15. November, 1826

15

NOVEMBER, 1826

GREAT QUEEN STREET, LONDON

C ol finished explaining their dilemma to Charlotte, his fiancee. He and Percy, the stubborn duke, needed to put together costumes to disguise themselves so they'd blend in with the revelers at the Cyprians' Ball.

"Could you possibly help us out? Are there any spare costumes at Goodrum's we could, um, appropriate for the night?"

The duke sneered. "I don't need anything from Eleanor."

Charlotte gave him a scathing look. "Neither does your wife require anything from you, but she does love you for some reason."

Col intervened. Your Grace, please. We need Charlotte's help, we don't have a lot of time, and we certainly don't want to go to a regular costumer's shop, because all of London would know our disguises before we got out the door."

Charlotte gave out a little gasp. "I know what we'll do."

Col and Percy both turned, expectant looks on their faces.

"We put on a little play at Goodrum's a few years ago with lots of fairytale characters. We'll go over in your carriage, Your Grace, have your coachman let us out a few streets away and then I'll costume us in something no one will ever suspect is us.

"Us?" Col yelped. "I am not putting you in harm's way at the damned ball."

Charlotte put her hands on her hips and gave Col a cool stare. "If you two go to this masque on your own, there's no way you're going to able to hide that one of you is a stiff-pumped duke and the other a ferocious Bow Street runner."

"Just how do you think your presence is going to help that problem?" Col gave her an incredulous look.

"That's simple. I'm going as a shepherdess, of which I'm sure there will be many at the ball."

"What about us?" Percy interrupted impatiently.

"You two are going to be my sheep."

Saida could tell by the look on Hamish's face that he was either hiding something…or he was afraid to tell her something. Unlike other men she'd known, he was no good at keeping his feelings a secret.

She walked to his side and took both of his large hands in hers. "What is it?" She whispered softly. "You can tell me anything."

Aji for once stayed quiet in his cage, suspending his usual mocking of the Highlander, which surprised Saida. She suspected he'd become a bit jealous of Hamish.

Hamish closed his eyes and gazed heavenward for a few moments before opening them suddenly and staring directly into hers. She felt as if he could see into her soul and seek out every lie she'd ever told.

"Saida, I know I have no right to expect any deep feelings in return, but I have to say this now. I feel as though we belong together. We share healing hearts." His voice sank lower then. "We've shared our bodies."

She put two fingers against his lips to stop his rush of words. "I've felt the same thing, but the time is not right now. You and I do have the same healing in our hands and fingers, and perhaps some day…" She trailed off and a tear slid down one cheek.

Hamish turned to leave but stopped at the last minute. "I know you and the other mistresses are going to the Cyprians' Ball to take revenge on Mrs. Throckmorton. I am so sorry for how she treated you, but I want you to know…we never shared a bed."

"You spied on our tea?"

"It was for your own good. Why didn't you tell me what you were up to?"

"Why didn't you trust me enough to stay the hell away from our tea?"

He didn't answer, but simply turned and was gone. She swore she could hear the crackle of a little piece of her heart breaking along with the slam of her parlor door.

November 20, 1826

No. 3 Grosvenor Street, London

Derek Welkirk, the Earl of Framlingwood was feeling a little a lonely, and truth to tell he a niggling sense that something was not quite right. He left his house on Grosvenor Square and headed his steps toward the place he always felt welcome, the row of townhouses on Grosvenor Street.

He'd brought a vase of fresh flowers as a gift. Perhaps he'd surprise one of the girls that night with an unexpected visit, but first he'd have to see his housekeeper, Mrs. Collins. That would only be proper, just to ensure he wasn't interrupting anything his mistresses might have planned for his day off.

When he entered through No. 3, he was surprised when his housekeeper herself was at the door to greet him instead of one of the Rutherfords.

"Is Saida at home?"

"No," she said abruptly.

"Maybe I'll go next door."

"No. They're all sick…bad mussels."

"Do I need to send for CB?"

"Already sent for him."

"Is there anything I can do? Perhaps hold someone's hand till she feels better?"

"Heavens, no." With that she gently pushed him back out the door.

On his way back to Grosvenor Square he mused that he'd never seen Mrs. Collins in such a state. She hadn't even invited him back to her office for a cup of tea. Something was not right. The nigglings up and down his back intensified.

November 20, 1826

No. 4 Grosvenor Street, London

"Thank God. I finally got the man to go home." Cassandra Collins rushed into Lily's huge dining room on the first floor where the battle plans were under way for their assault of Georgina Throckmorton at the Cyprians' Ball.

The Rutherfords had pushed the dining chairs and table back against one wall and were assembling the chair-type litter they'd built for the women's costume tableau with Lily at the center as Cleopatra.

Mrs. Collins had persuaded Young Rutherford to be the Nubian slave holding Cleopatra's train at the rear of the chair as they made their grand entrance to the ball.

Tall Rutherford leaned toward Toplofty, their father, and said, "Good place for him bringing up the rear. We don't want that handsome face of his smashed in the melee."

Quick Rutherford added, "Just look at all the piles of jewels we can help ourselves to tonight whilst romancing those rich society women undercover."

A stern look from Mrs. Collins stopped further discussion of possible thievery. "What you boys don't realize is that some courtesans have much finer jewelry than the wives of the men who keep them."

Saida, Margot, and her lady's maid Gabrielle were supposed to be handmaidens trailing along beside Cleopatra, but their sewing skills had been less than perfect, so Mrs. Collins was hand-sewing and pinning furiously so that they could load the whole assemblage into the mistresses' carriage for the ride over to the Argyll Rooms.

Gabrielle was working on everyone's makeup for the finishing touch to their disguises.

After Mrs. Collins finalized all the costumes, Margot stepped in to make sure everyone was properly armed for the festivities to come. "You, Young Rutherford," she barked out. "Come over here."

"What do you want me to do?" He looked at her askance.

"First of all? Lower that loincloth so we can get a couple of knives and a pistol in there." Fortunately, his face was already darkened, so no one could witness his embarrassment.

"Do I have to?"

Mrs. Collins answered him. "Yes, you owe us for not defending us in the last attack by those bastards whilst you were locked up ploughing Molly in butler's pantry."

"Aye, YR. And try not to shoot yer own jewels off," his brother, Quick Rutherford, warned.

Since Lily had the most room on her chair beneath all the layers of veils, Margot put the claymore into her safe-keeping.

Saida, Margot, and Gabrielle layered on knives tied to their calves with decorative ribbons.

After their costumes were complete and comparatively stable, everyone helped stow their tableau of mayhem inside and out of the carriage back in the mews.

Just as everything was ready, Saida said she had something important to do and ran back to her townhouse to check on Aji.

Saida crept into the darkened parlor only to have someone rush at her from the shadows. Grabbing the knife at her ankle turned out to be as natural as breathing, and she managed to stick the man hard enough to elicit a loud cry as he ran out through the back of the house toward the mews.

Suddenly, she heard a strange new voice emanate from her cockatoo behind her in his cage. "Who's there? Show yourself." Her frantic bird screeched out the words over an over. All she had time to do was try to calm him and throw the linen sheet over his cage.