Page 13 of The Gilded Masquerade

At that moment, the assembly came back to life with its voices and movements. Christmas wish fulfilled beyond anything he could have imagined, he offered his arm, escorting her from the dance floor. His customary mask was firmly back in place.

Chapter V

Utterly Captivated

Darcy assumed their dance had gone unnoticed, but alas, there was no escaping his mother’s scrutiny, especially when he found every purpose to stalk the alluring young lady in question. One would think his mother would be amenable to him pursuing a wealthy American over a sickly cousin, but she and her sister were undeterred in the union. Perhaps because they both had committed their futures in arranged marriages for greater fortune. The only relation who did not have such ridiculous expectations for him was his cousin Richard, who swore to remain wifeless, enjoying convivial society outside the blessed institution.

Standing within feet of the golden angel, he pretended to entertain another handsome American heiress. The dark-eyed Miss Chanler and her younger brother William of New York made known in subtle ways who their relations were, following an introduction by Lady Gwendolen Fitzalan-Howard. He did not know or care about the Chanler connections to Stuyvesant or Astor families and felt no genuine desire for the introduction, but they happened to be standing nearest the mystery woman.

“It’s no secret that Brother and I are from New York. Duchess County, in fact. Have you ever been to our great metropolis, sir?” Miss Chanler asked, her dark eyes vacant and lifeless.

“I have not, although I am told the opera season in New York City quite rivals the Royal Opera House,” he replied dispassionately, making small talk. “Do you attend?”

“Oh, yes!” the young man replied. “There is not a single well born family that does not hold a box at the Academy. If one wishes to be seen, then one must attend whether they care for theatrical music or not.”

“We are being replaced, dear Willie. With the cancellation of this year’s season, the Metropolitan will be the end of the Academy.”

How very prosaic. “Perhaps you would visit London before the season opening next month,” he offered, gaze switching to the alabaster nape and shoulders of Miss Dauntless American.

“My brother returns to preparatory school.”

The young man groaned. “A futile endeavor. Unlike you, university is most assuredly not the path I seek.”

“Some would argue such institutions are estimable for shaping the next generation of leaders and scholars. I contend higher education is a winning pursuit,” he countered.

“Willie wants to be an explorer,” Miss Chanler patronized.

“As a member of the American Geographical Society, I intend a tour of the world when I’m through with Harvard.”

Just then, Miss Dauntless, turned and demurely smiled at him with a slight nod of recognition.

“Ah, please introduce me, sir. I would very much like to dance with the lady,” Willie said with a low forceful voice.

“Excuse me, madam,” he said, “May I present this brother and sister, fellow Americans? The gentleman would like to secure your hand for the next dance.” His heart sank.

She inclined her head to Willie and Miss Chanler, a flicker of recognition passing across her eyes. “How do you? I shall be most glad to dance with you, sir.”

Willie bowed. “A fellow American! Will you allow me to guess your accent?”

“If you dare to afford me the same courtesy, sir.” She offered a charming smile.

Miss Chanler’s gaze raked over the gold gown. “I’m sure she is a New Yorker, Brother,” she guessed with raised chin and tight jaw. “Perhaps we know your family?”

Listening intently to the exchange, he hoped to glean any information about her he could. But there was no mistaking Miss Chanler’s unhappiness at her arrival to their company.

“Ah, but of what county or borough? How amusing! Say something, Miss. I’m sure I can guess your identity,” Willie insisted as though the young lady were a fortune teller or ventriloquist.

“Very well! Given your stunning Hellenic costumes, might I enchant you with a tale of mythology?” She seemed to have changed her accent to one more British and less distinctively American than the woman he conversed with in the library and on the dance floor.

What is she about? Why the further artifice within a masquerade? “Please do. Enchant us, madam,” he said, curiosity piqued.

In a low, thoughtful manner she said, “The colorful blooms, particularly the many roses adorning your gown and woven into your evergreen crown would indicate that you are disguised as Chloris, the graceful Greek goddess of flora, looking forward to springtime.”

Evidently casting a spell, her effervescent charm captivated the young gentleman—and him.

“Brava!” The heiress clapped, her improper laugh reaching Olympus, turning several heads. Clearly, she was the American whom Richard referred to in the library.

“I say! The lady is from Connecticut,” the young man said. “I would recognize that Queen’s diction anywhere.”