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I took as deep a breath as I could with my corset crushing my insides. “Then we wait.”
After a moment, Emma said, “Have you ever been to a ball before?”
“No. They don’t usually invite bookshop owners.”
She smiled. “No, I meant for an Archivist Society investigation.”
“No. Never.”
“We go inside where there will be a cloakroom and retiring room for the ladies. We leave our cloaks and then proceed to the ballroom where we’ll be a
The duke. The stage manager for this evening. “I wonder what he has pla
The carriage jerked forward, and Emma patted my hand. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
The driver didn’t seem to be satisfied until he had us directly in front of the house. Only then did the footman jump down and open the door, helping first me and then Emma alight.
I could see the heads of the couples leaving the carriages in front and behind us turning our way. The shepherdesses, the Romans, the members of the French court of Marie Antoinette were all examining us with interest. We were new, different, unique.
Lady Westover had outdone herself in that regard.
“Smile,” Emma hissed. “We’re on show.”
I glanced her way and gri
“Yes.”
We lifted our chins in unison and swept up the stairs, where a liveried footman opened the door to us and gestured toward our left. We entered like queens.
Chapter Nineteen
DIVESTED of our capes, we followed the crowd moving upstairs and then toward the back of the house. As we drew closer to the ball, we could clearly hear a waltz. Although I tried hard not to show it, I was as fascinated as Emma was by all I saw.
On one side of the red-carpeted hall was the dining room, with a table that could seat two dozen set up with delicacies on platters and wine goblets in rows. The chairs were placed around the outside of the room, leaving plenty of space to walk by the table. Emma leaned to the side to look around the footman guarding the door. “Everything is beautiful,” she said to him. “You and the others must have worked very hard to bring everything to a shine. You are to be congratulated.”
She must have blessed him with one of her dazzling smiles, because he gri
I looked into the parlor across the hall. The dark blues in the upholstery and wallpaper made the room appear chilly. An elderly Greek goddess and an equally elderly Eleanor of Aquitaine sat by a warming fire in close conversation. Three tables had been set up and were already in use for card games by friars, medieval rulers, and two King Charles the Seconds.
I recognized the Louis XVI facing me without his mask. The Duke of Merville. He appeared engrossed in his cards, and a large number of silver coins scattered on the tables explained why no one looked up while I stared from the doorway.
The Duchess of Merville, dressed we had been told as Marie Antoinette, wasn’t in the room. I’d have to look for her in the ballroom with the other chaperones, since their younger daughter was engaged, not married.
There was one highwayman, but he was pudgy and lacked the purpose and energy that poured out of the Duke of Blackford and affected everyone around him. More disappointed than I expected to be, I turned away.
Emma and I looked at each other through our masks and moved on. At the end of the hall, open double doors led to a flight of stairs. At the bottom was a huge, high-ceilinged ballroom with French doors on the far end, no doubt for access to the gardens. Intricate crystal chandeliers lit by gas lamps hung above the dancers.
As we started down the steps, I looked out over the glittering, masked throng milling about and moving to the music. The room was already crowded. Soon it would be a crush and the society matrons would declare it a success. How were we supposed to unmask a killer in this crowd?
We reached the landing halfway down the stairs where a footman said, “Names, please.”
“The Ice Queen and the Fire Queen,” I said.
“No, your real names.”
I looked at him down my nose and in my haughtiest tone said, “Those are our real names. The Ice Queen and the Fire Queen.”
He raised an eyebrow and then glared at the line backing up behind us. In a loud voice, he proclaimed, “The Ice Queen and the Fire Queen.”
Once we set foot on the polished parquet floor, we were surrounded by gaudy costumes and jewels that sparkled beneath the bright lights. Dancers moved around the center of the room to the music of an orchestra tucked to one side of the stairs. Emma and I tried to make one circle of the room together to see if we recognized anyone, but we were soon separated in the crush of people who each wore a different flashy outfit and a different perfume. Without knowing who wore which costume, we found the half masks hid identities.
By the time I reached the stairs again, I’d received two indecent proposals. I hadn’t expected that sort of party. I climbed up two steps, but I didn’t see any sign of Emma or the Duke of Blackford in his highwayman disguise. All I saw was a sea of multicolored masks and costume hats.
I was frustrated as well as amazed and dazzled by the brilliance of so much wealth and power. I had to remind myself to ignore the overwhelming mix of inherited position and status as the crowd swirled and shifted around me. I couldn’t afford to be impressed, not with so much at stake. Blackford would be wise to show up now and tell me what he wanted done, so we could take care of the problem and then enjoy this carnival mix of glamour and music. I found, with my identity hidden, I wanted to join the waltzing throng.
I stepped down from the staircase and wandered among the crowd watching the dancers. I felt as if I walked alone, swallowed up in a shiny, writhing rainbow. The only thing I wished for was that the highwayman would whisk me out on the floor for a waltz. No doubt the duke was a superb dancer. He did everything with grace.
Since that wouldn’t happen, I’d settle for a cool breeze. Several hundred bodies pressed close together created a heat similar to that in Sir Broderick’s study. Oppressive.
I bumped into Joan of Arc and said, “Excuse me.” Then I looked more closely at the square chin and wide mouth and burst out laughing. “I didn’t think I’d see you here, Lady Julia.”
“Ssh. I can come in disguise to these parties and be sure at least half my dance partners have no idea who I am or how much I’m worth.” She started to back her way through the crowd to get away from me.
I grabbed her arm to detain her. “Does the Earl of Waxpool know you’re here?”
“Grandpapa has no idea either my brother or I am here, but he’d be proud of us for finding a way to have fun without being valued like a racehorse.”
“Then I’ll add my congratulations on your brilliant idea.”
“I have nothing more to say to you.”
“It’s not about—that subject.” I hesitated a moment and Lady Julia looked at me sharply. “I need to ask you one question about the day Miss Victoria died.”