"Wow," Penny whispered. She hung onto my arm as we followed well-dressed couples through the large bank of doors, following the signs for the Holbrook Foundation's Annual Fall Masquerade.
"Holbrooks?" Penny hissed. "Like, the Holbrooks that your entire family hates?"
"The feeling is mutual," I whispered back.
Penny was a little antsy when we approached the people in black suits who were checking invitations.
"We don’t have…"
"Shh," I said.
"Welcome to the masquerade," a woman greeted us. "Thank you for your patronage. May I see your invitation?"
"We’d like to purchase tickets at the door," I said smoothly.
The woman taking the tickets looked at her partner in confusion. "Let me see if we can accommodate you," she said, tapping on her tablet.
I pulled a wad of hundred-dollar bills out of my tuxedo breast pocket. "I would like to remain anonymous. This charity endeavor is very near and dear to my heart. As such, I would also like to make a donation. For a good cause."
The woman looked at the cash.Would she take it?She took it. "Thank you for your support," she said, smiling and handing Penny and me two cardstock letters with gold embossing.
I led Penny into the large hall.
As soon as we were out of sight of the entrance, Penny pulled me into an alcove.
"Oh my god. That was insane. I’m done. I’m sweating like a pig." She fanned herself. "I can’t handle that much stress."
"Relax," I said. "We’re in. I’ll get you a drink."
A server magically appeared, and I took two champagne flutes from the tray. Penny gulped hers down.
"You’re going to be tipsy."
"I’m sweating so much this is going to go right through me." She handed a server her empty glass and took another. "How did you even know about this ball?"
"My brothers regularly crash it."
"I feel like it's not crashing if you buy a ticket," she remarked.
"If we did it under our names, Hunter would find out," I said, sipping my own drink. "Greg would be pissed. Besides, according to Archer, the Holbrooks throw amazing parties."
Penny and I slowly walked around the perimeter of the room. Archer was right, I decided. The Holbrooks did throw a nice party.
"Look at her costume," Penny said. She had a whole plate of various hors d’oeuvres that the servers were passing out.
"This miniature crab cake is amazing. Can you unhinge your jaw enough to eat it?" she asked, feeding me a bite. "Also, have I told you how freaking sexy you look in that costume?"
"That is a really nice costume," a young woman said. "I’m jealous!"
"I’m double jealous," said the dark-haired man next to her. "I should have thought of being James Bond!" I peered at him. He had the jaw and coloring of a Holbrook. Which one was he?
"Oh, Carter, you’d have to be blond to pull that off!" his date said.
So he was the screwup. It seemed that Allie had been a good influence on him. From the stories, Carter should have been drunk as a skunk right now. But he seemed remarkably sober.
"Honestly, Allie, it's like you don’t even care about me." He held out his hand. "On behalf of the Holbrook Foundation, thank you for coming." He peered at me. "You're not one of the Davenport cousins, are you?"
"No—"
