Percy nodded. “And I’d be willing to wager my right to flirt at Almack’s that Lord Blackstone is here this evening. There is no possible way that man would miss the opportunity to flaunt a costume.” Percy drained his glass before casting his gaze around the room. It only took him a few seconds to locate his target. “There. At the top of the staircase.”
Isaac followed his cousin across the floor, only locating the man who must have been Lord Blackstone when they were already on their way up the stairs. He wore white robes, a bejeweled turban on his head, and a mask with large tusks. Thelower half of his face exposed a few short grey whiskers and a grin.
Isaac stood back a pace as his cousin approached the viscount. Despite his shortcomings, Percy had a way with people that Isaac would be wise to emulate. He won favor in an instant, and his flaws were overlooked by anyone under the influence of his easy smile.
“Good evening, my lord.” Percy stopped on the balcony overlooking the ballroom and gestured at Lord Blackstone’s costume. “Will you allow me to venture a guess at your identity this evening?”
Lord Blackstone chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated from his core. “Could this be Mr. Ellington?”
“I am not Mr. Ellington any longer,” Percy said in a serious tone. “Tonight, I am Mephistopheles.”
Lord Blackstone tipped his mask forward to examine Percy’s costume. His perfectly round, dark eyes were surrounded with deep wrinkles and topped with wiry grey brows, the hairs sticking out every which way. “How daring. I would have expected you to dress as the great horned owl.”
“That was my second choice. And you must be…” Percy tapped his chin, “an elephant tamer.”
Lord Blackstone reared back in surprise before another deep chuckle escaped him. His fingers fluttered over his obviously expensive dressings. “My—how on earth did you know? Others have been incorrect in their assumptions all evening. Some have guessed a Maharaja, others an elephant itself, but my strivings to depict a great and powerful tamer were not in vain, it would seem.” His joy was contagious, and Isaac found himself smiling.
Percy leaned forward. “I am glad to hear it. Would it delight you further to learn that there is another Mr. Ellington in our midst tonight?”
Lord Blackstone replaced his mask, but Isaac caught his interested expression. “It would indeed.”
On cue, Isaac made the final step to stand beside Percy. He gestured at Isaac with a dramatic sweep of his hand. “Lord Blackstone, meet my cousin, Mr. Isaac Ellington.”
“An honor, my lord.” Isaac smiled, feeling suddenly less ridiculous about his choice of costume. Perhaps it would be a help, not a hinderance, knowing how Lord Blackstone loved animals.
“A pleasure to meet you, young man!” Lord Blackstone’s gaze surveyed him from head to toe. “A feline of sorts? A caracal or bengal, perhaps?”
Isaac laughed. “A fox, my lord.”
Lord Blackstone’s eyes blinked through his mask. “Ah. Yes, yes, I do see that now. You must keep your wits about you this evening, for my stepdaughter is dressed as a huntress. I should hate for you to find yourself in her line of fire.” He laughed heartily to himself.
“I thank you for such a timely warning,” Isaac said. “I shall remain alert.”
Was he referring to the stepdaughter that Percy was pursuing? Isaac couldn’t help but wonder what Lord Blackstone actually thought of the courtship. He didn’t seem inclined to disapprove considering his seemingly high opinion of Percy.
“I have relayed to my cousin the details of your remarkable establishment,” Percy said. “He wishes to apply to become a member of Blackstone’s.”
“Do you, now?” The viscount turned his attention to Isaac. “Well, I would be delighted to receive you at the club to become better acquainted. You may drop in tomorrow at your convenience. I should hope we recognize one another when the time comes.” Once again, he made himself chuckle.
Isaac gave a thoughtful nod. “I shall ask for the elephant tamer at the door.”
Lord Blackstone seemed amused by that. Good. Isaac might not have been as charming as Percy, but he did have his moments.
The viscount’s chuckling was only interrupted by his deep gasp. His eyes rounded in horror at something behind Isaac’s shoulder. “Run! Poor fox—I’m afraid your end is nigh. The huntress is ascending the staircase as we speak.”
If Isaac wanted to gain Lord Blackstone’s favor, he would have to play along. With an amused smile, he turned around. A brunette woman in a flowing white gown and satin gloves was making her way up the stairs, unaware of the charade her stepfather was creating, nor her central role in it. She wore a crescent moon headpiece and a short cape, with a quiver of arrows on her back. A silver mask covered the upper half of her face, and her unsmiling lips gave her a cold appearance.
Isaac stared at her, his temperature dropping as her eyes met his through the mask. His heart picked up speed, his throat drying out like a winter leaf.
This sort of thing had happened before.
A flash of brown hair, blue eyes, a laugh with the same melodious tone—he was prone to mistaking women for Sophia. He was prone to wishing he had found her again, and conjuring up images that weren’t real. He shook himself of his imaginings, resuming a relaxed posture as the young lady reached the top of the staircase.
Her attention breezed past Isaac and went straight to her stepfather. “Prudence wishes to leave,” she said in an urgent tone. “She will not stop complaining about how the mask makes her face itch.”
Isaac’s shoulders stiffened.
Her voice.
