Chapter Eighteen
“T here,” Susannah said as she snipped the last of the thread and removed the pin from her teeth. “I think that should do for you, Moira. Have a look.”
Moira stepped off of the stool she had been standing on and went to the mirror in her dressing room, turning to see the back of her dress. “Perfect! The detailing is just what it needed! Susannah, you are a wizard! I have no idea how you could take a disaster and make a masterpiece in one sitting!”
“I have no idea how you allowed yourself to let Susannah work on your gown,” Kate said with a snort as she watched from the bed, where she was leaning comfortably. “Really, Moira, the poor girl is down on the floor working on your gown when she could very well be getting ready herself.”
Moira gave Kate a dirty look. “Don’t be churlish just because she was willing and able to make my dress prettier than yours.”
Kate gaped in mock-offense and looked at Mary on the other side of her. “Is her dress really prettier?”
Mary raised a brow. “I thought you were more concerned about the fact that Moira had Susannah down on the floor toiling on the fabric than your appearance, Kate.”
“That, too,” Kate sniffed, looking down at Susannah with a wink. “Vastly talented though she is, I cannot condone my sweet friend being forced into manual labor for your vanity.”
Susannah rolled her eyes as Annalise laughed and helped her up. “I offered to help her, Kate.”
“See?” Moira smirked at her friends and joined them on the bed. “Susannah likes me well enough to use her accomplishments for my benefit.”
“If only you had some accomplishments to give her in return,” Kate sighed, patting her hand fondly.
Susannah watched with interest and leaned closer to Annalise. “Are they always like this?” she murmured.
“Always,” Mary and Annalise replied together.
Susannah grinned and pushed back the lock of hair that had dislodged itself in her work. It had not been hard, she had rather enjoyed the challenge, and being able to be of use was always refreshing. If she needed to turn her hand to more laborious work than the current demand from Mrs. Randall, she enjoyed knowing she could do so without difficulty.
Her particular skill set would not be of much use in those whose sole demand in life was to populate ballrooms and carry on family titles. But they just might save her, if she employed them correctly.
“Are you sure you won’t join us?” Kate asked suddenly, looking at Susannah with a sad expression. “You have such a pretty figure, I should love to see you in a ball gown.”
For what had to be the fourth time in an hour, Susannah shook her head, smiling. “No, I am not suited for a ballroom. Despite what you all say, I am Tibby’s companion, not her relative, and my place is elsewhere.”
“What a load of rubbish that is!” came a very familiar trilling voice from the hallway.
Susannah turned to the doorway in shock to find Tibby entering, her gown and turban entirely of gold and her glittering mask in hand. She also wore a sheer cape of gold, for whatever reason, and lace half-gloves were cluttered with her well-famed rings. She bore a very imperious expression that Susannah had come to know well, and it terrified her.
“Moira, my dear, your directions were monstrous,” she sniffed, sparing only half a glance for the now grinning countess. “I should have been here half an hour ago.”
“You know where I live, Tibby,” Moira replied with a laugh.
“I cannot be bothered to remember such things, darling.” She entered the room fully, and Marianne followed, looking rather impish for what Susannah knew of her. She had only met her twice, and had hardly conversed with her at all, but she seemed very kind, if a bit conceited.
Tibby greeted the others, gave a fond kiss to Annalise, and then focused in on Susannah once more. “A load of rubbish,” she repeated firmly.
Susannah swallowed and stammered, “I beg your pardon?”
Tibby folded her arms and looked severe. “Your place is with us, darling. I have had quite enough of your insisting on distance, though I completely respect privacy.”
At least three of the women present chortled at that, but Tibby ignored them all.
“You have not been yourself lately, and I must have you smile.” She looked around the room briefly. “We all must.”
Every head in the room nodded, even Marianne, who smiled gently at her.
“So we have been very mischievous little mice,” Tibby continued, grinning now, “and put together the most perfect ensemble for the masquerade tonight, which you will be attending, and the more you struggle, the more outlandish we shall make it out to be.”
Susannah stared at Tibby in shock, then at the others, her mind feeling as though it was working backwards.
“I couldn’t possibly,” she whispered, her breath hitching in her chest. She wanted to go, she had not danced in years, but she would not belong, she could not pretend that much.
“You can,” Annalise said softly from behind her.
She turned to look at her, knowing she, of all people in this room, would understand. But Annalise only smiled in encouragement, nodding.
Susannah sighed and a hint of excitement started in her stomach. “All right,” she said softly, allowing herself to smile
The women sprang into action, squealing in delight and hugging her, then stripping her completely and bringing in new undergarments, stockings, and a corset, while someone let her hair out of its pins and began brushing it out.
It was an odd feeling to be fussed over so, to have someone else adjusting her garters and pulling at her chemise, tugging on her corset laces, and for two maids to be working at her hair at once. She’d only had one maid, and only for the first few years of her marriage. She’d forgotten how it was, but to now have two of them aiding her? It was absolute madness.
But the giddy delight the others shared was infectious, and she found herself laughing and relaxing with them as they debated over her hair and whether or not a bit of rouge or eye paint was necessary. Thankfully, they listened to her when she said she would prefer not, but they refused to heed her about simplicity in her pins. No, they brought out ornamental pins with pearls and glittering stones, and several different ribbons were tried as well.
Then the dress was brought in, and Susannah’s breath caught at it. She had never seen anything so beautiful, and the entire room hushed as she stepped into it. It was as white as snow, with a sheer silver overlay and the finest details embroidered out of a shimmering silver thread. The sleeves came to her elbow and were entirely of the same fabric as the overlay. The bodice gathered the white with the silver in the most elegant of ruches, while a fine band of thick silver ribbons lay just beneath it.
It was the most exquisite garment she had ever set eyes on, and she could hardly breathe as the buttons were done on her back. She wanted to touch it and toy with it for ages, but she was too afraid to touch such a fine thing, for fear of it dissolving beneath her fingers. It was as if the clouds and the stars had combined in one glorious moment and formed themselves into this dress, and why it should possibly have come to her was unfathomable.
“Susannah,” Kate breathed, looking her up and down in awe.
She could hardly breathe but for her excitement, and tears began to prickle at her eyes.
“Don’t cry!” Marianne laughed, coming over to take her hand, while Annalise took her other. “You’ll set the entire room off.”
“I can’t believe…” Susannah shook her head, her jaw quivering. “Thank you,” she managed.
Moira grinned. “Perhaps you should look at yourself before you thank us, dear.”
She took a breath in, and turned to the mirror
Her breath vanished suddenly. The woman in the mirror was breathtaking, every aspect of her striking yet demure, her complexion glowed warmly, and her eyes sparkled as a mixture of sapphire and emerald. The gown was perfectly fitted to her form, hugging every curve flawlessly, and her hair seemed rich and luxurious with its curls and styling. This woman had no flaws the eye could see, nothing to haunt her nights, no worries in any part of her days. This woman could hope and dream at will. She could have whatever she wished.
“Two things more,” Tibby said, her voice surprisingly choked, though she tried for her usual air.
She stepped up behind Susannah and set a necklace of diamonds around her neck, bringing a gasp of pleasure from all in the room.
“Tibby!” Susannah tried to shriek, though it was rather breathless.
“Don’t get excited, my dear,” Tibby scolded with a pat to her arm. “They look brilliant, but they are not real diamonds. I know what offends you, silly though it is.”
Susannah was not entirely sure she believed her, but she would not argue.
“And the second?” Mary asked, grinning from ear to ear.
Tibby flicked two fingers at the maids, who sprang forward and attached a small, simple white mask to her face.
The effect was so perfectly enchanting, so beyond anything she had ever imagined, that Susannah smiled at her reflection.
“There,” Tibby said with a firm nod of approval. “Now you are ready.”
The ballroom at Lord and Lady Cartwright’s London residence was packed with people, some in the most extraordinary of ensembles. Apparently, all one needed was a mask in order to have societal restrictions and inhibitions completely removed. Susannah had never been to a masquerade, even in her younger years, and now she could see why. But there was a contagious air of excitement and anticipation floating about in the room, and even the sound of the musicians tuning was delightful.
She entered with Tibby and Marianne, no escort for any of them, and due to the mysterious nature of the evening, there was no announcement of those entering. Some of the guests were fairly easy to identify as it was, such as Mr. Bray and the Earl of Beverton, and Lady Cavendish, having apparently tried to match Tibby’s public displays, was arrayed in some ghastly purple ensemble with more feathers than fabric.
“Rather like a rather plump canary I saw once,” Tibby murmured, seeing where Susannah looked. “And the poor bird has been doused in blackberry wine.”
Susannah and Marianne snickered into their gloves, and then Marianne left them for a collection of men nearby. They anticipated her arrival with eagerness, and considering the vision she was in vibrant blue and the natural grace of her gait, Susannah could see why. Apparently, not everyone wished to hide at a masquerade.
She quickly spotted Mary and could only assume the man standing close to her was her husband, it was difficult to tell under the circumstances.
Mary smiled at her as she came to her side. “You are magnificent, dear,” Mary said, taking her hand. “You were born for a masquerade.”
Susannah laughed, knowing her friend had no idea just how true that statement was in her life. She lived a masquerade.
“You look very well indeed,” Geoffrey said with a smile that she immediately recognized.
“Thank you, Mr. Harris.” She curtseyed playfully.
“Formality?” he asked, tsking a bit. “Not fond of that.”
“Under the circumstances, I beg you would excuse me,” she replied, twisting her mouth.
He considered that, then nodded. “Perhaps you are right. But just this once.”
She inclined her head, and turned to watch the dancing that was beginning.
Geoffrey murmured something into Mary’s ear, making her blush a bit beneath her mask, and then he left, walking over to the punch table.
Mary giggled softly to herself, then caught Susannah’s eye.
“What did he say?” Susannah asked, unable to resist smiling at Mary’s expression.
“Oh, he was just telling me how he loves masquerade balls,” Mary said with a wave of her hand.
Susannah raised a brow that Mary would only barely be able to see over her mask. “Does he really?”
The skin of Mary’s neck suddenly turned pink. “We, erm… we had a rather significant turning point in our relationship at a masquerade ball. It is still one of his favorite memories.”
Susannah turned away quickly, focusing on the dancing at hand. Her question had been too personal, though Mary had answered with both politeness and candor, which she did not deserve. And to know something so intimate about her friends made her ache with sudden longing.
A tall gentleman with a small smirk asked her to dance, and she obliged him, enjoying the anonymity on both sides of the mask, able to converse without wondering at the other’s impressions, and a sly bit of innocent, playful flirtation that made her feel years younger. And knowing that she would never know this gentleman if she saw him again, be he rogue, scholar, or peer, was vastly entertaining to contemplate.
That dance was followed by two others in quick succession, with young lads who complimented her effusively, danced energetically, and had absolutely no sense between the two of them. But they amused her, and she did so love dancing. There had been no dancing, no balls of any kind during her time at Pavel House, and only in the infrequent solitude of the house, alone in the ballroom, had she even imagined such things.
She had a respite after, allowing her to take in the elegant furnishings of the room. So many candles and windows, such tall and grand ceilings, and the artistry of every aspect of the majestic space was a masterpiece alone. But when all combined together, it was breathless beyond reckoning. Lord and Lady Cartwright were very kind, very generous people, and there was not a soul in the room who did not think most highly of them.
Well, perhaps one.
“Have a care,” that one individual said as Susannah walked passed her, blocking her path with a thick walking stick. “You nearly trod on my gown, you impertinent chit.”
Susannah turned back to face Lady Greversham, giving her an apologetic smile that she did not feel. “My apologies, madam. I meant no trouble.”
Lady Greversham stared at her with narrowed slits for eyes. “I do not care what you mean, you daft creature. You must mind yourself in a place such as this, or people will think that you do not belong.”
Susannah inhaled silently, forcing herself to remain calm, though her heart skittered to a halt. There was no mistaking the meaning in her words, but it was not possible for the woman to know her. Or was it? The glint in the older woman’s eyes, the sneer in the curve of her mouth, all indicated a particularly sinister intention.
But Susannah had spent enough time around liars to always suspect a bluff.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked with a bit of a sniff, her hands curving into fists at her sides.
“Don’t play at airs you do not have,” Lady Greversham hissed, beginning to draw the attention of those nearest her. “I know you. I shall place your name soon, but I know your face. And you should be most grateful for the lack of announcement, you gilded strumpet, or you should have been cast out into the street where you belong.”
Susannah stiffened and stepped back. “Excuse me, my lady.” She moved around the walking stick and would continue on with her head held high until she could find a private moment to calm herself. Then something came in contact with her ankles and she tumbled forward, but was caught in a moment by a rather strong set of hands before she even came close to the ground.
She looked up into an unfamiliar face, angular features and the palest eyes she had ever seen, beneath a simple black mask. He steadied her in an instant, keeping his hold on her, then turned his hard gaze to Lady Greversham.
“Have a care, Lady Greversham,” he growled in a deep voice that was laced with venom. “The lady might have received injury at your hand, and I would not take kindly to that at all.”
Lady Greversham retracted her outstretched walking stick, and gave a toss of her awkwardly turbaned head, sending the beaded material of her bodice jingling. “What care you for her, Blackmoor?” she scoffed, looking at him with as much displeasure as she had Susannah.
His glare turned harder still, his eyes ice cold. “A great deal more than I care for your presence, madam, and if I hear of you mistreating her again, I shall take a most personal offense.” His clipped and menacing tone widened Lady Greversham’s eyes, and she looked uneasy for the first time.
Susannah did not know why his most personal offense should make anyone blanch so, but she quite enjoyed the sight.
Lady Greversham swallowed, her complexion now pale, and she pulled her fan and began speaking to the shocked woman next to her as if nothing had happened.
“Well,” Blackmoor said, returning his eyes back to Susannah, “now that is settled, will you dance the next with me?”
She nodded quickly, letting him remove her at a rather fast pace. “Thank you, sir,” she murmured softly.
“Never mind Lady Greversham,” he instructed in a surprisingly gentle voice. “I never do.”
“And you are?”
He almost smiled. “Lord Blackmoor, at your service,” he replied with a nod as they went into the dance. “Though you may have heard me referred to as ‘the Viscount Blackmoor’.”
She hadn’t.
“And how came you to be in my service, my lord?” she managed, her heart still pummeling her ribs painfully.
“I am a friend of Kit Gerrard,” he said softly. “And I trust him implicitly. When he instructs me to act, I do so.”
She looked back at him in surprise. “He sent you?”
Again, the viscount’s lips quirked as if he would smile. “Technically, though he didn’t have to. I was already coming. Now, for your own sake, smile as if the harpy cannot touch you. It is a dance, not a funeral.”
Seeing the reassurance in the man’s eyes, Susannah found herself relaxing at last, and the smile she bore was not as forced as she had anticipated. Her friends had rallied to her defense, silencing the old dragon, and now she was dancing with a particularly powerful viscount who had also taken up her cause.
Faintly it occurred to her to wonder where Colin had been for all of that. Had he seen it? Would he have been upset by it?
Lord Blackmoor turned her as part of the dance and her eyes caught sight of something in the corner that immediately drew her attention. Duncan and Geoffrey were bodily restraining a third man in a mask, whose shoulders heaved unsteadily, and whose vibrant blue eyes Susannah knew in an instant.
Colin.
Beneath his mask, his eyes clashed with hers, and they were wild and enraged. After a moment of contact, they eased into hardness, and his jaw tightened as his breathing became steadier. He straightened up, no longer fighting his friends, and he kept his eyes fixed on her. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. Just once.
She clamped down on her lips as she was turned again, away from him. He was not unmoved by what had happened, and he was not indifferent to her.
But she could not encourage him. Not anymore. Not like this.
Lord Blackmoor was not a talkative man, but he maintained a fairly consistent line of questioning, even if there were several breaks where nothing was said. It was not awkward, or uncomfortable, and she enjoyed not being forced to speak. He was considerate and the utmost of a gentleman, and when the dance was done, he turned her into Derek’s care with a kiss to her hand and a deep bow.
“Fresh air?” Derek asked softly, taking her by the elbow.
She nodded, putting a hand to her brow where a throbbing headache was beginning to form. “Please, my lord.”
He steadied her with a hand on her back and Kate suddenly flanked her other side, and without a word, and without drawing any sort of attention, they escorted her out to the terrace and into the night air.
Colin released a heavy breath as he saw Derek and Kate take Susannah out to the terrace. He had not been able to breathe properly for about an hour now, and this was the first time his chest did not ache with the action.
Susannah was tormenting him with the vision of loveliness she presented, and it was all he could do to remain upright. His teeth had been grinding together so hard that his jaw throbbed as if he’d been in a particularly vicious brawl. He had not known she would be here. He would have to have a word with Tibby later, and perhaps with the others, but he knew full well that Tibby was the ringleader. She adored Susannah, it was true, and he could hardly ask her to stop liking her so readily, but this was madness.
His eyes had been on Susannah all night, unable to look at anything else. He knew every man she danced with, every person she spoke with, noted every time she laughed. And each and every minute that passed only caused his stomach to clench more than it already had. His control was paper thin and getting thinner rapidly. He could hardly have said if he were more tempted to cause a scene by raging at her or ravishing her, but he was not coherent enough or calm enough to speak to anyone.
And apparently it was obvious, for no one even tried to approach him.
He did not know what Lady Greversham had said, but he had started towards her the moment she’d stopped Susannah. He remembered all too clearly the last time that creature had interacted with Susannah, and he was not about to let it happen again. Duncan and Geoff had grabbed him and pushed him back into a corner, away from the notice of most everyone, and their combined strength kept him there, though the more he watched, the more he had strained against their hold.
When Lady Greversham had stuck her cursed walking stick out into the folds of Susannah’s dress to trip her, he’d thrashed so hard against his friends he’d nearly broken free. But Duncan’s growled command, laced with his authoritative tone from the army, had settled him enough to watch as Lord Blackmoor had saved her and then taken Susannah into the dance as if nothing had happened.
He would owe the viscount a debt of gratitude if he’d thought the man would take it.
Duncan and Geoff were far more sensible than he was, knowing he had not been in any kind of state to properly defend Susannah, and certainly not in a way that would help matters. He might have made things worse. And he might have done something he would have regretted.
His breathing was calmer now, and he was regaining his now usual irritated airs as he saw Susannah enter the room once more with Kate, looking much refreshed and so beautiful he hated her. He should be going to her and whispering in her ear, making her blush with his praises, promising better things to come when they married. He should have her on his arm, declaring to everyone in attendance, including her, that she was his and his alone.
But instead he was relegated to glaring from across rooms.
She was not indifferent to him. She wanted him, or at least had made a good show of it. It was entirely possible that she had been lonely, simply longing for human touch of any kind, and he had been there and convenient.
Had she ever loved him? She had never said so, not before and not since. She had been encouraging, yes, but she had never given him any expectations herself. He had assumed them all.
Perhaps he had been mistaken in her. Perhaps she did not care for him beyond what he could offer her without commitment.
He hated that he considered the thought. It was hardly like Susannah to be that way, he did not suspect she had the nature to be anything but sweet and charming.
And stubborn.
And confusing.
And captivating.
He ground his teeth again and took a sip of the punch he was holding, only to find it was empty. He growled and thrust it at Geoff, who still stood next to him.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Geoff asked with a snort.
“I don’t care,” Colin snarled, walking towards the other end of the room.
His arm was grabbed and he whirled to see Duncan glaring at him. “You need to pull it together, Colin. If you want any sort of discretion at all, you need to mind yourself.”
Colin inhaled and exhaled through his nose in agitation, staring at his powerful friend for a long moment. He swallowed once and nodded, then moved about the edge of the room until he was calm once more. That was not to say that the feelings fled, for he was as resentful and angry as he had been before, but he no longer wanted to tear the room apart.
Which was just as well, for now Susannah was headed in his direction, and such was the crush of masked individuals at the time that the only way for him to escape would be to go past her.
He clenched a fist and kept his gaze straight ahead, as if he were intent on the dance. He forced the muscles of his face to be relaxed and at ease, and curved one side of his mouth up. To anyone looking at him, he would be the very picture of an amused rake at a London soirée, more at ease in a mask than without one.
At this moment, it was true.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Susannah stutter a step when she neared him. He nearly smirked. So she had not intended on coming to him, then. Was that supposed to make him feel better or worse?
She took a glass from a passing footman and turned to face the window behind her, though her rigid posture told Colin everything he needed to know.
“Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice, knowing he should have asked more gently, but not managing to find patience at the moment.
She offered a shaky nod. “Just pretending.”
Her voice sounded steady, despite the trembling of her hand as she sipped her drink. He turned just enough to speak to her. “So is everyone else. We all wear masks tonight.”
She looked down at the glass she held. “Some of us wear more than one.”
Colin stiffened at her words and his jaw tightened. Whether the words had been a barb for him or a reflection on herself, he couldn’t have said. It burned as if she had slapped him, and his fist tightened at his side. And given the way her eyes shifted, she had noticed.
He wanted to ask her what Lady Greversham had said to her. He wanted to know how she was. He wanted her to leave and take her tempting sight and scent with her. He wanted to grab her hand and take her out to the gardens, away from the noise and the people and the moderately respectable atmosphere. He wanted her alone and in his arms. He wanted to shake her and demand to know why she wouldn’t love him. He wanted to know why he would never be good enough for her, after everything.
He wanted…
“Colin…” she whispered.
He shook his head once, very firmly.
“Please.”
He turned finally to look at her, and he let his rage show, enough that she took a small step back.
“Unless your feelings have changed on the topics we have previously discussed,” he clipped in a low, dangerous tone, “I do not care to hear. Have they?”
Susannah stared at him, her eyes starting to shimmer with tears. Then she swallowed and looked down at the floor.
Colin huffed impatiently and moved past her, his shoulder brushing hers as he did so. He ignored her fragrance, her faint sniffle, and the way his fingers itched to linger against her skirt. He pushed passed several other members of society, none of whom marked him, and he kept his gaze fixed on the doors. He was not going to stay in this stifling environment any longer.
All these masks and costumes, all of this pretending and entertainment, he was done with all of it. He wanted what was real, something he could hold onto and trust. He was through with wishing for something that would never come, yearning for some far off dream like the foolish young boy he had once been.
Colin stormed out of the room, yanking off his mask and tossing it aside. He nodded wordlessly when a servant asked if he wanted his carriage called and paced in the entryway while he waited for it.
He was done with all of this madness.