Masquerade Secrets
By
Janelle Daniels
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Masquerade Secrets
Copyright © 2012 by Janelle Daniels
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
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CHAPTER 1
London, 1835
If boredom could bring tears, Lady Aubrey Langston would be crying buckets by now. She sat in the parlor, sipping tea with other women of the ton as they waited patiently for the men to rejoin them after they finished their after-dinner cigars and brandy.
The meal portion of their evening had gone well, although the conversation had been quite dry. Why she was forced to endure such tedious company was beyond her. It was just the way society worked.
“What are your thoughts on the matter, Lady Aubrey?”
Jumping slightly, Aubrey realized she hadn’t been listening to the conversation.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, trying to seem like she had only missed the woman’s latest comment.
Lady Penbrook smiled patiently, clearly knowing she had caught Aubrey woolgathering. “We were speaking of Regency fashion compared to today’s fuller gowns. I was wondering which you would prefer if there were a choice.”
“Oh.” Aubrey softly set down her cup of tea on the glossy side table, giving the matron her full attention. “While the clean lines and simplicity of the gowns were beautiful during the Regency, I much prefer the gowns of today.”
The rest of the women had quieted to listen to Aubrey’s opinion. “Interesting. Why is that?”
Aubrey smiled knowingly. “I enjoy the full skirts and the more decorative designs now. You can hide any imperfection behind a dress and feel confident that you look your best. You can be anyone, anything. There was much less possibility of that during the Regency.
Laughing, Lady Penbrook nodded her agreement, her full girth bouncing with the movement. “Quite so, my dear.”
As Lady Penbrook turned to converse with another woman, Aubrey took a sip of her tea and sighed. It was the beginning of a new season, and all she could do was hope it would end quickly.
When she had come out into society three seasons ago, she had instantly bonded with Lady Sera Winters, and they had stuck by each other’s side through most of the parties.
If only she were here now.
The doors that adjoined the dining room opened; the men spilled out of the smoke laden room. Lady Penbrook rose to greet the men once again, gesturing for them to be seated on the roomy settees.
Looking up to see the last man rejoin the group, Aubrey was surprised to see a face that had been absent in recent months. Lord Bromley, the Duke of Wathersby, strode into the room with a confidence she had grown accustomed to over the last season.
“Lord Bromley,” Lady Penbrook spoke with surprise. “When you did not join us for dinner I despaired of you finding your way here this evening. I hope all is well.”
Taking Lady Penbrook’s hand, he bowed over it in greeting, every strand of his chestnut hair staying in place. “I apologize for my tardiness. I was waylaid with a matter of business that could not be detained.”
She waved aside his apology. “It’s no matter, we are just grateful that you have joined us. It has been quite lonely without you the last few months. I do hope you plan to stay in town for some time.” Lord Bromley nodded, but didn’t expand upon his plans.
He had set his cap for Aubrey’s best friend, Lady Sera Winters, and with her scandal and subsequent marriage to Lord Devericks, he had retired to one of his estates to escape from the gossip.
This was his first appearance back into society. It was also the first time he had been unattached in almost a year.
“Please, be seated.” Lady Penbrook indicated to the open spot next to Aubrey. “I’m sure Lady Aubrey would enjoy your company.”
Indeed she would. While courting her friend, he had always managed to make sure Aubrey enjoyed herself as well. He often asked her to dance directly after Sera, making sure she always had a partner to enjoy the music with.
Wanting to reassure him that there was no awkwardness because of her friend’s union, she smiled invitingly at him, gesturing to the space next to her on the settee.
His scent hit her first, rushing into her with a force she had difficulty deflecting.
In her opinion, he had always smelled as a man should. The sharp aroma of soap clung to his skin, mingling with his own spicy scent. It was a masculine smell that didn’t cause her nose to wrinkle in disgust. He never reeked of smoke or alcohol as other men so often did. It was comforting, always allowing her to relax in his company. “Good evening, Lady Aubrey. You are looking well.”
“Thank you, my lord. You are also looking well this evening.” His formal attire was crisp, clean, almost as if he had just dressed. His shoulders filled out his coat nicely, not to the point where he looked ready to tear the seams, but enough to hint at the muscles hidden within. She knew of his strength. Enough dancing around the ballroom, his frame strong and secure, had given her all the evidence she needed. She cleared her throat, trying not to think of those muscles, or anything else of his. While she didn’t mind having improper thoughts, thinking of Lord Bromley that way was a bit unnerving. Up until a few months ago, he was all but engaged to her best friend. “I hope your journey was pleasant.”
“Yes, it was. The roads were clear and made the trip a short one.” He glanced over the rest of the group that was clearly involved in another discussion of some sort. “I hope it is not too much of an imposition,” he paused, seeming to reconsider his words before continuing. “I was wondering if you could tell me how Lady Sera is faring in her marriage to Lord Devericks,” he said in a low voice, careful not to let the rest of the room hear his request.
Discreetly glancing at the other guests to make sure they were fully occupied elsewhere, she leaned toward him. “She is doing well, my lord. She is still with Lord Devericks on the continent, and they aren’t expected back for several more weeks. She seems quite happy.”
“Ah.” He smiled ruefully. “Well, I am glad to hear she is content.”
“Yes, she is.” It was a bit awkward speaking of Sera, because she knew everything that had happened between Lord Bromley and her friend. It wasn’t commonly known that Lord Bromley had kidnapped Lady Sera and had tried to take her to Gretna Green to elope, hoping to help Sera out of an unwanted marriage, before Lord Devericks caught up with them. Had he guessed that Sera had told her of it?
She looked at him, searching his expression to see if he suspected that she knew what had transpired. “Did the country agree with you? Everyone was so surprised by your sudden withdrawal from town.”
He smiled roguishly at her, a glimmer of humor in his eye. “It was very… peaceful. I admit though that I was ready to come back.”
Looking away from him, she tried to hide her smile. So, he knew that Sera had told her, and didn’t look contrite at all. “Well, everyone will be so pleased that you have returned.”
“No doubt,” he said dryly, pointedly avoiding eye contact with a young debutant’s mother.
Seeing the interaction between the two, Aubrey couldn’t help but chuckle. “Indeed. I fear there will be many young women setting their cap for you.”
He visibly shuddered at the thought. “I do hope you are wrong.” At her arched eyebrow, he laughed.
“But I doubt you are. It isn’t all that easy being an unmarried duke, you know.”
“Really? I find it hard to believe that you suffer over much from the title.”
“You have no idea. You wouldn’t be half as eager to tease me if you knew the truth of the matter.”
She regarded him skeptically. “I doubt it could be worse than being an unmarried lady.”
“You’d be surprised.” He grinned at her.
“I doubt it. You will always have the choice of whether to extend an offer of marriage or not. You may pursue whomever you wish without fear of your reputation. Women can hardly claim such freedoms.”
“Touché.” He nodded as if awarding her the point, and Aubrey couldn’t help but smile at the small triumph.
Lady Penbrook jumped up in excitement, pulling Aubrey and Lord Bromley out of their friendly banter. “What a fabulous idea!” All conversation in the room stopped to listen to what Lady Penbrook was so animated over.
Turning toward the rest of the room, Lady Penbrook gestured wildly in her excitement. “Lady Templeton has decided to host a masquerade in one month’s time.”
As the room’s noise level rose in excitement, Aubrey glanced over at the older woman who had now promised to host one of the most looked forward to events of the season. Her silvery evening gown glimmered with sequins, matching the silver plume in her greying hair.
“Lord Bromley, would you please come and offer your suggestions for the event?” Lady Penbrook trilled, gesturing for him to come forward.
With a nod to Lady Aubrey, he bravely went forth into the world of planning.
Aubrey watched him leave, willing her eyes to leave his form, but without success. He was an attractive man, but he was too far above her. There wasn’t anything wrong with appreciating his form and then moving on. And indeed she would move on. She’d have to.
The duke would never be for her.
***
Aubrey looked up from her writing desk as Charlotte, her younger sister, burst into her room, her nightdress trailing behind her like a snow flurry.
“Is it true, Aubrey? Is there to be a masquerade?”
Setting her quill aside, Aubrey ignored the correspondence she was catching up on. It was a habit of hers to do it before she turned in for the night instead of during the early hours of the morning like most women. “Yes, Lady Templeton is hosting it in one month.”
Charlotte squealed, racing over to give her sister a hug. “I can’t believe it! A masquerade within the first two months of my debut.”
Aubrey couldn’t help getting wrapped up in her sister’s excitement. There had been so many years of longing and disappointment that she had forgotten what it was like to be young and new to the glittering world of the ton. “I think we’ll have to visit Madame Devereaux’s shop early tomorrow to order our costumes. I have a feeling she will be inundated with customers very shortly.”
Madame Devereaux was a French modiste that had found great success in the ton. Her shop, located on Bond Street, was usually bustling with business.
“Yes, of course! What a brilliant idea.” Charlotte began to pace the length of Aubrey’s bedroom floor, one of her burnt-gold curls falling lose from her plait. “I must decide what I shall be.”
Aubrey skimmed over the beauty her younger sister was, admiring how traits similar to her own had turned out so differently in her younger sister. They shared the exact same shade of honey-colored hair, the same straight, pert nose, and the same full lips. But that is where the similarities ended. Her sister was reed-thin, the desirable petiteness that society had decided was all the rage. Aubrey, however, had a much different body type. She often joked that it was more suited to a mistress, lush and full in the hips and bust.
She wasn’t as tall as her younger sister either. The smallness of her own stature only emphasized her curves, making them seem more extreme.
While her looks weren’t deemed fashionable, she didn’t ever wish to change them. What would be the point? She was who she was and she was happy with herself. There were girls who were much more plain looking than she, and she was lucky that she had been blessed with what she had.
“I think I shall be a butterfly.” Charlotte nodded at her decision, seemingly pleased with her choice. “What will you be?”
“I haven’t any clue.” Aubrey wanted to laugh at her sister’s shocked face. To her, this masquerade was everything. To Aubrey, who had been in society for three seasons, this was just another ball. “I think I’ll leave it up to Madame Devereaux to decide.”
This suggestion was met with a reverent nod. “I think that is a good choice. She will know the perfect costume for you.” With a final nod, her sister smiled. “This is so wonderful. I am glad you are able to go to all the parties with me. It would be lonely without you. How did you ever manage it by yourself?”
“I had Sera,” Aubrey sighed, thinking of her recently married friend. How would she ever do without her? Sera had been her friend and confidant. But that was before her marriage. Now Aubrey was facing society, after three unsuccessful seasons, with her younger sister.
“I’m sure that was such a comfort to you.” Moving over to Aubrey’s desk, Charlotte gave her sister a hug. “She will return soon.”
Patting Charlotte’s hand, Aubrey nodded. What her sister didn’t understand was that even when Sera returned, it would be different. She was a married woman, and Aubrey was not. They would move in completely different circles until Aubrey married. If she ever married.
“Well, I’m off to bed. Let’s leave early so we can occupy Madam Devereaux as long as we wish.” Charlotte grinned before leaving the room.
Her sister hadn’t been kidding about leaving early. A little after her maid had lit a fire in the grate, Charlotte breezed into the room, opening the curtains along the way. “I’ve sent up Bitsy to help you dress, and I’ve already sent for a breakfast tray.”
“What time is it?” Aubrey looked toward the clock. “Goodness, Charlotte. Her shop might not even be open yet.”
“It will open for us.”
Aubrey saw the determined look in her sister’s face and laughed. “The shop will probably open early after the news of the masquerade.” Tossing the bedclothes aside, Aubrey sat up and slipped her feet into her slippers. “We might as well go early too.”
The grin that split her sister’s face made leaving her soft, warm bed worth it. “Excellent. I shall go change and meet you downstairs in an hour.”
Once Bitsy, her maid, arrived, Aubrey was dressed and finishing breakfast in record time. Locating a pair of gloves, Aubrey made her way down the staircase to meet her waiting sister.
“I am glad you are on time. I was worried I would have to come fetch you.”
Securing the last button on her glove, Aubrey laughed. “You really need to calm down, Charlotte. We will get to the shop on time and we will get the dresses that we want. There is no reason to worry over it, dear.”
“I know.” Charlotte let out a cleansing breath. “I am just excited. I am sorry for acting like a crazy debutant.”
“Darling, you are a crazy debutant.”
They both laughed as they made their way out the door and into the carriage.
Bond Street was already bustling with business when they arrived. While members of the ton had still to make an appearance, it was the working class that dominated the market. Waking up in the early hours of the morning gave them time to do the chores they needed to before their employers woke, and that included shopping.
“I think I shall never be sick of coming here,” Charlotte declared, looking out the window at the people running around in a frenzy.
The smell of smoke filled the air in the carriage, along with the unpleasant tang from horse droppings. “I think the stench would be enough to keep anyone away,” Aubrey said dryly.
Charlotte arched a brow at her before returning her attention out of the carriage.
Madam Devereaux’s shop wasn’t flamboyant, but ra
ther subdued in high-class taste. Unlike their American counterparts, the English preferred clean, uncluttered lines.
Exiting the carriage, Charlotte sighed at the display window. “Isn’t that deep plum silk heavenly?”
“Yes.” Aubrey looked at it from a different angle. “It might just be the fabric for your costume. I think the deep purple tones would work well for a butterfly.”
Almost screeching her excitement, Charlotte gripped Aubrey’s hand. “You are absolutely right. Let’s make haste. I want to secure it before someone else sees it.”
Charlotte marched into the modiste’s shop, clearly on a mission.
“Lady Aubrey, Lady Charlotte. Welcome. What brings you into my shop so early?” Madam Devereaux asked with a knowing wink. “A masquerade perhaps?”
The modiste was rather young for someone with such success. She wore a dress of deep rose muslin. The fabric was of the highest quality, attesting to her wealth. Not every dressmaker had the luxury of wearing their best fabrics.
Charlotte took an excited step forward. “Exactly. We’ve come early so we could arrive before any others.”
“Well you certainly have.” Madam Devereaux gestured toward the pedestal. “We shall take your measurements first. If you please, Lady Charlotte.”
After the modiste received a measuring device from her assistant, Charlotte stepped up on the round platform.
The tape measured Charlotte’s waist. “Have you thought of a costume yet?”
“Yes, actually.” Charlotte made sure to stand still while she spoke. “I thought I would dress as a butterfly. I think the plum silk in your window would be perfect.”
Nodding shrewdly, Madam Devereaux continued to take her measurements. “I agree. The color would do wonders for you.” Pausing a moment, the modiste jotted down some numbers, before continuing. “And have you thought of something for yourself, Lady Aubrey?”
“I thought I would leave that up to you. I think you would have a better idea of which costume would suit me best.”
At hearing this, Madam Devereaux turned with a small wink. “I have just the thing. You will have men eating out of the palm of your hand.”
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