Chapter 1
Soft light spilled through the sash windows of the morning room at Heartwell House. The honey-colored beams cast a soft glow across the polished wooden floors. The gentleness of the light illuminated Odette Heartwell’s fair skin, lending a lazy ease to the uneventful morning.
“Would you please just go with me!” Hermione Fenwick whined for the hundredth time that morning as she slumped onto a lime settee in the corner across from the pianoforte.
Feeling her lips tug into a smile, Odette looked up at her younger sister, whose sharp features mirrored her own. The needle between her fingers pierced the fabric of the satin cushion again without her having to look.
Hermione rolled her ice-blue eyes. “Please do not say no. I think I will practically die of desperation if you refuse me yet again.” Her voice lilted with boredom as she glanced down at the half-embroidered cushion on her sister’s lap.
Something akin to resentment lingered in her gaze as she scrunched up her upturned nose.
Unlike Odette, Hermione looked a lot like their mother, with a chubby and short stature, while Odette had taken after their father. She was tall and slender with straight blonde hair and light brown eyes.
“You know very well how I feel about going out in society while I am still in mourning.” Odette’s voice was soft yet understanding as she lowered the needle and cushion, giving her full attention to her sister.
“You could practice some of your accomplishments to keep your mind off the ball this evening,” she suggested in what she hoped was a helpful tone.
A sigh escaped Hermione’s throat as she plopped one chubby arm on the edge of the settee and rested her head in her gloved palm. Her white day dress suited her pale complexion quite nicely, and her long blonde curls had been pinned to the back of her head in a haphazard manner.
“The Ashford ball is the perfect opportunity for me to make my debut in society! What is the good of having accomplishments if I am never to discuss them with potential suitors?”
It was Odette’s turn to sigh as her slender fingers curled over the edge of the cushion in her lap. How could she tell her sister that marriage and meeting suitors were not always as wonderful as most made it out to be?
She herself had regretted ever meeting her late husband. “Hermione…” She breathed through another sigh, not wanting to take hope away from someone who, at eighteen, still believed in the idea of true love.
Seemingly picking up on her sister’s train of thought, Hermione came up straight again and looked at her with an air of sadness. “Not all men are as bad as Edgar was.” She shook her head lightly.
Edgar.
Odette fought heavily against the lump in her throat as she heard his name. It was not that she mourned him greatly, but that he had left her with scars that she did not intend to discuss with her younger sister.
“Hermione, it has only been four months…”
Her sister quickly shook her head. “Do not give me that. You and I both know that your marriage was not a happy one. You may not have told us the extent of what happened, but we could all see that Edgar was not a good husband. Do not pretend to mourn him so greatly when you were truly relieved that he did not return from battle.”
A feeling of guilt knotted in the pit of her stomach as Odette finally let out a deep breath. Her sister’s words were true, yet she still felt like a traitor every time she reminded herself.
I was relieved when he did not come back.
Her shoulders hunched slightly as she focused on her breathing, trying to regulate her feelings toward her deceased husband.
“What was the point of bringing me here to London if not to be exposed to the Season? I am already out and have yet to make an appearance in society.”
Hermione’s expression changed again as she continued her onslaught of complaints. The former topic seemed to have been forgotten as she allowed her eyes to drift to the open windows that overlooked a small garden at the back of the house.
Odette could see that the matter would not be laid to rest until she gave her sister some semblance of hope.
“If you could just be patient for a few more days. Mama will join us in due time, and then you can dance with the rest of the ton until your heart is content,” she said in a sweet voice that was often used to placate her younger sister.
“But that is more than a week away!” Hermione groaned loudly and slumped to the side, mirroring the defeat that she must have been feeling inside.
“Hermione…” Odette whispered.
She hated being the one who said no to her sister.
Hermione had always been a kind of weakness of hers, and she often indulged her more than she would have liked to admit.
It was then that Odette made up her mind.
Placing the half-finished cushion in the basket beside her on the floor, she stood and reached for the tiny golden bell on the coffee table between them.
The sound rang out crisp and sharp, making Hermione look up with a frown. “Do you need more tea already?”
Odette offered her a mischievous smile, but said nothing more.
It did not take long for a maid to appear in the open doorway. “You called, Mrs. Heartwell?” She curtsied, her dark head bobbing as she came up straight.
Turing toward the maid, Odette smiled at her.
“Please fetch one of the other maids to assist you. We shall require all of the available fabric as well as any available feathers and beads. Fetch my plain blue day dress, and my sister’s yellow one.
We shall be attending the Ashfords’ masquerade ball this evening. ”
Hermione’s head instantly snapped up as she looked at her sister with wonder and confusion in her gaze.
The maid curtsied again before leaving.
Rushing to her side, Hermione gripped Odette’s hand in hers. “Do you mean it, Odette? Can we really attend the ball this evening?”
Odette nodded. “Just this once, mind you. Once Mama has joined us, she will be the one chaperoning you to social events.”
“I can scarcely believe it! My very first masquerade ball!” Hermione let go of her hand and spun away from her, her face filled with utter glee and contentment.
It warmed Odette’s heart to see her sister so happy, and she reminded herself that nobody at the ball would know who they were if she designed the costumes just right. It was not disrespectful to Edgar’s memory if she was not spotted at all.
“But will we have enough time to make our costumes?” Hermione suddenly stopped spinning as her face fell with realization.
Walking over to the basket of needles and thread, Odette lifted it in front of her. “It is about time you practiced your accomplishments. You cannot boast to suitors if you have not practiced what you preach,” she said with an air of teasing.
“Thank you, Odette. I know it is not easy for you to go out while in mourning. Especially when…” Her voice trailed off, but Odette quickly shook her head.
“Let us not speak of anything other than what needs to be done before the ball this evening. We do not have very much time.” She brushed Hermione’s words aside, putting a stop to her own feelings of doubt that had begun to coil in the pit of her stomach.
A moment of understanding passed between the sisters, and Odette suddenly knew what her sister was thinking.
We are all glad that Edgar is gone.
She may not have told her sister about everything that she had been through, but somehow, despite the bruises having faded, her family seemed to have known.
Odette blinked back tears and quickly shook her head just as the maids entered with dresses, feathers, and bolts of fabric in their hands.
“Come, there is no time to waste. We shall be the most resplendent birds at the ball this evening.” Odette hurried toward the maids, thankful for the distraction.
The girls set out at once, designing and sewing magnificent costumes that would not only hide their identities but also make them the talk of the ton. It was not often that Odette had the opportunity to simply enjoy herself, but she found simple joy in sitting across from her sister and sewing.
“Do you recall the times when Mama would teach us to sew, and we sat in her morning room? Hermione asked as a light smile touched her lips.
“I do,” Odette responded, recalling a simpler time in life when her heart had not been so burdened by the past. At least now, with her freedom, she could build a simpler life. A life devoid of problems and the control of a man.
The rest of the afternoon passed in simplicity as they enjoyed each other’s company and spoke of times long passed. Before they knew it, both sisters were dressed, and a carriage was hailed to take them both to the Ashfords’ ball.
Odette was dressed in blue, resembling a peacock with a matching headpiece that disguised her features with a mask. She felt utterly free as she sat across from her sister, who had the same costume in yellow.
“Oh, Odette, just look at it. Does it not look simply magnificent?” Hermione breathed in wonder as she pressed her gloved hands against the carriage window and peered out.
Lanterns hung from the portico, spilling over the polished stone steps and the line of carriages below. Music spilled through the open doors, punctuated only by the laughter and chatter of guests who had already arrived.
The house seemed transformed by festivities.
Garlands of greenery and ribbons framed the entrance, while masked guests in every costume imaginable ascended the stairs.
A Roman goddess, clothed in ivy, swept past the carriage on the arm of a knight.
Just behind them stood a small group of bejeweled ladies who fluttered their feathered fans like a flock of birds.
Hermione barely waited for the footman to open the door as she leaned forward and readied herself to leave.
“Just a moment,” Odette held her back.
Halting, Hermione looked at her with a frown. “What is the matter?”
Odette softened again when she looked into her sister’s hopeful eyes. “Just remember that we are here to enjoy ourselves. We must not get carried away and let others know who we are,” she cautioned gently.
Reaching out, Hermione took her gloved hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You need not worry, Odette. Nobody will recognize us in these costumes.” She offered a gentle smile before alighting from the carriage.
She took a deep breath as Odette composed herself and followed her from the carriage.
Heads turned to look at them, and Odette was instantly relieved that she was wearing a costume. She held her head high as they walked side by side to the giant stone steps.
Every eye seemed to be on them as they reached the front doors and stepped inside.
The inside of Ashford House was just as grand as the exterior, as garlands of white roses hung from every banister and surface. A fountain of champagne glasses had been placed in the foyer to welcome the guests.
Hermione seemed to be holding her breath. Odette nudged her just to make sure that she was breathing.
“It is so beautiful,” Hermione whispered, almost shaking her head as she looked around in wonder at the polished marble floors along with the grand chandelier above their heads.
They were ushered deeper into the house along with the throng of guests. The sea of costumes seemed to move as one.
Once they were inside the ballroom that was decorated as lavishly as the rest of the house, Odette found herself marveling at all of the magnificent costumes. She was about to follow her sister to the table of refreshments when her eyes suddenly fell on a figure from across the room.
He was a tall man with broad shoulders and strong stature. Yet it was his eyes that drew her in the most. They were a shade of emerald that she had never seen before, or even dreamed possible.
He seemed to be staring right through her, as if he recognized her somehow, but she was more than fairly certain that she had never seen the man before in her life. His black top hat with matching mask hid his features, save for a single scar that ran the length of his jawline.
A shiver ran down her spine, although she was not quite certain why.
“Who are you looking at?” Hermione’s voice suddenly jostled her back.
Swallowing hard, Odette looked at her sister and blinked. “I beg your pardon?” She almost wanted to shake her head as if she had seen a ghost.
Hermione seemed puzzled by her reaction for a moment. “You were staring at someone from across the room. Did you recognize anyone?” She craned her neck to look past her.
“No, I…” Odette’s voice trailed off as she looked back at the staircase, but the man was gone.
Who was he?
She searched the surrounding guests, but came up empty-handed. He had stared at her so intently. Had he been admiring her costume?
No. He was looking directly into my eyes.
Her heart skipped a beat as she recalled the intensity of the encounter. It had almost seemed as if he had recognized her, but she did not know him at all.
“You just need a glass of punch.” Hermione gripped her arm and began dragging her across the room.
Odette looked at the staircase again, but this time, she wondered if she had not imagined the man.