“I suppose you do no great service to the dead by failing to enjoy that which was not taken from you.”
The lord appeared thoughtful over that idea, or at least as thoughtful as one could seem while wearing a mask. Or perhaps it was the mask itself, looking thoughtful all on its own. Cassandra could not be sure. She could also not be sure how she might inquire about the various names on her card. It could not be a coincidence, and yet what could be the meaning of it? She had worried it was some sort of joke, until she thought of how unlikely it would be for Lord Hampton to joke. Still, what could she say without seeming either odd or accusing? Or worse, appearing as if she’d gone fishing for some compliment to herself?
As it happened, no further conversation was had on any subject, as it was their turn to execute the steps.
*
It seemed LadyBlakeley did everything her own way; the entrance to supper was done in strict order by rank of the gentlemen and organized by her butler who appeared to be a regular Debrett’s on who was who behind each mask. As Lord Hampton was to be a duke, they were near the front of the line. Dear Sybil was being taken in by Lord Lockwood and stood directly behind them—Cassandra had great hopes of being placed next to them at table. Lady Marksworth was escorted by a Marquess who was a dear old friend and lined up not so far behind them. If she were fortunate, she would find herself surrounded by friends and allies.
The Blakeley’s dining room was a sight to behold—its length was enormous and had no trouble accommodating sixty couples. Lady Marksworth had told Cassandra that Lord and Lady Blakeley had done extensive renovations and had removed a wall adjoining a large sitting room so that the dining room now ran the length of the house. However, it was the room’s decoration that struck.
An exotic silk fabric lined the walls, depicting maharajahs sitting on gold thrones under palm trees, fanned by small boys wielding marvelously large feathers. The chairs of the endless table were covered in striking red satin. The chandeliers dripped with colored glass in amethyst, amber and cobalt, hundreds of candles casting their glow through them and giving the room an air of drama and mystery. Even the plates were unusual, with a rim of vibrant red and a center depicting a multi-colored star, said to be Russian porcelain.
Cassandra was seated near the head of the table and to her great approval, Sybil and Lord Lockwood were directly across. While that was a comfort, she knew that the time would soon come when everybody was to remove their masks and that was a less comfortable idea. She’d noted the looks, particularly toward the end of the dancing, as she was led by one would-be duke after the next. She did not think her own identity particularly known, but she had the feeling that the gentlemen’s identities were less secret. It would not surprise her to know that there were those who would be interested to see who the girl was that had accomplished such a feat. For that matter, she did not know herself why it should be so.
She felt her trepidation growing as the table filled, it was impossible to ignore the various glances made in the direction of the fawn.
Lady Blakeley had risen, and the table quieted.
“Good evening, my friends,” she said. “As always, my dear husband has given over the pleasure of bidding you welcome as he knows well my fondness for talking.”
There was gentle laughter up and down the table.
“As those of you who have attended this little soiree in years past know, it amuses me to choose the masks for my guests. Some are gentle teasing, some a small compliment, and very few a light jab. This evening I am most gratified to see such wonderful creatures as a fawn, a dove, a kitten, and a canary.
Cassandra blushed beneath her mask. Why should the lady reference so few, herself included? There were so many different masks at the table.
“Gentle creatures such as those depend upon our kindness and reward us with their innocence. One does not like to think of, or even to countenance, the individual who would be cruel to those defenseless beings.”
Cassandra felt her cheeks must burn through her mask. The lady was making a point about the rumors regarding her, she was certain of it. She was scolding the diners lest one of them think to believe them or spread them.
She noted Lady Marksworth’s owl nod approvingly and the idea was entirely confirmed. While it was embarrassing in the extreme, she could not help but be grateful for Lady Blakeley’s pointed defense.
“Of course, we have fiercer miens amongst us and I will thank Lord Lockwood to have a care for those tusks near my china.”
Laughter erupted at the table. After it died down, Lady Blakeley said, “Naturally, there are the very few who do not care for my commentary. But then, I do not particularly wish to have a snake in my house.”
The laughter at that was widespread, though more hushed. It was as if those amused also worried that Lady Montague might make an appearance and strike as deadly as the snake she was meant to be.
Cassandra was in awe of Lady Blakeley’s daring. She had grown used to the careful conversations of society and yet here was a woman who maintained strong opinions and would make them known. Here was a woman not the least bit afraid to take on the formidable Lady Montague.
While Cassandra knew she was not of an age or sufficient authority to dare the same herself, she could not help but admire it.
“Now, my lovelies, and you are all lovely in my eyes,” Lady Montague said gaily, “reveal yourself to be who you are in the rest of your life.”
Masks were slowly removed and, as Cassandra had expected, quite a few people watched her remove her own. Their attention was diverted by Lady Blakeley clapping in appreciation of the faces turned to her. She motioned to her butler, who motioned to his footmen, and an immense variety of dishes began to make their rounds like a much-practiced ballet.
As the dishes came round, Cassandra was pensive. She would very much like to ask Lord Hampton how it was that all six gentlemen of the pact had ended up on her card. She had thought it through backward and forward and yet there seemed no casual way to bring it up.
“You will be pleased to know, Miss Knightsbridge,” Lord Lockwood said from across the table, “that we do not see a particular Mr. C. here this evening. One does not dare show one’s face when one has discovered one’s face was to be masked as a rat.”
Cassandra looked down at her plate, hardly knowing how to answer the lord. There were so many thoughts swirling in her mind at once. Of course he referred to Mr. Conners. Had Lady Blakeley gifted a mask of a rat to Mr. Conners because she’d heard of his behavior in the park or for some other offense? If it had been due to the insult to herself, then did all of London know of it? If they did, then would it not have been more understandable that the three lords had escorted her home?
She did not know what to make of it.
Lord Hampton answered for her. “I think we need not expend any time discussing that particular gentleman.”
Lord Lockwood seemed surprised but nodded.
