Miranda explained, and then the tinkle-titter was repeated.
Regina’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not amusing. I told Mama Aunt Claire was accompanying us.”
Miranda gave a dismissive wave of her tiny hand. “As if you’ve never lied to her before. And if you haven’t, then it’s high time you started. Not that Aunt Leticia probably remembers half of what anyone says to her, what with the— Oh, I’m sorry, Reggie. I talk without thinking, I do it all the time, don’t I?”
“You do a variety of things without thinking,” Regina told her, squeezing her hands together on her lap. “Now tell me where this coach is heading before I knock on the roof and have it turned back to Berkeley Square.”
“No, you can’t do that! I can’t go alone, and I simply must go. You complain that no one wants you save for your papa’s money. Well, nobody wants me at all. Papa may be a viscount and Grandfather Geoffrey an earl, but the entire world knows we’re all next door to paupers. Oh, Papa will find some rich merchant for me, I suppose, as Grandfather did for Aunt Leticia, if no one more suitable falls madly in love with me before the Season ends—but not as rich as Uncle Reginald and probably twice as crude. Before that happens, I want to have some fun. I’ve been planning all week. Doris Ann, show her.” She motioned to her maid, who then reached down to the tapestry bag at her feet. “What do we want with a horrid, boring recital, when we can go to a ball?”
“A ball? I’m not dressed for a— What are those?”
“Dominos,” Miranda said proudly, grabbing at a mass of emerald-green silk and pulling it onto her lap before Doris Ann passed a similar silk creation, this one in scarlet, to Regina. “And the masks, Doris Ann. Show her the masks!”
One after the other, two half masks were lifted from the tapestry bag and handed to Miranda and Regina.
“Aren’t they glorious!” Miranda exclaimed, holding hers up to her face. It was cunningly flirtatious, almost catlike, sewn all over with closely set green glass stones that matched the emerald silk, with larger stones topping off the many curving tips, which fanned up and out at the sides and top, rather like emerald flames. “See? These satin ribbons tie behind the head. They’re both pretty, but I really like this one best, if you don’t mind?”
“You look like a cat,” Regina said, looking down at the mask in her hands. “And I mean that in the nicest way. Mine’s … white.”
“Ivory, Regina,” Miranda corrected. “It’s shaped much like mine, except for that part that covers your nose, and isn’t that the most gorgeous lace? And all those tiny seed pearls curling all over? And those tiny little silken rosebuds? And the lovely satin ribbons? Oh, stop frowning, Reggie. It’s pretty!”
Regina looked at the mask again. Yes, there were rosebuds, three of them. One at either side of the mask and a third that, once she had it on, would be smack in the middle of her forehead. She plucked them off even as Miranda eeked in protest before breaking into a wide grin and clapping in delight.
“Then you’ll go?”
Regina looked down at the mask. She fingered the decadent scarlet silk puddle in her lap. She wavered.
“I’m certain I was told that masquerade balls are not as acceptable as they once were.”
“Well, of course they’re not, silly, or else I wouldn’t have had to steal the invitation from my brother’s desk, now, would I? But since Justin is out of town at some boxing mill, in any case, why should the invitation go to waste? Besides, the hostess is Lady Fortesque, and I know Justin has spoken of her more than a few times, so the whole thing is still … reasonably acceptable.”
Regina fingered the silk once more. Scarlet. Debutantes did not wear scarlet. They didn’t wear masks, either, she felt fairly sure. She knew for certain that they didn’t attend balls without a parent or other chaperone present.
“What happens at a masquerade ball?”
Miranda shrugged. “I would suppose that everyone hides behind their masks until such time as they’re told to take them off. Not that we’ll do that, of course. We’ll be long gone by then. But while we’re there …” She paused, probably for dramatic effect. “While we’re there, we tell no one our true names, and we’re free to dance and flirt and— Oh, Reggie, please say yes!”
Being a debutante was boring. It probably was supposed to be boring, so that everyone would quickly find someone suitable, marry and never have to do it again. Being a Hackett, daughter of the poor, martyred Lady Leticia and the totally unacceptable Reginald, Regina had endured her share of impolite stares, snide innuendo and even a few horrified mamas, who had physically escorted their sons in the opposite direction when there was a chance of having to stop and exchange pleasantries with the wealthy but socially inferior Miss Hackett. Except for those titled but poor as church mice peers who might entertain lowering themselves to courting her father’s money. Those she avoided, much to her papa’s chagrin.
To be able to dance—yes, and to flirt—without anyone knowing her name? To not be the coarse, jumped-up shipping merchant’s daughter or even the sad, drunken Lady Leticia’s daughter, just for a few stolen hours?
Sensing that her cousin was wavering, Miranda pressed her case. “We’ll be wearing these lovely capes to conceal our clothing. Doris Ann and I found them in the attics, and they don’t even half smell of camphor, not since we aired them. Can you believe my parents once actually were young enough to have worn them and these masks aeons ago? That’s why you get the scarlet one, since Papa is so short and you are so horridly tall, like your father. But not everyone is so boring as to just wear dominos and masks. Some of the guests will come in complete costumes. There will be knights and shepherdesses—all sorts of fanciful things. Why, who knows, Reggie. Perhaps by the time midnight strikes, you will have kissed a devil. Isn’t that beyond anything exciting?”
“Neither of us will be kissing any devils,” Regina said, holding the mask to her face as Doris Ann tied the satin ribbons to keep it in place. “We’ll stay for an hour, no more than that, and then make a late appearance at the recital, just in case your mother or mine ever chances to speak to the hostess. We will be late because one of the coach horses turned up lame. Also, Miranda, you will not leave my side, nor I yours, for more than the space of a dance. Agreed?”
Miranda was already struggling to push her arms into the sleeves of the concealing domino. “Oh yes, yes, agreed! Most definitely agreed!”
“And if we’re caught out, I’ll tell everyone it was all your idea, and that you kidnapped me.”
“Reggie! You wouldn’t!”
“No, probably not,” Regina agreed. “But I was just now remembering the time Mama and I visited at Mentmore and you blamed me for tossing you into the ornamental pond.”
“And they believed me and not you,” Miranda said, tying the strings of the domino under her pert little chin before pulling the hood up and over her hair. “That’s because I look so sweet and innocent and you look … well, never mind.”
“Oh no, you don’t,” Regina said as the horses drew to a halt outside a large building lit with flambeaux that cast strange shadows inside the coach. “I look so what?”
Miranda fidgeted on the seat. “Well, Mama says decadent, but Papa says exotic. And Justin …”
“Yes?
