance to behave in somewhat less inhibited a manner than a more formal ball allowed. Young debutantes might dance with rakes and older matrons with handsome young blades. A Roman emperor might take the floor with a milkmaid, and a harlequin with Good Queen Bess.
Lady Farraday’s masquerade ball was looked forward to with even greater than usual anticipation. For Mr. Manley Rochford, so soon to be the new Earl of Lyndale, had made his anticipated arrival in town just in time to attend, and attend he would with his wife. Lady Farraday had confirmed that fact by calling upon them in person the very morning of the ball, following the note she had sent late in the afternoon of the day before. She did not add, when she boasted of this considerable coup to various guests, that she had been urged to do so by no less illustrious personages than the Duke of Netherby and the Dowager Countess of Riverdale, to name but two. Everyone who had not been at St. George’s on Sunday was eager to catch their first glimpse of the soon-to-be earl, and even those who had been there anticipated pursuing a closer acquaintance with so distinguished-looking a gentleman.
But there was even more reason for excitement.
For the morning papers had carried notice of the unexpected marriage of Mr. Gabriel Thorne, that American gentleman who had so aroused the ton’s interest and curiosity over his recent, unexplained return to England after an absence of several years. And he had made nothing short of a brilliant marriage, his bride being Lady Jessica Archer, daughter of the Dowager Duchess of Netherby and sister of His Grace of Netherby.
The news would have been sensational enough even without one additional factor. But there was an additional factor, for it had been generally believed among the ton that Mr. Anthony Rochford, soon-to-be heir to the earldom of Lyndale, had been in hot pursuit of Lady Jessica and that she had favored his suit. And who could have doubted that? The gentleman, even apart from his prospects, was gorgeously handsome—all the ladies were agreed upon it. His smile! And exceedingly charming besides. Again, his smile! Yet Lady Jessica had confounded all predictions and married Mr. Thorne, who had rivaled Mr. Rochford in the contest for favorite of the ton but had never quite equaled him. Mr. Thorne, after all, was not about to become heir to anything, least of all an exalted title.
And both men were attending the masquerade—Lady Farraday confirmed it to all who asked. Indeed several members of Lady Jessica’s family, not to mention Lady Vickers, seemed downright eager to pass on the information to anyone who would listen, even to those who had not asked for it. Both men were to attend the masquerade. So was Lady Jessica, of course.
Who could resist all the potential drama inherent in a love triangle? How would Mr. Anthony Rochford react to his first sight of Lady Jessica as a married lady? And how would he react to the sight of his rival for her hand? The man who had bested him.
And would he recognize them before midnight?
Would anyone?
Would anyone recognize Mr. Anthony Rochford himself?
Even those few people who had accepted their invitations but had half decided that they would not go to something that was sure to be a sad squeeze decided that after all they must attend.
Lady Farraday’s ball had become the most anticipated entertainment of the Season.
Mary was the only one who needed a heavy disguise, for she was quite a distinctive figure to those who