The man was a little taller than her with a lion mask and a mane of brown hair to match.
“A bold choice, but fitting,” he remarked.
“Pardon?” Harriet replied without thinking before getting some measure of control, “I mean, what is a bold choice?”
“Black on such an occasion. It does rather draw the eye. But fitting for a raven.”
“It is purple, though I can forgive you for thinking it black in this light. The raven is a bird connected to my family,” Harriet managed to reply, “no boldness intended.”
She continued somehow through a few minutes of small talk, promising the Lion a dance when the time came. He moved on before she realized that he had not given her his name, nor had she.
Perhaps that is the way of a masked ball. It certainly adds a little spice. Why, I have just had a conversation, alone and unchaperoned with a gentleman. It would not have happened had Ralph been here. I would have been steered to the edge of the room and seated with the old spinsters.
A sense of liberation coursed through her, making her pulse race almost as much as the eyes of the Black Wolf had. Now that she looked, she could see other men who had chosen the wolf mask. All looked quite ordinary, the men fat or thin, short or tall. None gave her the frisson of excitement that the gentleman atop the balcony had managed.
And with nothing but his eyes. Imagine what he could do with his lips. Oh my, what am I thinking?
She felt suddenly dizzy. Her senses were overwhelmed by light and dazzling color. She could not believe the brazen nature of her thoughts based on nothing but a pair of eyes.
I was not even close enough to detect their color. I must take care not to have any wine if this is how giddy I become after nothing more than a shared glance...
But it had been more than that. Something had passed between them, holding their eyes together. Something had made herheart pound as it had never before. Made wanton, reckless thoughts come into her head. She looked around for Jane but could not see her. The shock of realizing she was alone made her suddenly nervous.
It seemed as though the room were spinning around her, the masked faces crowding towards her. All staring. All judging. Suddenly panicked, Harriet started blindly across the room. She tried not to bump anyone while she moved as quickly as the crowd allowed her to. Some gentlemen tried to speak to her, and she did not remember what she said to disengage from them, only that she managed it.
Then a door opened, elegantly paneled to resemble the rest of the wall. A servant slipped in carrying a tray of drinks. Harriet stepped through and closed the door behind her.
The sense of relief was immediate. The hallway beyond the door was quiet and shadowed, lit by lamps arranged along its length in alcoves.
“Oh my, I did not expect a reaction like that. Perhaps Ralph was right in not allowing me to come here without him. Perhaps I am not ready...”
The very notion angered her. It smacked of cowardice, and she berated herself for squandering this rare opportunity for freedom. Realizing that she was standing with her back to the door, she forced herself to stand upright and walk.
“I will take the chance of some peace and quiet to explore this house...” she spoke out into the silence with conviction. “I will not shy away, and in a moment or two, I will return to the ballroom and... and mingle.”
The thought frightened her, but she embraced the fear, knowing that it came from stepping into the unknown. Stepping beyond her brother's protective shadow. She quickened her step, taking in the paintings on the wall and evaluating them based on her father's work and what he had taught her of art.
The hallway led to a larger passage, decorated with statues and busts under a high, ornately decorated ceiling. The figure of a lone gentleman standing before the statue of a woman caught her eye because of his dark costume. But on closer inspection, it was not the Black Wolf but a dark shade of green. As he began to turn in her direction, she slipped through a nearby door, suddenly unwilling to be engaged in conversation.
Now that was an odd decision. I came here to experience something of life, and that must include talking to people. Just because he was not the Wolf does not mean that I should avoid him. He might be a very nice gentleman.
She had decided to go back and speak to him when she fully registered the room in which she stood. It was a library. Immediately, she felt at home.
Mama would have loved this. So many books. How many happy hours we spent in the library at home, I looking for stories of adventure and she for poetry.
The shelves were two or three times her height, with the highest rows accessed by wheeled ladders. It was a veritable forest of books, lit by the flickering light of lamps suspended by wrought iron from the ceiling, which was painted in a scene worthy of Florence. Harriet found herself smiling in delight.
“Your Grace, how nice to see you again. I trust you are well?”
The male voice made her jump, coming as it did from just beyond the door that she had just stepped through.
“Waverton, nice to see you again, too. Quite well. Are you enjoying Chelmsford's obvious largess?”
The replying voice sounded familiar to her. She could not quite place it, partially disguised as it was by the door. Harriet found herself stepping closer to it, listening.
“It is certainly very grand. A statement of wealth.”
“When one has wealth, there should be no need to make a statement of it, do you not think?”
