Sophia sat downstairs in Winterly’s study, directly behind his chunky oak desk, her brother having had an appointment in town and knowing he wouldn’t have minded if she’d borrowed some desk space, she’d commandeered his study and had now written a long and lovely letter to Harry. Everyone else in the house had already written their own letters earlier this morning, so she added hers to the pile of their correspondence and slipped each of the letters inside a canvas carry case for delivery.

“My lady, a letter has arrived for you, and one for his lordship too.” , extended a silver tray to her with two letters upon it, her name scrawled across one and her brother’s name across the other.

“Thank you.” She accepted the letters, placed Winterly’s on his desk where he wouldn’t miss it, and passed Jeeves the carry case. “Please have these letters delivered to Captain Poole at the Horse Guards in Whitehall, with a request to hand them to Major Harry Trentbury.”

“I’ll have one of the footmen deliver it immediately.” A dip of the butler’s head and he strode from the room.

Settling back in her brother’s , the fire crackling in the hearth and spreading its warmth over her, she trailed her finger over her name written across her letter. A surge of butterflies took flight in her belly at seeing James’s precise hand. She’d never mistake it, not after reading his letter this morning in her chamber. She pressed the thick parchment to her heart and closed her eyes. This letter she’d get to keep, which brought her thoughts veering back to last night.

Oh my, so magical. She couldn’t wait to see him again, and even though he’d told her she wasn’t permitted to allow him entrance into her room, she’d never be able to turn him away should he tap at her window as he’d done last night.

Smiling, she broke the seal and unfolded the paper.

 

My sweet Sophia,

I wish this letter was of a brighter subject, but I’ve returned home this morning to an urgent matter which has arisen, and which I must see to immediately. The Fortune Maria has arrived in port and Captain Lewiston has gone missing, a cabin boy as well. I shall be riding to the Boar Head Tavern near the eastern docks to speak to the captain’s brother, Geoffrey Lewiston, who owns the establishment. Hopefully, I can uncover what’s happened and return with the captain and lad henceforth. Until my return, please know that I hold you close to my heart.

Yours always,

James.

 

Her heart clenched in on itself.

Goodness, this wasn’t good news at all.

Surely the captain wouldn’t have left his post without good reason?

Rising, she tucked James’s letter in the pocket of her dark blue skirts and paced her brother’s study. Beyond the forest-green drapes framing the wide window, murky gray clouds smeared the afternoon skies from horizon to horizon. Drizzle still fell, as it had earlier this morning when she’d kissed James farewell at the side door.

Fear and worry for him swarmed her middle.

She halted in front of her brother’s shelves housing all manner of reading material, including fine works written by the masters. Slotted on the top shelf were French, Spanish, and Italian tomes, along with a wide selection of poetry. The middle shelf held her brother’s favorite journals by the most prominent inventors of their time. She ran her finger along the spines of a few, then gasped as she tapped the final book along the shelf.

She tipped the book out of its slot and opened it.

 

Chapter One

Soon after the clay-cold body of Count Clement had been discovered in the library by his eldest son, Count Colbert, the deeply distressed son thrust tomes from the library shelves and grasped the one he sought which opened the secret cabinet his late father had used to deposit his papers of great consequence. The son scoured the hidden cabinet, his examination in earnest, and thankfully uncovered what he most ardently required. His younger brother would be overwhelmed with inexpressible grief when he learnt of their father’s demise, to the same devastating extent which now swallowed him whole, but these papers were of extreme importance, and he must ensure his brother received them. They proved, beyond a doubt, that their father’s death hadn’t come by natural means. No, and should he perish soon after his father, then his younger brother would know foul play was most assuredly afoot.

 

Hands shaking, she sank into one of the two forest-green corner padded chairs sitting either side of the lit fireplace. Had James’s father chosen this particular novel of horror to hide his drawing within for a reason? The first page certainly held shocking similarities to what had unfolded at Donnelly House. A father’s death, not by natural means. Two sons, both who would grieve greatly. Hidden papers of great consequence. Foul play afoot.

When she’d visited the old earl only the day before his death, he’d been seated before the latticed library window as he’d held a burgundy leather-bound ledger in hand. They’d sat together and he’d spoken of the Fortune Maria having sailed into port earlier than expected, that Captain Lewiston had brought in additional cargo from a sunken vessel, including a treasure chest. They’d spoken of his favorite books and philosophical essays, as well as Marco Polo’s book. He’d stood and crossed to the shelf of Minerva novels and tapped the spine of one slightly out of—oh my. Had that been a sign? That’s when Mr. Taylor had arrived to speak to him about the burgundy ledger he’d been perusing upon her arrival, and since she hadn’t wished to hold up his meeting with his man of affairs, she’d excused herself and returned to the drawing room where she’d joined Maria.

Her chest heaved, her heart beating sluggish and slow. She’d told James about speaking to his father in his library, but not of all the finer details surrounding that visit, that his father had tapped the Minerva novel and spoken to Mr. Taylor who’d arrived.

The foreseer had told Captain Bourbon she would need his assistance in a matter of the heart, that she would not be aware of all she knew, and that Bourbon would need to keep her close until all was unraveled. Throughout the days ahead, the captain was supposed to be her minder and to keep her safe. Of course James didn’t wish for her aid, but only because he worried about dragging her into his investigations, but he had no choice in that regard. She would do whatever was needed to help him.

She also trusted Captain Anteros Bourbon, and she needed to speak to him about what she’d remembered. She settled once more at her brother’s desk and penned a precise note to Bourbon, informing him about Captain Lewiston going missing and James’s decision to ride to the eastern docks, to the Boar Head Tavern belonging to Geoffrey Lewiston. She gave him the address for the Frederick’s masked charity ball and asked him to meet her there, as soon as he could.

Once done, she called out to Jeeves and handed him her sealed letter. She asked him to have it delivered to The Cobra, Bourbon’s gaming hell near the docks, where he’d told her she could reach him. Once Jeeves had left, she stoppered the ink bottle and set the quill to one side, then with jittery fingers, paced the room. Would she be able to inform Anteros of what she’d remembered in time? So he might track down James and warn him?

“Time has run away on me today. You look absolutely breathtaking.”

“Thank you, but I’m at an impasse with which mask to wear. Which one do you like best?” Olivia held two masks in her hands and lifted the first to her eyes then the second. “The silk and lace mask?” she asked. “Or the one with feathers?”

“Feathers, although with your golden locks you’ll still be unmistakable to those who know you, even with the mask donned. Don’t move.” She stepped past her sister, peeked out the door and once assured no one stood within the foyer, faced her sister once more. “I have something of great importance to tell you.”

“Oh my, this sounds intriguing.” Olivia stepped closer. “Do tell.”

“Tonight, I’ve organized a meeting with Captain Anteros Bourbon at the ball.”

“You have?” Her eyes went wide. “But you’re smitten with Donnelly and there isn’t a chance your feelings for him have changed. Why would you wish to meet with Captain Bourbon?”

“Our meeting is in regard to Donnelly and his current investigations regarding his father and brother. Donnelly has been called to the eastern docks on an urgent matter and I’m not sure how long he’ll be away. I’ve also just come into possession of some crucial information which I must alert Donnelly to. Since I can’t, speaking to Bourbon is my only alternative. He’ll know how to reach Donnelly quickly.”

“Then you’ve made the right decision to meet with Bourbon.” Olivia hugged her tight. “When Bourbon joined us for luncheon at the museum, he seemed open as he spoke of his travels across the Atlantic and yet also elusive at the same time. He is rather intriguing, don’t you think?”

“What if I told you that one day you will offer him an olive branch?”

“The symbol of peace?” A frown marred her sister’s forehead. “Whatever for?”

“A foreseer told him that one day you’d be his saving grace, an angel sent to him at a time when he would need one the most.”

“I beg your pardon?” More confusion. “Do foreseers even exist?”

“I haven’t personally met one, but I do believe he has. The seer sent him to me, knowing I’d need his aid.”

“Well, that is the truth.” A conceding nod. “You’ve most certainly needed aid with Donnelly.”

“Thank you for understanding my plight.”

“You would do anything for Donnelly, as I would do anything for you.” Olivia kissed her cheek. “Since you must speak with Bourbon tonight, you must ready yourself for the ball so we can be away immediately. Upstairs with you now.”

“Yes, I must hurry.” She swept upstairs with Donnelly’s letter in her pocket.

In her chamber, she bathed quickly, washing her hair then sitting before the fire to dry her locks. Her maid brushed her hair until the strands curled into a glittering fall down her back.

Abby aided her in dressing and once clothed, she stood before her tall-standing oval mirror and swished from side to side in her gown. Surely, it was the most daring gown she’d ever worn, yet her dressmaker had insisted this style would soon be all the rage and with the event being a masked ball, she could hold onto her anonymity for the entire night if she so wished.

She twirled in a full circle, her heart almost alighting from her chest, the lace rippling in a watery golden fall. At the time she’d taken receipt of this gown, Donnelly had yet to join the hussars and her hope had been for him to see her in it. He never would, but she could don it for him in private at the first opportunity. That she’d most certainly do.

“Oh, my lady.” Abby fluttered her hands over her mouth. “You look like a princess.”

“That is so sweet of you to say.” She sat before her mirrored dresser and nodded at Abby to arrange her hair. Her maid

Jewelry. She opened the lid of her carved box and selected her favorite gold and pearl earrings and handed them to Abby. Her maid slotted them into her ears and with the matching necklace hooked around her neck, added the last defining piece of her ensemble—the mask.

Abby secured the mask of golden plumes and lace at the back of her head with a silk ribbon over her shoulders and she swept downstairs.

In the foyer, Olivia shrieked when she descended, her sister’s smile wide beneath her own mask.

Mama gasped from beside Olivia. “Oh, my dear.” Mama rushed forward and clasped her hands. “You look exquisite.”

“So do you, Mama.” She kissed each of Mama’s cheeks, her indigo-colored gown pleated with lace over satin, her mask a glittery tinge of the same deep indigo shade. “You don’t think this gown is too daring?”

“It is daring, but superbly so. Madam Gonnier has outdone herself with this creation. Both my daughters shall be the talk of the ball.”

“Are you feeling well now?” she asked Mama, who certainly appeared fully recovered.

“Absolutely.” A flutter of Mama’s fan. “I’ve been anticipating this masked ball for many months and I’d never allow any illness to force me to miss it.”

“Good evening, ladies,” Winterly called from the top of the stairs. He eyes, his hand firm around the curved head of his cane as he halted in front of them. Pressing a kiss to the top of each of their heads, he murmured his approval. “Well, when I walk in with you three beauties on my arms, I shall be the toast of the town, envied across all of England. Are we all ready to depart?”

“We are,” Mama answered with a grin. “You escort your sisters while I lead the way.” Mama swished out the door which Jeeves opened for them.

“Escort, I shall.” Winterly extended an arm to her and Olivia and steered them both outside and down the driveway in Mama’s eager wake. He aided all three of them into their awaiting coach and stepped inside. Sophia sat on the rear burgundy padded seat next to Olivia, Mama and Winterly across from her and with a rap of her brother’s cane on the ceiling, Winterly called out to their driver, “To Frederick House.”

The slap of the reins resounded, and the horses soon settled into a smooth gait. They traversed the streets toward the most exclusive residential area in London, the skies darkening and the moon rising high. Leaning forward, Sophia gasped at the sight of carriages lining both sides of the street. Their coach moved slowly forward in short spurts as they awaited their turn to draw up to the entrance. Such a magnificent, palatial house.

It stood three stories high with its front rooms ablaze with candlelight.

Finally they came to a complete stop and an elegant, liveried footman opened the door.

Winterly handed them down and the excited buzz of the guests swept over them as they wandered along the front walk.

Sophia entered the grand foyer, her eyes going wide at the mass of attendees. There had to be at least seven hundred people present in this ballroom alone, not to mention how many more would be circulating about the other rooms of the house. With Olivia at her side and Winterly and Mama directly behind her, she made her way past a uniformed servant, who took their cloaks and secured a dance card to her wrist with a white ribbon, then did so for Olivia as well.

A few steps farther, she and her sister accepted a fluted glass of champagne from a passing waiter and clinked their glasses together.

Mr. Tidmore, their brother’s business partner in his maritime trade ventures, joined them “Ladies,” he said with an extravagant bow. “You all look radiant this evening. Your brother is certainly a fortunate man to be escorting such beauties.”

“Yes, fortunate indeed.” Winterly clapped Tidmore on the back and the two men launched into a lively discussion about their merchant ship which had just arrived into port earlier that day.

“Oh, there’s Lady Foxeworth,” Mama gushed. “She mentioned her mask would be a soft lavender, the same as her evening gown. I must speak to her about the gathering she’ll be holding later this week at her home. Excuse me, my dears, I won’t be long.” Mama bustled away.

Perfect. With her brother and mother’s attention diverted elsewhere, she could search for Anteros, with Olivia’s aid. She cooled herself with a flick of her golden-feathered fan, the chatter of the crowd drifting over her. Leaning into Olivia, she whispered in her ear, “Help me look out for Captain Bourbon. The sooner I speak to him, the better.”

“He might be hard to spot in this crowd, although with his dark hair and towering height, perhaps not. He must be a good hand over six feet.” Olivia tapped one slippered toe to the lively tune as she searched through the eye slits of her mask for Bourbon, her gaze moving over the dancing couples under the crystal chandeliers which shimmered with light.

“Since he’s a spymaster, I have the feeling we shall only see him when he wishes to be seen.” Sophia searched each corner and darkened nook. Nothing so far. Toward the doors leading out onto the balcony, layers of cream silk draped the doorways and swooped across the tops of the windows, the elaborate decorations Grecian in style. Marble statues, busts, and high swaying palms graced various spots where people grouped together. Large numbers circled the refreshment table, and a group of masked gentlemen in dark tailcoats and glasses in hand, wandered out of the room down a wide passageway, likely to enjoy some respite offered in the games’ rooms.

A hush settled over the room and Olivia clutched a hand to her chest. “Look, Sophia, there’s Prince George.”

Prinny strode in wearing hose and knee-length gold silk pantaloons, a gold brocade waistcoat with a gold-lace ruffled cravat at his neck and a red and gold brocade overcoat open, his cuffs and high collar embroidered with gold. White gloves and pointed black shoes holding wide buckles completed his elegant look, his hair powdered white and fluffed high at the top and his mask covering his eyes. Inarguably, he was a patron of style and taste, although his dissolute way of life dimmed his appeal dramatically. He’d had countless affairs since his marriage to Princess Caroline, bedding actresses, divorced wives, songwriters, as well as the current wives of older gentlemen of the peerage. His entourage followed him, of courtiers and a lady considered his current mistress, the woman bedecked in jewels and wearing an elaborate gown and mask.

As protocol demanded, Sophia swept into a deep curtsy as the prince passed by, her knees bent and head slightly bowed, her skirts held outward. Thankfully, he moved on quickly and eased into a regal chair placed at the head of the ballroom where waiters and servants scurried to bring him wine and food overflowing from silver platters.

“Disgustoso.” A grunt from behind them. “The prince strolls in here with a sinful amount of pomp and ceremony, all while displaying his mistress to one and all.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Sophia turned and curtsied to Captain Bourbon, the spymaster the captain oozed mystery with his jet-black hair slicked back and his blue eyes shining as deep and as bottomless as rich sapphires. He appeared dark and dangerous, a man one didn’t trifle with unless they enjoyed said danger, and going by the interested look in her sister’s eyes, Olivia was in fact completely intrigued by that danger.

Sophia tapped her closed fan against the captain’s jacketed arm. “Kind sir, you must have received my letter without any issue.”

“I did, then secured an invitation to this elaborate ball and alighted into my carriage immediately.” He caught her gloved hand and kissed her knuckles before

“Captain.” A soft sigh escaped Olivia’s lips then she promptly tugged her hand back. “My papa once warned me that when a man lavishes such words of praise on a lady, that she should take immense care around him. You seem to be a dangerous puzzle I can’t quite work out.”

“Your papa was clearly a wise man.” His lips tugged up into a sinful grin. “Might I add my own words of warning to his?”

“Go right ahead.” A challenging tilt to Olivia’s head.

“When a man collects enemies at every turn, just as I have a habit of unfortunately doing, you should steer clear of that man. Immense care must be taken.”

“I, ah—” Olivia glanced at her, then back at Bourbon. “Your warning has been duly noted.”

“Good evening, Lady Olivia.”

“Lord Herbarth, how did you know it was me?” Olivia voice was pitched a little too high. “Goodness, reserving two dances with a lady on one night will cause a stir and my mama will end up having words with me. I’m certain we’ve spoken of this before.”

“Yes, we have, but hopefully your mama will speak only wonderful words.” The baron chuckled as he eyed Olivia. “Surely, you can’t fault me for wishing to dance with such a delightful companion. I’m certain you’ll be inundated with gentlemen and I didn’t wish to miss out.”

A low growl emanated from Bourbon, his sapphire eyes hardening to a deeply black hue.

“You collect enemies, remember?” Olivia pressed a hand to Bourbon’s arm then batted her lashes at Herbarth. “Sir, I believe you are right, and I shall concede to two dances.”

“Wonderful. I always enjoy your delightful conversation and clever wit when we dance.” Herbarth placed one hand behind his back and bowed as he offered Olivia his arm. “My lady, will you join me in dancing the next set together?”

“I’d be delighted.” Olivia accepted the baron’s arm and moved away into the swirling mass of dancers.

“Your sister tugs on the tail of the cobra with her actions.” Bourbon

“Are you certain the foreseer said that Olivia would one day be your saving grace?” She placed her fingers in his and walked with him onto the dancefloor.

“Yes, an angel sent to me at a time when I would need one the most, only I’ve no desire to get too close to your sister.” He swept her in amongst the couples, directly into the same set which Olivia and the baron had joined.

“It doesn’t appear that’s the case. You gravitate toward her with ease.” The chords of a new dance began. She pointed her right toe and sank elegantly down on her left leg into a curtsy.

“That sounds ominous. Why do you say such a thing?”

“I adore the wide-open seas and find I’m often gone from England for months at a time. Meanwhile, your sister needs to remain here. I can’t have her forcing me to remain here with her.” He bowed deeply with a royal swish of one hand behind his back. “Have I mentioned I have a sister of my own, one who enjoys finding trouble? I’m constantly scouring the seas for her and dragging her back to safety.”

“Sisters can be troublesome, and you don’t yet know Olivia all that well. She actually adores traveling, not that she’s ever traveled any farther than our fair land.” As slow and graceful as she could, she circled to Anteros’s right, their fingers touching ever so softly, their gazes on each other’s. “Pray tell, what is your sister’s name?”

“Adrestia.” He smiled softly as he moved about her, his love for his sister clear to see in his eyes. “She is a rascal, a splendido rascal.”

“She holds a Greek name the same as you do.”

“Yes, one given to the children born of Ares and Aphrodite. My mother’s fascination with all things Roman or Greek always knew no bounds. During my childhood, she named each of our pets after the Greek gods.”

“My mother isn’t available for visits, but my sister will be, when I next find her.” A chuckle. “She is currently sailing the seas.”

“She sounds delightful.” She stepped back and moved toward Olivia then circled her sister.

“What on earth are you two whispering about?” Olivia’s eyes blazed with curiosity behind her mask.

“You, my dear sister, and Anteros’s mother and sister.” She bit her lip in an attempt to stifle her giggle, which she barely managed to do. “I have asked that we arrange a visit so we might meet them. He said his mother isn’t available, but his sister will be, once he finds her. She is currently sailing the seas.”

“You truly asked if we might meet his family?” Shock widened her sister’s eyes, then they narrowed with annoyance. “Are you matchmaking, dear sister?”

“Possibly, or perhaps the fates have already spoken.”

“Pardon?” Olivia gritted her teeth as the dance forced her to move away. Her sister circled Bourbon and they spoke quietly to each other, whispered words Sophia missed, but by the deep chuckle Anteros released as he stepped back from Olivia, clearly their discussion had amused him.

Anteros moved around her next. “Olivia’s passione for life is invigorating.”

“My sister embraces every challenge that comes her way, and I believe you present a challenge to her.” The dance separated them again, and Sophia moved around Herbarth. She offered the baron a smile, then moved in division, aligning with the third lady in their set, then back to Anteros again.

He swept a hand around her back and guided her in a circle. “In your letter, you updated me on Donnelly’s movements, of the Fortune Maria arriving in port without Captain Lewiston, that Donnelly has ridden to the Boar Head Tavern near the eastern docks to speak to the captain’s brother, Geoffrey Lewiston.”

“Indeed, and also while in my brother’s study this afternoon I uncovered something of great import. Might we speak somewhere about it, in private of course, where we won’t be overheard?”

“Most certainly.” He glanced at a masked man standing in the shadows next to the passageway and flicked a finger. The man gave the captain a firm nod.

“Who is that?” she asked as Anteros guided her out of the ballroom under a wide arch.

“Giovani, a man I trust with my life.” He led her along a winding passageway, the lit candles in each wall sconce flickering eerily. At the end of the walkway, Anteros opened a door with stairs leading downward into the gloomy depths of the cellars.

Cobwebs hung from the corners, the walls gritty and pitted, the overpowering scent of dampness swirling from somewhere within the murky depths far below.

“This is an interesting place for a private meeting.” She shuddered and rubbed her bare arms.