Erica shrugged, easy and unconcerned. “I have another. I came only to be certain you had no excuse to stay home. It seems I arrived at the right time.”
Lady Eastbury studied her, curiosity flickering but unspoken.
Leticia’s gaze moved to the parcel. There was no reason to refuse, yet for a breath she only stared at it. A moment ago, the evening had seemed lost. Now, as the light caught the edge of the folded silk, it felt as though the night itself had changed its mind about her.
Minutes later, Leticia stood while Alice adjusted the bodice of the new gown, her earlier apology still pink on her cheeks. The maid’s hands moved with reverent care now, each gesture an unspoken attempt to mend what had been spoiled.
The hunter-green silk shimmered as it settled into place, richer and deeper than anything Leticia would have chosen for herself. The fabric caught the lamplight like forest shadow after rain; it whispered when she moved, a sound both unfamiliar and intimate. The shawl lay nearby, crimson, gold, and russet, like something gathered from the edge of an autumn wood.
“It’s beautiful,” Alice said softly, not looking up.
Leticia didn’t answer. Her hands rested at her sides, the hush of the silk a reminder of how quickly a moment could change. One instant she’d been ruined by a cup of tea, and the next she stood reborn in borrowed splendor.
Erica stepped behind her, smoothing a faint crease at the shoulder. “I told you it would suit you,” she said, smiling at their reflection. “It’s the contrast. You’ll be the first thing anyone sees. And the last they forget.”
Leticia’s breath caught. The words brushed a hope she hadn’t dared to name.”
Alice passed her the mask.
Leticia hesitated only a moment before taking it. The velvet was soft beneath her fingers, the feathers light and cool against her temple. The ribbon slid into place with a whisper of silk as Alice tied it behind her hair.
She didn’t feel like herself. Not entirely. But she wasn’t someone else, either. The moment hung between the two, poised, uncertain, shimmering with possibility.
The door opened behind them.
Her aunt entered, one gloved hand still fastening her bracelet. “Leticia, are you ready?”
She stopped.
Leticia turned slowly.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Alice blinked, wide-eyed. Erica’s lips curved just enough. And her aunt, ever composed, let out a soft breath as she took in the sight.
Even the butler, waiting discreetly in the corridor, took a moment too long to announce the carriage.
Leticia stood still beneath their silence, unsure whether she had stepped into a gown or vanished inside it.
In their eyes, she had become something new. But she wasn’t yet certain who that was.
Chapter Six
The carriage lanternscast long shadows as Ash stepped onto the front walk of Marchmont Hall, where the masquerade was already well underway.
Music drifted from open windows, lilting and indistinct beneath the low murmur of voices and laughter. Light spilled from the grand entry, warming the stone steps and the wide double doors thrown open to the autumn evening.
He paused, adjusting his mask. It sat snug against his face, leather and satin worked into smooth lines that shaded his eyes and revealed just enough to be recognized—if someone wished to recognize him.
He wondered if she would.
The footman offered his name to the steward inside, though Ash doubted it would be written down. Tonight was meant to be remembered for everything but names.
He stepped into the hall, the heat of the room brushing his skin, thick with perfume, wax, and rose petals scattered across the marble floor.
The ballroom was already crowded with feathers, jewels, and laughter tinted with wine.
Ash’s gaze swept the room, not searching. Not exactly. But alert. He told himself he wasn’t looking for anyone. His pulse betrayed him.
