Page 43 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous
Heat burned Venetia’s skin, and she put her hands to her ears. “Stop! I don’t believe any of it! You are just jealous of my mama because she was younger and more beautiful than you.” Venetia did not care that she was treading a dangerous line. How dare her aunt speak of her beloved parents like this?
“More beautiful, yes, but not like-minded as your Papa and I were.” Aunt Pike’s voice softened to a dangerous purr. “Yes, you may well look at me like that, but what I speak is the truth. Your father wished to marry me. Hewas goingto marry me before your conniving mama insinuated herself—” Each word was delivered with precision, designed to wound and shatter.
“Into his affections? I can well imagine he would prefer my kind, sweet mama over a woman as cold and calculating as you.” Venetia rose to her feet, trembling with emotion.
“If you would let me finish, it was actually his bed, not his affections, into which she insinuated herself. The scandal was something neither could live down when they were discovered.” Aunt Pike’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Do you think he wished to marry your mama? No, he did not, and I can show you proof in the letters—such tender letters he wrote me.” Her hand moved to her throat, where a cameo hung on a velvet ribbon, as if she were touching a talisman.
Venetia stared, transfixed by this revelation. Now she truly was lost for words. Could her aunt really have been a contender for her father’s affections?
“Then show me the letters,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. “Show me the letters if you want me to believe you.”
Aunt Pike laughed softly. “You will not want to see them, but I will show them to you. Later. For now, you must ready yourself for tonight’s masquerade ball.” She held up the masquerade gown Venetia was to wear. “Lord Windermere knows you will be dressed as a scarlet cardinal bird. Yes, how we did laugh to thinkyou would venture forth so altered from what you parade to the world, yet so true to the wicked heart that beats within you.” Her aunt took a few steps towards the door. “He is very much looking forward to explaining what a terrible mistake you are making if you persist in rejecting his interest.” With a short laugh, she added over her shoulder, “Almost as terrible a mistake as your mama made all those years ago. And you certainly don’t want to follow in her footsteps.”
The door closed behind her with a decisive click, leaving Venetia alone and digesting these ominous words, and the cardinal costume laid out on the bed like a splash of blood. Its symbolism was not lost on Venetia. The costume would mark her as both a temptress and potentially a woman with secrets to hide. It would draw all eyes to her and make her a target for the gossips.
Venetia sat down on the bed and stared up at the portrait of her mother.
Did her mother really have secrets that had the potential to damn her child if they were unearthed?
Is that what her aunt was threatening? Defy her, and Venetia would rue the day she unleashed the scandals of the past?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Eugenia took anervous sip of champagne, the bubbles tickling her nose as she gazed about the room. Candles blazed in crystal chandeliers overhead, casting a warm glow across the assembled revelers while musicians played a lively quadrille in the far corner.
What would Thornton think of her costume? More to the point, what would Lady Pendleton think? She, after all, was the arbiter of Eugenia’s fashion choices, with the ability to crush her with a single derisive comment.
After thirty years of friendship, Eugenia should know better how to stand up for her decisions, yet her preliminary boldness always seemed to result in crushed feelings. Hers, that is. She smoothed a hand over her gown, the golden silk shimmering beneath her nervous touch.
“My dear Eugenia, surely that is not another champagne you are drinking?” Lady Pendleton had approached from behind, her eye trained on Eugenia’s glass. But now she took in her friend’s masquerade costume and gasped, her fan snapping open. “What were you thinking?”
She sank into her seat as her gaze traveled from the golden feathery headdress with its curved black beak down the line of shimmering luster. “You told me nothing of your plans to appear in such a scandalous rig-out. Oh, my dear, you will regret tonight, for you are not the decorous woman of advancing yearssociety expects.” She leaned forward and gripped Eugenia’s wrist. “You are trying far too hard. Who is it you wish to impress? You knew what I would say, didn’t you? That’s why you kept your costume secret.”
By contrast, Lady Pendleton’s elaborate gown in deep royal blue and emerald green struck just the right note. The peacock feathers in her headdress quivered with each movement, catching the light like living jewels.
“Why, Lady Pendleton, your peacock costume suits you wonderfully,” Eugenia replied. She did not add that thoughts of a royal peacock immediately conjured images of overbearing vanity—exactly what Lady Pendleton projected, though in masquerade it was exacerbated to a fine point. “Never before have I seen you look so regal.”
Lady Pendleton preened, stroking her overskirt that mimicked a peacock’s tail, adorned with embroidered “eyes” in shimmering thread and beadwork. “Do you really think so? Pendleton said I looked especially fine, but his opinion is hardly one I value.”
“Then you have gone to great lengths to entrance someone else?” Eugenia caught herself up. The champagne was definitely affecting her. She never spoke so boldly to her friend.
To her surprise, Lady Pendleton appeared intrigued rather than offended. Her dark eyes flashed with excitement. “One is never too old to enjoy a flirtation.” A smile played at the corners of her mouth, transforming her usually severe countenance.
Eugenia felt genuine shock. Lady Pendleton, though unhappily wed, was the last person who would court censure by allowing her eyes to wander.
“Oh, Eugenia, do not look at me like that. You cannot be so innocent,” Lady Pendleton said, running a hand down her heavily beaded bodice. She accepted a glass of Madeira from a passing waiter. “Of course, you have never been married, soknow nothing of the tumults of the heart. However, when a very handsome gentleman takes notable interest, it matters not how old one is. It simply demonstrates the power we women exert over the unfair sex.”
“And what handsome gentleman do you speak of?” Eugenia asked, trying to modulate her shock.
“You really don’t expect me to answer that, do you?” Lady Pendleton leaned back with a sly look, fanning herself with studied languor.
Something was different about her friend, and it wasn’t merely the dramatic peacock feathers. Lady Pendleton appeared transformed. So… a man was involved. A man who was not her henpecked husband.
She glanced about the ballroom, filled with fabulously garbed guests in outrageous costumes. There was Bacchus draped in grape vines, Diana the Huntress in silver tunic and quiver.
And, now, Lord Thornton, sauntering through the crowd in a midnight-blue domino cloak over formal attire, his simple black half mask doing nothing to disguise his commanding presence.
To Eugenia, he looked the most arresting man in the room. As ever, her heart lurched, and she took a long draught of champagne to steady herself.
