I suppose it was my own fault. I should look where I am going more.
She brushed at the wine stain, knowing she would have to get it out fast. She certainly wanted it mended before Mr. Windham found her, lest she tarnish the rest of the evening.
Darting to the nearest door, she left the ballroom in search of a privy. The ensuing corridor was darker than she had expected, the only light pouring from an open doorway that looked out onto a balcony above the gardens. The moon was bright tonight, that silvery light basked everything it touched in an eerie glow. She used that light to navigate down the corridor, but before she could find a privy, a familiar voice reached her ears.
“I told you! No one will see us here. We are quite safe.”
“…Well, if you are so sure, I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing...”
Is… is that? That is not possible.
Evelyn followed the sound of a voice she felt belonged to Mr. Windham. She had been mistaken, for there was indeed another source of light from a crack in a door further along the corridor, that flickered as if being interrupted by people within its confines.
Treading softly the closer she approached, she moved to the open doorway where she peered inside. The room was flanked with two bright candles and in the middle of the space was Mr. Windham, with a woman beside him.
They are alone!
Yet such thoughts were quickly drowned out by others as Mr. Windham slipped his hand around the woman’s waist and drew her forward. She was beautiful, and a complete contrast to Evelyn, with dark eyes and rich black hair. She tilted her head to the side and moved to Mr. Windham. The two kissed, with such a passionate embrace that Evelyn knew at once it couldn’t be the first time that they had shared such a kiss.
No. No!
Mr. Windham was supposed to be her ticket out of her home, and yet what was he doing now? Kissing another when he had acted the part of being her suitor all year long! Something ached in Evelyn’s chest, and she backed up, her hand moving on the open door in such a way that it shifted, the wood creaking.
Mr. Windham and the woman darted back from each other, their eyes shooting to the doorway.
Evelyn glared at Mr. Windham, with such exasperation emanating from her, she felt she needed no words.
“Evelyn–?”
“Don’t,” she muttered sharply, shaking her head once. “Just don’t.” She backed up as quickly as she could, hearing muffled words from behind her. The woman was begging Mr. Windham to go after her in case she spoke of what she had just seen to others.
Evelyn didn’t care about that, all she cared about was that her every hope was dashed. She pushed past someone in the corridor, barely aware of their presence at all as she burst out onto the balcony she had seen earlier, gripping to the railings as she took a deep breath of cool air to calm her trembling figure. The pain in her chest was so strong that the tears started before she could even think to stop them.
He has ruined everything. And I’ve let him.
* * *
“If not that, then how about a dance, Miss Gulliver?” Simon grinned as he offered his hand to the eldest of the Gulliver sisters, Hester.
Rafe rolled his eyes, largely uninterested in the conversation and rather glad for the privacy his present mask afforded him. Watching Simon flirt with Miss Gulliver was hardly that entertaining. What amused Rafe more than anything else was to see that Simon was interested in a young woman at last, rather than proffering each one in their vicinity to Rafe.
And what amused him more than that was the subtle glare he had been receiving all night from the middle sister, one Miss Bridget.
I suppose it is not too far-fetched for the keen eye to notice there is only one man ever around Linfield this much. Hopefully, the others do not catch on.
As Simon and Miss Gulliver took to the dance floor, Rafe angled his body away from the crowds slightly, adjusting the mask on his face a little until it sat just right. When he was certain it was perfect, he lifted his glass to his lips and looked around the room again.
Immediately, a distant figure captured his eye. Someone was cascading through the crowds. It was a young woman, dressed in a classical white and green gown – quite tall compared to other ladies, with her dark red hair swept up gracefully in a demi-chignon and a few tempting curls hanging down about her cheeks. The sight of and the way she glanced innocently around the room, desperately searching for someone, caught Rafe’s interest.
Well, well, well. Now, who are you, I wonder?
A server knocked into her and spilled a glass of wine against her gown, and Rafe smirked. The server was arrogant enough not to proffer a napkin or anything to help mop up the spill. Instead, he walked off fast, leaving the poor woman to stare down at the stain blankly. She gripped the skirt of her gown hard, with such passion that Rafe felt a curiosity to know what she was thinking.
Rather than finding someone in the room to complain to, she left the ballroom hurriedly, heading for the nearest door. Unable to explain the pull of his curiosity, Rafe felt a need to follow her. Smoothly, he replaced his glass on the silver tray of a nearby server and headed out of the room, keeping his distance.
For a moment she seemed to disappear, enveloped by a corridor aglow from the moonlight streaming through an open window.
Soon enough though, he heard some muffled words and a gasp of horror, and just as he caught her at the corner of his eye, she swiveled in his direction and darted past him this time, their bodies colliding in the process. She escaped down the corridor and judging from the way the doors were flung wider, she took refuge on the balcony.
