Chapter Twenty-Three #2
But if Adaline was indeed Millie…that presented another host of obstacles. Namely their families. And her latent hatred for him. Although that had seemed to wane of late. And at least it wasn’t indifference. He could work with hate. Fine line between love, and all.
“Well, I for one am looking forward to this evening,” Arthur said. “Masquerades are always great fun. And tonight promises more entertainment than most, doesn’t it, Hugo?”
Hugo squinted at his brother in a one-eyed glare. “They are certainly always… unpredictable.” This evening far more than most for certain.
His father’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “It is a chance for new beginnings. You are of an age to consider your future. One’s choices might not always feel so monumental, but one misguided choice could lead to ruin.”
Hugo bristled, then relented. “I am aware, Father.”
His mother pressed on, more softly. “We do not doubt Miss Girard’s charm, dear boy.
And as a woman myself, I am fully aware that the lady in question may not have had much say in the match chosen for her by her family.
It is her actions after the fact that give us cause for concern.
If she indeed was as eager as the gossips made it seem, only to then transfer that eagerness to an attachment to you. ”
“And if that is not what occurred?” he asked.
“Is it not simpler to choose a woman of whom you will not need to ask such questions?”
His lips pursed, hating that she had a point.
“Be sensible, Hugo,” his father said. “There are women with far less ambitious and volatile families who would suit you better.”
He did not answer. He could not. In his mind, questions whirled. He already knew who would suit him to perfection. The problem is, there were two of them. Maybe. Could Adaline and Millie be one and the same? The idea filled him with dread and hope in equal measure.
If they were, he would have to take the secret of their correspondence these past months to the grave.
His parents would never believe it was not all some scheme to catch a Brelsford boy.
He wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t exactly that himself.
Though he was equally unsure if he cared.
He was caught, well and truly. And happy to be so.
And if they were not, if they were two different women… He let out a sigh. There was no guarantee Millie would be any more acceptable to his parents. And if she was…what of Adaline?
He could do not but pray his instincts were correct and that they were, indeed, the same woman. The alternative would leave him with a choice he did not think he could make. He pressed his mask tighter against his face, glad it hid his confusion along with his features.
The carriage drew up before the Beaubrooke mansion, its columns awash in torchlight.
Light spilled from tall windows while strains of music drifted out into the night.
Servants in livery helped guests from their carriages and ushered them beneath a stone arch draped in garlands of greenery and white roses.
Hugo descended last. He wouldn’t have admitted it to Arthur, but yes, his nerves were fit for cracking.
What had he been thinking? He should have chosen a nice, quiet spot in a park. Under a willow tree or some other nice, secluded place. Away from the prying eyes of half of London. Where he would know her the moment she arrived because there would be no costumes or masks involved.
Well. No help for it now. He took a deep breath and followed his family.
Inside, the ballroom glittered. Men in domino masks and women in silks of every hue glided across the floor. The musicians played in the gallery above, the notes floating above the hum of conversation and laughter. Hugo’s parents gave him one last knowing glance before melting into the throng.
He scanned the crowd, searching for Adaline. Or Millie. His gaze darted from mask to mask, from a lady in a ruby gown to another in silver feathers. Each could be Millie. Each could be Adaline. His heart thudded with every possibility.
A movement by the staircase caught his eye.
A flash of peacock blue. His breath caught.
The woman wore a mask feathered in emerald and sapphire, her gown trailing behind like the brilliant plumage of a peacock.
He took a deep breath, then one step toward her, when another flash of color caught his eye.
Another woman, this one in emerald green with a matching silk turban sporting an arrangement of jewels and peacock feathers on her head.
He frowned as he noticed just how many peacock feathers were in attendance this evening.
One woman waved a fan with a stunning array of peacock feathers at her overheated cheeks.
Another had a mask made entirely of the things, the feathers parting cleverly to feature the woman’s eyes where the “eye” of the feather would normally be.
Yet another wore them as a sort of cape, trailing from jeweled brooches at her shoulders.
And the gentlemen were just as decked out. Sporting everything from a single feather on a mask as he did, to a feather in a lapel, to an elaborate headdress full of them.
Hugo could not help it. He burst out laughing, drawing several startled glances. Arthur came to a stop beside him, glancing at him in question.
Hugo shook his head and then nodded to a few of the plumaged guests. “And here I thought I was so clever, choosing a relatively exotic bird to emulate. From the looks of things, every peacock in the country has been plucked bare. She could be anyone.”
Arthur chuckled and tilted his head toward two gentlemen, both sporting feathers, conversing by a marble column. “No doubt the lady is thinking the same.”
Arthur clapped Hugo on the shoulder. “Come, Brother. Let us dance. The hunt can wait. It’s futile in any case with so many peacocks strutting about.”
Hugo snorted and allowed himself to be drawn into the current of the ball.
He danced first with Lady Catherine. She wore a gilded mask of swirled gold, nary a feather in sight.
Her conversation, thankfully, was light and required little of his attention to follow.
Hugo smiled and played his part. But his mind remained elsewhere.
Arthur steered him toward partner after partner.
Miss Marshburn. Miss Grey. Lady Anne. They were all witty, pleasant, and beautiful in their bejeweled masks.
And none of them were who he searched for.
With each turn, Hugo’s eyes flickered to the door, the stairs, the corners of the room…anywhere a peacock costume might appear. Well, the right peacock costume. For there were peacocks aplenty.
Arthur, sensing Hugo’s distraction, murmured, “Patience, Brother.”
“Easier said than done.” Hugo laughed and shook his head. “She must be here. Somewhere.”
“Well, if you simply cannot wait until midnight, you could always work your way through the possibilities instead of avoiding them entirely.” He nodded toward a young woman in a deep green dress and resplendent peacock mask.
Hugo opened his mouth to object but snapped it shut again.
He had been so focused on midnight and the agreed upon meeting in the conservatory, it simply hadn’t occurred to him to try and find her beforehand.
Actively, that is. Instead, he’d been skulking about and dancing with everyone but a peacock.
“Arthur…” He clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you suggest that sooner?”
Arthur just laughed. “It didn’t occur to me I’d need to. You truly are besotted, aren’t you? It’s beginning to interfere with your faculties.”
Besotted? Very likely. But with whom? Both? “On second thought, perhaps I should just go home and drown myself in a bottle of brandy.”
Arthur chuckled again, turned to murmur a few words to the peacock lady nearest them, and then drew her toward Hugo with a bow. “You could. But why would you want to leave such resplendent beauty?”
Hugo smiled at the woman and bowed. He knew instantly she was not Adaline. But that did not mean she was not Millie. Though he knew within moments of their dance beginning that she was not. Nor was the next lady. Nor the next.
Perhaps Millie had changed her mind after all. A possibility he refused to consider. Though the longer the night drew on without finding her, the more that thought took hold.
Where was the blasted woman? He was beginning to despair of ever finding her.