Chapter One
January 5, 1818
Twelfth Night Ball
“Sophie, I sawyou hiding behind the column of shooting stars. You can’t be asked to dance if no one can see you.”
Sophie Howard, daughter of Lord and Lady Dowling, pushed her far-too-soft caramel-colored hair inside the shepherdess cap, snapping it into place before any strands could escape. Pleased that the third try was successful, she took one last look through the openings of her white mask to be sure everything was in place before turning to her friend and classmate, Lady Rose, who sported a monk’s costume. “I wasn’t hiding. I was admiring Ellie’s beautiful decorations.”
Lady Georgina, dressed as an exotic green bird, coaxed Sophie away from the mirror in the ladies’ retiring room, then stepped before it to attend to her own hair. “You were hiding. There’s no denying it. You forget we know you well. You’d rather be in your room reading a book than here at the masquerade. But none of those characters in your books are going to magically appear and propose to you. You must be seen if you are to catch a husband.”
It was an old refrain, but her friends seemed to enjoy it, and though they coaxed, pushed, and prodded, they didn’t force her like her family. Her mother was the most anxious for her to wed. “What would I say? Most of the people have masks on. I don’t even know if I’ve made their acquaintance before. What if I haven’t?”
Rose laughed, enjoying the ball far more than she should. If it weren’t a masquerade, she would be the epitome of a lady, but with her identity hidden, she was far too bold. “But that’s the fun, Sophie. You don’t have to. Just think of all the people you could talk to tonight. They’re all strangers, except us, of course.”
But she didn’t want to talk to strangers. She didn’t want to talk to anyone she didn’t know, and those she knew, like her classmates from the Belinda School for Curious Ladies, she preferred to listen to. And she most certainly didn’t like being the center of attention, so she changed the subject. “Georgie, did I see you being introduced to a king?”
“You did indeed. His Royal Highness is actually Lord Ashfield, whom my parents had met before. I was well aware of who he was because I recognized his blond hair and broad shoulders.” That wasn’t a surprise, since Georgie watched men almost as keenly as she watched the birds she loved to study.
Rose squeezed Sophie’s wrist. “That wasn’t the only thing she noticed. I caught her looking at his codpiece.”
“I was not. Rose Ambrose, you are incorrigible.”
“Yes, I am.”
The words were said with such ladylike haughtiness that Sophie smiled. “Did you find him pleasant, then, Georgie?”
“Oh, very. He was most complimentary about my costume. My parents were very pleased, as am I. I do hope he asks me to dance.”
Knowing how much Georgie loved to dance, Sophie nodded. “I’m sure he will.”
“Come, you two. We should return. There are far too many interesting people to talk to, dance with, and play billiards with.” Rose opened the door of the ladies’ retiring room and stepped into the corridor.
Sophie hurried after her, greatly concerned Rose would go beyond the pale with her pranks. Going alone into the billiard room among allthe men could well ruin her reputation. “Surely, you wouldn’t.”
“Of course I would, and I am. Tonight I’m a monk, and unless you wish to confess your sins to me—”
Georgie interrupted. “Sophie doesn’t have any sins.”
Sophie felt herself blush. “Oh, but I do.”
Rose stopped them right there. “Then tell us just one.”
Surprised by the demand, Sophie sucked in her breath. The first of her sins, in her opinion, was her love for literature where young, innocent ladies were yearned for by adventurous heroes. But that was far too personal to admit even to her dearest friends. Instead, she mentioned another failing. “I’m afraid to talk to people.” She kept her voice low, though no one was about.
Rose’s blue gaze softened. “Are you truly afraid, then?”
Sophie swallowed and simply nodded, her father’s scowl coming foremost to mind.
“Then, as soon as we get back to school, we will help you conquer your fear.”
She should feel grateful, but oddly she wasn’t, because she sincerely didn’t wish to learn to talk to people. At home, talking meant her father would notice her presence, and he always seemed irritated with her if she spoke. It was as if he wished she’d never been born. Her mother greatly approved of her quiet demeanor.
“I know of another fault Sophie has.”
At Georgie’s statement, Sophie turned her head in surprise. “Please tell me.”
“I believe you forgot your crook in the other room.”
