CHAPTER 24
The Final Masquerade
Puzzled, Alix looked up from painting roses with red ink and stared at the gown of gold arrasene draped over Jenny's arm. "I'm going to a masquerade?"
Jenny lowered her voice to a whisper. "Fie, don't tell me that you've nary heard about the Clarence Masquerade in St. Albans at the end of the season-it won't be long, and we'll be leaving for milord's estate in Wales." As she moved to return to the dressing room, she added in a normal tone, "It's ready for a fitting whenever it pleases you."
Alix cringed inwardly at the idea of traveling anywhere but home to Buckinghamshire, as she jumped to follow the maid. "When's the gala?"
"It's Friday. That doesn't give us much time, and Albert thought this gown might be perfect for your costume," Jenny said as she hung it on the rack.
"This Friday?"
"Yes." She spread the silky skirt experimentally. "He said that milord hadn't decided to go until the last minute, and had found this dress while shopping in Piccadilly Square. It's not bad for something ready-made, is it?"
"The fabric has a lovely sheen, but what are our characters supposed to be?"
"Milord thought to go as a medieval king and queen."
"0h," Alix replied, too astounded by the idea to make sense of it.
"First things first, though. After a proper fitting, we'll decide what to do with it."
Alix sank onto the dressing couch as Jenny responded to the soft rap on the door. When the maid lingered in the opening to exchange a few words, Albert pulled her into the hall. Alix could see no more than a shadowed outline of their shapes when they kissed, and then Jenny stepped back hastily, straightening her cap as he pulled the door closed with a grin.
Snap scrambled narrowly through, trailing his leash, and dashed for a place on her lap. Alix ventured, "It certainly was kind of your Albert to pick up this dress."
Blushing pleasantly, Jenny hung out a dressing gown. "It saved a step or two."
The maid's lack of denial about her newfound connection with Albert Frisk lifted Alix's spirits. Triumphantly, she affected innocence as Jenny came to help her undress. "Especially with the ball in a few days. Has he asked you out on Friday night yet?"
"Not yet. Why?"
"We'd better decide what you're wearing, too. After all, it's only a matter of time."
"ONE MOMENT MORE, MILORD," Albert insisted, as he tightened the lacing on the brocade doublet of Nicholas's costume.
Despite Poole's having called an end to his investigation in Paris because of the recent murder of his detective, Nicholas was pressing forward with a new plan, to attend the masquerade ball. He hoped that the false security of a costume might foil the impostor's practiced role as Lily and was still determined to get to the bottom of the bizarre affair. Besides, there was always the hope that if he assumed the role of her protector and king, she might fall straight into his arms. Then, when he pursued his passion until she surrendered, there would be no secrets left between them.
"Now then, is your doublet too snug?"
Nicholas flexed. "No, it's good. Was Jenny certain the queen will be on time?"
Albert gave the doublet a final tug and reached for his clothes brush. "So I hope; my own arrangements for tonight depend on it."
"Good show. I assume that you have something special planned?" Nicholas's reflection in the mirror might have stepped from an illustrated page. He fitted the black velvet flat cap atop his unbound hair to make his image complete.
Albert fussed briefly with the hat's white ostrich plume. "Jenny's fond of a show; there's a comedy playing out in Paddington. I thought we'd catch dinner up there and then take the long way home."
"Good luck to you, then. It sounds as if you're thinking of getting serious, old man."
"A man could do worse than to look for a wife in someone as astute as Jenny Smith. Now, may I say that you look splendid?"
Nicholas preened briefly in the mirror while Frisk straightened the ruffle of the collar. "If so, it's your doing. Since you've a date with your maid, don't worry about waiting up for me. I've no idea when we'll be home, so consider yourself at liberty."
"Knowing Jenny, I'm sure it'll hardly be necessary, but thank you, milord."
Winston bowed when he noticed Nicholas on the stairs. "Good eve, milord. I say, you look superb!"
Whatever else came of the masquerade, Nicholas had no fear of a mundane evening. "Good evening, Winston," he responded, as young Percy hurried in with the fur cape he would wear instead of a cloak. "Has the coach been brought around?"
"Georgie's already at the curb, milord."
The impostor appeared on the stairs as if the striking clock had summoned her, clad in a satin dress true to medieval fashion. Ivory brocade inset beneath crisscrossed lacing accentuated her scandalously slender shape, and the old- fashioned collar parted only to reveal the opal necklace he had given her as they had returned from Southend the other day.
She had eclipsed the image of even the queen in his dreams and descended with the terrier dressed in his own costume, of black velvet, and a gold collar trimmed with miniature sleigh bells. As she approached, Nicholas scraped together sufficient sensibility to doff his cap. "Well met, milady."
Her high color deepened as a tenuous smile revealed her uncertainty. "I hope you don't mind," she responded, allowing Nicholas to lead her toward the door. "Snap's promised to be on his best behavior, rather than to be left alone."
Nicholas took the black velvet robe from Winston to place on her shoulders while the dog waited with an absurd parody of a smile on his canine face. "I think it's safe to say that he'll be the most distinguished terrier in the room."
"You're very kind," she said as he guided her to the coach. At least that much in her consideration of him had changed during the weeks since the discovery that she was an impostor. How much more of a transformation could he manage, given the right opportunity? The long winter stretched ahead with promise as the carriage took them through the crowded streets. Nicholas felt on the cusp of an ending and a beginning; tomorrow began the uproar of packing for home. Would the rambling relic of his estate at Hollyrune enthrall the woman as had the castle at Hadleigh? He had become so accustomed to loathing the idea of the place that it surprised him to feel excited about going home.
ALIX WISHED TO DANCE ALL NIGHT. There was something mystical about a gathering where even the familiar seemed strange. Who would have thought Sarah would dare to be Cleopatra with red hair? Mary was fetching as Maid Marian, opposite Sam's predictable Robin of Locksley, and John Wesley was vain enough to wear a Caesar's robe with knobby knees. They moved through a procession of kings and queens, knaves and priests, whimsical shepherdesses and curious beasts, all swirling together around the dance floor.
Nicholas lowered his eyes from the crowd to watch her while she lingered in his arms, dancing. Ever since the day at Southend, his erstwhile elusive regard had turned pensively tender. The music finished, and they stopped to applaud briefly, then began to dance again when the orchestra struck up Beethoven's Symphony No. 6, Op. 68. The first movement was one of Alix's favorites. She followed Nicholas blindly as a vivid memory of playing her violin in the old conservatory overwhelmed her.
"Are you enjoying yourself ?"
"Yes," she replied as she returned to the moment. Their round table was littered with glasses of champagne in various states, and Snap waited on a nearby chair, watching them intently.
"Snap's something of a character," Nicholas said, noting her attention to the dog. "Who would have guessed from his unlikely start? You have quite an influence over a certain questionable few; would you take offense if I suggested that they include me?" He attempted to ease her alarm by removing her from the dance floor with a sympathetic smile. "So saying," he continued, as if they were involved in nothing untoward, even as