"Ah," Jerrold responded, "let me assure you there will be far more challenge in the future. I have joined forces with the Crown and made certain provisions aboard my ships. The Raven will find those he thought loyal, are not so when it comes to gold and silver to line their pockets. He won't know who the Judas is who will betray him."
"You seem to have considered everything. Undoubtedly, you've taken into consideration the loyalty of the colonists themselves."
"Naturally. And true to their convict ancestors, they all sell their souls for a handful of coins. The Raven will learn there is a price for loyalty," he continued. "It goes to the highest bidder. Do you still think you want to pose as a thief and murderer?"
Zach nodded. "It is, after all, only a costume."
Affecting a French gentleman, Barrington smoothed his wig. "You have an excellent sense of humor. I like that." He turned to his other guests. "Ladies and gentleman, Sir William St. James."
There were several raised eyebrows and mutterings of recognition among the fine gentlemen. An excited titter came from the ladies.
"You have the undivided attention of everyone in this room, and not one of these ladies' husbands will be on speaking terms with me after tonight. My congratulations, sir." The smile never reached Jerrold's cold eyes.
Zach saluted with the short sword, his gaze scanning the guests that were already there, wondering what costume Elyse might have chosen. He saw none that might have been her and seized a brandy from a passing servant. He felt a little like a cat toying with a mouse, or perhaps a rat. He raised the glass in a toast.
"To Lady Barrington."
Jerrold joined in the toast as a hushed silence fell upon the room. Barrington turned, his own glass halfway to his lips. Then he stopped. His eyes widened, and he inhaled sharply.
Zach turned at the sudden hush that fell on the large room as he followed the direction everyone was staring.
"Good heavens!" a surprised guest exclaimed. And another, "My word, isn't that...?" the comment was never finished.
Then, "Of course not, it's been over thirty years. But she is quite lovely."
Elyse had hoped to make a grand entrance, but this wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind. She felt the shock and dismay, even disapproval as stares seemed to go right through her. Then she caught sight of Jerrold's father, his expression could have turned the nearest person to stone, while Jerrold's expression was one of barely restrained anger.
Zach couldn't take his eyes off her. He felt as if a knife had been thrust between his ribs and twisted. He couldn't draw a breath. His fingers tightened around the glass he was holding until it seemed it would shatter.
'I'll wear it for you... ',the words burned his thoughts.
'You always wear your hair down... 'The words echoed back through some half-forgotten memory. And a smile, remembered as if it were only yesterday.
Zach's hands shook as he set the glass down. My God! Was he drunk already? Was he going mad?
And yet, as he stood there staring at Elyse Winslow, dressed in that stunning gown that was the color of her eyes, he knew he wasn't drunk or mad. She was very real.
She could feel the tension in the air and saw the stunned expression on Lord Barrington's face as she entered the grand hall.
"What do you think that you're doing?" Jerrold demanded as she reached where he and St. James stood.
"Excuse me?" she asked. It was not the response she had expected.
"Of all the costumes..." he started. "Whatever possessed you to choose that gown?"
"It was in the room with the other costumes," Elyse replied, trying to understand what had caused his anger.
"A room full of costumes and you chose this!"
"Yes, since there was no note letting me know that I could not wear it," she replied with rising anger. "I saw the painting and thought it would be a pleasant surprise. I certainly didn't intend to offend anyone."
Zach ignored Barrington. He had eyes only for Elyse Winslow as everything and everyone else in the room seemed to fade into the shadows as if they were the only two people there.
"You're stunning," he told her.
She knew that voice behind the mask on St. James’ face that covered one eye, his compliment soothing the wound from Jerrold's disapproval as speculation and whispered comments died down among the guests.
"Ah, champagne is being served," he commented, even though he'd never acquired a taste for it. But it was an adequate distraction.
