His Heart's Delight (23 page)

“Mrs. Whitlow, there are very few people who
know this and I trust your confidence.” She waited, her silence
insisting on an answer.

“I have been involved with the church for
years now and excel at keeping secrets.” Her smile was
reassuring.

“My parents insisted I come to London for the
Season and from the beginning I hoped to find someone who would
escort me but expect no lasting connection. You see, I am quite
determined to marry my neighbor from home.”

“Determined?”

“Well, perhaps that is not the best choice of
words. I love him, of course. We have known each other forever.
Richard is fighting in the Peninsula and I have every intention of
joining him to follow the drum.”

“That is very noble of you”—she paused—“but
is it wise?”

“Not noble or wise, ma’am,” Christiana
responded earnestly. “But when we are married I will go where he is
and right now that is Portugal.”

“How biblical.” Her expression shifted from
self-assurance to worry. Sitting on one of the chairs near a
window, she gestured to the chair beside her “Please do come sit
with me for a moment.”

Christiana did as she was asked even though
she felt a lecture was coming.

“Christiana, I find my concern is now for my
brother. You say he agreed to this sham?”

Christiana nodded.

“I will concede that it may have begun as
sport, but are you certain that his feelings are not engaged? It is
so unlike him to indulge in the courtship ritual and I can not
think what would induce him to do it, except perhaps the hope that
he can replace the absent Richard in your heart.”

“Oh, but you see, Lord Morgan has his own
reasons for the game.” She was so relieved that she rushed into the
speech without considering it was not her secret to share. “Lord
Morgan told me that his father demanded he find a match this
Season. Morgan said he would prefer to find a bride at a place and
time of his own choice and given what you have told me of his
property in Wales, I can understand even more fully his
reasoning.”

“Oh, Papa!” Mariel spoke the two words with
the vehemence of an expletive. “Will he never learn?”

Mariel stood abruptly and began to pace the
room. “Ah, well, now I see that it is the two of you who are
playing a game. Both of you trying to convince your parents and the
ton
that you are fulfilling their wishes and very determined
to honor your own.”

That was the truth of it, but she made it
sound foolish.

“Christiana, do bear in mind that it
is
a game and there are very few games where both the
players win.”

“You think we are closer than we should be.”
Christiana stood, uncomfortable because she knew it might be
true.

“That is for the two of you to determine. But
before it goes any further be absolutely sure that you are content
with friendship.”

“His friendship means everything to me. I
would not hurt him for the world.” Christiana’s eyes misted with
guilt. She loved Richard. She loved Richard. But if that was the
truth then why did the thought of hurting Morgan make her want to
cry?

“You mistake me, Christiana; it is not
Morgan’s feelings I am worried about. It is yours. You must remind
yourself that this is a flirtation with a very experienced man, a
heady experience for any girl in her first Season.”

Christiana shivered. Put that way it sounded
more delicious than mean-spirited. “Then everything is all right
for I know that Lord Morgan is as careful of my feelings as I am of
his.”

“Very well then.” Now Mariel sounded exactly
like a priest. She straightened her skirts and smoothed her
hair.

“But, ma’am, what will you tell Her Grace?”
Christiana stood where she was, anxious to have this one last issue
resolved.

“I will tell her that she knows you and
Morgan better than I and that I hope and pray the two of you know
what you are about. It will be nothing less than the truth.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” There was something left
unspoken, but Christiana was so relieved to have the interview end
on a happy note that she did not pursue it further. Did that make
her a coward or wise? She opted for sensible.

“Shall we join the others and treat ourselves
to the wonderful sweets the duke’s chef promised?”

And where
was
Morgan, Christiana
wondered. Out loud she asked, “Do you think there will be any left?
I can guarantee that Peter Wilton alone is capable of demolishing
the entire buffet. And he was only one of a dozen young men
invited.”

“Aha, the chef understands this very well,
but he has known me from childhood, and I can equally guarantee
that he has set some aside for us.”

The chef had indeed set aside a plate for
each of them. Christiana accepted his offering with appreciation
and when no one was looking, set it down on an empty table already
filled with plates and glasses.

Searching the crowd for Lord Morgan, she
finally located him talking with Peter Wilton and several other
young men. He was listening to them with indulgent interest. As if
he could feel her gaze, he looked up. She smiled at him and he
smiled at her, and then returned to his conversation.
There,
she thought.
Everything is fine. He did not rush over to me and
I am perfectly content to let him talk with his friends. There is
nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

~ ~ ~

Christiana awoke early. With her eyes closed
she smiled at the sense of anticipation that was her first waking
thought. What was so exciting about today? The masquerade. Finally.
Today was the Hawthornes’ masquerade.

The last few weeks had been diversion enough
but finally it was here. This party was the climax of the Season.
There might be grander balls and finer dinners, but a masquerade
was her idea of the perfect entertainment.

Everyone had a chance to be someone else. She
and Joanna had spent hours, days even, perfecting their costumes of
Starlight and Sunshine, but that was only half the fun. Who would
Morgan choose to be? Would she be able to recognize him or would
his disguise be so deep that she would dance three dances before
she knew?

She snuggled down into bed. Oh no, it could
never take three dances to know him. The thought of three dances
made her smile as well. Would more than the conventional two be
allowed? That was another secret pleasure of a masquerade. Not only
could you appear different, but you could carry the game deeper and
behave differently.

Of course, it would be difficult to fool
anyone for long. They were all so well known to each other now.

The guest list would include the same circle
they had spent the last few months with. Had anyone thought to
change the way they walked as part of tonight’s charade?

Christiana jumped from her bed and pulled a
bit of the curtain aside. Was that sunshine? She could barely see
the sky for all the tall houses that lined the street, but she
thought it looked promising. Would the day hold fair into the
evening and allow for walks in the Hawthornes’ garden? She dove
back into bed, snuggled into the covers, and turned her pillow so
it felt cool against her cheek.

It was going to be perfect, absolutely
perfect.

~ ~ ~

“You look perfect, Joanna, absolutely
perfect.” Christiana looked to her mama, hoping she would add her
assurance.

“You look lovely, dear.”

Christiana breathed a sigh of gratitude as a
tentative smile replaced Joanna’s frown.

“It seemed like such a good idea at the time,
Christy.” Joanna turned to her mother. “Do you think anyone will
know what I am pretending to be?”

Mama’s generosity faded. “Do not
intellectualize, Joanna.”

“Dearest, a masquerade is for amusement, not
edification.” Christiana had to agree with her mother. “With your
mask on you look exactly as one representing the bright light of
day should.”

Joanna’s half mask included a diadem of
golden rays that framed her face. Her golden gown showed off her
lovely skin and completed the illusion of bright sunlight.

Christiana brushed an imaginary speck of dust
from her sister’s skirt, then reached for her fan. “Now we must
hurry so we are not too late. This is one time when I want to be
among the first to arrive so that I can see what everyone is
wearing.” She dropped the fan on the bed and reached out to
straighten Joanna’s skirt just once more so that it would lie
perfectly.

“Stand still, Christiana. Stop
fidgeting.”

Christiana refused to be annoyed by her
mother’s testiness. Nothing was going to spoil this evening. She
stood still while her mother inspected her up and down and then
nodded.

“Oh, Mama.” Joanna spoke with amused
annoyance. “Say it, Christy looks wonderful.”

“She does.” It was sincerely meant and her
slight hesitation was understood by all three of them.

Joanna stepped closer to her sister. “You are
still not sure she should be wearing black? But, Mama, sprinkled
with brilliants the way it is and with her tiara of stars one could
hardly mistake her for anything but the Night Sky.”

Mama allowed herself to be convinced. “You
look wonderful, both of you. A credit to your family.”

It was such an unusually generous thing for
their mama to say that Christiana could think of nothing less than
a curtsy in thanks. Joanna followed suit, and in rare accord, the
three of them made for the hall and the waiting carriage.

They did not arrive as early as Christiana
would have liked. The train of carriages wound around the square,
each occupant waiting with varying patience for the chance to
alight at the grand entrance of the Hawthorne residence.

Once inside, the Lamberts made their way to a
withdrawing room along with every other young lady and all spent at
least another half hour admiring each other’s costumes with
singular sincerity. Most friends were easily recognized, though the
youngest Miss Westbourne was well disguised as a shepherdess and
had even changed her voice to match her outfit.

They discussed Miss Westbourne’s costume as
they made their way to the grand staircase. “It is an excellent
idea. She has no particular beau and this will leave her free to
entertain anyone who might ask her to dance.”

“You know,” remarked Joanna, “I do believe
that a masquerade comes as close to making us the equal of men as
any entertainment I can think of.”

“Do you know what Lord Monksford is wearing?”
If Joanna found him early then she could discuss the point with
him. As far as Christiana was concerned, this evening was made for
frivolity not debate.

Not three minutes later, Louis XIV, the Sun
King, invited Joanna to dance. Christiana was dumbfounded. This man
was wearing a suit made from the same fabric as Joanna’s dress. His
wig was a modest replica of those lately favored and there was no
mistaking that he had come up with the outfit to compliment her
sister’s costume.

Was it really Lord Monksford? Every unkind
thought Christiana had ever entertained about him disappeared,
replaced by an affectionate admiration for a man who was willing to
go so against his natural inclinations just to please her
sister.

The golden couple moved to the dance floor
and Christiana looked around for her mother, eager to share her
amazement.

“Lady Starlight?” The quiet night-darkened
voice came from behind her. “May I have this dance?”

It was Lord Morgan. He had gone to no great
lengths to hide his face, though a half mask did cover his eyes.
His voice was more seductive than usual, but it was very much in
keeping with the costume he wore.

His clothing was the darkest black velvet and
very formal, virtually unrelieved by white. Even his shirt and
cravat were a black silk that made him look mysterious rather than
menacing. He had draped a cape from his shoulder, this in satin,
shimmering against the velvet of his suit.

“You look wonderful!” Christiana clapped her
hands and would never ever admit that she was not exactly sure what
he was supposed to be.

“But you have recognized me.”

“Well, my lord, we have spent the entire
Season together. By now I know your laugh even if I am half a room
away. I can tell it is you even when your back is to me by the set
of your shoulders and the tilt of your head.”

“As I know you despite the mask.”

She smiled as he stepped back to take in the
elegance of her costume, though his eyes never left her face.

“But someone must have told you what I was
wearing, my lord. Someone surely told Lord Monksford what Joanna’s
costume was going to be.”

“No, no. Your eyes give you away and the way
you bring your hands together.” He covered her two joined hands
with his own. “Just like this.”

Who knew how long she would have been content
to stand with him like that? But the orchestra’s opening notes drew
the attention of the entire crowd gathered in the outer room, and
Christiana and Morgan were swept along with the rest of the guests
as they all moved toward the ballroom.

As Morgan took her arm, Christiana realized
that while he might not be anything more than a night-driven
spirit, his costume was a perfect background to her brilliantly
spangled gown.

“This is going to be so much fun! And how did
you find out what I was wearing? Was it Sally? But when did you
talk with her?” And then to design his whole costume to complement
hers. Was there a more wonderful man in the world than Lord Morgan
Braedon?

“O
h, the quiet in
this garden is lovely.” Christiana turned to look back into the
ballroom. “I think everyone is dancing. Someone has even convinced
Mama to take the floor.”

Morgan watched her with unabashed enjoyment,
drawing his pleasure in the evening from hers. She seemed pleased
with the attention they drew—among the brightly colored costumes
their black and sparkling outfits drew a dozen compliments.