Chapter Three

S eth had hurried his sister through the theatre in hopes of catching up to Frances but missed the opportunity to speak with her.

Perhaps it was for the best, given how she’d given him the cut direct, after she had looked at him with such disdain—her eyes hard and cold, mouth pursed—a clear indication that she had not grown immune to his presence, though that did not mean she harbored any soft emotions for him either.

She hated him and it was his own fault.

However, Seth would not let that deter him. Franny had once been his dearest friend, and she still held his heart, even though he was not deserving of hers. He knew the moment that he looked into her eyes, even though the width of the theatre separated them, that she was what had been missing from his life, and likely the cause of his melancholy state. Had he not been such a coward and fool, so afraid of loving deeply and losing, Franny may have been sitting with him this evening and not his sister.

Even if he couldn’t win her heart back, was there even a chance that they could once again share a friendship?

Those questions plagued him through the night and Seth knew that he must speak with Frances. He needed to make things right…somehow, if it was even possible to do so. That was the very reason that as soon as he had finished breaking his fast, and despite the earlier hour for paying calls, Seth made his way to her family’s London home only to learn that the family had returned to the country that very morning.

Blast!

She would not be back until spring, which was far too long to wait to see her again.

Unless… No, he would not chase after Frances all the way to Yorkshire. The Emerald Garter needed his attention.

Except, as Seth made his way through Mayfair to call on his cousin, he spent the entire time rethinking his decision. He did not want to wait until spring to see her again. If five years had proven anything, it was that he missed his friend, but he hadn't realized just how badly until last evening.

Except, Frances had been so much more than a dear friend, and he had spent these past years doing everything possible to numb that pain, which only further increased his unflattering reputation.

His heart ached with longing and Seth was determined to somehow win her again.

After he attended his obligation for tonight, he would make arrangements with Jonathan to oversee The Emerald Garter while he was gone and then Seth would be traveling north.

After he collected the package from his cousin, Seth returned home and prepared for the conversation he was about to have with Blythe. He would tell her of his travel plans later, but first he needed to convince her to leave the house again tonight.

“What plans do you have tonight?” he asked when he found her in the parlor.

“I have not made any, as you are likely already aware.”

“I am glad to hear it because I have made plans for both of us.” He placed the package on the settee beside her.

She eyed it with suspicion. “What will we be doing this time?”

“We are to attend a masquerade ball being held at the Argyll Room to benefit Westbrook House, the home for orphans and women who find themselves in unpleasant circumstances and need a safe place to live.”

“A worthy cause and I am certain it will be enjoyable, but I have no costume.”

“Ah, but you do” He pointed to the package. “Tessa has provided one.”

Blythe pulled back in surprise. “You spoke to our cousin before me!”

“I needed to make certain she could see you outfitted.” He grinned and hurriedly continued before Blythe could offer an argument. “It is a three-quarter mask. The most anyone will see of your face is your lips and chin.” Seth hoped this would give her comfort. “Nobody will know who you are and you can pretend to be anyone you wish.”

She studied him for the longest time, before she blew out a sigh. “Very well. I will attend but only because I am happy to see you spending your evenings away from The Emerald Garter, even if it means that I must accompany you.”

Frances tied the ribbons of her mask as the carriage came to a stop before the Argyll Room. At least it was large enough to conceal the darkness beneath her eyes from lack of sleep.

Last night had been fitful. When she slept, she dreamed of Seth, and when awake, she recalled their ten years of friendship.

As much as she wanted to hate him for what he had done, she could not.

In fact, she was surprised that her heart still ached for what had once been. Or what she had thought they had shared, which was why she needed to remind herself that what she had once believed they shared had been a lie. Not only was Seth not worthy of her love, but she could never trust him.

Thank goodness he rarely went into Society, for Frances feared that she’d spend all evenings away from the house looking over her shoulder for fear that she may encounter him again.

Blast! Her hands had even begun to shake when she looked into his eyes from across the theatre.

“I do love a masquerade,” Bethany announced from the opposite seat.

Frances had not been informed that she would be attending the masquerade ball until she arrived at her new home yesterday afternoon. Bethany had provided her with a mask, which would have to do since Frances had no costume. However, she did wear her most daring gown—one that she had commissioned but had not been bold enough to wear to a Societal ball regardless of her status of wallflower spinster.

Even now she wondered if it had been a mistake and if she was too exposed.

When the footman opened the door, Bethany’s brother, Viscount Shrewsbury, stepped from the conveyance and Frances, suddenly overcome with nerves, leaned toward her friend.

“Are you certain my dress is not too risqué?” she whispered to Bethany.

“No! You are simply not used to wearing something that leaves your shoulders practically bare and more of your bosom exposed.”

Frances placed a gloved hand against the swell of her breasts above the jewel-toned bodice.

“It is too much, is it not?”

Bethany laughed. “No, it is not. I have seen similar cuts at several balls.”

“Not on misses,” Frances reminded her.

“Yes, on misses,” Bethany argued. “Just not those fresh from the schoolroom, which you are not.”

Frances had not been fresh from the schoolroom for several years. “I have wanted to wear this gown…” Then she grinned as she straightened her spine, decision made. She may be a wallflower but she was no shrinking violet. “And so I shall, and enjoy myself for the simple reason that nobody will ever know who I really am.”

Ah, anonymity did bring a new perspective. She would enjoy herself tonight and further, she would put Lord Seth Claxton from her mind. He was the past and she was embarking on her future.

“Masks are removed at midnight,” Bethany reminded her.

“Is that a requirement?” Frances asked with some worry.

Bethany cocked her head. “I am not certain.” She shrugged. “Besides, you may not even care by then.”

She most definitely would care, Frances was certain, and would find a reason to be gone before the clock struck midnight.

Bethany reached out to her brother and stepped from the carriage and onto the walk. Frances followed by placing her hand into Shrewsbury’s so that he could assist her. And even though he was masked, she knew his eyes were on her bosom when she bent forward. Heat scorched her cheeks, but she would not turn back now. Bethany was correct. She’d seen several similarly cut bodices in the past and it was time that she stopped hiding and dressing with the same modesty of a miss enjoying her first Season.

The three of them stepped through the entrance, decorated with Corinthian pillars and gilt lamps, before they were directed to the grand salon where the ball was being held. In the expanse between the doors and the opposite end of the saloon where the orchestra played, stood dozens of people in various costumes dancing, laughing and talking.

This ball was far more festive than any that she had attended in Society previously and she wondered if it was because identities were hidden. It was the only conclusion that Frances could reach as she had never attended a masquerade ball before.

Bethany slipped her hand around her arm and pulled her to the side of the room where they passed tiers of red-covered benches before entering the billiard room, where Frances was quite surprised to find women playing as well as gentlemen. She barely had a moment to watch the game before Bethany pulled her into another where various games of chance were taking place.

It was in a card room at a ball that Frances had met Bethany and Tessa, and it was often the first place she visited during a ball to see who was playing and which games.

There were few women within the room tonight and the gentlemen turned and noted their presence when they entered. However, it was not from them that Frances had the sensation of being watched and when she glanced about, she noted a troubadour from days of old watching her. It was quite unnerving, as well as thrilling. She could not see his eyes very well because of the mask but felt the weight of his stare, nonetheless. Also noted was his mouth with firm lips and a strong chin. If the ridiculous hat he was wearing didn’t hide his hair, perhaps she might have been able to recognize him, but anything that could easily provide an identification was hidden from her.

As her pulse increased, for reasons that she could not explain, Frances quickly glanced away because she did not know him, or what his attention could mean because she was not used to having gentlemen even notice her.

The card room was where Frances would normally remain but she would not play tonight. She needed to be able to look into a player’s eyes and observe facial expressions, which these masks did not allow. Being unable to study an opponent resulted in a losing hand and loss of precious funds.

“You will not be a wallflower tonight but enjoy yourself.” Bethany pulled Frances back into the salon where the guests were dancing.

Though she could not see faces, others—gentlemen—had looked at her and Bethany and by the quirk of their lips, she assumed they liked what they saw.

Yes, being in a mask was empowering and maybe she might finally enjoy a ball.

“Ah, there are Tessa and His Grace.” Bethany pointed to the peasant girl and tailor.

“How do you know it is them?” Even though the color of hair matched the couple, that did not mean they were recognizable.

“Tessa showed me their costumes the other day.”

“Who is the woman with her?”

Bethany tilted her chin and studied the woman in the blue, medieval gown with her dark hair braided away from her face and flowing down her back. “I have no idea, which is the fun of a masquerade.”

They were about to go to Tessa, her husband and the mystery woman but were stopped when the troubadour from the card room appeared before her. When she looked into his blue eyes, Frances’ breath hitched and she had to force herself to breathe.

The eyes, they were the same color as Seth’s, and maybe the lips and chin were familiar…Was is possible?

Frances blinked. It was not Seth because he promised that if he ever saw her in London that he would not acknowledge her and she was not so well disguised that Seth would not recognize her.

The troubadour bowed deeply then lifted her gloved hand to his lips. “ Enchanté !”

Frances dipped to a curtsey, not certain how she should respond.

He held his arm and even though Frances had no idea who he was, she allowed him to lead her to the center of the floor to join in a country dance.

No words were spoken between them and she wasn’t certain if it was because she didn’t want to break the spell of mystery or was afraid that she’d be disappointed that it wasn’t Seth. Then she chastised herself because the last gentleman she wanted to talk to or even see was Lord Seth Claxton.