Page 58 of The Musician and the Monster

Adair craned his neck out the window of their carriage, one he’d hired specifically to improve his image for this evening. Ceridwen had little doubt whom he searched for. Lydia would likely arrive slightly late, always one to make an entrance and to be sure people saw her do it.

A young woman with brilliant red hair stepped from the carriage two in front of theirs. Georgina took the arm of a well-dressed young man Ceridwen couldn’t name and let herself be led toward the hall. When their turn came, Adair exited the coach first and helped each of his sisters out in turn. They left the furs covering their legs in the coach for their return.

“Well, dear sisters, are you ready for the ball?” He pasted on a blinding smile and held out an arm to each of them.

“Not as excited as you,” Bronwyn teased.

Ceridwen pulled in a deep breath that iced her lungs, but somehow steadied her all the same, before taking his offered arm.

Why, oh why, did I agree to come?Ceridwen asked herself.For Bronwyn. For Adair.In a twisted way, it was for her too. If she put all her focus into appearing happy and enjoying the evening, she couldn’t think about Drystan.

“Gentlemen.” Adair nodded to the two young men attending the doors, dressed in military attire. No doubt friends of his, or at least acquaintances. Adair made it a point to know as many people as possible and make friends wherever he could—the opposite of his sisters.

A wave of sound crashed over them as the doors were pulled open and they stepped inside. Ceridwen bit her lip, her gaze darting around. Though they were not late, the mainroom already housed a jumble of people laughing, drinking, and beginning a circular dance within the center of the open floor.

“I’ll find you later,” Adair assured them, his brotherly duties fulfilled.

“Good luck with a certain lady,” Ceridwen said with a wink despite the burning sensation building behind her ribs.

He only smirked and headed off in pursuit of said lady, or drink, though likely both.

Bronwyn and Ceridwen each snagged a glass of punch, the only thing likely to loosen their nerves, or at least Ceridwen’s. The press of bodies, mingling pungent scents of perfume, and rancorous conversation begging to be heard over the music already being played by the small band made her stomach churn.

“Drink that and find someone to dance with,” Bronwyn remarked, pointing to her sister’s saucer of punch.

The warm apple and spice mixture had been spiked with something, though Ceridwen couldn’t begin to deduce what. At least it tasted better than the ale many of the men gulped from larger tankards.

“You first.” She raised her brows at her sister.

Bronwyn smirked and took a long sip.

“Oh, Ceridwen!” Lydia exclaimed, pushing through two nearby men in matching hound masks to join their spot near the back wall. Georgina was two steps behind her, having lost her escort somewhere in the crowd.

Lydia clasped Ceridwen’s free hand in hers and tugged her close, almost spilling the punch. The frilly white lace of Lydia’s gloves matched the pure white and delicate lace of her gown, along with the white swan mask adorning her face, accented by her blond hair done up in curls. She looked like a fanciful bride in a fairy tale, dwarfing the rest of the crowd with her pure radiance. In contrast, Georgina had played up the red of her hair in the russet of her gown with a brown ermine mask.

“We were so worried when Bronwyn mentioned you were ill,” Lydia continued, still clutching her hand.

“It was most troubling,” Georgina agreed, though Ceridwen sensed her sympathies were mostly for show. She didn’t look the least bit troubled or excited to see her. If anything, she already looked bored.

Typical.

"But look at you!" Lydia beamed, ignoring her companion. "Healthy as ever by the look of it."

“I am much better now.” The lie came easily. She’d prepared for this, after all. “Thank you.”

“I tried to come and visit once, but your father suggested it best to leave you in peace.” Lydia pouted and finally released her hand.

Bronwyn faintly nodded, confirming her words. “For which we are very grateful,” she added. “It cheered Ceridwen’s spirit to know she had a friend who worried for her.”

"Oh, I'm so glad. And your dress!" She touched her lips with one hand, eyes sparkling as she took in one sister then the other. "Both of you. My, they're absolutely stunning."

"And new?" Georgina raised a careful brow. "Someone's fortune's have improved, I'll say."

The slight insult behind the comment was impossible to miss, or Georgina's circumspect look. Ceridwen's smile settled into something forced and sharp around the edges. Bronwyn frowned, and only Ceridwen's quick move to grasp her sister's hand and squeeze kept her from responding with something unfortunate. "We've been lucky of late on multiple fronts, that's true," Ceridwen replied.

"And I'm so glad for it." Unlike Georgina, Lydia's reply rang with sincerity and smoothed out some of the tension among their little group.

Lydia continued to ramble on about the recent gossip as Ceridwen drained her saucer and handed it off to a passing boy picking up empty glasses. A pleasant warmth settled in her chest as she nodded along and made appreciative comments. Bronwyn had already told her the more interesting pieces of news, but Ceridwen suspected that Lydia liked to share gossip just as much as hear it, so she let her continue. Besides, her company gave Ceridwen an excuse not to seek out others with whom she’d be less comfortable.

---