Page 7 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
“Summer!?” When Edward choked for the second time, his father was even quicker with the slap to his back.
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“What do you think?” Violet gushed and pushed open the double doors.
To Juliet’s mind, it was as if someone had sprinkled the entire mansion in glitter or some magical dust. With the strong sunlight of the morning gleaming through the windows, every surface shone and glowed. Juliet turned her head back and forth, looking around the entrance hall in pure bemusement.
Atop a myriad of white alabaster plinths, there were marble busts of great philosophers and thinkers, some even politicians. Behind these plinths were great swathes of red cloth, hiding the entrances to other corridors. The floor was made of a rich pink marble, and the great staircase that stood at the far end of the room, four times as wide as most staircases, was lined with a red carpet, the balustrade gilded in gold.
“Only you, Violet,” Juliet said, releasing a breath with a giggle.
“Only me, what?” Her sister turned with an apparent look of innocence, though her hands reached for her hips warily.
“Only you would end up with a house so elaborate as this. You have always been fond of anything ornamental, have you not?” Juliet said with humour and took her sister’s hands from her hips, using them to turn Violet around in a happy circle. “Look at you now.”
She nodded at the vast ivory gown Violet wore and the many jewels that glittered at her throat and hung like teardrops from her ears. “I do not think I have ever seen you so happy. Married life plainly suits you.”
“Oh, it does.” Violet finished her spin on her own and giggled behind a cupped hand. “My husband is very sweet indeed, and he is always buying me things. Though between you and me,” she caught Juliet’s hand and pulled her so close that they bumped shoulders, clearly in the effort not to be overheard by any staff that might be passing, “he gives me other things, too. Things that make me blush and oh …” She released a pleasant shudder.
“Good God, Vi,” Juliet murmured in amazement. “You would think the marriage bed a wondrous thing.”
“Wait until you see what it is like.” Violet winked. “Believe me, it is.”
Juliet bit her lip. Never had she been curious about what sharing her bed with a man would be like until this moment. Seeing Violet practically shuddering with excitement and a blush creeping up her cheeks so that she was the colour of a beetroot betrayed much.
“We must simply get you married next.” Violet took her hand and pulled her through the house towards the staircase.
“Me? I am not in a hurry to be married. Believe me, if it is going to make me blush like that and offer wistful sighs to everyone who passes me by, I’m quite happy without it.”
“That is not what I am like!” Violet protested halfway up the stairs.
“You are,” Juliet murmured. “I’m quite content on my own for now.” Yet, there was a part of Juliet that simply did not want to talk about this. She was the elder sister and, technically, should have been the one to marry first, but life hadn’t worked out that way.
Violet had met her husband, Lord Brandon Boulder, a viscount, and she had fallen madly in love. Within a few months, it was obvious the feeling was mutual as the two scarcely spent a minute apart from one another at any event in the ton.
Juliet had been dragged to every part of London, to the races, sailing regattas, the theatre, Somerset House, even concerts where she thought the violin music sounded more like cats screeching than any true instrument, for Violet and her suitor hadn’t been to these events for what they were, but to see each other. Juliet had been their chaperone.
“Where are you taking me?” Juliet said, trying to resist her sister, who dragged her up the stairs.
“To talk of the masquerade ball,” Violet declared with eagerness. They reached a bedchamber on the top floor, and Juliet giggled when she saw the sight. Just like any other room in this house, it sparkled and was full of ornaments.
The bedframe had been painted a brilliant white, the vanity table glittered with jewels, and there was a rather vast settee where the cushions looked suspiciously mussed. As Violet walked in, she replaced the cushions on the settee, blushing purple once again.
Juliet bit her lip, trying not to laugh when she saw her sister’s actions.
“You really are enjoying your new husband’s company if you cannot even make it to the bed,” Juliet said with a laugh.
“You and that witty tongue of yours.” Violet waved a mad hand in the air. “You know what mother would say of you talking of such things.”
“She thinks them too, even if she does not say them. I know that.” Juliet knew deep down she had got her loose tongue from her mother, for Cecily would frequently smile as she reprimanded Juliet for speaking so openly.
“Now, here is what I wished to show you.” Violet reached for the vanity table and pushed aside the jewels, opening a rich navy velvet box from which she pulled out a glittering ivory mask. “Here. For you to wear at the next ball.”
“For me?” Juliet stepped forward in surprise. “Is this not yours to wear?”
“I do not need it. I shall be wearing something else, and if you intend to wear that beautiful white gown of yours, the one with the sage green hem, thenthisshall be perfect.” She placed the mask onto Juliet’s face before she could object any further. “There, you shall be the belle of the ball.”
“I have no desire to be the belle of any ball.” Juliet scoffed at the idea. “I simply wish to enjoy myself.” She pulled the mask down from her face.
