Despite the elegant black velvet mask his sister had fashioned for him, he felt like a fraud. As if at any moment someone would catch him out and turn him away.
Perhaps the doorman wouldn’t believe someone like Max belonged anywhere near the residence of the duke. Perhaps the duke himself had issued his invitation in jest, never expecting Max to take him up on the offer.
He did notthinkthese things were true, but they had happened to him before. Countless times, in countless ways.
As a small child he had slowly learned to become suspicious of kind gestures. Every outstretched hand could easily turn into a slap of the face.
But Bryony was inside. Or would be shortly.
He would not disappoint her.
Or at least, he would try not to.
When it was his turn to present himself in the receiving chamber to be inspected by the doorman, Max assumed his customary cloak of hauteur. It was his armor, impenetrable to cruelty and pitying glances. A well-worn shield.
“Gideon!” the doorman exclaimed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I thought Lambley kept your name on the list to tease me. I put five quid on your never leaving the Cloven Hoof.”
Relief coursed through Max to recognize the friendly visage of Anthony Fairfax, a one-time regular at his club. He hadn’t anticipated any friendly faces but Bryony’s.
“Is my name on the list of yeas or the list of nays?” Max joked.
Er, mostly joked.
The doorman chuckled. “The white list, of course. Lambley runs his parties like you do your gaming hell. His vote is the only one that matters, and you are one of his favorites. He’ll be in and out of the cardroom if you’d like to catch him.”
“Of course,” Max said, as if he had any idea where the cardroom would be in relation to any other. He placed his mask over his face and tied the ribbon tight.
Fairfax moved toward the door. “Ready? I’ll announce you.”
Max frowned. Announce him? Wasn’t the point of a masquerade to be anonym—
Fairfax flung open the door and pushed Max into a glittering world of crystal and chaos, bright colors and swirling costumed bodies.
“Lord X!” Fairfax shouted and closed the door tightly behind Max.
“Lord X!” screamed the crowd, lifting flutes of champagne in cheer.
Max blinked in wonder.
He had not only gained entrance to a duke’s residence, passed muster at the gate thanks to a whitelist, but in his first moments inside had already been toasted by two or three hundred of the duke’s closest friends. A crowd who hadn’t the least idea who Max was. Nor did they seem to care. Tonight, he was apparently known as Lord X. No other information mattered.
A strange sensation tickled down his neck. He wasn’t certain how he felt about being accepted only because he was masked. Part of him wanted to turn around and leave all the hypocrites behind. Another part of him wanted to stay and take every advantage he could.
Particularly if it meant more time with Bryony.
A passing footman expertly placed a glass of champagne in Max’s empty hand like a magic fairy distributing candies to children.
That was what this felt like, Max realized. A candy land, a fairy world. Everything was too fast and too bright and too colorful. Nothing was real. No one wished it to be. They were sharing a temporary fantasy from midnight to dawn.
And there was only one woman Max fantasized about.
He stepped away from the door and into the maelstrom of gaudy masks and whirling dancers. He did his best to peer at each one in search of Bryony. What if they’d made it this far, only for him not to recognize her amongst the crowd, or vice versa?
“Lady X!” came the doorman’s shout from somewhere behind.
Max whirled around just as the crowd cheered and raised the champagne in toast.
This Lady X could hold no candle to Bryony. The perfect blonde ringlets bouncing behind her extravagant mask were a disappointment.
