Perfection.
The door to the ballroom swung open. “Presenting... Lord and Lady X!”
A brightly costumed couple spilled into the ballroom, giddy with delight at being the first through the door. Miss Thorne quickly shoved her journal back into her reticule and secured her mask.
Julian handed her a glass of champagne and gestured for her to raise it toward the new guests as he was doing. He would treat Miss Thorne no differently than any other provokingly beautiful guest. It was time to play the debauched, devil-may-care host.
“To Lord and Lady X!” he called.
They each downed a glass of champagne before swirling onto the dance floor.
“Are they—” Miss Thorne began.
The ballroom door swung back open. “Presenting Lord and Lady X!”
Two more costumed revelers bounded into the room.
“Lord and Lady X!” the couple on the dance floor shouted in glee.
Miss Thorne stared. “But they—”
The door opened again.
Julian grinned at her. The party had begun.
Chapter 7
Unity gazed about the ballroom. It was impossible not to get caught up in the excitement and merrymaking. New guests burst through the door every two minutes to a rousing chorus of “Lord X!” or “The Ladies X!” and enthusiastic cheers accompanied by raised glasses of champagne.
By refusing to let guests pour into his ballroom, the duke drew out the moment and made the experience seem all the more special. Each arrival was an Event and celebrated in kind. That it was also a practical matter—with the night butler confirming invitations and keeping identities anonymous on the other side—was testament to Lambley’s clever mind.
Nothing he did was only the thing it seemed to be. Every decision had been contemplated and calculated and designed to evoke maximumeverything.
This was like being on stagewiththe audience. Everyone here was part of their very own show, and they all were stars.
Unity was never an actress, but she loved the pomp of the theatre. Lambley’s masquerades were the best of all worlds. The freedom to wear the costume of one’s choice and play whatever role one desired without the pain of memorizing lines or dancing to someone else’s choreography.
At least, so it seemed. Unity now knew how much consideration and work went into making the night look wild and spontaneous.
The lights and the decor were arranged in such a way as to draw newcomers away from the door and into one of the many entertainments. Dancing, of course. Refreshments along every wall. A promenade encircling the ballroom overhead. Private chambers just behind. Garden doors, flung open to reveal the crescent moon and stars. Couples already picking their way along stone paths or embracing on one of many secluded benches.
And Lambley was in his element. Prince of the jungle, a lion overseeing his pride, beautiful to look at and too dangerous to allow close.
He was sinfully handsome in his formal evening wear.Informalevening wear, Unity amended. He had not worn tails to the ball and strode about in dazzlingly white shirtsleeves paired with a crimson waistcoat and black breeches.
Shocking dishabille, by ton standards. A gentleman never showed his shirtsleeves. But the guests had not come here tonight to be respectable. Unity’s deep-cut gown looked positively chaste compared to some of the costumes.
Did glimpsing a woman’s ankles give an attack of the vapors? Then hie thee to the closest smelling salts because here there were men and women alike whose legs were clad only in colorful stockings or skintight pantaloons. Many a Grecian goddess dressed in little more than a bedsheet, with a slit baring a sliver of leg all the way up to her thigh.
Other men eschewed tail coats, and others avoided shirts altogether. There were several fawns and satyrs bare-chested from the waist up, and even a woman dressed as a siren with only the barest scrap of material over her breasts.
Some costumes went in the opposite direction. Extravagant peacocks—literally—with an array of tail feathers the size of an open parasol. Every sort of creature was represented, real or mythological, as well as attempts to capture the flavor of other cultures, from Egypt to India to China to Russia. There were even figures present from Britain’s own history, from the famous to the infamous.
Whatever you were looking for, this was the place to find it. Whatever you wished to be, this was the place to become it.
To her surprise, no one made any snide comments or lifted their noses at the color of her skin. Lambley probably controlled that, too. Made each guest vow compliance to a list of rules so long, it truly did cover everything. Military generals and boarding school headmistresses alike would weep to be able to command their charges so thoroughly.
Best of all, Lambley made itfun. Every guest stepped into the ballroom with a smile upon their face that only widened as the night continued.
