And so she’d seen him at the church and wished she hadn’t because the guilt and shame she’d managed to tamp down for so many years had not only raised its ugly head but had increased exponentially as her wedding to Thorne neared. In the end, she’d been unable to saddle him with her. The night before she was to wed, she had made the mistake of confessing to her mother that she thought it would be best for all concerned if she cried off. The countess, fearing her only daughter might make a run for freedom, had locked her in her bedchamber.
The following morning, Lavinia had recanted and carried on as though she fully intended to go through with the marriage. But at the church, her unsuspecting brother hadn’t hesitated to give her a moment alone, and she’d been able to make her escape. She’d not been completely prepared for running off, but she’d managed.
Until tonight, until she’d seen Finn. She’d not been at all prepared to face him, to be bombarded with so many memories, and against her will, lying there in the dark, she remembered a magical night when she’d truly become his.
Chapter 7
1863
Finding Fulfillment
Sitting in front of the mirror, Lavinia watched as Miriam worked to put her hair up in a style reminiscent of Marie Antoinette, which seemed appropriate as her mother would have her head if she knew the true reason Lavinia had pleaded and begged for their affair to be a masquerade ball. But it had been necessary to Lavinia’s plan. Every ball she’d attended thus far had been boring and uneventful. It was her first Season and she should be enthralled with the sparkling glamour. Instead she found it all rather dull and attending the affairs extremely wearisome.
She spent a good deal of her time dancing with one partner after another. Her brother’s many friends were all willing to ensure she wasn’t a wallflower—even on the nights when Thornley didn’t attend the affairs, which was most nights. He had no need to spend his time getting to know the various debutantes. He knew who he was destined to marry so was free to spend his evenings engaged in other pursuits. He would be in attendance tonight, of course, as he wouldn’t insult his future in-laws by not showing up. She would have her expected two dances with him, and then he’d no doubt head to the card room or sneak off for a bit of whisky with her brother or leave to find other more interesting entertainments.
But the costume ball wasn’t for him. It was for Finn.
A young man who could sneak into a residence, into her bedchamber, could most certainly steal into a grand salon filled with people, especially when they were all wearing masks. All he had to do was climb over a wall—surely going through the back gate would be too mundane for him—into the gardens and then simply march up the path and enter through the terrace doors that would no doubt be left ajar in order to ensure cooler air circulated throughout the crowded ballroom.
Once Miriam was finished with her hair, Lavinia went through the tedious task of getting into her costume—a voluminous white gown that revealed her neck, shoulders, and a good bit of her cleavage. She draped a diamond necklace that had once belonged to her grandmother around her neck. Earbobs. Dragging on white gloves that went past her elbows, she felt like a true lady tonight, not a young girl on the cusp of womanhood. The feeling had little to do with the costume itself but with the manner in which she was displaying herself for a particular gentleman. She refused to feel guilty that she’d never gone to quite as much bother for Thornley as she doubted very much that he went to any bother for her. But Finn would. He’d go to the trouble of securing a costume and mask in order to infiltrate her mother’s ball. It was a deliciously wicked thing to do. Her mother would have an apoplectic fit if she discovered a commoner in her grand salon.
But Lavinia trusted Finn to be discreet. They’d discussed the particulars numerous times. She’d never anticipated an evening more, not even her very first ball.
With Miriam’s assistance, she managed to get her mask tied in place without disturbing a single strand of her hair. The silver half mask glittered with sequins and was adorned with elegant tufts of feathers.
“Quite striking, m’lady,” Miriam said.
“I rather agree.”
“The duke won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”
“I’m sure you’re quite right.” Although in truth she hoped Miriam was dead wrong. She didn’t want to garner his attention tonight of all nights, especially when she’d not held it for long on other nights.
“We could be moving into his fine residence by the end of the summer. At least that’s what some of the servants are saying. And that you’ll take me with you.”
Turning to the side, she studied her reflection in the cheval glass. “Well, yes, of course I’ll take you with me. But I doubt it’ll be this year. We’re not even properly engaged yet. The duke is in no hurry to wed.”
“But once he sees you tonight, he’s going to fall all over himself.”
Laughing lightly, she shook her head. “I assure you, Thornley is not one to fall all over himself.”
With a final glance in the cheval glass, she headed out of the room and made her way downstairs to the grand salon where everything was in readiness—except for the blasted doors that led onto the terrace. “Please open the terrace doors, James,” she said to a passing footman. “It’s such a lovely night and our guests will grow warm otherwise.”
Picking up a dance card from a small table near the stairs that led down into the ballroom, she placed it around her wrist. She’d been instrumental in the dance selections, choosing six waltzes, planning to leave each blank since she wasn’t certain exactly when Finn might make his appearance and she was determined to have an intimate dance with him. No quadrille or cotillion for them.
At the rustling of skirts, she turned and smiled at her mother.
“You look lovely, m’dear.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
“I daresay, the Duke of Thornley will find himself anxious to bend the knee in short order, although I don’t know why you insisted on the masks. You can have a costume ball without going to such extreme.”
“I like the mystery of it, the mystique. Perhaps I’ll dance with a gentleman and not know who he is.”
“I very much doubt that. You know everyone who’s been invited. Most you can identify by their form. Others you’ll know for certain when they speak.”
“Still, it’s rather fun to determine who they are before they speak. Or at least I suppose it is.” Reaching out, she squeezed her mother’s hand. “I think it’ll add a bit of excitement, make our ball more memorable.”
