Amity lifted the lid and set it aside. She studied the beautiful mask. It was elegantly made and lavishly trimmed with feathers and small glass jewels that caught the light. It was designed to conceal the upper portion of the face. And it was crimson red.
“Not very subtle, is she?” Amity said. “She wants me to go as a Scarlet Woman.”
Benedict stopped his pacing and gave the mask a hard look. “You aren’t going to that damned ball.”
Amity noticed that Cornelius did not attempt to interfere. Instead, he waited to see how she would respond.
“Of course I am going to the ball,” she said. “Leona will know if you try to bring another woman in my place. Not that I would allow you to take any other female.”
“If she wants to make the trade she can damn well make it on our terms,” Benedict said.
Cornelius coughed a little. “We need to unmask Lady Penhurst. Literally, it appears.”
“Your uncle is right,” Amity said. “We must catch her. This is our best chance to expose her as a spy.”
Cornelius grunted. “Miss Doncaster is correct in terms of strategy. As I have mentioned, in this sort of ransom situation, the moment of the exchange is the time when the thief is most vulnerable.”
“I realize that the necklace is probably quite valuable and that it has great meaning and significance to your family, Benedict,” Amity began. “But if we are careful we can protect it.”
“I don’t give a damn about the necklace.” Benedict’s eyes tightened at the corners. “That mask is an insult to you.”
“Only if I choose to take it that way,” Amity said. “I prefer to see it as part of the costume that I will wear in a play. Really, sir, there is no need for agitation and anxiety. What can possibly go wrong in the middle of a crowded ballroom?”
“Let me count the ways,” Benedict said.
“Benedict, surely you can see this is our best chance, not only to catch Lady Penhurst but to find out where her brother is hiding. If anyone can lead us to Virgil Warwick, it is most likely his sister.”
Benedict looked grim.
“We need a plan,” he said at last.
Amity smiled. “Well, then, come up with one.”
Cornelius snorted. “She’s right, Ben. You’re the one who has a talent for planning for various and assorted disasters.”
Thirty-seven
The vast ballroom of the Ottershaw mansion was dimly lit with colored lanterns that cast seductive shadows over the throng of elegantly costumed guests. Under other circumstances, Amity thought, the scene would have been wonderfully romantic. For the first time since meeting Benedict she was actually dancing with him—a waltz, no less, the most romantic music in the world.
Not that Benedict appeared to appreciate the romanticism of the moment. He danced the way he did most things—with a fine, efficient competence. But there was a clockwork precision to his steps that made it clear his attention was on other matters. She could almost hear the internal metronome inside his brain counting off the steps. He searched the crowd with eyes that glittered darkly behind a plain black mask. He, too, wore a black domino, the hood pushed back to allow him a better view of the room.
She had also folded her hood back, framing her face to make certain that the scarlet mask was visible. She was very aware of the weight of the Rose Necklace around her throat. It was hidden beneath the domino. Benedict had insisted that was the safest location for it. When he had clasped it around her neck, she had taken one look in the mirror and nearly been blinded by the dazzling rubies and diamonds.
Benedict steered her into a crisply paced turn while he checked another quarter of the heavily shadowed ballroom. She smiled. He was manipulating her as if she were a tool, she thought, a device that he just happened to need to produce the correct pattern of the dance.
“It’s as dark as the inside of a cave in here and everyone is wearing a mask,” he said.
“Well, it is a costume ball,” Amity reminded him.
“Believe it or not, I am aware of that. Damn it, it’s nearly midnight. We’ve been here over half an hour already. When is she going to make contact?”
“Probably when we least expect it. Relax, Benedict. You are making me nervous. Perhaps I should say more nervous than I already was before we arrived.”
“Sorry.” He cranked her through another perfectly executed turn. “It’s just that I don’t like any of this.”
“No one does. But it’s not as if we have any choice.”
“Don’t remind me.”
