Stephen hesitated, finding his chest tightening inexplicably. It was not as though Lord Chesterton was asking him to do something entirely unwelcome, so there was no reason for him to refuse. And yet there was something within him that wanted desperately to do so.
“Very well,” he found himself saying, even though his legs wanted to turn around and take him directly back toward the waiting hackney instead of to Lord Chesterton’s carriage. “I thank you, Lord Chesterton, that is very kind of you indeed.”
Lord Chesterton said nothing, following Stephen into the carriage. Once the three men were sitting inside, he rapped on the roof, having previously told the driver the first of their destinations, and then settled back in his seat. For whatever reason, Stephen still felt caught with tension, his hands tight together as he held them in his lap. Lord Nottingham was laughing at something he had said to Lord Chesterton, but Stephen remained silent, having not even heard his friend speak.
“You are rather quiet, Lord Rutherford,” Lord Chesterton commented, the dark shadows clinging to his face and sending a small tremor through Stephen’s heart. “Are you all right?”
Stephen tried to laugh, having not even the smallest intention of telling Lord Chesterton the truth. “Nothing other than a little too much brandy,” he replied, making the other two gentlemen laugh, which did nothing to relieve the tension he felt deep within him. “I am rather fatigued, I think.”
“As are we all.” Lord Chesterton sighed contentedly and rested his head back against the squabs. “Forgive me if I fall asleep on our journey, gentlemen, short as it may be. I find that I am very tired indeed. Mayhap I should not have had that last whisky.”
Lord Nottingham muttered something, but Stephen found it very difficult to understand what was being said. He frowned, finding his head resting against the squabs, just as Lord Chesterton had done. His eyes closed, his lids feeling heavy and weighted, to the point that he could not even force them open. Letting out a long breath, he tried to speak, tried to tell Lord Chesterton that he was feeling very fatigued indeed, worried that he might now become ill, only for his eyes to close completely and his head to drop forward.
There was nothing after that.
3
“We are going to Lord and Lady Featherstone’s masquerade.”
Catherine could not help but laugh as her sister spiraled into the room, her gown swirling all about her and her mask in her hand.
“Indeed we are,” she replied, her eyes bright as she picked up her own mask. “Is Father ready to take us?”
Lady Ann nodded fervently, reaching to take the mask from Catherine’s hand. “Sit down so that I can help you with this.”
Obediently, Catherine sat, smiling at her reflection as her sister put the delicately decorated mask on her face. It had peacock feathers on either side, to match her gown of blue silk that seemed to shiver with flecks of green as she moved. Her sister was dressed as a shepherdess, complete with a crook and a simple mask that Catherine would need to tie at the back of her head with silk ribbons.
“No one shall be able to tell who you are,” Lady Ann pronounced as Catherine rose to help Ann with her mask. “I must confess I feel a little anxious over such a thing, although I am eager to attend also.”
Catherine shrugged. “It will be a wonderful evening, and certainly not one that will be easily forgettable. After all, Lord Featherstone is a wealthy gentleman and is well known for his desire to have all of society speak of him.” Satisfied, she looked at her sister’s reflection in the mirror. “Are you ready?”
“I think so,” Lady Ann said, throwing herself out of the chair and rushing toward the door. “Come on, Catherine. We do not want to be late.”
With a laugh, Catherine glanced at her reflection one last time before making her way to the door and then down the stairs to the carriage. A masquerade ball was a rare occurrence and an opportunity for the ton to dress in ways they never would be able to do otherwise. To be in such a costume was quite a thrilling experience for Catherine and she could not help but feel rather excited. She would not be able to recognize anyone, she was sure, unless there were those present who wanted to be noticed and thus would wear only the smallest of masks. That in itself was an exhilarating thought, for she would not even know the identity of those she danced with. When the time came for the unmasking, would she be pleased or frustrated with the gentlemen who had taken her to the dance floor?
Would Lord Rutherford be there?
The unwelcome question pushed into her mind as she climbed into the carriage and she shook her head as she turned to look out of the window, trying to rid herself of the thought. A dark cloud seemed to settle over her as she began to worry about whether or not she would end up dancing with him, not knowing that it was him behind the mask. She did not want to go anywhere near him, did not want to share even a single word with him. The way he had looked at her when she had seen him speaking softly to that other young lady had made her heart twist and her stomach churn with the darkness she had seen there.
“Catherine?”
“Yes?” She turned at once to where her father sat, unable to make out his expression in the gloom of the carriage.
“You will always stay near to your sister, will you not?”
“Of course,” Catherine replied quickly, knowing that her father would want to make his way to the card room almost at once and entrusted her now with the care of her sister. It was not always proper but being next to Lady Haddington, Lady Paxton, and now Lady Bentham, alongside their husbands, kept them safe in terms of propriety.
“Of course I will, Papa,” she promised as Lady Ann found her hand and squeezed it gently. “I am sure this is going to be the most wonderful of evenings.”
The evening had been just as wonderful as Catherine had expected. There had been dancing, laughter, delightful conversation, and the most excellent champagne and refreshments which she had thoroughly relished. There was a mystery and an excitement about the hidden faces of everyone, with each person’s true identity held away from the others. She had tried to guess, on occasion, who each gentleman was, wondering at their faces and trying to discover who had taken her to the dance floor. She and the other Shadows had giggled over each one, finding it to be wonderful to have an evening where they had nothing to do other than enjoy themselves. There was no mystery to solve, no puzzle to work out, nothing that could capture her mind and steal any of her enjoyment. All there was now was this evening, and Catherine had reveled in it.
“You look rather weary, my lady.”
Catherine laughed as the gentleman bowed to her, offering her his arm. “You cannot see my face, my lord, so how can you state that I appear a certain way?”
He laughed, the sound deep in his throat. “I had hoped that you might allow me a little more of your company, my lady, that is all.”
“That is rather devious of you,” she answered, although she accepted his arm with a smile. “But I am afraid I shall have to refuse your kind offer, for I have a pressing engagement with another.”
The gentleman let out a long sigh, murmured his regrets, and deposited her back beside Lady Haddington, who was wearing a simple gold mask that matched her gold and silver gown. Catherine smiled her thanks, curtsied, and then watched him walk away, wondering who the gentleman might have been.