“They might be anyone,” she said. “I certainly cannot tell.” Then she gasped softly. “My apologies, my lord. That was thoughtless of me.”
“Lady Brilliance, I honestly do not care about the quality or authenticity of my costume.” He gave her a good-humored shrug. “If people think me a barrister or the King of France, it is no matter. I came tonight only to be with you and to make sure you have a pleasant evening.”
For some reason, that struck her as the sweetest thing anyone had ever said.
“You have nearly brought me to tears,” she told him. And then she saw a familiar face, dressed as a hornet, which snapped her out of her maudlin emotion.
“Is that Lady Georgiana?” She inclined her head in the hornet’s direction.
Vincent looked to where she indicated. “I believe so. She ought to be careful. Her true waspish disposition is showing.”
Brilliance chuckled. “Then perhaps Ambrose Castern is here dressed as a highwayman.”
When Vincent sobered, she wished she hadn’t teased. In truth, Mr. Castern might be there, and if he was, she would notcall him out as she had before. Holding her tongue would be extremely difficult but prudent, nonetheless.
They danced two dances in a row, and no one noticed or cared, not even Lady Flowers. They each found another partner for the next dance, then returned to dance again.
After the fourth dance, Brilliance was breathless. “I am thirsty, Herr Bach. Can we seek out the refreshment room?”
“Certainly.” He tucked her hand under his, while she waved to Lady Flowers yards away in the loud room and mimed drinking.
Receiving a nod of acknowledgment from Martine’s mother, Brilliance let him lead her through to the next room. It was smaller, rounded at one end with more pillars, decorated with green and gold wallpaper and covered in classical people, Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite, as well all sorts of objects she knew to be ancient vessels and such.
“A room dedicated to love,” she said, looking at the many cupids and the main painting of Venus. Pointing to it, Brilliance told him, “That is reportedly the first Lady Spencer’s visage.”
“You are prettier,” Vincent said.
Her cheeks warmed. “And I am currently thirstier. If I am not mistaken, this is not the right room.”
Making their way through the giddy crowd of revelers toward the next chamber, she noticed one thing.
“Don’t you think everyone is a little more rambunctious than at a regular gathering?”
“Indeed, you are correct. A costume or a mask gives people leave for their wilder nature to roam freely.”
She saw a man dressed as a pirate pulling a winged fairy by both hands. The female was laughing loudly while being drawn toward a darkened alcove. Another couple were dancing a slow waltz in a corner rather than on the dance floor in the Great Room.
“People who are not being themselves is a little frightening,” she conceded, “yet also strangely refreshing. The freedom is exhilarating, too. Like my pantalettes.”
“Freedom is like your pantalettes?” he asked before sending her a broad grin.
She laughed. “You are so easy to be with. A far cry from the straight-backed pianist who spilled the cherries across your cousin’s rug.”
Vincent was clearly trying not to laugh, but it burst from him.
“What a peevish, sour, hulver-headed churl I was. And you have fixed me.” They found a sumptuous spread of beverages and tasty treats in the blue and gold room that came next. After eating cheese tartlets, small puffs of prawn-filled pastries, and crackers, some topped with minced ham and others with smoked cod, they took a glass of champagne each and left the room.
They went away from the noise, the crowds, and the music along another wing of the house. He took her down the passageway, past one door, and then the next. At last, he grabbed a handle and pushed a door open.
“Blast!” he exclaimed into the pitch blackness and closed it. Still holding her hand, he went farther along to the next door and opened it. “Ah-ha,” he said. “In here, Lady Persia.”
There was a lamp lit, and a piano, too. Somehow, he had found the conservatory.
“What are we doing?” Brilliance asked.
Instead of a stool, there was a bench, and he tugged her down onto it beside him before setting his empty glass on the floor. The length of their thighs pressed against one another’s. She could feel the heat of him through the thin silken fabric of her costume, making her pulse speed up with a delightful pitter-patter of expectation.
Without speaking, Vincent began to play. Brilliance fell silent as the music worked its way inside her soul, expanding within her, filling her with emotions that weren’t always comfortable. Intense joy turned to heartbreaking melancholy and back again. Vincent played for, she estimated, about fifteen minutes before he stopped. The last notes were a complex arrangement, making her feel alternately happy and sad before trailing off with a whimsically thoughtful ending.
