Page 2 of Duke of Myste
“Have you found her yet, dear?” Lady Drownshire materialized at Jane’s elbow, her mask—an elaborate confection of peacock feathers and silver thread—not quite concealing her mounting concern. “It’s nearly midnight, and you know how shy Diana becomes in these situations. I do hope she hasn’t hidden herself away in the library again.”
“I’ve checked the library, the ladies’ retiring room, and even sent a maid to peek into the garden,” Jane replied, absently adjusting her own mask of midnight blue velvet, adorned by tiny crystal stars. “It’s not like her to wander off without a word, especially at an event of this magnitude.”
The Thorntons’ masquerade ball was indeed the event of the Season, with invitations coveted by even the highest-ranking members of the ton. The ballroom had been transformed into a celestial dreamscape, with silver and gold streamers cascading from the ceiling like metallic rain and hundreds of candles casting a warm glow on the revelers below.
Under different circumstances, Jane might have appreciated the spectacle, but her sister’s absence had cast a shadow over the evening’s glamour.
“Perhaps she’s simply engaged in conversation somewhere quiet,” Lady Drownshire suggested, though her voice lacked conviction. “You know how Diana detests these crowded affairs.”
Jane was about to respond when a ripple of hushed whispers caught her attention. The subtle shift in the atmosphere was almost palpable, like the electric tension before a summer storm. Several guests near the far entrance had abandoned their dancing in favor of urgent, furtive conversations, their heads bent close together as they exchanged what could only be the latest gossip.
“Something’s happened,” Jane murmured, her instincts sharpening. “Excuse me, Mama.”
Before Lady Drownshire could object, Jane was moving through the crowd with practiced grace, navigating between dancers and onlookers alike. The whispers grew louder as she approached.
“… found them alone together…”
“… in Lord Thornton’s study of all places…”
“… her mask concealed her identity, but his was unmistakable…”
Jane’s blood turned to ice in her veins. A scandal. Someone had been caught in a compromising position, and based on the feverish exchange of gossip, it involved a person of considerable standing.
Her pace quickened, her blue silk skirts swishing around her ankles as she followed the invisible trail of scandal toward its source. She emerged from the main ballroom into a corridor where a small crowd had gathered outside a closed door.
Lord Thornton himself stood guard, his normally jovial features set in grim lines as he attempted to disperse the curious onlookers. Behind him, the door opened briefly, allowing Jane a glimpse of a feminine figure with slumped shoulders being escorted by Lady Thornton.
A figure whose pale pink gown and delicate silver mask were instantly, horrifyingly familiar.
Diana.
Jane’s heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach. Time seemed to slow down as her sister stepped out the door, her head bowed in distress, tears glistening on her cheeks beneath her mask.
Lady Thornton’s expression was one of controlled sympathy—the kind reserved for situations where a catastrophe must be managed with the utmost discretion.
“Please return to the ballroom,” Lord Thornton was saying, his voice strained yet authoritative. “The matter is being addressed appropriately.”
But Jane was already moving forward, weaving through the whispering guests until she reached her sister’s side.
“Diana,” she breathed, taking her twin’s trembling hand. “What’s happened? Are you all right?”
Diana’s tearful gaze met Jane’s, terror and confusion evident behind her mask. “Jane,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t understand… We were just talking about plants… I didn’t realize?—”
Lady Thornton cleared her throat delicately. “Perhaps this conversation would be better had somewhere private,” she suggested, casting a meaningful glance toward the still-whispering onlookers. “The blue drawing room is unoccupied at present.”
Jane nodded sharply, wrapping a protective arm around Diana’s waist as they followed their hostess down the corridor.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of another figure emerging from the study—tall, imposing, and unmistakably male, his dark attire a stark contrast to the colorful plumage of the other guests. Though his face was partially concealed by a simple navy blue mask, something about his rigid posture struck a chord of recognition in Jane’s memory.
The blue drawing room did indeed offer a welcome respite from the circus-like atmosphere of the corridor. Lady Thornton closed the door firmly behind them, ensuring their privacy before turning to face the sisters with an expression of carefully measured concern.
“I understand that this is a delicate situation,” she began, her voice soft but steady as she clasped her hands just below her bust. “However, certain proprieties must be observed, even in the most… unexpected circumstances.”
Jane’s protective instincts flared. “Lady Thornton, I’m afraid I don’t yet understand what precisely has occurred. My sister seems distressed, but I cannot imagine she has done anything to warrant such consternation.”
Lady Thornton’s gaze softened slightly. “Of course you would defend her, dear girl. Loyalty is an admirable trait. However, the fact remains that your sister was discovered alone with a gentleman of high standing, in the study of their host—a room that had been deliberately closed to guests for the evening.”
The Duke of Myste.
