Cage glanced up at the crunching sound of an approaching carriage. The nondescript black carriage did not have the ducal crest, but William’s shaved head and broad shoulders were recognizable in the moonlight. Cage walked briskly over toward the front steps. He waved away the footman. When the carriage came to stop, he had to hold himself back from opening the door himself.
“Good evening, William.” He said as the coachman climbed from the box.
“Evening, my lord.” William turned and opened the carriage door.
Cage stepped forward and held out a hand. Caroline’s slim fingers appeared and slid into his. He spied a pink slippered foot step out, and finally, the woman emerged. The only thing recognizable about the lady was her sunny smile. He led her around to the other side of the carriage where they could have some privacy, then stood back to admire her costume.
Tonight’s theme was Shakespeare’sA Midsummer Night’s Dream. He had sent over a frothy pink dress. The costume must have been made for a shorter woman because the skirts swirledjust above her white stocking-covered ankles. The long tight-fitting sleeves ended in a point on the back of her hand. His gaze traveled up to her smiling lips, painted an equally bright pink hue. The mask she wore was papier mache and painted to resemble butterfly wings. Covering her dark hair was a towering, powdered wig with butterflies nestled throughout. Cage laughed out loud at its ostentatiousness.
Caroline laughed along with him. “Wait, it gets better.” She twirled to face away from him. She wore a small pair of fairy wings, maybe double the size of his hand. She wiggled her shoulders, and the gossamer wings shook merrily.
He chuckled again. “Well, no one will recognize you, that’s for certain.”
Caroline turned back. “Thank you for sending the costume. What I can’t decide is am I Peaseblossom or Cobweb?”
He shrugged. “I have no earthly idea. And it was no problem. I have a friend who works as the costume mistress at the Regal Theatre.” He had convinced Mrs. Jenkins to lend him what they needed for tonight’s mission. He and Mrs. Jenkins had a lovely affair two years ago and remained friends after he left for Egypt.
Caroline raised one eyebrow. “I bet you do. Is there a lady alive that you cannot charm?” She waved one hand up and down the length of him. “Who are you supposed to be?”
“I’m Theseus.” Cage reached up to adjust the crown of gold-painted fig leaves that circled his head. “As the commander of Greece, I get to have my short broad sword. In case of trouble.”
“I have my weapon as well.” Caroline glanced around them. Then she reached down and pulled a slim stiletto from under her skirt. About nine inches in length, it gleamed in the torchlight as she held it up. “Having this always makes me feel better.”
“Do you know how to use that?” At her look of affront, he held up both hands in a gesture of peace and instead asked his second question. “Where did you pull that from?”
She lifted her skirts to her knee, and he saw the leather sheath strapped to her shapely calf. He sucked in a deep breath as his pulse thundered. That might be the most alluring thing he had ever seen on a woman.
Caroline slid her knife into its sheath and dropped her skirts back into place. “Ready?” she asked.
Cage tore his gaze away from the spot where the blade lay hidden. “Um, yes.” He turned to William. “Don’t let the grooms take the carriage. Instead, bring it around to the side of the house there.” He pointed to the left side of the manor. “We will be coming from the back, most likely, with our girl. I have no idea how long we will be, though, so be ready,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,” William replied.
“And remember, if anyone asks you, work for Holt Benedict. That should stop anyone from bothering you further.”
At the man’s nod, Cage took hold of Caroline’s hand and led her around the carriage to the front steps. “Remember, you are my merry mistress. Try not to say anything, just giggle and stay glued to me,” he whispered.
“But how will we—” she began.
“Follow my lead. Let me ask the questions.” He slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her tightly against his side. He handed up his invitation to the doorman.
“Welcome, Lord Wrotham.” The man opened the door to usher them into the brightly lit hall.
Another servant bid them to follow him down a long corridor. The noise of laughter and music spilled from double doors at the far end. At the entrance to a large drawing room, Cage pulled to a stop to assess the room. Two dozen or so guests filled the space, each costume more elaborate than the next. Several of the men dressed in full Greek togas, but most were in pantaloons and flowing white shirts, fig leaf crowns like his ownmarked them as men of Athens. Masks were de rigor; one man’s depicted him as Bottom with tall donkey ears to boot.
Many fairies flitted about in wigs powdered in varying colors. Cage spotted several Titanias in flowing white gowns and dripping in golden jewelry, and even one statuesque Hippolyta, Queen of Amazons. Candelabras were set on every available surface, giving off a soft glow and casting dancing shadows across the walls. The whole room was draped in swaths of greenery, fruit trees in enormous pots were scattered throughout the room, adding to the forest theme.
At one end of the room, a trio of musicians played a lively tune on a pipe, fiddle, and guitar. Couples danced an energetic reel, linking arms and twirling as they made up their own drunken steps.
“Wrotham? That must be you!” A man approached from the left, his arm wrapped around the waist of a buxom redhead. “There is no one else who can top your size.”
Morgan grinned, and they stepped forward into the room to greet the man. “You know it!” His gold mask only covered his eyes. “And Gaylord, I’d recognize those golden boy curls anywhere.” He slapped the man on the back, sending him stumbling. The red-haired woman grasped her partner more firmly to keep him upright.
Gaylord cackled like a loon. A drunken one, no surprise there. “Wrotham, who is your friend?” The man stepped too close to Caroline, having trouble keeping his balance.
She recoiled tighter against Cage’s side. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “This is my lady friend, Peaseblossom.” Caroline recovered quickly. She let loose a loud giggle.
“Ah, of course.” Gaylord dropped his hand from his companion’s waist to take hold of Caroline’s fingers, lifting them to his lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Peaseblossom. Perhaps later you can join me for a dance?”
