The next few days were an absolute flurry.

Regina arranged for Aunt Jane and Cora to meet. The two women took to one another immediately. They cited various mutual acquaintances. Aunt Jane made a remark about Cora’s mother that was not permitted in most polite society, which sent Cora off into peals of delighted laughter.

“The fastest way to form friends, my dear,” Aunt Jane said off of Regina’s aghast expression, “Is to find things that you mutually and vehemently dislike.”

That seemed rather backwards to Regina. But since Aunt Jane and Cora were getting along so well, who was she to question it?

Aunt Jane and Cora worked together and went with Regina to select what she would wear to the masquerade ball.

The plan was that Regina would have two outfits.

The first would be an outfit done in such a fashion that anyone looking at it should instantly know that it was her. It was rather simple in style and done up in a dark, muted blue. It went well with her eyes, or so she was told by a cooing Aunt Jane and a beaming Cora.

While the fabric was lovely, the style of the dress was just far enough behind in fashion that it fit with the rest of Regina’s style. She wasn’t much into shopping and was the youngest, so she was forever a step behind in the latest fashions.

The muted color, the modest cut, and the slight laziness in style would tell anyone who cared to look that it was Regina Hartfield wearing that dress.

Furthermore, her chosen mask was a simple one and did not cover much of her face. It was her eyes that were mostly obscured. If the dress was not enough for someone then the almost entire reveal of her face would soon set things to rights.

Regina would arrive at the ball in this first outfit. She would meet up with her sisters there, with Aunt Jane serving as her escort. After catching up she would do a few dances and chat around so that people would know that she was there.

This way, someone could say, “Why yes, Regina Hartfield? She was just right here. I wonder where she went. Perhaps try the dining room?”

Everyone would know that she was about somewhere. The masquerade ball was a large one. In fact it was the largest one that Lord and Lady Morrison hosted all year. It wasn’t unusual for someone to get swallowed up by the crowd.

Once she had established herself as present, Regina would slip away. Cora would find her, and then help her to get undressed and put on the second dress.

The second dress was much more daring than the first. It was the latest fashion, from Paris. It was entirely white, which would stand out at the masquerade ball. Perhaps it was the nature of the ball or what those in attendance tended to do during it, but most people wore darker clothing.

Putting on a white dress, with such expensive fabric, in such a fashion forward style, would all help Regina to stand out. Cora would have a trusted handmaid upon attendance who would take Regina’s hair and put it in a different style.

Finally, there would be her mask. The second mask was a lovely piece of white lace, but it covered almost her entire face. It even had feathers sticking out of it that folded back and covered some of her hair.

“You look almost like a bride,” Cora noted.

“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear,” Aunt Jane added.

Regina did not care what she looked like so long as she was not recognizable. She wanted to appear before the card players as a mysterious and worldly woman. She needed them to be in awe of her. Her joining them at their table should be something that they enjoyed and wanted despite the taboo.

If this second outfit helped to accomplish that, then so be it.

When she was not handling the issues of dress, she was working with Harrison on cards. Or she was taking lessons on accents from Lord Quentin. He had been fetched by Harrison so that he might teach her the accent of his mother’s people.

“Nobody will realize that is what you sound like,” he said. “They will only know that you speak with an accent not from here. It will make you seem exotic. They will be more curious about you.”

When Aunt Jane asked why Regina needed a second dress, or why Lord Quentin was teaching her an accent, Regina only told her that she wanted to enjoy the ball without the pressure of her sisters breathing down her neck.

“I also have a little friendly wager going, between Lady Cora and I,” Regina added. “Lady Cora feels that I underappreciate myself. She says that if I go through the masquerade ball and interact with others through dancing and conversation I should find that I am not such a bother as I fear.”

“And what do you think?” Aunt Jane asked.

“I think that whether they know me or not they should find me a bore at best and an impudent girl at worst,” Regina admitted. “But mostly I fear they shall find me a small nuisance.”

She did not think she was so bad as all that to mortally offend anyone. No matter what might come flying out of her mouth at a moment’s notice.

Aunt Jane let out a little sigh. “I am afraid I must be with Lady Cora on this one, Regina. You undervalue yourself.”

“So everyone seems determined to keep telling me.”

“And when will you begin to believe it then, hmm?”

When Lord Harrison sees that— Regina cut herself off before the thought could continue.

She had been having the most disturbing thoughts lately in regards to her mentor. She knew, of course, that she would form an attachment to him. He had helped her so much in this time of trials and need.

He had agreed to help her, although it must put himself at risk. He had been kind, a friend to her, someone who bolstered her spirits and comforted her without letting her give into the power of her fears. Of course she should feel something for him.

But this… this was deeper, and it scared her.

It was jealousy, and frustration, and sadness. Such an aching sadness, one that she had never known before.

How could Lord Harrison, she thought, love Bridget when he had only spoken to her a few times? How could he love a woman he hardly knew, and not the woman he knew intimately? They had shared so much time together. Was she not good enough for him?

It scared her that she could be jealous, hoarding her remaining time with Lord Harrison like a dragon clutching at his jewels and gold.

She was jealous of Bridget, even. That horrified her even more. To be jealous of someone who had done her wrong or who she did not know was bad enough. To be jealous of someone who had shown her kindness and friendship was worse. But to be jealous of the woman who had raised Regina as her child? The woman who had often put aside her own desires and needs in order to give to Regina?

It made her feel like a traitor to her sister. First she had all but sold Bridget off like so much property. Now she was jealous of what her sister would have: Lord Harrison.

This could not go on. Regina tried to think of ways that she could dismiss her mentor from her thoughts. It was difficult, when so much time was spent with him.

Lord Harrison seemed determined—no, more than determined. He seemed obsessed with her winning. It was as though he was a jockey and she the horse, and they could see the finish line in sight. Now that it was so close he was pushing her as never before.

It felt as though nothing she did was good enough. Regina came close to crying more than once over it. She steeled herself, though. She was not a child anymore. She couldn’t hide. If she could not handle the man she had come to trust, then how could she handle such sternness from the strangers who would be gathered around the card table?

It was up to her to have a strong backbone. She would not tolerate weakness in herself. If Lord Harrison chose to be a perfectionist about these things then that was up to him. She could understand it, even appreciate it a little. How could he sit back and relax if he was not safe in the knowledge that he had trained her as well as he could and pushed her as far as she could go?

Her limits were tested, again and again. He tried to think of ways to distract her while she was playing. He played in as many different ways as he could, to throw her off.

It wasn’t easy. There were times when she wanted to burst into tears. There were other times still when she wanted to throw down her cards and leave. She wanted to rail at him until he understood how awful he was being.

Could he not see that she was doing her best? Why must he push her so?

But it had to be. She knew that. There was only one chance. Everything hung on this one game. She was never going to be good enough to beat Lord Pettifer unless she was stretched beyond her limits.

Regina was determined not to fail. Cora had to make her sleep and Aunt Jane had to remind her to eat. It felt as though she was no longer existing on earth but in some kind of limbo, an in-between space.

She had to win this. It had always felt real, of course, and some days it had felt more real than others. But now it felt unbearably real. This was her family’s only chance.

The others had all noticed. She could feel them being more gentle than with her—well, Cora, Aunt Jane, and Lord Quentin were. Lord Harrison, on the other hand…

It was fair not to expect any mercy from Lord Harrison. She needed to be the best and that was what he was pushing her to be. She had literally asked for this. She couldn’t be angry with him.

Still, it hurt a little. These were their last few days together and it was as though her friend, her mentor, her Oberon, had disappeared. In his place was this other man who pushed her. He was going to help her win the card game, of course he was. But he wasn’t her friend.

It made her sad. She had been hoping for more… Well, she didn’t know what. It was all jumbled up with the strange feelings within her.

Every time she felt that strange urge to reach out and touch him or beg him for—she didn’t even know what—she stamped it down. And yet fear gripped her. Fear at how she must now lose him.

Lose him to Bridget, of all people. And she had orchestrated this. How could she be so upset? She wasn’t losing anything. Lord Harrison had never been hers to begin with.

It was all her fault, really. It was her fault for being a young and foolish girl. She was growing… or she had grown… attached on a deeper level.

Lord Harrison was kind to her. He teased her. He called her his Puck. But all of these could be just as easily interpreted as the kindness of a friend, soon to be brother.

She told herself that she looked forward to having him as her brother. She told herself that worked. That was fine. She could have him in her life and she would be happy for it.

But she couldn’t bring herself. Instead it only made her sadder.

Regina did her best to keep these feelings to herself. It wouldn’t help anyone to share them. How could it? There was nothing that they could do. They couldn’t make this intense sadness and sense of loss go away.

Indeed, to say it out loud would be to make it more real. It would, in fact, give these feelings a name. She did not dare to do that. Giving it a name made it real and making it real gave it a name, a name that she hadn’t wanted, something that had terrified her and only brought sadness to the people she loved.

She did not want that sadness for herself.

She didn’t want to be like Cora. She didn’t want to be like Bridget. She didn’t want to be like Louisa. And she definitely didn’t want to be like her father.

If she said all of her feelings out loud to anyone, they would know. They would say it out loud. They would make it real. And then there would be no denying anymore how she felt. She’d have to accept it.

Perhaps she had grown bolder over the course of this. She was no longer as afraid to speak. Her opinion of herself was no longer quite so low. She now knew that she was intelligent and capable of becoming skilled and respected at something. Even if she never played cards again, not even as a friendly game in her own home, nobody could take that away from her. And she could find other ways to showcase that intelligence and skill.

But there was one way, she realized, in which she was a coward, and that was in the matter of her heart.

She would rather never say anything then talk to someone and risk all of these feelings bubbling up to the surface completely. They would ruin her. They would cut through her heart and destroy her. She’d never felt anything so strong as this pull.

Lord Harrison made her feel safe. He made her feel valued and intelligent. She enjoyed teasing him and being teased in return. She liked just being in his presence. She wanted to go on more walks through the park with him. She wanted to read her way through his library and discuss all of the books with him.

And she wanted him for her very own. Not sharing him with a wife. Even if that wife was her beloved Bridget.

It was all she could do not to find a dark corner and sob.

No, she told herself. She wasn’t a child. She wasn’t going to cry and make a fuss over this.

She would handle these feelings with dignity and in silence. The way that Bridget handled the loss of her childhood sweetheart. Regina would be just like that—make it so that no one would suspect how she truly felt.

Perhaps she had been a child about things before but she wasn’t going to be a child now. She was going to carry herself forth with dignity, as an adult would.

To the world, she would appear only as she always had. And to Lord Harrison, to Cora, to the others who knew what time she had been spending with him—she would seem only as a dear friend. A devoted sister.

Nobody needed to know the truth.

Nobody could know the truth. Not even Regina, not really. She couldn’t speak it even to herself.

That way lay ruin.