“A lot has changed since you were children,” Lady Bursbury said with a slight solemnity. “She has asked for a man of equal convictions as she, someone who feels safe. And…well…”
“And?”
Lady Bursbury brushed an auburn curl from her brow. “Well, you do have a reputation.”
Her bold statement took Philip aback. Not about his reputation, but that she said it as though she found fault with him. As though Cecelia would find fault with him.
He expected that his future bride might be a woman who would care nothing for him but his title and wealth. Now it sounded as though the woman might care too much.
“If she doesn’t wish to be with me…”
Lady Bursbury put up her hand again. “She doesn’t need a man like her. She needs a man like you.”
Philip cocked a brow. “A man like me?”
“Yes.” Lady Bursbury nodded decidedly. “One who will bring her adventurous spirit back.”
“You think I can win her over?”
“Are you afraid you can’t?” Lady Bursbury smiled at him.
He scoffed, knowing bait when he heard it but still unable to resist its lure.
“Have you responded to the invitation to Lady Whitwell’s masquerade ball?” Lady Bursbury reached for a small tea cake. “It is themed to reflect Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
“I have.” A masquerade ball had been far too much temptation for a man who had been without female companionship in months. The bold flirtation of those who found comfort behind a mask, the sensual tease of mystery. “I presume Lady Cecelia will be in attendance.”
“Indeed, as Hermia.” Lady Bursbury popped the small cake into her mouth.
Hermia, the young woman who loved Lysander, and who Demetrius wished to wed instead. But Philip was no Lysander…
“Then it will be the ideal place to become reacquainted.” Philip took a tea cake for himself and savored the sweetness, already feeling the effects of hope.
Perhaps this would work out well, after all.
Lady Cecelia stayed in his thoughts on the ride home and through the following days as he selected the perfect costume for the Midsummer Night’s ball.
Demetrius, eager to meet his Hermia.
2
Cecelia’s stomach twisted with excitement as she entered the opulence of Whitwell House alongside her father. While he had decided to wear his usual attire and a bland plaster mask, her Athenian robes swung loosely around her legs and looped over her shoulders where the soft white fabric parted to expose her arms. Aunt Nancy had outdone herself with such a fitting garment, including the golden mask that perfectly framed Cecelia’s eyes.
Her sister, Sophia, whose penchant for fashion was unmatched, had painstakingly curled and pinned Cecelia’s hair and secured it all with bands of gold ribbon in a classic Athenian style. Cecelia, who had always found herself falling into the shadows of her sister’s exuberance and loveliness, actually felt beautiful.
As Cecelia entered the ballroom, she straightened her back with more confidence than she had exhibited in a long while. The room glittered with candlelight and was draped in flowers and foliage, transforming the Great Room of Whitwell House into a mystical forest. Fairies and sprites swept past with gilt masks like her own, with their diaphanous wings of the thinnest silk fluttering behind them.
She scanned the sea of faces, seeking out Lord Brightstone, or even her aunt who might guide them together. But Cecelia found she could only recognize a few people, given their masks and costumes.
Some were dressed as she was in ancient robes, while still others applied a more modern twist to their attire with gowns and jackets that offered a nod to Shakespeare’s tale. Then some cast aside the theme altogether and wore costumes of their own design and imagination.
It all lent an element of magic and mystery to the ball.
She tried to imagine Lord Brightstone in costume and found it quite impossible. A little flash of disappointment nipped at the back of her mind, but she quashed it. This was what she wanted, after all. A sensible man.
She was far too old, far too seasoned by life, for fables and magic.
“Cecelia.” A fairy fluttered toward her in a shimmering green silk dress with feathers sprouting from the sides of her mask.
