A conspiracy of paper: a novel - By David Liss Page 0,169

am allowed to put to use the dancing skills. And what could be more delightful than the variety of the masquerade?”

I pressed onward, knowing I should spoil this dance by doing so. “Do you not risk your honor, as well as your family’s, by coming here without my uncle’s knowledge, consorting with men he knows not who?”

Miriam’s jaw tightened. She had wished to make banter, to play the free woman unconcerned with what the world thinks, and I was determined to shatter this illusion. I had angered her, but I truly feared for her reputation. From what Elias told me of this Deloney rascal she consorted with, I could not even be certain that her honor remained unbesieged. I suspected that Deloney was somewhere at the ball, and I heartily wished that he should confront me for dancing with his partner. In this way I should show Miriam that a man such as myself should protect her with honor, and the pretty talk of a spark was but a bubble.

At last she spoke. “Would you lecture me on disobedience? You left your family, almost forever, when you were younger than I. You believed yourself capable of choosing your own way in the world. You would deny me that same choice?”

I found her so perplexing it was all I could do to continue the dance. “You are being absurd. You are a lady, and cannot assume that the avenues open to a man are open to you. A man may do many things, take many risks, that a lady must never even consider. It is monstrous strange that you should even think of taking the same liberties I did.”

“So because more liberties are denied me, I should presume to take for myself even fewer?” Miriam pushed away, breaking from the dance floor in the midst of the minuet. Her anger sparked the interest of the crowd, and as I rushed after her, I did all I could to obscure our exit from the gathering. Ignoring the knot of tension that twisted in my stomach, I caught up to her as she hurried along, her Roman goddess robes rustling as she went, and led her through a maze of men identically dressed in black dominos. We emerged close to one of the large punch bowls, and by that point some other reveler had certainly behaved either badly or comically enough to create a new diversion, freeing us from the ignominy of public spectacle.

“Miriam,” I began, uncertain what to say after that. Her eyes, behind her mask, looked away, but I pressed onward. “Miriam, surely you understand that I am only concerned for your safety.”

Her eyes softened as she began to relent. “I understand your motivations entirely, but I do not think that you understand mine. Do you not know what a masquerade ball means to a woman? I can be bold and forward and coquettish, or masculine and learned in my ideas—and no one knows who I am. My reputation will not suffer. Where else could I go to indulge these freedoms and hope to escape with my name unblemished?”

I could not but see the reason of her argument, but I had no wish to admit as much. Fortunately my response was cut short by the arrival of a gentleman dressed in a Venetian-style costume, featuring a birdlike mask with an elongated beak, and a suit of varicolored robes. “Miriam?” he asked in the masquerade squeak.

Miriam remained motionless, uncertain how to respond. So I spoke for her. “The lady is occupied at present,” I told this man in a clipped tone. Neither the mask nor the squeak concealed him from me. I recognized him as Deloney, though he surely did not recognize me.

“I say!” he exclaimed in his natural voice. “You are a rude enough fellow behind that mask, but I’ll wager that if I could see your face you would not be so free with your insults.”

I took a step forward and leaned toward him, clutching the beak of his mask in my hand. “Why, you know me, Deloney,” I whispered. “My name is Benjamin Weaver, and I am available to answer your commands at any time. I trust you will repay my loan before you call me to a duel. One would not want to fight with a debt of honor upon his conscience.”

He staggered backward, as though my challenge had been an actual violence upon him. I could hardly feel comforted by Miriam’s having this weakling for an escort.