Chapter Twelve
‘Oh, my. How beautiful,’ Ophelia murmured as William’s carriage rounded the turn and she spied the sea of glowing torches lining the long private drive to Darlington Manor, the Marquess of Penworth’s estate, only a short distance outside of London, where the evening’s masquerade ball was being held.
A queue of carriages adorned with a variety of crests edged along slowly to reach the manor, which stood towering and regal with its grand columned entrance.
The night was lovely, without a cloud in the sky, as if it too wanted to look its best for the evening’s event.
Stars glittered in the darkness and Ophelia sighed aloud. It was perfect.
‘It is glorious,’ Hattie added as if she were thinking just the same as Ophelia was. ‘Although I had not expected such a long line so early in the evening. Did you?’ she asked her husband.
William chuckled. ‘This is the last grand ball of the year, so I am not surprised. People are desperate to be seen before they head off to the country for the start of the winter hibernation. This is everyone’s last reason to drink too much and overeat in their pursuit of celebration.’
He kissed his wife’s cheek. ‘And to look ravishing, as you do tonight, my love,’ he added.
In fact, they all looked magnificent. Hattie had insisted on gifting them each a lovely new gown for the ball at William’s expense, and Ophelia could not have been more grateful.
The beautiful combination of light sky blue silk, muslin and tulle with the sparkle of fine beads she wore made her feel like a true princess.
She had hardly recognised herself in the mirror before they left.
Although she was not in search of her own prince tonight, as her focus had to be on building her business and finding Lord Worthing a match, she hoped the ton might begin to view her with renewed interest or at least a little more respect after this evening.
If nothing else, she would feel like a princess and get some practice mingling amongst London Society.
Even Trudy had loved her gown, which was a periwinkle that suited her darker features and brought out the soft caramel of her eyes.
‘Thank you again for the wonderful gowns, William. You have made all of us look beautiful.’
He shook his head. ‘The gowns were only a small addition to your beauty, my dears, but it was the least I could do. You have both brought Hattie such comfort and joy during her transition to London, and I have enjoyed getting to know you better. I understand why she adores you both. She could not have better friends to support her.’
His sincerity and the twinkle of emotion in his eyes tugged at Ophelia’s heart.
‘Hattie could not have found a kinder husband, and we have loved every minute of our stay in London, haven’t we, Trudy?
’ Ophelia stared at the happy couple and smiled.
While she felt a pang of envy for their love and companionship, she did not feel jealous, for she wanted and desired such happiness for them all.
And she knew down to the core of her bones that they would each have it one day.
‘We have,’ Trudy agreed. ‘I have even almost enjoyed our time with Lord Worthing as your chaperone.’ She snorted. ‘Are you sure he will show? It was risky to allow him to arrive on his own.’
‘It is a risk, but we want this to be his bachelor debut back into Society. Surely, he won’t throw away this opportunity. It is a chance to be seen, but not fully seen with his mask in place, which I hope will boost his confidence.’
‘Try to be gentle with the man,’ William suggested. ‘From what you have said, it sounds like he is trying to overcome demons of the past. We all know how difficult that can be.’
Ophelia nodded. ‘Especially if they are demons of the heart.’ She toyed with the edges of her mask, which rested in the slope of her lap.
The eye holes stared back at her. Her nerves fluttered in her stomach.
She hoped this would help him move forward and loosen his fierce grip on the past, but only time would tell.
While their first session where they’d rehearsed small talk had gone well, tonight was small talk on a much grander scale. Anything could happen.
Their carriage inched up in the queue.
‘What shall we expect?’ Trudy asked. ‘None of us have been to such a ball before.’ There was an interest in her voice Ophelia hadn’t expected. She raised her eyebrows and dared not turn to face her, but met William and Hattie’s surprised gazes across from her instead.
William nodded and cleared his throat. ‘A crush of people, to be sure. Dancing, candlelight, towers of food and drink, and usually rooms with card games or entertainers.’
‘Entertainers?’ Ophelia asked, sitting up straighter. ‘Such as?’
William paused and began counting off a few examples.
His eyes glistened with delight in the dark confines of the carriage.
‘Acrobats, usually out of doors. Fortune tellers, which the ladies often find compelling. Palm readers. Magicians as well. It really depends on what the host and hostess prefer. If I remember correctly, the Marquess and Marchioness lean more into the magicians and palm readers.’
Trudy groaned. ‘Oh, no,’ she murmured.
‘What?’ he asked, alarmed.
Hattie clutched his hand. ‘Ophelia loves all of those and shall take whatever guidance is supplied as truth, which will make Trudy crazed.’ She giggled.
‘It is the scientist within me. You cannot take such nonsense as truth,’ Trudy replied, toying with the curtain on the carriage window.
Ophelia bristled. ‘Nor can you ignore it entirely. There are many predictions that have come true.’
‘And what of the “prince” that palm reader told you about when we were fifteen? That you were supposedly destined to meet. Where is he?’ Trudy challenged.
‘Waiting for me,’ Ophelia replied tartly. ‘You shall see. You will soon be eating your words, Gertrude Annabelle Hastings.’
Hattie covered her mouth to try to smother a laugh as Trudy balked at Ophelia using her full name.
Her friend just good-naturedly shook her head in annoyance. ‘We shall see, Ophelia Marianne Granger, about this prince of yours. I am still concerned your Viscount will not arrive.’
‘Either way, we will have a glorious night, will we not?’ They pulled forward and were near the area where they could disembark.
‘Masks on,’ William said with mischief. ‘Your first masquerade ball is about to begin.’
The carriage slowed to a stop.
Lucas’s heart pounded so loudly he could hardly hear anything else, and his chest tightened at the sight of so many people entering Darlington Manor.
It would be filled tonight if memory served.
Years ago, he and Rebecca had been at this very party dancing the night away and stealing kisses in the dark shadows and crevices of the evening without a care in the world.
It had been their last such evening together.
He never should have agreed to come.
At the very least, he should have told Miss Granger that this might not be the best place for a grand reveal of himself back into Society. The venue would be full of old memories, and most likely those memories would not bring out his best side.
But that afternoon he’d never said a single word.
He just hadn’t been ready to tell her the worst of it and how he still felt about himself for fear of what she would think of such weakness.
His ego hadn’t allowed it. Now he felt like a fool, for his pride would surely be crushed this evening.
There wasn’t any hope for it turning out well. There just wasn’t.
But he was a man of his word. It was one of the only vestiges of self he had left, so he would honour it. He’d said he would be here, so here he was.
Even if it absolutely killed him. Based on how he felt at this moment, it might.
A footman opened the carriage door, and Lucas wondered for the thousandth time if he should stay put, order his driver to take him back home and ignore the entire idea of finding a wife.
Just get out of the damned carriage.
Lucas cursed under his breath, donned his mask and tied the ribbon behind his head with some force to secure it from moving. He stepped out of the carriage, climbed the steps, uttering a curse in his mind with every footfall, and handed his invitation to the butler at the opened double doors.
He stilled at the sight of the line of guests waiting ahead of him to meet their hosts.
Blast. He had forgotten about this part.
Had it truly been so long? Evidently, it had.
Guests filled in behind him. Well, there was no turning back now.
He was here. At least he would not be announced to Society as this was a masquerade ball.
As he waited, he distracted himself and made eye contact with no one.
The groups of men and women before him were far too interested in their own conversations to take notice of him, which was fine.
Soon he was near the Penworths. As the couple in front of him greeted the Marquess and Marchioness over the orchestral music and conversation, Lucas’s heart skipped a beat.
Soon the couple walked away and were swallowed into the sea of colourful gowns swirling about the ballroom floor in time with the music.
Even from his limited view, it was brimming with energy as dapper gentlemen guided their ladies about the glistening, polished hardwood floors.
In short, this was his worst nightmare.
And it hadn’t even begun, but it would soon.
He released a deep breath, stepped up and greeted his hosts.
‘Good evening, Lady Penworth. Lord Penworth,’ he offered with a slight bow of greeting. ‘I am Viscount Lucas Worthing.’
While there wasn’t a pause in the music, the Marquess and his wife stilled and studied him. The heat of their gazes and interest in him was palpable. For not the first time, Lucas felt like the prey of the ton, being sized up and measured, and once more…found lacking.