Chapter 26
Bronwyn talked Ceridwen into wearing the blue dress embroidered with birds she’d worn to celebrate the first snow. Her sister wore one of her new ones as well—a confection of forest green that accented her eyes and dark hair, reminiscent of their father’s coloring in his younger days.
“Is someone finally trying to attract a husband?” Jaina teased as she came in to help with their hair.
Bronwyn pursed her lips and balled her fists on her hips. She’d never once trailed after a man and had little interest in marriage. Unless, of course, she could find some magical gentleman that adored her painting and didn’t mind the occasional sharpness of her tongue. She’d decided years ago such a man didn’t exist, though. Two weeks in this city had ruled out just about all the men of marriageable age and confirmed her conclusion.
“I can look pretty just for myself, thank you,” Bronwyn replied.
“You’ll be the most stunning woman at the ball,” Ceridwen said.
She rolled her eyes. “A better topic,” her sister began, “is how shall we do your hair?”
“Something that will work with the mask.” Ceridwen lifted a bird mask from the dressing table. It was mostly blue with accents of black, gold, and silver paint, a perfect complement to her dress. Everyone wore masks for the winter ball. Hers was small as masks went, just wide enough to halo her eyes from one edge of the face to the other while leaving her nose, mouth, and hair uncovered, but she preferred that to being weighed down by some monstrosity.
The tradition sprang from many years ago when the locals wore them to ward off the winter sprites said to freeze animals and humans alike within their beds at night. How a fanciful bird could ward off a sprite, Ceridwen had no idea, but the legend brought a playful air to the event that she appreciated all the same.
Bronwyn’s mask resembled a cat, painted in gold and white with hints of orange and brown. No one knew what Adair had chosen, but they’d find out soon enough.
Jaina and Bronwyn wove Ceridwen’s long blond hair into braids and pinned them upon her head like a crown—or a bird’s nest. Fitting, given her outfit.
Once they were dressed and primped, Jaina shooed the young women out of the room. “I’m sure your brother is already waiting.”
She wouldn’t be going with them. Neither would Gerard nor Father. None of them enjoyed such raucous events, despite Father’s penchant for gossip, and with an older brother to escort his sisters there and back, it would not be misperceived for them to attend without their father’s presence.
Adair waited in the front room downstairs. With his crisp shirt, fitted tailcoat embroidered with crimson, and tailored pants, he looked a man above his station. The fox mask pushed up high on his forehead mussed his dark hair at the front where it fell free from the tie binding the longer ends at the back of his head.
Undoubtedly, their father had given him some of the coin Ceridwen earned playing for Drystan. Adair couldn’t afford to waste his money on such frivolous things, not when saving for a wife and a home of his own. He wasn’t that much of a fool, even if he often acted before he thought. Though, with Lydia the object of his affection, perhaps he had sprung for the new clothes himself, if for no other reason than to impress his would-be future in-laws.
He gave a shallow bow. “My lovely little sisters.”
“You make us sound like children,” Bronwyn retorted.
“No one could mistake either of you for a child, especially not with those dresses.” Adair shifted his attention to Ceridwen. “Are we expecting any special guests at tonight’s event?”
The bitterness he managed to inflect into his tone shocked her. Adair had no reason to dislike Drystan other than their one ill-fated encounter and Ceridwen’s temporary residence with him. A fact the family had kept secret lest ugly rumors spread concerning her reputation, and by proxy, the family’s. To the rest of the city, she’d simply been unwell and staying indoors for her health. Ceridwen had told her brother nothing of Drystan’s monster. With his penchant for saying too much, especially after a drink or two, he’d never be able to keep it a secret.
“No, I should think not,” Ceridwen replied with confidence. A society party was the very last type of place she’d expect to see the reclusive Lord Winterbourne.
A steady stream of finely dressed and masked citizens wound their way through the main doors of the public hall. Oil lamp sconces bracketed the doors and had been set on poles leading up to the entrance from where coaches deposited their occupants. Full night had fallen on the world, leaving the lamps, the glow emanating from the windows of the hall, and the dim shine of the moon overhead the only sources of light.
Adair craned his neck out the window of their carriage, one he’d hired specifically to improve his image for this evening. Ceridwen had little doubt whom he searched for. Lydia would likely arrive slightly late, always one to make an entrance and to be sure people saw her do it.
A young woman with brilliant red hair stepped from the carriage two in front of theirs. Georgina took the arm of a well-dressed young man Ceridwen couldn’t name and let herself be led toward the hall. When their turn came, Adair exited the coach first and helped each of his sisters out in turn. They left the furs covering their legs in the coach for their return.
“Well, dear sisters, are you ready for the ball?” He pasted on a blinding smile and held out an arm to each of them.
“Not as excited as you,” Bronwyn teased.
Ceridwen pulled in a deep breath that iced her lungs, but somehow steadied her all the same, before taking his offered arm.
Why, oh why, did I agree to come? Ceridwen asked herself. For Bronwyn. For Adair. In a twisted way, it was for her too. If she put all her focus into appearing happy and enjoying the evening, she couldn’t think about Drystan.
“Gentlemen.” Adair nodded to the two young men attending the doors, dressed in military attire. No doubt friends of his, or at least acquaintances. Adair made it a point to know as many people as possible and make friends wherever he could—the opposite of his sisters.
A wave of sound crashed over them as the doors were pulled open and they stepped inside. Ceridwen bit her lip, her gaze darting around. Though they were not late, the main room already housed a jumble of people laughing, drinking, and beginning a circular dance within the center of the open floor.
“I’ll find you later,” Adair assured them, his brotherly duties fulfilled.
“Good luck with a certain lady,” Ceridwen said with a wink despite the burning sensation building behind her ribs.
He only smirked and headed off in pursuit of said lady, or drink, though likely both.
Bronwyn and Ceridwen each snagged a glass of punch, the only thing likely to loosen their nerves, or at least Ceridwen’s. The press of bodies, mingling pungent scents of perfume, and rancorous conversation begging to be heard over the music already being played by the small band made her stomach churn.
“Drink that and find someone to dance with,” Bronwyn remarked, pointing to her sister’s saucer of punch.
The warm apple and spice mixture had been spiked with something, though Ceridwen couldn’t begin to deduce what. At least it tasted better than the ale many of the men gulped from larger tankards.
“You first.” She raised her brows at her sister.
Bronwyn smirked and took a long sip.
“Oh, Ceridwen!” Lydia exclaimed, pushing through two nearby men in matching hound masks to join their spot near the back wall. Georgina was two steps behind her, having lost her escort somewhere in the crowd.
Lydia clasped Ceridwen’s free hand in hers and tugged her close, almost spilling the punch. The frilly white lace of Lydia’s gloves matched the pure white and delicate lace of her gown, along with the white swan mask adorning her face, accented by her blond hair done up in curls. She looked like a fanciful bride in a fairy tale, dwarfing the rest of the crowd with her pure radiance. In contrast, Georgina had played up the red of her hair in the russet of her gown with a brown ermine mask.
“We were so worried when Bronwyn mentioned you were ill,” Lydia continued, still clutching her hand.
“It was most troubling,” Georgina agreed, though Ceridwen sensed her sympathies were mostly for show. She didn’t look the least bit troubled or excited to see her. If anything, she already looked bored.
Typical.
”But look at you!” Lydia beamed, ignoring her companion. ”Healthy as ever by the look of it.”
“I am much better now.” The lie came easily. She’d prepared for this, after all. “Thank you.”
“I tried to come and visit once, but your father suggested it best to leave you in peace.” Lydia pouted and finally released her hand.
Bronwyn faintly nodded, confirming her words. “For which we are very grateful,” she added. “It cheered Ceridwen’s spirit to know she had a friend who worried for her.”
”Oh, I”m so glad. And your dress!” She touched her lips with one hand, eyes sparkling as she took in one sister then the other. ”Both of you. My, they”re absolutely stunning.”
”And new?” Georgina raised a careful brow. ”Someone”s fortune”s have improved, I”ll say.”
The slight insult behind the comment was impossible to miss, or Georgina”s circumspect look. Ceridwen”s smile settled into something forced and sharp around the edges. Bronwyn frowned, and only Ceridwen”s quick move to grasp her sister”s hand and squeeze kept her from responding with something unfortunate. ”We”ve been lucky of late on multiple fronts, that”s true,” Ceridwen replied.
”And I”m so glad for it.” Unlike Georgina, Lydia”s reply rang with sincerity and smoothed out some of the tension among their little group.
Lydia continued to ramble on about the recent gossip as Ceridwen drained her saucer and handed it off to a passing boy picking up empty glasses. A pleasant warmth settled in her chest as she nodded along and made appreciative comments. Bronwyn had already told her the more interesting pieces of news, but Ceridwen suspected that Lydia liked to share gossip just as much as hear it, so she let her continue. Besides, her company gave Ceridwen an excuse not to seek out others with whom she’d be less comfortable.
Commotion picked up behind them. Conversations halted abruptly to start up again with gasps and questions. Every muscle in her body went rigid.
“Who are they?” Georgina blurted right in the middle of Lydia’s story.
Bronwyn twisted to the side and stilled. Lydia pouted at the interruption but did the same. Her expression slid into one of shock as her mouth parted in surprise.
It can’t be. The thought lodged in Ceridwen’s mind, repeating over and over.
“I truly don’t know,” Lydia said, recovering quickly.
A familiar tickling grazed her head and shoulders before moving on. But a moment later, it settled on her anew, crawling down her back with spiderlike fingers. And she knew. She knew without looking who had entered the hall.