Another young lady quickly followed, and though her face was obscured by a small mask, it was easy enough to guess it was Miss Francis. She looked every inch the perfectly demure miss in fancy dress that was easy to identify—though her outfit looked nothing like its real-world counterpart. Three other young ladies were dressed nearly identically, but at least this shepherdess had foregone the sheep-shaped reticule or shepherd’s crook. However, there were enough flounces and frills along the bottom of her skirt that he wasn’t sure how the young lady would navigate the dances.
Malcolm held his breath, waiting to see her step through. Mr. and Mrs. Leigh followed, and he huffed, his shoulders dropping. The former wore plain evening clothes, with a small mask covering his eyes being the only concession to the festivities. However, Mrs. Leigh had chosen an entirely different route. There were flowers aplenty affixed to her hair and gown with many more painted on her mask, making the lady look like a walking rosebush; having attended his fair share of masquerades in his life, Malcolm guessed she was probably “spring” or “nature” or some other equally inscrutable theme that allowed her to dress in whatever fashion she wished without any true resemblance to reality.
Puffing out his cheeks, Malcolm willed Miss Leigh to emerge, his gaze fixed on the door.
She stepped through and stood on the threshold. It was as though all the candles dimmed around her, making her the brightest light in the room. A gown of rich pink like that of a Damask rose flowed down in a fluid sweep with the arms draping to the ground in the medieval style. Her hair hung loose down her back, putting those golden tresses on display, allowing the natural curl full rein. Atop her head sat a circlet of gold, though she required no such ornamentation to look every inch the medieval princess.
Though in fancy dress, she employed only the barest of masks. It hardly qualified as one, as it was nearly as thin as her sister’s glasses, simply circling her eyes in a thin strip ofpapier-mâchépainted gold to match her crown and belt, which hung from her hips and down to the ground. Miss Leigh touched the flimsy thing as though to adjust it and gazed out at the crowd.
She turned towards a couple standing to one side dressed in their finest whilst swathed in black cloaks; despite their identities being hidden behind dominos, Miss Leigh seemed to recognize them and hurried to their sides, embracing the lady. Miss Leigh’s expression brightened, her pale green eyes sparkling with joy as her perfectly pink lips stretched into a smile.
With her hair draping over her shoulders and the rich color of the gown accenting her porcelain skin, Malcolm couldn’t believe another gentleman hadn’t snatched her up for his own. Of course, Miss Leigh had made it clear that she was not one to be snatched up, but she looked like an angel amongst the poor fallen souls of man.
Sidney made a vague noise that sounded something akin to a growl, and Malcolm’s gaze darted to his friend to see the gentleman watching the fair Miss Leigh with narrowed eyes.
“You worry too much,” said Malcolm.
“And you do not worry enough. You hardly know the girl, but I assure you her mercenary reputation is well established.”
Malcolm shook his head. “And I assure you that though her parents are looking to win themselves a wealthy son-in-law, Miss Leigh has no such aspirations. I may not know everything about her, but I have seen enough to know that she is earnest and has a good heart. I wish to know more, and the time has come to end this ruse.”
Sidney nodded and clapped his friend on the back. “Then I wish you good luck. I hope she is everything you believe her to be.”
And with that, Sidney strode away, leaving Malcolm alone.
Chapter 12
“You came!” cried Rosanna, throwing her arms around Prudence’s neck. The movement tugged at the hood covering her sister’s head, and when Rosanna pulled away, she moved to straighten it.
Stepping back to her husband’s side, Prudence took his arm and winced. “Nell has a bit of a fever, and I was tempted to remain home, but Parker and Robert insisted we come.”
“It was hardly a fever,” said Parker, straightening his black cloak. “As much as I understand the purpose of masquerades, I cannot help but think they are folly, as it is difficult to move whilst in costume. You have to constantly right the ridiculous thing. How are we expected to dance in it?”
“Nell was warm to the touch, Parker,” said Prudence, her lips pinching.
“Are you arguing with a physician?” asked Rosanna with a smile.
Parker took his wife’s free hand in his and raised it to his lips. “I may be a physician, but she is a fretter, and I fear she is far more skilled at her profession than I am.”
Rosanna laughed, but at a narrowed look from her sister, she stifled it (though didn’t bother to hide her smile). The fact that she felt such lightness of spirit was a bit of a miracle, and Rosanna was quite ready to revel in it.
Examining her sister, Prudence smiled. “I see you escaped your fate as a shepherdess.”
“It helped that Francis was quite willing to dress however Mama wished,” said Rosanna, running a hand down her front and straightening the belt hanging from her hips. “I cannot imagine being here in that frilly monstrosity. I had thought tonight would be amusing, but I fear Parker is entirely correct about masquerades. I feel out of sorts.”
Prudence’s mouth pinched, her eyes watching Rosanna with far too much pity. “Or do you feel out of sorts because Mr. Tate is the one hosting the festivities?”
A denial came to her lips, but Rosanna paused and sighed. With a furrowed brow, she met her sister’s gaze.
“I will not credit him for all my discomfort tonight, but I cannot help but be uneasy when Mama spent the entire carriage ride here lecturing me about how I should behave tonight,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Do not fret, dearest,” said Prudence, reaching forward to take her sister by the hand. “Whatever her plans are, they will only come to pass if you allow it.”
Parker nodded. “As I have said before, Rosanna, you underestimate your strength. Hold firm, and all will be well.”
With trembling lips, Rosanna drew herself up tall and forced herself to breathe deeply whilst sending out a silent prayer of gratitude for her sister and brother-in-law. Never was anyone so blessed as she to have such support, for it was clear from both their expressions and tone that they truly believed their words. And by extension, Rosanna felt them burrow into her heart and take root there.
She could do this.
