Chapter 1 #2
The doors ahead were open and offered the view of a large path and the trees that lined it on either side. The sound of music grew louder as they approached, and Silas’s own heartbeat seemed to strengthen and quicken with each step.
“Are you meeting your aunt?” Frederick asked Fairchild.
Fairchild glanced at his pocket watch. “In an hour or so.”
“A bit of time for your own entertainment, then,” Drake said. “Where shall we go first?”
Fairchild thought for a moment, his eyes searching the scene before them. “The Rotunda.”
Drake nodded decisively, and the four of them passed through the doors and outside again. The wide path twinkled with the light of lamps, while a large building with a conical roof loomed on their left behind a long colonnade.
Silas’s shoulders bumped against those of other attendees as they fought their way to the Rotunda, a powerful feeling of anonymity coursing through him.
“Not a foot of space to oneself,” Fairchild lamented.
Silas could not keep from smiling, though.
Everywhere he looked there was gaiety and laughter, all behind masked faces in flowing dominos of varying colors.
A few of the women who passed smiled coyly at him, and his heart stuttered.
It had been some time since he had received attention from a woman.
It was not a distraction he could afford while in London, however. He had one goal and one goal only: pin the murder he was accused of on the man responsible.
It would be a tall order in any situation, but the power and position that particular man held made it into more of a towering order.
Lord Drayton was only a baron, but he may as well have been a Royal Duke.
Everyone either revered him or feared him, which would make Silas’s task all the more difficult.
The Rotunda was a magnificent structure, vast and circular within.
A host of ornate columns held up the high roof, while the walls were covered in vibrant murals lit by lamps and lanterns.
In the center, a raised stage housed the orchestra, whose music filled the enormous space and filtered out through the open door.
They listened for a few minutes, but Silas’s gaze flitted away from the orchestra again and again, taken up with the myriad people to observe.
Did they realize how fortunate they were to take up a mask for entertainment and dispose of it at their leisure?
To live life without fear of recognition or false accusations following them like a shadow?
When the others had had enough of the music, the four of them made their way outside again, and Drake led them to the Turkish tent.
Outside of it, three acrobats were performing.
Dozens of people had gathered around, but most seemed more intent on talking and laughing than in watching the feats of movement taking place before them.
They passed by the acrobatics and into the tent, warm air enveloping them.
Silas blinked at the astounding burst of color and the smell of burning incense, which left trails of smoke creeping into the air.
It created a haze, diluting the vibrance of the colorful drapes, the elaborately patterned rugs, and the low tables, which were adorned with refreshments and hanging lanterns.
Dancers occupied the space in the middle, tapping on tambourines as they moved in ways Silas had never before witnessed.
Frederick, Drake, and Fairchild laughed and tended to the drinks in their hands, while Silas’s own glass sat in his hand, untouched. Perhaps it was the incense that was making his head begin to ache.
Fairchild took a pocket watch from inside his domino and cursed. “I must meet my aunt at the entrance.”
Silas forced himself to take a sip from his drink as Fairchild wound his way through the crowd and out of the tent.
Frederick grasped his arm suddenly, jolting the drink.
“What?” Silas brushed off the drips that had landed upon his coat.
Frederick squinted, shifting his head as though trying to obtain a clearer view of something. “I believe that is Bence.”
Silas’s muscles went taut, and his alert eyes searched the direction in which his brother was looking.
It was full of haze, which was thickest near the tent’s roof.
Sir Walter Bence was the business partner of Lord Drayton, but according to gossip, the two were at loggerheads now.
If anyone might have information Silas could use against Drayton—or might know where to find it—it would be Bence.
“In the gold domino,” Frederick said. “I can’t be certain, but I could swear…”
Spotting a flash of gold, Silas wrested his arm from his brother’s grasp and started to wind his way through the crowds.
Frederick’s hand snatched at his arm again. “What are you doing?” he hissed.
Silas forged ahead. “I need to speak with him.”
“And say what?”
They reached the exit through which the golden domino had left, and Silas searched the area for it.
He swore under his breath. There were simply too many people and no gold dominos in sight.
“You think Vauxhall the proper place for that conversation?” Frederick asked.
Silas did not respond. His brother was undoubtedly right, but when would the proper circumstances present themselves? “I have been waiting nearly two years for an opportunity, Freddie.”
“Which is precisely why you must take care not to bungle it. Yes, Bence might be at odds with Drayton, but that does not mean he will take kindly to a stranger accosting him and casting aspersions on the character of an old friend.”
“I am not a fool, Freddie. I did not intend to accost him. I merely wished to cultivate the acquaintance. But it makes no difference. He is gone now.” Resigned, Silas turned back to the tent, and they returned inside.
It felt even more stifling somehow.
“Ah,” Frederick said, craning his neck. “Is that Mr. Parker? In the scarlet domino over there?”
Silas gave no response, for he was unlikely to recognize anyone here, even without the masks, and he was taken up with frustration at losing the chance to speak with Bence. He was the one man who might know that Drayton was responsible for the murder with which Silas had been charged.
“I am certain it is Parker,” Frederick said. “Stay here. I won’t be but a moment.” And with that, he was gone.
Silas turned toward Drake, but he was obtaining a drink for a young woman in a blue domino. Based on the smiles both of them wore, he was unlikely to return from the encounter anytime soon.
One of the dancers drew near Silas, looking at him fixedly, a provocative smile on her face as she slapped her hand against a tambourine.
She came closer, her hips swaying with each beat of the drums, the coins on her costume jingling.
Her arm brushed his as she danced around him in a circle, her kohl-lined eyes finally reappearing before him again, nearer than ever as the scent of jasmine enveloped him.
He kept still, unable to move, unable to blink until, finally, she spun away with a musical laugh, never losing the beat of her tambourine.
His stomach tight with anxiety and discomfort, Silas forced himself to breathe, but the result was a fit of coughing. His lungs had grown sensitive since a bout of consumption in France, and a room full of incense was simply too much.
Covering his coughs with his free arm, he set down his drink and hurried toward the exit.
His coughing subsided slowly but surely once he had emerged into the fresh air.
A number of people looked at him with a mixture of concern and wariness.
It was even more crowded than when they had arrived at the tent, and despite the fresh air surrounding him, Silas felt a sense of oppression.
He shouldered his way through the hordes, determined to find a place less crowded. He had so anticipated being encompassed by people and conversation, but perhaps he had become more accustomed to solitude than he had thought.
He spotted Fairchild walking down the main path from the entrance.
Beside him was a middle-aged woman in a violet domino whom Silas took to be his aunt.
On the other side of her was a young woman in a green domino, while Fairchild was flanked by one in a vibrant indigo domino.
It was her mask, however, that drew Silas’s eye, for it was large, colorful, and shaped like a butterfly.
It gleamed with each slight movement of her head.
He tore his gaze away and continued in the opposite direction, the crowds thinning as he went.
He turned abruptly onto one of the paths that led into the trees, for there wasn’t a soul in sight.
He would take a few moments’ respite there, clear his head, then return to find Frederick and the others, ready for more merriment.