Page 35 of A Flaming Lady's Secret Valentine
“But I work for your father,” Raphael murmured. He remembered Cecilia. “I would have to leave behind…”
“Whatwould you have to leave behind?” Edward asked, leaning forward. He arched back when Raphael brushed the question off. “My father can be convinced to hand you over to me. The dukedom will be mine in time regardless. I am not suggesting that you need to take me up on the offer now, but do this for me, attend this masquerade, and I will open the door for you.”
Leaning back against the dresser, Raphael fell into deep contemplation. He had poured blood, sweat and tears into his career in England, but what life could Norfolk offer him by comparison to Italy? To France? He could help his mother return to her home with a life like that.
“No strings attached?” he asked. “His Grace will never know?”
“I will make sure he is deep in his cups by the time you arrive.”
“You know I am not one for dancing. If you expect me to prance around the floor—”
“There will be none of that, I am sure. A simple show of my face—well, of your face hidden behind my mask—and then you can leave.Mother has seen my mask, but she will be averse to speaking with you so long as you mingle. Believe me, my parents will not attempt to come between me and potential matches. I will add another name to the list for you to borrow, should you need it,” Edward replied.
“You only have to stay long enough to satisfy them. Do I take it we have struck a deal?”
Raphael nodded.
Edward hopped from the bed and clapped. “Capital! I will run down your attire an hour before the ball.” He strolled to the door and curled his hand around the knob. “One more thing, Travers. I need you to keep an eye on Cecilia while you are there.”
The room iced over for mention of Cecilia. “Why?”
“I suspect she is up to no good. Who can blame her, after years of acting the perfect daughter? Watch her. Dance with her.” He shot Raphael a smile and opened the door. “And for heaven’s sake, do not let Radcliff have her.”
Chapter 12
The ballroom at Lantham House had been transformed, and Cecilia could hardly believe her eyes. The hardwood floors had been waxed to perfection. The maids were expertly drawing swirling patterns in chalk, while the footman saw to trimming the last of the candles on the chandeliers.
The curtains had been dusted, hanging heavily over the floor-to-ceiling windows, vermillion in colour to match the filigree-patterned wallpaper. White and red roses served as centrepieces for the few refreshment tables that had been set up. Seats lined the walls, waiting to welcome tired or anxious dancers.
Her mother had outdone herself this year, and Cecilia beamed with pride. The role of a woman was too often understated. The duchess worked the subtle domestic arts, and she was a master of her craft.
One look at the ballroom and Cecilia was ready to believe in romance.
Day turned to night, and the hall soon swelled with guests. They were a hundred-and-fifty in number, if not more, their faces hidden behind bold ornate masks. While the bulk of the horde had congregated in the ballroom, Cecilia could feel other guests scattering around the house, bleeding through the cracks.
She spared a final glance at the stairs before she fluffed the feathers around her neckline and entered the masquerade with Daphne and Anthony. Her friend was dressed in a white and red gown, fashioned after the queen of hearts card. Anthony was dressed in a sober black velvet redingote and matching mask.
Cecilia had been convinced by her mother’s modiste to dress in a gown of shimmering champagne gold, decorated with green and blue beading, sheer sleeves, and a pearl-encrusted feathered mask.
She felt ridiculous, and beautiful, and grateful for her anonymity. Of course, the family had convened in their attires earlier, so she was not quite as anonymous as she would have liked to be.
Lord Radcliff fell into step with her almost immediately, lavishing her with compliments. “You present yourself as a celestial body in this night’s sky and eclipse all who have come before you, all who will come after, transcending time in your,” he hesitated, clearly looking for the right word, “beauteous beauty!”
Cecilia was tempted to ask whether he had written the compliment down beforehand, but she merely smiled. “You look nice,” she replied.
Radcliff looked himself over. He was dressed in a dove gray suit and beaded white mask. The cuffs of his jacket had been trimmed with feathers.“I hoped you would like it. Your father said your favourite animal was the owl.” He gave a timid flap of his arms. “Coo…”
“Her favourite animal is a fox, actually,” Daphne corrected beside them. She glanced across the ballroom and groaned. “Oh, heavens above!”
“What have you seen?” Cecilia asked.
“Lady Frances Cross!” Daphne pointed straight at the young woman. “Dressed like the Queen of Hearts! Her mother is friends with my mother. She must have revealed my gown to her!”
“You have no idea that she is Lady Frances. She is wearing a mask.”
“There is no mistaking those gangly arms, that flapping trout mouth. Do you suppose it is too late to go upstairs and change?”
Without a word, Anthony sighed, dropped their arms, and walked away.
