Chapter Twenty-Four
Adaline stepped from her carriage with her heart pounding in her chest. The Beaubrooke mansion was bedecked in flowers and lantern-light, every surface glittering and inviting. The scent of honeysuckle and beeswax hung heavy in the air. And inside…
Adaline stopped short, causing her brother, who was escorting her, to look back, his brow drawn in confusion.
She shook her head and forced a smile, taking his arm again.
Then she looked around, bemused, as he led her farther into the ballroom.
Where no fewer than a dozen men and women were milling about sporting peacock feathers.
Well, that explained the difficulty Lucy had had in procuring feathers for Adaline’s costume.
She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. Though she must have made some sound because Henry glanced down at her, eyebrow raised in question.
“I am just surprised at how many peacocks are attending this evening,” she said. “I had meant to be one myself, but due to a severe shortage of peacocks feathers, Lucy and I needed to change our plans a bit.”
“Ah,” Henry said. “Well, you are still the loveliest one here. The peahen is quite a handsome bird.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back, and a rush of warm affection for her brother hit her.
Oh, he aggravated her to no end, and his overprotective tendencies would drive her mad.
But he could be sweet when the occasion demanded.
“Go on with you,” she said to him. “You don’t need to waste your evening at my side. Mother is perfectly capable of chaperoning.”
“Mother has already disappeared into the crowd and likely won’t be seen again for the rest of the evening,” Henry said, his eyes narrowing.
Adaline rolled hers. “Go on, Henry. It’s a masquerade! We’re meant to have a little scandalous fun.”
He snorted and bowed his head in her direction. “Very well. But I shall be close if you need me. Perhaps you can befriend another peacock or two,” he said with a chuckle.
She smiled in return, intending to do just that. She would find her Mayhem if she had to dance with every peacock in the room.
Speaking of another befeathered fowl…
“Miss Girard, how lovely to see you,” Miss Archard said, coming to stand beside her, soft white feathers capping her head and trailing down her neck.
Small brilliants were sprinkled throughout the headpiece, looking almost like sparkling drops of water on a swan’s neck.
Her mask glittered with black jewels that highlighted her smiling blue eyes.
Adaline gave her a polite smile, wishing the masks they wore concealed their identities as much as everyone pretended they did. But she had no trouble recognizing the Brelsfords’ cousin.
“Miss Archard. You make a lovely swan,” Adaline said, her smile much more genuine. The young woman’s costume was truly beautiful. Even the delicate swirls and patterns on her white gown had been embroidered to resemble feathers.
“Thank you, Miss Girard. And may I return the compliment? You are quite the most resplendent peacock in attendance. And the most clever.”
Adaline laughed and brushed a hand down her gown.
Lucy had only one solitary peacock feather remaining in her stock and had been unable to procure more.
She was, however, able to obtain the emerald green feathers that the female of the species often sported on their necks, along with enough soft brown peahen feathers to create a short cape of sorts that complemented the cream silk gown she wore. The result was quite effective.
A spray of green tipped brown feathers rested at the crown of her head that resembled the plumes on a peahen’s head.
The green feathers from the peahen’s neck, Lucy had used to create Adaline’s mask.
That, along with a three-stranded emerald choker helped create the illusion of the green feathers of the peahen’s long neck.
The brown feathered cape hugged her shoulders, trailing down longer in the back, while the cream of her gown was reminiscent of the cream feathers of a peahen’s chest. Overall, Adaline thought the look both lovely and accurate.
And just in case Mayhem wasn’t quite as clever as he had seemed in his letters, they had added what was apparently the last peacock feather in London at the apex of the plumes on her headdress.
A bit more colorful than a peahen might sport, but she was willing to sacrifice a bit of the accuracy of her costume to err on the side of caution.
“I’m not sure I should take credit for the uniqueness of my costume,” Adaline said.
“I fear it was less cleverness and more an unexpected lack of peacock feathers that necessitated the change from peacock to peahen. If it were not for that, I would have been merely another blue and green peafowl in this increasingly large muster.” She nodded toward yet another peacock making her way into the ballroom.
Miss Archard flashed a brilliant smile. “I confess, I was almost one of the flock myself. But my cousin Hugo stepped in and insisted that I choose another costume.”
“Did he?” Adaline asked with surprise. “I wouldn’t have taken him for such a fashion maven.”
Miss Archard giggled. “I think it was less concern for me and more a desire to not be outshined. He is wearing peacock feathers as well and likely didn’t want the competition.”
Adaline’s gaze flashed to Miss Archard’s. Now that was too big a coincidence, surely. Her heart thundered as her eyes darted about the room again, seeking him. Mayhem, she would not know on sight. But Lord Hugo Brelsford…him she’d know no matter how many feathers he covered himself in.
That Hugo should be sporting the very same feathers Mayhem had chosen for them to wear would, on any other night, be enough proof for her to declare that they were indeed one and the same.
Her pulse thundered in her veins at the thought, though whether in exhilaration or panic she could not be sure.
But tonight…
She paused as a striking pair of peacocked feathered dancers swished past her.
Tonight, there were simply too many peacocks to be certain.
Or so the logical part of her brain said.
But her traitorous heart hadn’t stopped skipping about since the moment she’d walked into the room knowing Mayhem…
and possibly Hugo…waited for her within.
And it had only worsened in the last few moments.
Was Hugo Mayhem? And what would she do if he was?
Miss Archard laughed quietly beside her. “Speak of the devil…”
Adaline’s head jerked toward the man who had just come to a stop beside them.
Hugo.
Devastatingly handsome in his coat and tails, a rakish cloak in brilliant emerald green slung about one shoulder. And peacock feathers adorning the mask that covered half his face.
His eyes raked over her as a slow smile spread across his lips. The heat from that glance made Adaline’s breath catch in her throat.
His gaze shifted to Miss Archard. “Amelia. I am glad to see you took my advice after all. You not only make a very lovely swan, you have saved yourself from joining the ever-growing flock.” He ran a hand over the feather at the corner of his mask.
“I have danced with no fewer than six peacocks this evening.”
Then he turned to Adaline, his eyes going molten again as he took her in. “I have not yet, however, danced with any peahens.” He gave her a gallant bow and held out his hand. “If you would do me the honor?”
Adaline bit her lip, trying, and failing, to keep her stomach from flip-flopping as she hesitantly slipped her hand into Hugo’s. Was it because this man might indeed be her very own Mayhem? Or was it simply because it was Hugo himself that was causing her blood to race? She truly did not know.
But as terrified—or exhilarated, she really wasn’t sure—as she was, it was far past time to find out.
*
Hugo held his breath until Adaline took his hand.
He could almost see the same confusion warring in her eyes that raged in his own mind.
But the excitement was there as well. The heightened color in her cheeks.
The hitch in her breath. It was as though they both stood on a precipice and were just waiting for the other person to jump off first.
He took her hand and led her to the dance floor. They could jump together.
The first notes of the country dance rang out, and they came together and twirled apart, performing the steps of the dance in silence for the first few moments despite the dance giving them ample opportunity to speak.
The feathers of her cape tickled his fingers during one of their turns, and he let a small smile peep through. A peahen. Clever woman. Exactly the sort of thing Millie would do.
His heart hammered in his chest. It had to be her. He was nearly sure of it.
But…
There was that small chance that it was, indeed, simply a coincidence.
And if it was, betraying Millie to a woman who once professed to hate the very air he breathed would not be a wise choice.
Though, he didn’t think she would actually do anything to harm him.
Now, at least. A few months ago, of a surety.
She would have burned his house down with him in it and danced on his grave.
But things had changed between them now.
Still, he needed to proceed with caution. Just in case. Though the way she eyed him with equal confusion and speculation made him all the more sure she was Millie.
“I am surprised you wish to dance with me, Lord Hugo. The last we met, I believe you made your displeasure with me quite clear. Unless I am mistaken…”
He winced, knowing she referred to when she had smiled at him…and he had failed to return the gesture.
“I must apologize for my ill manners that evening, Miss Girard. I’m afraid I allowed too many voices to clutter my own mind. I am sorry for any hurt my actions may have caused you.”