First Edition March 2013
To my darling Ben
Chapter One
“I still say this is a complete waste of time.” I pulled my pocket watch out of my tiny, red-beaded evening bag and held it up to show my best friend Esther the late hour. The sound of snowy slush beneath the carriage wheels increased my dismay.
Why run about in such weather when there were important tests to run, experiments to work on, improvements to sketch for my company’s newest line of automatons? None of those things required me to be here, in a fancy dress, pretending to care about such silly trifles as a Christmas Ball.
“I don’t know why I agreed to this mad scheme.” I rubbed my satin gloved hands together and tried to get some warmth between them.
It wasn’t like my family celebrated Christmas anyway. To the swarm that was known as the Mulvaney family, Christmas was simply a quiet day in the lab where we weren’t constantly being harassed by customers.
“You didn’t agree, Aida darling. I practically forced your hand,” Esther said.
Actually, she’d arrived at my house with one of her evening dresses and threatened to tell my father what she believed had caused an explosion at the Exhibition last summer. That wasn’t forcing my hand. It was blackmail, pure and simple.
“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. “That was rather low of you. Besides, if the machine had been properly—”
“Aida, I couldn’t care less about the machine. Or the stupid Exhibition. Or the fact we set fire to a hall. I’m doing this because I care about you. You’re my best friend. Can you at least try to enjoy tonight, for me? Please?”
“Esther—”
“Besides, you need to come back out into the world. You can’t keep moping over the loss of Leopold. You didn’t even love him.”
“That’s not—”
She raised one slim blond eyebrow at me in annoyance, then produced a pink, paste jewel-covered mask from her reticule. With a shrewd look at me, she tied the mask’s pink silk ribbons around her eyes and over her pert, freckled nose. The large white flowers sprouting around the eyes were stunning yet ridiculous. In short, it was the perfect disguise for the pretty, cut-throat barrister currently giving me a gimlet glare.
“Marrying a man because he promises to invest in expanding your father’s shop isn’t love, Aida, that’s a business arrangement. Now hush, you’re coming along tonight and you’ll enjoy it or else I’m breaking into your laboratory and absconding with your very favorite pneumatic pressure gauge. Are we agreed?”
“Fine.”
“Good.” Esther knew that even if I put up a fuss I would generally go along with whatever she requested, especially if she threatened my equipment.
“It wasn’t just because of the shop, though.”
She raised a questioning eyebrow, and I felt my shoulders slump forward. Well, it hadn’t been all about the shop. Leopold and I were friends, and I didn’t think it was right for his mother to marry him off to some girl he barely knew. When he’d asked me to marry him instead I would have been willing to say yes even if he hadn’t offered to invest in my father’s shop. Not that anyone would believe that now.
“It wasn’t.”
She pulled another mask, this one black with red ribbons out of her reticule and held it out to me. “Either way, we’re almost to Lord Capshaw’s townhouse, and you of all people will need to be in disguise. So put your mask on.”
That is another reason why this is madness, I thought as I snatched the black velvet mask out of her hands and hastily tied the red ribbons tightly around my head. The last thing I needed was for my father’s greatest enemy to realize a member of the Mulvaney family had snuck into his Jubilee masked ball without an invitation.
If I were caught here, it wouldn’t just be social suicide, but career suicide as well. The infamous Aida Mulvaney, female Irish engineer, sneaking into the home of the Empire’s leading anti-Irish, misogynistic Luddite? He’d ask Parliament to bring back the pillory just so that they could use it on me. After all, the only reason he tolerated Esther and allowed his wife to receive her and her mother was because he needed her father, the Right and Honorable MP Wilkins, to support his positions within the Commons.
“Besides,” Esther said. “Think of it as a blow to the belly of the sexist beast that is the English nobility. No more will we be shuttled to the side, willing to spend our lives in a drudgery cooking your meals and yes dearing you over the pudding. Now we’ll crash your ball and drink all your wine. So there.”
“If he finds me, there’s a very good chance he’ll have us both arrested. And if he can manage it, I’ll be on a boat back to Ireland, along with every other Irishman in London, before you can make bail.”
“Oh, rubbish,” Esther said. “It will take him until at least Twelfth Night to find enough ships to transport even half the Irish engineers back to the old sod. Besides, it’s a masquerade, so no one will ever know you’re there.”
The carriage slowed and joined the long queue of carriages waiting to eject their passengers into the night. I looked out the tiny window at the snow falling and heard the whinny of a horse from one of the carriages in front of us.
“I still don’t want to go,” I said.
I crossed my arms over my chest like one of my younger brothers and allowed myself a moment to sulk like a spoiled child who hadn’t gotten the Bunsen burner she wanted. Not that it would matter. Esther would still make me attend, but I clung to my last bit of petulance out of principle.
“Well, I don’t care. Three weeks of you moping around while everyone whispers about you behind your back is two weeks too many in my opinion. You think they would have all moved on to some other new scandal by now. The vultures.”
“London gets quiet around the holidays as everyone retires to the country. They have nothing else to distract them besides gossip.”
“I don’t know what’s worse.” Esther flipped her pink fan open and waved it angrily. “Watching him mope around all the holiday entertainments like a child because his mummy took away his pretty toy, or listening to everyone pity you.” She pressed her pretty, bow-shaped mouth into a tight line of disapproval. “Especially since it’s obvious to everyone who saw you together that while he loved you, you only tolerated him for politeness’s sake.”
“I did care about Leopold. I did. I even loved him.”
“Like a child loves a puppy. He was a novelty. That’s not a reason to marry a man.”
“Neither is a political treaty.” I smiled bitterly as I thought about Prince Leopold’s future wife, Princess Helena Frederica Augusta of Waldeck and Pyrmont—a severe, stern girl with a weak chin and an unhealthy love of sweets. He had a difficult time even tolerating her, much less falling in love with her.
“He’s a spineless coward, and he deserves what he’s getting. I hope that one of these days they both choke on their puddings.”
“Esther. He didn’t have a choice. His mother is trying to strengthen her ties with the Continent.”
“And it’s essential that she use Leopold to do it? Let’s be honest, the reason she disapproved of your relationship is quite simply the fact that you’re Irish.”
“It’s…”
“It’s?”
“All right, it’s true that there was no way she was ever going to welcome a Paddy daughter-in-law into the family, but beyond that it’s complicated. I just wish…”
Esther narrowed her eyes at me. “What?”
“I just wish people would stop talking about it. I tried to help Leopold and now that favor is being saddled around my neck like an anvil.”
“What did you expect to happen? This is London. All any of them do is gossip. That’s all most of them do.”
“I just wish that someone else would, I don’t know, run off together or go bankrupt or have a duel in the middle of St. Putnam Square over a woman.” I said.
The carriage finally pulled to a stop. A footman opened our door and reached in to help Esther
out of the carriage. I made sure my mask was fastened tightly and then gathered my skirts up so I could follow her.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Esther said over her shoulder as she exited. “Duels in St. Putnam? That’s for the merchant class. All the best nobles do their killing in Belgravia, obviously.”
Instead of answering, I let the footman help me from the carriage and then followed her up the walk. Her father and the rest of her family exited their own carriage and fell in step behind us.
Esther’s father, the Honorable MP Wilkins, stopped attaching his own, simple black mask to his face and turned to stare at us with his usual befuddled expression. “So Aida, my darling, any other plans for Christmas or will you join us for supper again this year?”
I looked at Esther and swallowed. Apparently she hadn’t told her father that at this particular party she was hoping to keep my real identity a secret.
“Father.” Esther glared at him from out of the heavily stylized eyes on her mask. “What did we talk about before?”
“Oh yes, darling cousin Cora, will you be staying for Christmas dinner tomorrow? Since it’s such a very long way back to…” He grimaced at both of us. “York?”
“I’ve made other arrangements,” I said quietly when we reached the front steps and met the front of the receiving line. “Thank you anyway, sir.”
I dipped into a brief curtsey before Lady Capshaw as I made my way through the receiving line between Esther and her mother, keeping my head down to minimize the risk of exposure. “Our cousin Cora, who’s visiting us from York,” Esther’s mother said quietly, introducing me.
“Lovely,” Lady Capshaw said, completely unruffled by my presence.
“You wouldn’t think that if you knew who I really was, since your husband is coming up with new ways to destroy my family business,” I said under my breath as we made our way out of the line and into the ballroom.
“Of course not, dear.” Esther’s mother nodded and I knew she had no idea what I was talking about. “Why don’t you and Esther go join the dancing? I’m sure several young men will be intrigued by your beautiful costume.”
I glanced at my red velvet dress and shook my head in annoyance. “Beautiful” was one word for this costume, but it wasn’t the reason every rake in London society would make himself available for my dancing pleasure tonight.
The dress Esther had forced on me had a neckline cut so low I was afraid to breathe too heavily lest I expose even more. I was meant to, rather ironically, be disguised as the Queen of Hearts, but if I wasn’t careful I might end up confused with a courtesan instead.
I took a glass of champagne from one of the human servants and made my way farther into the ballroom, separating myself from my best friend in her pink striped shepherdess’s frock. If I had to be here, thumbing my nose at Lord Capshaw and the rest of the English Luddite party, the last thing I needed to do was get drawn into the manic gaiety and attention that seemed to always surround Esther.
The room seethed with people, all of them costumed, while a human band played in one corner. I worked my way to the refreshment table and took a sip of my champagne.
“Bit of a waste, if you ask me,” a dandy dressed as a Vicar said from across the table. I looked up to see him speaking to another man dressed like one of the vampires rumored to hunt in the London sewers—although the man was exceptionally well dressed for one of their supposedly rather shabby ilk.
“Paying for human servants when clockwork ones are so much cheaper and more reliable. If Capshaw would get over his high-handed morals and relent, I’m sure Mulvaney could have been contracted to bring in some of his machines. Then, with the additional income, Capshaw could have arranged for a better buffet. This is a simply deplorable spread.”
“You think he would have used Mulvaney to provide him with servants? With the disgrace the Irishman is facing because of his wench? No one who wants to stay in Her Majesty’s good graces would think of it. Not after old Leo’s little tantrum.”
I clenched my jaw and fought the urge to dump my glass over the vampire’s head. He noticed me across the table and gave me a wide, drunken smile. “Hello there, Miss. And who might you be?”
“The Queen.” I lifted my chin haughtily and tapped the side of my playing card-bedecked mask. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Your Majesty.” The Vicar bowed and gave me an amused smile. “You seem decades younger than the last time I was in your presence.”
“A blessing of the light and an exceptional mask.” I faked a flirtatious smile before turning on my heel and stalking away. Regardless of what the two bastards in the buffet line said, Lord Capshaw laid an excellent table, but I no longer had an appetite.
I was a smart, independent woman, but Her Majesty had been right. I wasn’t nobility, and I didn’t belong with these people. I didn’t want to belong with these people, and I definitely didn’t need to stand there and watch as they gossiped about me and heaped their faux pity down upon what they thought was my absent head.
Setting down my glass with a decisive clink, I straightened my spine and prepared to find Esther so I could take my leave. She was right. There was no reason for me to skulk around, embarrassed by Leopold’s weak-willed nature, and give society something to gossip about. I would rather become a spinster than trapped to a spineless mummy’s boy anyway.
Then again, there was no reason to be miserable in the home of my father’s worst enemy to prove my independence either. I’d be just fine at home curled up with Lady Lovelace’s newest work and insulated from the idiots that made up the English aristocracy.
I spotted Esther across the room, flirting coquettishly with a group of young men, and made my way toward her, dodging merry groups as I went. Halfway around the room, near where the band had made its home, a fat dirigible captain with sparse, moth-eaten muttonchops, who greatly resembled the Earl of Marley, stepped backward and knocked me into a solid wall of black velvet.
“M-my apologies. I didn’t mean to bump you,” I said, righting myself. The tall man, wearing a full hooded cloak, glared down at me with glittering sapphire eyes and a grim smile.
The man bowed, and his low voice rumbled. “Of course.” The portion of his face not covered by a black silk mask was hidden in shadows. “No apologies are needed, Your Majesty. The fault was mine.”
“Really, it was my mistake.” I pulled back when he took my hand in his own larger one and kissed it. “I am terribly sorry. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“I’m afraid I cannot.” He straightened. “Unless I have your promise that none of your minions will seek revenge.”
“My minions?”
“Surely the Queen of Hearts must have a fearsome legion of cherubs armed with bows and led by the mighty Cupid himself to defend her? After all, what member of the royal family would walk about without an entourage?”
“No cherubs.” I shook my head. “And no revenge for my mistake. Now, really, if you could—”
A loud thump on the floor interrupted my apologies and everyone turned to stare at the main doors of the ballroom. The man holding my hand took the opportunity to wrap my arm around his elbow and pull me to his side. Lord Capshaw’s butler stood at the door, looking grave, then stepped aside to allow an Indian Maharaja and a chubby brunette fairy in pink satin to step into the ballroom.
My heart fluttered anxiously in my chest, and my palms were damp with sweat inside my long, formal gloves. If anyone would be stupid enough to ruin my disguise by making a scene, it would be Leopold himself. He was one of my closest friends, but sometimes the man was the most blockheaded ninny in the empire.
With a nod of his turbaned head, Prince Leopold acknowledged the rest of Lord Capshaw’s guests and led his plain-faced fiancée into the ballroom as the music began again. He noticed the man standing next to me, raised his hand, and made his way toward us.
“Dance with me.” I tugged the stranger toward the groups of dancers in the middle of the floor before Leo could make a sce
ne.
“Of course,” he said quietly, his eyes widening at my forwardness as I pulled him rather forcefully toward the middle of the dance floor, putting some much needed space between us and Leopold.
We took our places, and the musicians struck up a lively polka. I glanced over my shoulder when we turned about the room and noticed Leopold at the edge of the dance floor.
His lip quirked upward and he nodded at me briefly, signaling that he’d keep the secret of my identity to himself, before turning and making his way to where Princess Helena of the unpronounceable German provinces stuffed herself with sweet cakes at the refreshment table. I tried not to breathe too noticeable of a sigh of relief.
“Are you acquainted with Prince Leopold?” my dance partner asked, spinning me in a tight circle.
“No,” I said, trying not to look like I was lying too obviously. The last thing I needed was for the man I was dancing with to realize who I was and make my presence known to our host. “We’ve never been formally introduced.”
“Hmmm.” He pressed his lips together when the music ended. He bowed over my hand and kissed my knuckles again briefly. I curtsied in return and tried to pull my hand away before the next waltz began.
The man reached for the tiny white dance card attached to my wrist and nodded, pleased. “It seems your next dance is free, Your Majesty. Would you do me the honor?”
“I don’t think—”
“Excuse me, everyone,” Lord Capshaw said loudly, and the musicians stopped with a sudden squawk of strings.
“Sod it,” the man next to me muttered, and I raised my eyebrows at him, shocked at the vulgarity. He laced his fingers through mine and tugged me toward a side door.
“I have an important announcement to make. A very happy, momentous announcement to make regarding my oldest son and heir, Julian and the beautiful young—”
My captor tugged at my hand again, almost towing me across the dance floor and away from Lord Capshaw. We were swallowed by the indifferent crowd, who’d all focused on our host’s revelation.
A Riveting Affair (Entangled Ever After) Page 10
