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‘—you’ll write a poem or two, send flowers, show the lady off in the best box at the Opera House. Otherwise she will find a handsomer buck than you now she’s loose in London and has had a chance to look at the field.’
‘Madelyn is not loose in London, she is not assessing men like racehorses and the wedding date is all fixed, as you well know. If you think this is part of the duties of the best man, let me tell you, you are wide of the mark.’ Charlie said nothing. Jack knew he was being drawn into filling the silence and found he could not resist the bait. ‘You know perfectly well that this is not a love match. Miss Aylmer and I have agreed on a mutually beneficial marriage, which is something that happens every week of the year. Damn it, she’d wonder what I have on my conscience if I started playing the lovesick swain all of a sudden.’
‘I’d have thought you wanted more.’ Jack made an impatient sound and Charlie said, ‘Look, perhaps it isn’t my business, but I’ve known you since we were scrubby lads and you’re my friend and you’ve had a pretty rough time of it with that family of yours.’
Rough time? Yes, that summed it up. A father to whom loyalty and honour meant nothing, who would exploit his own parents in their sickness and old age and whose idea of raising the son who was the unneeded spare was a mixture of neglect and brutality and a brother who was a selfish boor.
‘Don’t you want something...more for yourself than this?’ When Jack still said nothing Charlie blurted out, ‘Surely she wants more?’
‘Miss Aylmer wants a family and someone who will allow her to fulfil her father’s wishes for her future. She has made it quite clear that she does not want me fussing over her.’ He would be faithful, he would protect her and their ch
ildren as he had promised. He had given his word and it was important to him that he keep it, that his wife would be true to her promises, too.
‘What if she falls in love with you, Jack?’
‘There is no chance of that,’ Jack said and could have bitten his tongue. That had come out sounding far more bitter than he had intended. He had begun to wonder what it would be like if Madelyn did see something in him beyond a suitable pedigree and the unpleasant suspicion that he was becoming fond of her was keeping him awake at night. Love was the most dangerous investment in the world and the riskiest.
Fondness or not, a thoroughly inconvenient state of arousal was making him restless in those long, dark hours.
Damn it, she’s not pretty, she’s as prickly as a basket of cross cats and she’s got some very peculiar ideas. You’re all about in your head, you fool.
Charlie’s silence convinced him that he had betrayed more than he had intended. ‘Where did you say this confounded masquerade is? We’ve driven almost to Richmond.’
‘Nowhere like that far. Can’t be much longer now. Grover’s hired a barn in the middle of a field and fitted it out, by all accounts, as a cross between a sultan’s palace and fairyland. The man has just inherited all his great-uncle’s money and the old man was as rich as Croesus, so he’s set on celebrating in style.’
Charlie was right. They turned off the King’s Road, lurched along what felt like a cart track and heard the noise ahead of them grow in volume. Music, laughter, the sound of coachmen shouting at each other as they tried to deliver their passengers and turn around, shrieks of excited laughter.
‘This do, my lord?’ The driver leaned down. ‘Can’t get any closer. Looks as though there’s space over there to wait, if that’s all right with you?’
Jack, still without his own town coach, had hired one for the week and was finding the driver amusingly casual. ‘Yes, here, get yourself some refreshments, but I’ll want you sober when we get back.’
‘We’re promised acrobats, fire eaters, stilt walkers and a special performance by the dancers,’ Charlie said as the driver tipped his hat and drove off. They made their way towards the huge barn that was surrounded by canvas tents and covered carts. ‘And there’s the fire eater.’ He pointed to where a man in a skin-tight crimson costume painted with yellow flames was causing a gaggle of cloaked figures to screech in horrified enjoyment as he plunged a burning brand down his throat.
‘Let’s get inside,’ Jack said. ‘I could do with a drink.’ He wanted to drink too much, dance, flirt with completely disreputable women—preferably small, pert brunettes—and drink some more. If the evening ended with a brawl or a kiss, then that would be quite welcome, too.
Sir Horatio Grover, newly endowed with a baronetcy and a fortune, had ordered boxes to be constructed around the sides of the barn, dance floors to be laid inside and out and a podium set up for the band. Colourful boxes lined the inner dance floor and a stream of waiters were darting about the guests with laden trays of glasses and bottles.
‘On your right,’ Jack said and, as though they’d rehearsed it, Charlie snagged a bottle of wine as he swept up two glasses. ‘There’s an empty box over there. Let’s take it and survey the scene.’
‘Good idea.’ Charlie handed him the bottle, vaulted over the front of the box without troubling with the rather rickety half-door, then took glasses and bottle while Jack followed him, neatly managing to catch up his domino before the long folds tripped him. ‘Got a mask?’ He produced one and tied it on, transforming himself from amiable man-about-town into something slightly sinister. ‘Better wear it. You don’t want reports getting back to the lady that you’ve been out ogling opera dancers.’
‘Speaking of which—’ Jack nodded towards the open doors of the barn where a flock of scantily clad young women were running in. He tied his mask, made himself comfortable on the bench and poured the wine as the band struck up. He settled back, lifted the glass and prepared to banish all thoughts of problematic fiancées for one night.
The dancers were...adequate, he supposed. Pretty enough, but then the magic of stagecraft meant that any of them would be transformed once they were on stage. Skilled enough, too, although not up to the standard of the big theatres and the Opera House. All around them men were cheering and staring and making lewd remarks and he felt a wave of distaste. They were not even becoming excited over reality, just masks that hid a number of young women, all of whom were different under that paint and glitter. Some plain, some pretty, some intelligent, some less so. Some kind and some, no doubt, spiteful or dishonest or sulky.
Why that should make him think of Madelyn he had no idea, unless it was because she was putting on a mask now she was in London, pretending to be something she was not in order to fit in. That was an uncomfortable thought and he splashed more of the thin red wine into his glass. These ordinary girls had been transformed into fairy-tale creatures. He was asking a woman from a fairy tale to become ordinary and conventional.
Which is necessary. Those dancers have to make a living to survive in the real world, and Madelyn has to exist in it, too.
The acrobats who followed the dancers were a welcome distraction and so were the masked figures who drifted past their box, many in fancy dress, others in dominos. Some—both male and female—stopped and leant against the low front wall and made eyes at the two men sitting inside. Charlie, safely masked, flirted back cheerfully with either sex, but refused all lures to step outside the box.
‘Idiot,’ Jack said mildly when yet another comely youth sauntered off, laughing at one of Charlie’s more outrageous sallies. ‘You know you don’t like blonds.’
The floor was being cleared for dancing. ‘Shall we?’ Charlie suggested.
‘I am not dancing with you,’ Jack said, ducking as his friend, whose real interest was very firmly with the opposite sex, feigned a playful punch. ‘In fact, I am not dancing at all. I shall lounge here like a pasha surveying his court and watch you making a fool of yourself out there.’
‘You do that. See that pretty little redhead by the band? Watch the master at work.’ Charlie took a gulp of wine. ‘I’ll send a waiter over for a food order if I pass one before I persuade my mysterious beauty to dance with me.’ He let the half-door close with a bang behind him and wandered off into the crowd.
