Death Wears a Mask (7 page)

“Mere luck,” Mr. Foster said dismissively.

“Well, I am sorry for the interruption.” I turned to Lord Dunmore. His hand, which had lingered on my back, fell away. “I've only come to wish you good evening. I'm afraid it's time for me to leave.”

“Nonsense,” he said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “It's not even midnight, and you promised me the dance after the unmasking.”

I hesitated. I didn't want to appear rude, but neither did I want to stay any longer than was absolutely necessary.

“We're nearly finished with this hand. Wait at least until midnight.” There was something in his coaxing command that I could not refuse.

“Very well,” I assented. After all, why should I be forced to flee the party just because my husband had decided to arrive with another woman? Two could play that game. “I shall save my last dance of the evening for you, Lord Dunmore.”

“Excellent.” He reached out and squeezed my arm. “I knew you wouldn't want to disappoint me, Mrs. Ames.”

I was unsure how to respond to this, so I said nothing.

As the gentlemen resumed their game, I remembered suddenly that I had told Mrs. Barrington I would mention her location to the possible thief in our midst. “I've just come from speaking with your wife, Mr. Barrington. She's resting in the library because she found it crowded and hot downstairs. I believe she may even have fallen asleep.”

“Serena's always getting overheated,” he murmured, his eyes on his cards.

“She showed me her lovely sapphire bracelet, but she said it was hurting her wrists and needed to take it off. Such a lovely piece.”

“Hmm,” her husband replied, laying down a card. Though he knew about Mrs. Barrington's ploy, he seemed singularly disinterested in taking part. I couldn't say I blamed him.

“I'll just go back and check on her,” I said, by way of excusing myself, having done all I could to try to induce the men to thievery. They all seemed much too engrossed in their game to think of Mrs. Barrington's jewelry.

“I'll meet you downstairs in a few moments for the unmasking?” Lord Dunmore asked.

“Very well.”

I exited the room and made my way down the hallway, half wishing I had insisted upon leaving. I really was rather tired, and I wanted to be home and out of this heavy dress. I supposed it wouldn't hurt me to dance one dance with Lord Dunmore, however. I was just as capable of making a spectacle of myself as Milo was, and I thought I just might enjoy it. In preparation, I located a powder room and spent a few moments refreshing my makeup before again venturing into the hall.

“Hello, Mrs. Ames.” I started and looked up. I had been so lost in thought that I had not heard Mrs. Douglas-Hughes approaching.

“Hello, Mrs. Douglas-Hughes,” I replied, as cheerily as I could manage.

“Call me Mamie, won't you? Douglas-Hughes is such a mouthful.”

I smiled. “Certainly, if you will call me Amory.”

“I'd like that. I'm just looking for Sandy. It's nearly midnight, and he shall dance with me if I have to drag him down the stairs. I tried the billiards room, but someone told me they'd come upstairs for cards. The house is massive, isn't it?” She looked at the hallway ahead and then over her shoulder at where the hallway extended beyond the gallery toward the other side of the house. I don't have any idea where to look.”

“It's the room at the end of the hall.” I directed her to the doorway from which I had recently emerged. “I understand Mr. Foster is trouncing them soundly.”

She paused, and her expression was hesitant, as though there was more she wanted to say. I thought I might know what it was.

“I've seen my husband has arrived,” I said, to relieve her of the burden. I was glad my voice betrayed nothing of my true feelings.

“Yes,” she answered carefully. “He came in a few moments ago.”

“He has the charming habit of popping up places unannounced at the most inconvenient times.”

“You weren't expecting him, then.” Or her. Those last two words were implied.

“No. I wasn't.”

“I suppose that's very … awkward.”

“I've grown somewhat accustomed to it,” I replied tonelessly.

“I'm not trying to pry,” she said. “I just thought that maybe you would like someone to talk to.” She laughed self-consciously. “I suppose it's very American of me, but I just wanted to be sure you were … all right.”

I smiled again, more naturally this time, charmed by her thoughtfulness. “Thank you, Mamie. I appreciate that. I'm quite all right.”

She nodded, sensing that I had no wish to continue along this topic at present.

“I'll just go get Sandy then. I'll see you later, Amory?”

“Yes.”

She continued on down the hall, and I headed toward the library. With any luck, Mrs. Barrington would still be there resting comfortably. I hoped she was not put out with me for abandoning her little scheme to go home, but I had felt all along that it was somewhat preposterous, and I was in no mood to play along at present.

I pushed open the door to the library, prepared to offer my excuses, and found Mrs. Barrington collapsed against the back of her chair, sound asleep and snoring softly. I hesitated, wondering if I should perhaps awaken her, but I decided against it. There was no reason to disturb her, especially not now, as I intended to leave at the first convenient moment.

A glance at the table showed that the sapphire bracelet was no longer in sight. It seemed improbable that the thief might actually have struck in my absence, so I supposed Mrs. Barrington had tucked it away before she drifted off. Well, our little charade would have to wait for another time.

I left the room, closing the door softly behind me.

The hallway was deserted, the quiet broken by the muted sounds of the ball drifting up from below: swelling music, the murmur of voices, and the occasional clink of china and crystal as the guests sampled the delicacies of the lavish buffet.

I glanced again at the grandfather clock and saw that it was a quarter to midnight. Nearly time for the unmasking.

Lord Dunmore said he would meet me downstairs, so I supposed it was time to make my way back to the ballroom. I dreaded bumping into Milo, but the place was so crowded that it was unlikely. In any event, there was no need for me to go on behaving as though I were the guilty party.

I reached the railing and looked over at the stairs leading down into the foyer. The group still sat there at the top of the lower staircase, conversing as eagerly as ever. There was no sign of Milo.

I started down the staircase and was halfway to the landing where the group sat when my foot slid out from under me. I grasped at the railing, but it was too late. I could not regain my footing. My ankle twisted painfully as I tried unsuccessfully to catch myself, and I fell down the last four steps, ending in an ungraceful heap at the landing, my dress tangled around me like a great sea of red foam.

The four young people who had been seated on the stairs below me stood at once, and both of the gentlemen started up toward me. “Are you hurt?” one asked.

“Mrs. Ames!” Lord Dunmore had appeared at the top of the stairs, from where I had just come, his face once again obscured by his black and silver mask. He was down the steps and at my side in the space of an instant, leaning down to help me up. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Just clumsy, I'm afraid.” I wrestled my skirt, which seemed to multiply in volume the more I moved. I was quite sure my face must be as crimson as my gown by this point, especially with so attentive an audience. At least the top half of my face was hidden behind a mask.

Somehow Lord Dunmore managed to extricate me from the folds of my dress and help me to my feet. I winced as I tried to stand on my right ankle, and I gripped the banister, knowing my ankle could not support my weight.

I smiled at the two gentlemen who still stood watching, though I rather expect it came across as more of a grimace. “Thank you for your concern. Please don't let me disturb you.”

Rather reluctantly, they made their way back down to their ladies, and I was relieved when the four of them sat again and resumed their conversation.

Lord Dunmore was watching me carefully, his arm still around me, his hand at my waist. “You've hurt yourself, haven't you?” he asked. “You've gone quite white.”

“It's only my ankle. I'll be just fine in a moment,” I told him, though the pain seemed to be getting worse the longer I stood.

“Let me help you.”

“Yes, perhaps I had better go back up and sit down for a moment.”

I tried to take the first step and lurched as the pain shot through my foot. I clenched my teeth. I was prepared to sit on the bottom step, when, without another word, Lord Dunmore swept me up into his arms.

“Really, my lord,” I said in a breathless mixture of surprise and embarrassment. “This isn't necessary.”

“Of course it is. You need to see a doctor.”

I sighed. “I'm sure it's quite all right. If you'll just have my car sent round, I'll go home. I'm sure my ankle will be right as rain in the morning.”

He ignored me and continued to carry me up the stairs, and I could see the interested group on the lower staircase looking up at us until he moved beyond the railings and down the hall.

He moved past the library and then the room where I had seen Miss Echols, and I briefly wondered what had become of her. She certainly hadn't passed us on the stairs. He stopped before a door midway down the corridor. Still holding me in his arms, he reached out and turned the knob before pushing the door open with his foot and carrying me inside. It was a beautiful bedroom, done in dark wood, emerald silks, and flocked wallpaper.

He deposited me gently on the bed, and I pulled my mask off, glad to be rid of it.

“Perhaps I had better look at it,” he said, removing his mask as well.

I studied him for a moment but could discern no ulterior motives in his expression. In any event, Lord Dunmore had certainly witnessed more scandalous things than a twisted ankle.

I pushed my skirts aside, and he sat on the edge of the bed, taking my foot gently in his hands. “It's begun to swell,” he said. “Let's get rid of this shoe.”

He slipped my shoe off and dropped it on the floor. I had to admit, it did feel a bit better already.

“And now your stocking,” he said.

“Lord Dunmore…”

He smiled. “I assure you, Mrs. Ames, I act with pure intentions.”

I raised a brow, but offered no further objection. It would be extremely difficult to remove it myself, and I was certain the doctor would want it removed in any event.

His hands slid up my leg, and he deftly and expertly unfastened the stocking from my garter and began to slip it off.

It was at that moment that the door opened and Milo made one of his extremely inopportune entrances.

 

7

LORD DUNMORE REACTED
as though he was caught removing another man's wife's stocking every evening. Then again, perhaps he was.

“Hello, Ames.” For the space of a moment, he glanced over his shoulder at Milo, who no longer wore his mask, and then turned his attention back to me. With perfect equanimity, he finished sliding the stocking down my leg and peeled it off, careful not to jar my ankle. I shifted a bit uncomfortably and found I could not quite meet Milo's gaze as the viscount's warm hand brushed against my bare foot.

“Hello, Dunmore,” Milo replied. “This is quite the party you're having.”

Lord Dunmore smoothed out the stocking and handed it to me. “Good silk,” he said with a smile before turning his gaze back to Milo. “Yes. I hope you're enjoying your evening as much as I've been enjoying mine.”

“Never a dull moment,” my husband answered. His tone was friendly enough, but I could never be quite certain what he was thinking. After all, this scene did look rather bad, and Lord Dunmore seemed disinclined to offer excuses. In fact, I was not altogether sure he wasn't enjoying himself.

“Your wife's taken quite a tumble,” he said.

“Indeed?” Milo replied dryly.

“I fell down a few stairs,” I interjected. “Rather clumsy of me. It's nothing.”

“I shall send for the doctor, nonetheless,” Lord Dunmore said, rising unhurriedly and depositing my foot carefully back on the bed. “I'll ring him from my bedroom. Keep an eye on her, will you, Ames?”

“Certainly,” Milo replied, stepping out of the doorway so Lord Dunmore could pass.

The viscount departed and closed the door behind him, leaving us alone. We looked at one another. I supposed the situation warranted explanation, but I was loath to explain things to Milo when he was always so very cavalier in justifying his own highly questionable behavior. In fact, I couldn't seem to summon up any feelings of shame, especially after the embarrassment that he had inflicted on me this evening.

He walked to the bed, and his gaze fell upon Lord Dunmore's mask where it lay discarded atop the blanket. “At least only masks and stockings have been removed thus far,” he said. As usual, it was nearly impossible for me to gauge his reaction. I had to contend with a vague look of amused speculation that gave no indication of his true feelings.

I said nothing. I felt I was doing a fairly good job of hiding my own feelings, considering I was furious with him.

Instead of attempting to fill the silence, I straightened my skirts around me, careful not to shift my ankle, which continued to throb steadily. It was quite swollen and beginning to turn an unflattering shade of purple.

“I'll have the car brought round and send for Dr. Easton. He can see you at the flat.”

“Thank you, but if Lord Dunmore has rung his doctor already, I may as well see him here.” I would have, in fact, preferred to see my family doctor in my own home, but at the moment I felt stubbornly disinclined to give in to Milo's suggestion.