Alice nodded, quick, capable, and wise enough not to argue.
Her aunt entered a moment later, her own gown a subtle dove-gray trimmed with silver thread. She looked Leticia over once, smiled with a warmth that didn’t reach for words.
“Lovely,” she said. “Exactly enough.”
Leticia smiled faintly. “I wasn’t aware elegance had a measurement.”
“Oh, it does,” her aunt replied, sinking into the armchair by the window. “Too little, and you disappear. Too much, and you invite judgment. Exactly enough, and they spend the whole night trying to remember you properly.”
Leticia’s soft laugh caught halfway to her throat. The words struck with a truth she didn’t wish to name. Too little, and no one would see her. Too much, and they might never stop.
Her aunt’s gaze drifted toward the window. “I never liked masks,” she said after a pause. “They give people permission to be cruel—or to pretend kindness. But when I was your age, I wore one anyway. A red one with gold trim. I told myself it was for the thrill of it. Perhaps I only wanted to see who I might be if I weren’t myself for a night.”
Leticia turned toward her, surprised by the confession.
Her aunt’s smile curved, soft and rueful. “I danced twice with a man who never learned my name. He made me laugh. Then he vanished into the crush, and I never saw him again.”
Leticia absorbed that in silence, uncertain whether it was meant as a warning or nostalgia.
“Do you regret it?” she asked quietly.
“No.” Her aunt’s eyes warmed, though her tone stayed wistful. “But I never told your mother. She would have asked what I thought I was looking for, and I wouldn’t have had an answer.”
She stood, smoothing the folds of her skirt. “You don’t have to wear that mask, Leticia. But if you do, make certain the person behind it is still you.”
She pressed a quick kiss to Leticia’s temple, unexpected, fleeting, and left the room.
When the door clicked shut, the stillness folded around her again. The mask lay waiting nearby, deep green velvet edged in bronze thread, peacock feathers catching the light. It was more daring than anything she owned. The sight of it embarrassed and thrilled her inequal measure, as though wanting it revealed something she hadn’t meant to show.
She reached for it but stopped short. The mask seemed alive in the lamplight, its colors shifting, promising a courage she wasn’t sure she possessed.
Leticia breathed out slowly. Perhaps she would only hide behind it. But even that, she thought, might be something.
She turned the mask over once in her hands and then set it down again.
A sharp rattle startled her. The tea tray trembled as Alice, reaching for an earring, brushed against the edge. The cup tipped. Porcelain struck wood. The liquid spilled in a bright arc, steaming and amber.
It splashed across Leticia’s bodice, running down the bronze silk in blooming trails that darkened as they spread. The heat caught her breath. Then came the chill.
Alice gasped, horror written across her face. “Miss—I didn’t—I’m so sorry!” She seized a cloth and began blotting helplessly. “I’ll fix it, I swear—please—”
Leticia stood motionless, the scent of tea rising sharp and bitter around her, the fabric already ruined. Her mask lay forgotten on the table, its feathers quivering as if in sympathy.
The door opened again a moment later. Her aunt’s calm voice preceded her. “I heard a commotion…”
Before Leticia could answer, the butler appeared behind her aunt, his tone uncertain. “Miss Notley has arrived, my lady.”
“Show her in,” Lady Eastbury said, stepping aside.
Erica entered with a wrapped bundle in her arms and an expression of gentle alarm. “What happened? I saw your butler’s face and feared catastrophe.”
Leticia’s lips curved faintly. “There was tea.”
Erica’s gaze swept the room and saw the stained gown, the cloths, and Alice’s stricken face. Something unreadable flickered in her eyesbefore she crossed to the chaise and laid the parcel down with care.
“I wasn’t sure you’d have something ready,” she said lightly. “I brought this earlier, but hadn’t sent it up. The color didn’t suit me, too deep, but I knew it would be perfect on you.”
Leticia blinked. “On me? But what about your gown?”
