Chapter 1 #2
Another of her brothers, Bryght, had fallen into the magic stew with Portia St. Claire so that his brilliant, logical mind had been unable to do anything but work to win her.
Her friend Amanda was besotted with her husband, and miserable whenever he had to leave for a few days on government business.
Elf had never experienced anything close to that kind of madness. Surely, if it lay in her destiny, it would have happened by now.
Unless she lived too tamely to open herself to Cupid’s magic arrow . . . ?
Turning back to the mirror, she pulled off her demure cap and tossed it aside, scattering pins so that her sandy curls bounced around her shoulders.
But then she sighed. She was no man’s secret fantasy.
How unfair that Cyn was prettier than she was!
He had inherited their mother’s remarkable green-gold eyes and thick lashes as well as her russet-gold hair.
Elf’s eyes were a duller version of that color, and her lashes the same sandy brown as her hair.
They both had their father’s firm chin. It looked well on a military officer, but less so on a lady.
Impatiently, she shrugged off these pointless thoughts. Chins and eyes could not be changed, and she wasn’t about to try dyeing her hair. Perhaps face paint . . . ?
“Ah, milady! Vous être prêt?”
Elf started, and turned to her maid. Of course, she was to spend a few days with Amanda. Her sedan chair was doubtless waiting.
“Bien s?r, Chantal.”
As always when they were alone together, maid and mistress spoke French. Chantal was French born, and Elf’s mother had been French, raising her children to be perfectly bilingual.
Elf continued in that language. “Have my things been sent around?”
“Of course, milady. And your chair awaits. But what has happened to your cap, milady?”
Elf knew she was blushing. “Oh, it looked a little crooked.”
Chantal tutted, steering Elf to her dressing table so that hair and lacy confection could be restored to perfect order.
Elf pushed away her troubling thoughts. They were merely a passing cloud brought on by saying good-bye. A few days with Amanda would drive away the blue devils.
The next morning, Elf entered Amanda’s boudoir to find her childhood friend sitting at a small breakfast table, but gazing morosely out of the window.
“Is something the matter?”
Amanda started. “Oh, Elf! Well, it’s a blessing you are here or I would be deserted indeed!”
Amanda Lessington was a handsome brunette, of similar height to Elf but much more rounded. She was blessed with dramatic dark eyes and full lips that Elf had always envied.
Elf sat down opposite her friend. “What’s happened?”
“Stephen’s gone. Something dreadfully important has come up in Bristol. Bristol, I ask you!” With a wave of her hand, Amanda dismissed one of England’s major seaports.
Elf knew Amanda’s problem with Bristol was simply that she hated her husband’s frequent journeys. “It will doubtless only be for a few days.”
“A week. A whole week. And you don’t realize the implications! The wretched man has left us without dependable escort. Unless,” she added with a sharp look, “your brothers can be dragged in to do duty. It would serve Stephen right if I spent the evening on Rothgar’s arm!”
Elf suppressed a grin. “Is that your secret fantasy? I wish I could make it true, dearest, but he’s traveling to Portsmouth with Cyn.”
“Bryght?” asked Amanda hopefully.
Elf shook her head. “Down at Candleford, and pretty well fixed there now Portia’s close to her time.”
“Brand?”
“Gone north on family business. That’s part of the reason I’m here. They weren’t happy at leaving me alone.”
“Alack,” said Amanda with a moody sigh. “So we are both cruelly deserted.”
Elf helped herself to a slice of ham and a brioche. “Not exactly . . .”
Her discontented thoughts had not gone away. They’d kept her from sleep half the night and this new scenario seemed to feed them like dry logs on a fire. As she poured herself some chocolate from the china pot, she contemplated exciting, terrifying notions.
“Not deserted, Amanda,” she said at last. “Without protectors.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Not to my mind.” Elf cut a piece of ham, then savored the spicy taste along with the spicy ideas dancing around in her brain.
“I’ve always been afraid of involving one of my fire-eating protectors in a duel, so I’ve had to behave with complete propriety.
But now, none of them are around. Perhaps I can finally have an adventure. ”
“Adventure?” asked Amanda warily. “What kind of adventure?”
“Oh, something wicked, of course.” Then Elf grinned at her friend’s expression. “Not really. But let’s go to Vauxhall.”
“Vauxhall? That’s hardly a wicked adventure. We’ve both been there a score of times.”
“Without an escort. Tonight. To the Midsummer Night’s masquerade.”
Amanda gaped. “You’re not serious!”
“Many members of society attend such masked events.”
“Many men, you mean.”
Perfectly aware of surrendering to a wild mood, Elf asked, “And why should they have all the fun?”
“I’m not sure it sounds like fun.”
From whim, the notion had become insistent.
Elf felt she would go mad if she didn’t do something, something different.
She leaned forward. “Let’s, Amanda. I promise not to be madly rash.
We’ll wear dominoes. No one will know us.
” She took Amanda’s hand. “I just want to see what it’s like to be someone else for a night. ”
“Who?” Amanda wailed.
“I don’t know. But not Lady Elfled Malloren, sister of the mighty Marquess of Rothgar—Beware who trespass here! Just an ordinary woman . . .”
After a moment, Amanda squeezed her hand. “Elf, I haven’t seen you like this since we were children. I always thought Cyn was the ringleader in all our pranks.”
“Perhaps Cyn and I are very alike.”
“Perhaps you are, indeed.”
“Amanda, I need to do this.”
“So I see . . .” But Amanda frowned in concern. “I am responsible for you in a way.”
“I’m six months older than you!”
“But I’m the married woman.” She eyed her friend, brown eyes serious. “You promise we’ll stay together?”
“Of course. Where’s your adventurous spirit? You were never so timid when we were children.”
“Because we were children. I don’t think it will be fun. I think it will be crowded, sweaty, and noisy.” She studied Elf for a moment, then smiled. “But if you want to have an adventure, my dear, an adventure you will have.”
Ten hours later, Elf raised her silken skirts high to step out of the boat and onto the stone of Vauxhall Stairs. Excitement bubbled in her in a way she’d not experienced since she and Cyn had been wild youngsters together.
Both she and Amanda were dressed en grand domino—hooped gowns hidden by loose silken cloaks, white-powered hair concealed by deep hoods.
Molded white leather masks covered their faces from hairline to lips.
Even if they were unfortunate enough to encounter a close relative, they would not be recognized.
Amanda’s domino was silvery blue, Elf’s a vivid scarlet. In fact, they had switched for the night.
Elf suspected this might be her only chance for wild adventure and she was determined to make the most of it. Chantal—a tyrant supported by everyone Elf knew—insisted strong reds were impossible with pale skin and gingerish hair. Even if Elf purchased red clothing, it always disappeared.
Tonight, however, with her powdered hair and anonymity, Elf had persuaded Amanda to switch dominoes. Then she had insisted Chantal find a certain scarlet-striped dress with coquelicot-red petticoat. Of course Chantal—the wretch—had protested it was stained beyond hope.
“And how,” Elf had demanded, “could it be soiled when it has never been worn?”
Chantal, despite her unadventurous taste, was impeccably honest. She had eventually found the gown and petticoat in a box in the attics of Malloren House.
When commanded, she had even found some red-and-white striped stockings and a certain stomacher of black-and-red satin trimmed with gold lace.
But there had been tears in her eyes as she unwrapped the latter.
“Not with the coquelicot, milady! Please!”
Elf had been resolute, though even easygoing Amanda had blinked at her ensemble and suggested that perhaps the stomacher might be de trop.
Elf, however, had worn it all. She might never have another opportunity to dress just as she wished. She might never have another opportunity for adventure. She intended to enjoy tonight to the very last drop.
Tonight she was not Elfled Malloren, well-behaved lady, but a new creature entirely.
Lisette, she had christened the scarlet lady in the mirror. Lisette Belhardi, which translated roughly to bold-and-beautiful. Mademoiselle Lisette, visiting from Paris, and bolder by far than Elfled Malloren could ever be.
So now Elf felt wonderfully like a newborn person in a mysterious land.
Even Vauxhall Stairs was different, being specially ornamented for Midsummer Night.
Hanging lanterns glinted rainbow reflections off the dark, rippling waters of the Thames.
Over nearby chatter and the impatient calls of the boatmen lined up on the river behind, she could hear the orchestra in the Grove.
“Welcome to Vauxhall, ladies!” cried the grinning young man who assisted Elf and Amanda up the steps and received a penny from each for the favor. With a wink he added, “I’m sure two such lovely darlings’ll soon find gallant escorts on a night such as this.”
Amanda pulled her blue hood farther forward. “Elf,” she whispered, “are you sure this is wise?”
“Ne craignez rien, Aimée,” Elf said, reassuring her friend but also reminding her that they were to speak in French to further avoid recognition.
She tugged Amanda forward, continuing in French, “And anyway, we cannot leave. There are so many boats waiting to land passengers there’s scant chance of one leaving for a while. Come along.”