Chapter Two
“Why does everyone think Cupid is sweet? Prattling around with his bow and arrow and aiming it at unsuspecting people – what a brat!”
Mr Daniel Lockwood – classical scholar, philosopher and bachelor.
So far, Rook had danced with four goddesses, three nymphs and a rather fetching dark nereid – he had never been such an attentive host.
This hunt for his passionate masked woman was proving difficult. The actual guests at the house party comprised of some thirty or so people; he would tackle those women over the coming week, and so crossed them off his list for tonight. Hestia had also invited friends from the local district for that evenings’ masquerade, and it was these women – daughters, wives and widows – that he focused on. If anyone had cared to notice, they would have seen the earl’s preference for dark curls and white gowns – but no-one did.
It was fruitless. Too short, too tall, smelt strongly of roses, bosoms (good) but no, wrong mouth, wrong backside… He stood on the sidelines watching the dancers – wrong, wrong, wrong. He sipped at his champagne. Perhaps he shouldn’t bother looking; Selina was giving him greedy looks whilst dancing with a satyr, and hehadinvited her here after all.
The problem was he couldn’t get the girl out of his head; it was ridiculous. It must have been the way she fitted in his arms. The way she responded, and the feel of her hands tugging on his hair – just right. He shuddered and turned away from Selina’s covetous eyes.
If his mystery woman was a widow, he could bed her. If she was a debutante, well, no doubt she would open her mouth, make an inane comment, and his desire would be doused. If she was a wife…well that was a problem, as he never poached.
Rook’s gaze wandered from the dancers and over the ballroom. Hestia, he had to admit, had outdone herself. The walls were festooned with billowing, pale blue and white cloth, so that the room resembled the sky and clouds. Various nubile classical statues were dotted around; lemon, orange and fig trees in large pots had been purloined from the conservatory. It truly did resemble an overabundant paradise. The dancers turned as one, and he focused again on the array of masked Grecian-clad nymphs.
“Whom are we looking for then?”
He’d been good friends with Jack since boyhood. His family estate neighboured his own and, unfortunately, they knew each other very well. “Why would I be looking for anyone?”
“You’re on the hunt. I recognise it.”
“Unlike you Jack, I am fussy. But no, I am not hunting – merely making sure my guests are happy.”
“Hah,” replied Jack. His eyes narrowed. “You can fool your sister all you want, but I know you better. Never seen you dance with so many women in one night – even the young fillies.”
Rook shifted uncomfortably; Jack had always been perceptive. “So Jack, found the Persephone to match your Hades yet?”
“Hmmm, change of subject. Alright, I can see you won’t budge…As to Persephone, there are several – how the devil will I choose?” Jack pondered, tapping his lips with his finger, causing Rook to break a smile.
“By the way,” his friend enquired curiously, “your sister…”
“Yes I know,” Rook replied flatly. They both turned to watch Hestia dancing with a Zeus. She was dressed in a diaphanous, red gown, drapes of satin hung from her shoulders, and it was the lowest-cut dress he had ever seen her sport. A dove nestled in her pale-blonde hair.
“I mean,” Jack stuttered, “she looks beautiful, and if I didn’t know she was your sister, I would –” Rook cut him off.
“Yes thank you, Jack. We do know your…dubious talents, but sheismy sister, and no, I don’t know why she has come as Aphrodite.”
“S’pose,” Jack mused, “with a name like ‘Hestia’, she may get fed up with being the virginal, homely goddess all the time – fancies a bit of fun.” Rook grimaced at the thought. “But whathasNathan come as?”
“It appears her husband has come as Hypnos.”
“Who?” questioned Jack. “Must have fallen asleep during that lecture.”
Rook’s lips quirked. “Very apt Jack, as Hypnos is the God of sleep. Touches the head of the sleeper with a branch and pours liquid over their heads – hence the jug and bit of tree he’s brandishing.”
Jack looked confused, and Rook didn’t blame him. Nathan was gazing in the usual love-struck way at Hestia, but added to it was a tinge of desperation and jealous which, quite frankly, Rook didn’t understand – his sister still loved Nathan – even if she did seem to be enjoying herself slightly too much with Zeus.
“I’m sure they are fine. This whole party was her idea.”
“I did wonder,” replied Jack querulously. “Not only is Parliament in session, but I’m missing Lady Margot’s ball this week just to keep you company.”
This time, Rook really did laugh, Lady Margot’s dances consisted of the finest of the demimonde. Jack really had sacrificed himself on the altar of friendship to be here this week.
“I appreciate it, Jack. Your job is to fend off the debutantes with your black looks. I don’t want any marriage-minded misses getting the wrong idea about this house party.” A young girl walked past, and Jack glared at her. She looked startled for a moment before glaring back and walking on.
“However, if that’s your best effort, maybe you are losing your touch?”
