Timeless Regency Collection: Autumn Masquerade

by Josi S. Kilpack

“Where does this road lead?” Mory asked, interrupting her thoughts that were rather embarrassing to have been so lost within.

  She turned to look in the direction Mory was pointing. “Toward some ruins,” Lila said. “They are a few miles up that road, though the road narrows some, the farther you go in.”

  “A few miles might be too far a distance,” he said. “I took the liberty of asking the cook to have luncheon ready for us at noon.”

  “If time is the determining factor,” Lila said, easing Gordon to the side of the road in case Mr. Luthford took her up on her suggestion. “I do know a shortcut.” The part of her character that craved experiences and intensity was fairly screaming at her to be shown to him—a man who could certainly appreciate such wild bits of character.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Through the meadow there,” she said, pointing to the western field with her chin. “At the tree line there is a path that winds through the wood. That part is a bit perilous if you become inattentive, but it is beautiful. Then we have to go over a rather significant rise, but once we do that the ruins are just before us. Half the distance of the road, I would guess.”

  “And you are not intimidated by perils and rises?” he asked.

  In reply she smiled, leaned forward and slightly right to balance herself, and gave Gordon a snap of the reins. She did not expect such a quick jump forward but was able to retain herself as Gordon broke into a run Lila did not think such a thick horse capable of. She leaned down and wove her fingers through Gordon’s mane. “Don’t lose me, girl,” she said against the wind as the meadow grass flew beneath Gordon’s legs. A flick of Gordon’s ear felt like a promise that if Lila did her part, they would both enjoy this ride very much.

  Lila didn’t dare look behind her for reasons of balance, but she didn’t need to. Soon enough Braystorm’s nose came into peripheral view, and moments later Lila and Mory were side by side, skimming over the meadow as though they were rocks skipping upon the surface of a pond. Lila had only ever ridden thus when she was alone and, while she couldn’t be sure what possessed her to share this part of herself now, she had no regrets. The wind in her face, Gordon’s solid strength beneath her, and an increasingly interesting man at her side seemed to be an analogy of the life and freedom she wanted to hold with the same tightness as the reins in her hands.

  Chapter Ten

  “You look lovely,” Katherine said as she stepped back from her charge.

  Lila turned to face the full-length mirror and lifted her arms as high as the dress would allow, which was not quite to her shoulders. Tiny straps attached the edges of the modified cape to her wrists, causing the cape to spread like wings. The mask of dark green feathers framed her eyes, and her hair was left long and free, cascading over her shoulders in mahogany waves set off by the rich emerald of the gown. The back of her cape was embroidered with peacock plumes—detailed work that had taken Lila weeks to complete, but with which she was quite pleased. She had sewn every stitch thinking Neville would be the man to admire it. That morning she had received a note from Mory, formally requesting the first dance of the night—a dance that had once belonged to Neville. She had responded with equal formality that she would be honored to lead the evening with him. His response—received just a few hours ago—was a single yellow rose that now stood in a vase on her dressing table.

  “Thank you for your help, Katherine,” Lila said, a bit awed by the final result of so much work. “Will you tell my uncle I shall be downstairs shortly?”

  “Certainly, miss,” Katherine said before leaving the room.

  Once alone, Lila turned slowly in front of the mirror, hands outstretched so she might see the complete effect of the costume. She felt beautiful in such a rich color and wondered what Mory would think when he saw her. A shiver washed through her at the anticipation of his reaction, and a smile drew up the sides of her mouth.

  Uncle Peter was indeed waiting in the foyer, his red and black feathered mask that he wore each year held at his side. He would wear it as they entered but eventually find his way to the card room and remove it so that he might better focus on his game. He went to the Marchetts’ ball because everyone in the parish went to the Marchetts’ ball. He was not one to much enjoy social events beyond small dinner parties.

  Lila was gratified by the look on his face as she descended the stairs. He asked her to turn and present the full costume for him to see. “You have outdone yourself, and I could not be more proud to escort such a lovely young woman.”

  “Thank you, Uncle,” she said, feeling conspicuous and yet very pleased with his compliments. He put out his arm, and she took it, allowing him to lead her to the carriage and feeling as though nothing in the world could be more perfect than this.

  Torches lined the staircase and outer wall of the Marchetts’ sprawling estate made of local stone, with turrets on both ends. Only half as many torches had been used than would be lit for a typical ball, so as to keep a mysterious ambiance about the whole affair. There was no announcement when they entered the dimly lit ballroom—only masked foot men who instructed men to go one direction and women to go another. The sexes would mingle on the far side of the room once they navigated the edges. Uncle Peter kissed Lila’s hand before releasing her. Lila made her way through the masked women, stopping every few feet to guess someone’s identity. Some women wore only a ball gown and coordinating mask, while others, like Lila, wore fuller costumes reflective of a theme. It was surprising how many people did not recognize Lila. Once they realized who she was, the words they used were “enchanting” and “fantastic.” Lila’s confidence grew as she made her way to the end of the ballroom.

  “Lila?”

  She turned and smiled as wide as she had all night to see Eloise dressed head to toe in pink. She had chosen to dress as a flamingo, an exotic bird they had only ever seen in picture books. “You look amazing,” Lila said, standing back and taking in the full effect of Eloise’s costume. “I am so pleased with how well your costume came together.”

  “As am I,” Eloise said. “I look forward to this night all year long.”

  “So do I,” Lila said. She looked past Eloise to the mixing of men and women at the far end.

  Eloise laughed. “I shall not detain you any longer. Shall we join our gallant companions?” Eloise moved to Lila’s side and took her arm. Lila put her other hand over Eloise’s and gave it a squeeze, her stomach a fit of butterflies and eager anticipation. They walked together, still exchanging greetings with other guests but not stopping to engage conversation. Instead, their intent was upon the gathering crowd at the far end of the room, where men and women were now weaving in and out of one another, guessing identities, sharing whispered conversations behind fans, and enjoying the intimacy of covered faces and flickering candlelight.

  Lila and Eloise were still several steps away from the crowd when the orchestra paused and a scale was played on the pianoforte to indicate the first dance would soon begin. Lila had not realized she’d spent so much time greeting the women and scanned the group of people before her with greater detail. When she saw the man dressed all in black, but holding another single yellow rose in his hands and staring straight at her, she caught her breath. Mory. He was somehow standing apart in the crowd, and she was as struck by his presentation as she was by the fact that he knew it was her. She had just interacted with any number of women she had known for years who had not recognized her, but somehow Mory had. He’d seen through the costume and seen her inside it. The sense of connection and belonging made her dizzy.

  “Is that him?” Eloise whispered.

  Lila could only nod, her eyes locked on to Mory’s and her heart thrilling. Without moving, the distance between them seemed to become smaller and narrower. For a moment Lila felt as though it was only the two of them in the ballroom, alone with this tether drawing them closer in a way she had never felt before. The shadows created by the low light became sharper, and the whispered conversations became part o
f the music. She took a step forward but was brought up short when someone stepped into her line of sight, blocking Mory and breaking the spell. She blinked and tried to look around this interloper, but he did not continue upon whatever course had created the interference. Eloise’s hand tightened on Lila’s arm. Lila looked at Eloise, who stared at the man before them, her eyes wide behind her mask. Lila then looked into the man’s face, as well.

  “Neville?” Eloise said, vocalizing the recognition that had fallen like a stone into Lila’s mind. Eloise took a step forward. “Is it really you?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Neville!

  Handsome Neville who Lila had pinned all her hopes on stood before her. He was dressed in blue and grey, with a simple fabric mask tied over his eyes. His hair had darkened to an amber color that fairly glowed beneath the light of the candles. If anything, he was more handsome now than he’d been when he left.

  “Dance with me, Lila,” he said in that voice so familiar, so known, so missed for so long. Couples were taking the floor and before Lila uttered a single word, Neville was leading her to join the dance. They took their places, and her tongue was finally loosed.

  “You’ve returned,” she said softly. “I can’t believe you’ve returned... here... tonight.”

  “Are you surprised?” he asked with his merry grin. “I promised you I would be home in time to have the first dance at the Autumn Masquerade and, if nothing else, I am a man of my word.”

  “But you said you were not coming,” she said. “I did not expect you.”

  “Precisely,” he said with a nod. “That is why my arrival is such a fine surprise. I didn’t even tell Father for fear he would give me up.”

  Mory!

  Lila turned her head and scanned the crowd until her eyes locked on Mory’s. He was standing on the edge of the floor, watching her with his expression hidden behind his mask, and Eloise not far away, certainly trying to determine what she could do to help. The yellow rose that had been a beacon meant to lead her to Mory was now at his side, the bloom facing the floor and reminding her of a glass tipped over and relieved of its contents. Her heart, already racing, now seemed to spin within her chest.

  Mory watched her. Waiting. Wondering.

  “I am promised to another for this dance, Neville,” she said, turning back to look at him.

  His smile dropped immediately. “You have only just arrived,” he said. “How could you be promised to another?”

  “I did not know you were coming. You said you would not be here.”

  “You said you were waiting for me,” Neville said. “I believe the words you used were ‘on bated breath’.”

  She did not know what to do. She had said those words, in the last letter she’d sent to him when he was in America—sent before she’d met Mory. But Neville had withdrawn his promise, and she had made a new one. To leave the floor was ill-mannered, but Mory was the one to whom she had given her word. Or had she given it to Neville when he had said he would arrive back in time to take her to this ball?

  But Mory.

  The rose.

  The magic of the moment when their eyes had met.

  She took a step out of formation, but Neville’s hand shot out and took her arm. “You will not leave me standing here,” he said softly, with embarrassment rather than anger.

  “I promised another,” Lila said, pleading. Torn. Horrified.

  Neville did not remove his hand, but the dance would be starting at any moment. “This is not how I imagined our reunion.”

  The dancers on either side of them began the first steps. It was too late to leave.

  Years of etiquette training set Lila’s feet to move as well, but her heart was thumping, and as the dance commenced she continued to look for Mory, wishing she did not have her mask so that he might see how sorry she was things had happened as they had. Stay, she said in her mind and heart in hopes he might somehow hear it. Wait. Let me explain. For some time Mory remained in place, and then Lila could not find him there. Eloise was where she’d been standing all along, but again the mask prevented Lila from sending her a questioning look. Had Mory left? Had she angered or embarrassed him so drastically that he could not bear to stay?

  She missed a step and was in the process of regaining her place when suddenly Neville’s hand was at her elbow, and he was propelling her from the floor. A slight hush fell over the crowd as he pushed her through them, and Lila’s neck caught fire with an embarrassment and fear she had never felt in Neville’s presence before.

  “Neville,” she whispered desperately.

  “You have spent the entire dance looking for someone else,” he whispered in her ear. “I need to know the whole of it before I embarrass myself further. Do you not realize the effort I made to be here tonight?”

  Lila felt someone behind her and looked over her shoulder to make eye contact with Eloise—dear Eloise—just before Neville pulled Lila through one of the open side doors that led to the covered terrace. There was a bonfire in the middle of the wide porch, and several people stood near it to remain warm in the chilly evening. Neville led her away from the people and away from the warmth. Her skin prickled in the cool air, and the heaviness of confrontation fell upon her when they came to a darkened corner, tangled in shadow. As soon as Neville stopped, Lila wrenched her arm from his grasp and pulled away. Eloise hurried to her side, and Lila gripped her hands as they stood shoulder to shoulder, facing Neville with their backs against the balustrade.

  Lila saw Neville’s hurt and thought of what pains he must have gone through to surprise her tonight and how horribly wrong it had gone. The regret was cutting. This was Neville, the cousin that she loved in each way someone could love another. Only she no longer understood exactly how she loved him now. Were the feelings she had always felt for him only that of a dearest cousin? Had the fact that she had known no other kind of love led her to believe her feelings were more than they had truly been? Until meeting Mory, she’d had nothing to compare her feelings with. Now she did. And yet she found herself confused and unsure of what she felt for whom. She had known Neville most of her life. She had known Mory for a handful of days. She felt love and tenderness and affection for Neville. She felt heat and intrigue and depth for Mory. Which was love? Which was more powerful than the other?

  “What has happened during my absence?” Neville asked. “What have you done?”

  The accusation of his words shocked her. Years of shame regarding her mother’s own recklessness had left Lila with the fear that she was her mother’s daughter in ways she did not want to consider. This fear was why Lila was trying to improve her behavior, why she saw marriage to Neville as a kind of proof she had outlived her mother’s reputation. To hear him question her ability to rise above was staggering.

  “She has done nothing untoward, Neville,” Eloise said when Lila began to curl into herself. “Surely you are not accusing her of such.”

  Neville’s face softened. “I was not trying to accuse,” he said. “Only, I don’t understand what’s happened. A month ago I received a letter rich with excitement for my return, and now you are looking for another man in the crowd rather than glad to see me. I am taken off my guard, to be sure.”

  “I am glad to see you, Neville,” Lila said, finding strength in Eloise. “But I promised another man the first dance. Had I known you were returning this evening, it would have been very different.”

  “Would you have danced the first dance with me?” Neville asked.

  “Of course,” Lila said, attempting to defend her character. “I had pinned all my hopes upon it.”

  “She has been so fiercely devoted to you, Neville,” Eloise said. Blessed Eloise.

  “Has been,” Neville repeated. He looked sharply at Lila. “Are you in love with someone else?”

  “I...” Lila did not know what to say. Was she in love with Mortimer? Could she take ownership of such a feeling when not long ago she was so certain she was in love with Neville? “I do love y
ou, Neville. You are as dear to me as anyone.” She paused, wishing she could explain beyond her own ability to articulate. “But I have met another and...” It was coming out all wrong. Where were the right words she needed to speak her heart and her mind and the truth and the feeling?

  “And now you love us both?” Neville supplied.

  “No,” she said, thinking of her mother again. The shame of her loving too many, too much. Lila let go of Eloise’s hand in order to reach up and untie the ribbon that kept her mask in place. He needed to see her face. He needed to know—without barriers—that she meant what she said. A moment later the green feathered mask hung from her fingers at her side. “What I mean is, I tried very hard not to even like him. He is nothing of the sort of man I have ever wanted.”

  “It is true,” Eloise said. “When we learned of Mr. Luthford’s coming, we came up with a plan to thwart his interest from the start—all manner of manipulations meant to keep him from falling in love with her. Only, it didn’t work.”

  “Why is he the sort of man you did not want?”

  “He was not you,” Eloise said in Lila’s place. “And he is old.”

  Lila nodded, but her stomach was as hot as coals because Mory’s age no longer vexed her. By agreeing with Eloise in hopes of easing Neville’s feelings, she was betraying Mory. But she had to explain herself. “I was not on the hunt, Neville. I was not looking to soothe myself with some flirtation.” Not as my mother did. “I did not want his attention.” But I want it now, she thought. Where had Mory gone?

  Neville stared at her and said nothing.

  She looked back at him, and tears came to her eyes. Was it because she’d hurt Neville or because she’d said unkind things about Mory?

  “She has missed you every day you have been gone, Neville,” Eloise said.

  “Until the last few, it seems.” His expression lost its tightness and showed only his unfulfilled expectation of what could have been a lovely surprise.