“If you are able to find me,” she said, “I will grant you a dance.” It was the best reprieve she could think of.
“And myself as well?” Mr. Harrington asked. “If I suss you out, might I be awarded a dance as well?”
“Yes,” she said realizing now her folly. She’d prefer it if she could dance with only Mr. Shaw for all the balls.
Both men sat a little straighter then and she was not sure, but it appeared they shot smug smiles in Mr. Shaw’s general direction. He merely sat up straight, his own expression ironically somewhat masked.
The morning passed quickly as other gentlemen came and went and by the noon meal, only Mr. Shaw remained. It was as though he did not want to miss knowing who called upon her. She smiled to herself as, if that were the case, it meant his protective action was a sign of an attachment to her. The thought warmed her in more ways than one.
“I shall call upon you again tomorrow, if you like, Miss Bramston. And if it is a fine day, we shall take that ride.”
“I would very much like that, Mr. Shaw,” she said as she lifted her hand to him. He took it and pressed his lips to her fingers sending delightful shivers up her arm.
As he turned to leave she watched him go admiring the way his trousers fit around his muscular legs and how the sleeves of his coat fit well, leaving no one in doubt of the muscle that lay beneath. She’d seen it all in her dream and struggled to keep those images at bay. She was turning into the worst sort of wanton woman alive!
After he left she practically flopped onto the chaise waiting for her mother’s opinions to flow like thick cream.
She sat beside Evelyn and stroke her hair. “You did well, my love. But you must work to shield your emotions toward Mr. Shaw lest you fall under scrutiny.”
“Was I that obvious?”
“Perhaps not to the other men who came after, but to Mr. Harrington and Mr. Carew, I believe there was an opinion forming of and attachment between you and Mr. Shaw. He did nothing to curb that either, so all I’m saying is that you must tread carefully. We do not want to bring the wrong kind of attention to you as you know how fickle opinions can be. Now if he were to make a claim on you, that would be different, but to date he has not, and so you will dance with other fine young gentlemen and not single out just the one. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Yes, Mother. I understand.”
“Now, tell me. Do you prefer Mr. Shaw?”
“I do.”
“And there’s nothing wrong with that. These things emerge and as long as they are tempered with an appropriate mode of decorum and conduct might very well result in a favorable outcome by the end of the season.”
Suddenly, Evelyn was not interested in the rest of the season. She did not look forward to dancing with every Thomas, Richard, and Mr. Harrington in London. She only wanted to dance with Mr. Shaw. But she could see her mother’s point andwould conduct herself appropriately. She would also accept any invitation extended by said Mr. Shaw.
The remainder of the day and the many days that followed passed quietly. No one seemed to want to socialize with such bad weather. The rain appeared as though it would never end resulting in her ride with Mr. Shaw not coming to fruition. Melancholy settled over her only breaking when a missive arrived from him each day promising to keep to his word once the skies cleared.
At night she dreamed of him, their passions unleashed over and over and she would wake in a quivering state with her womanhood throbbing and her nipples hard just as her climax overtook her. Other dreams included the lady from the cemetery warning her of the budding opinions of society who spoke ill of her and the way she conducted herself when in the company of Mr. Shaw.
She was torn between the dreams, as both were so vivid the emotions they evoked seeped into her waking mind influencing her to think in different directions.
On the one hand, the passion she encountered every night made her want to see him more and more. She hung on every word in his missives.
On the other hand, the society she kept did have fickle opinions and thrived on gossip with little care whose reputation lay in its wake.
Her mother frequently asked her if she was unwell, and her reply was not convincing enough to keep the concerned queries at bay. Finally came the day of the Fry masquerade ball and her mother’s attention was redirected to their costumes for the evening. Considering the theme of Lady Fry’s afternoon tea, her mother determined they must keep to the same.
Her parents would wear all black with black feather masks and Evelyn was to wear similar, but she would wear large blackfeathers on her back that had been crafted for days by the servants. They promised they would be light and so her mother had been getting her to try them on all week.
Now fully dressed and ready to go she was filled with equal parts anticipation and trepidation and how that was possible, she did not know. But remaining home was not an option. She would glean some truth this eve supposing it was the last thing she did.
Chapter Four
Lady Fry certainlyknew how to entertain her guests. The ballroom at their mansion had been transformed into a dark forest where creatures lurked, and some sort of webbing was fixed to resemble that of a spider’s web. Though well lit, the scheme had an air of an unsettling nature. The guests had taken the invitation’s instructions seriously and arrived as witches or their faces painted white with dark circles around their eyes. It was a fantastical sight to behold and Evelyn’s imagination considering the dreams she’d had of late ran wild.
How in the world would she find Mr. Shaw in this crowd? In some cases guests might play on their names with their costumes, a Mr. Goulding might be all decked out in gold, or a Mrs. White might be decked out in that color. Not this masque. She wouldn’t even know her own parents were it not for having known of their costumes.
Only the footmen truly knew of the identities of those present as they observed the invitations and made check marks on their note sheets. And Lady Fry of course, for she had approved every person’s costume ahead of time.
Evelyn smiled as she took it all in. The theme of the season was now firmly set, at least from Lady Fry’s perspective. Being such an influence on others, there was no doubt other balls now would carry some notes from this one.
