Chapter 2

2

“I am sorry,Miss Digby, but while I can see your invitation, your name is simply not on the list,” said the tall butler, Goodridge, with hanging cheeks that reminded Joanna of a very polite bulldog. “I’m afraid I can’t let you in.”

Joanna couldn’t help but shrivel back into herself. They stood in the grand entrance hall of Neverton Place, which glistened with the reflections from a crystal chandelier, which was multiplied by large mirrors in intricate gilded frames on both sides of the hallway. Between the mirrors, the marble skin of Greek statues shone in the candlelight. Corinthian columns made of red marble matched the red carpet that led through the entrance hall towards the grand mahogany doors behind which Joanna could hear music, laughter, and hundreds of voices talking.

“I have to get in, Goodridge—” said Joanna, and she had just opened her mouth to say how important it was for her to accompany her sister when Goodridge interrupted.

“I can see Mr. Digby on the list.” He nodded at Joanna’s older brother, Gideon, who looked tall, handsome, and striking in his costume of a Roman general with a red cloak, golden armor pieces, and a laurel crown. “I can see Miss Charlotte Digby.” He glanced at Joanna’s older sister, dressed like Little Red Riding Hood. Charlotte was so pretty, she didn’t wear a mask even to a masquerade ball. “But you, Miss Joanna Digby, are not here.”

Perhaps, she thought, she had overdone it with her mask. It was too large for her face, and the butler must have forgotten her appearance. In the first ten years of her life, while Papa was alive, they had visited her uncle and aunt quite often.

“Goodridge,” Joanna said. “Clearly, this is a mistake. You know me. I lived here. I’m the duke’s niece.”

And if she wasn’t allowed in, her whole plan of rescuing Charlotte would completely fail, and she wouldn’t get another chance.

The butler’s gaze quickly scanned over her costume and said nothing. Joanna’s cheeks melted with heat under her white mask. Yes, perhaps she hadn’t ordered her gown at Mrs. Newman’s or Madame Dubois’s. Yes, perhaps she’d sat every night for the past week mending the moth holes and little tears and embroidering vines with fresh leaves and cherry blossoms and pomegranates to create her costume. It was Mama’s old gown, and it may not look like what most ladies in that ballroom must be wearing, but she didn’t think it looked so bad. The striking newest red and blue fabrics that they had been able to purchase this month were for Charlotte and her costume, of course.

“Goodridge,” Gideon interjected. “You must see this is an oversight. My sister’s name is on the invitation—”

“Let my niece in,” said a female voice behind the butler, and Joanna looked up with much hope. “Gideon is right. It was clearly an oversight. Come on in, you three.”

Her aunt, the Duchess of Ashton, was a regal woman in her fifties with kind, dark brown eyes. She wore a glittering golden gown with an outer layer of golden mesh with crystals and little gilded stars sewn onto it. Her mask was very transparent and consisted of the same golden mesh set in a golden frame with crystals and gilded stars. Her dark hair, now showing a few strands of white, was gathered in a high chignon with an elaborate golden hair piece.

A star. That’s what her aunt’s costume was. A star—that suited her perfectly.

Joanna wondered briefly if her aunt knew about the horror her husband wanted to put Charlotte through?

“As you wish, my lady.” Goodridge bowed and gestured for Joanna and her siblings to go through, and Joanna and Charlotte exchanged a relieved glance.

Now Joanna had a chance to use her secret weapon against her uncle to save her sister.

“I am sorry for this mistake,” the duchess said as she squeezed Joanna’s hands and then Gideon’s and Charlotte’s. “And I am sorry we haven’t been much in touch with you three in the years since you left our home. I missed you and wanted to call on you dearly. I must confess, I was surprised when Ashton invited you after such a long silence.”

Charlotte and Joanna knew the exact, shocking reason. It was to have the prince regent meet and talk and dance with Charlotte and try to seduce her into accepting his outrageous offer, which Ashton had conveyed a couple of weeks ago alongside the invitation to his masquerade ball.

For Charlotte to become the prince’s mistress.

If Charlotte refused, Ashton threatened to never give back Gideon’s deeds.

“It’s quite all right, Aunt,” said Gideon, offering a strained smile. “My misunderstanding is not with you.”

“Misunderstanding” was putting it mildly. Their uncle, who had been appointed their guardian after their papa’s death, was supposed to release the properties and income from Papa’s inheritance to Gideon once he turned eighteen. Gideon was now twenty-seven, and none of the properties or the income were in their possession. They lived on Gideon’s modest wages in a solicitor’s office and Joanna’s secret income neither of her siblings knew about.

“I hope the misunderstanding can be resolved soon,” said their aunt as the footmen opened the grand doors into the hallway before her. Music and voices were louder now; even here in the hallway leading to the grand stairs Joanna could smell candles, wine, and perfume. “I was very happy Joanna came to call on me a few months ago.”

On the day Joanna visited her aunt, breaking years of silence, she had inadvertently stumbled upon a disturbing scene. A dubious man with a strange accent had threatened Ashton, even after handing him a substantial sum of money. She remembered Ashton saying something about Whitechapel and that soon it would be delivered. Whitechapel was the criminal district of London. What would a duke need to deliver there?

Her purpose tonight was to find proof of his illicit activities, whatever they may be.

Then she’d confront her uncle and get him to back off and retract the prince’s offer. She’d make him give back Gideon’s deeds and perhaps even force him to ensure Gideon would get Ashton’s title after his death.

Not a small task for such a mouse as her. But she had to do it, or Charlotte would be known as a royal whore. Ruined for any hope of marriage or a normal life.

Joanna’s breath hitched when she entered the grand ballroom. It had been many years since she’d been in the presence of luxury like this. Beautiful people in elaborate gowns, masks, and costumes. Everywhere she looked, her eyes were met with glittering diamonds and pearls, silks and velvets of all colors. Neverton Place was Ashton’s mansion a little away from London, one of the rare homes with plenty of garden and outdoor space. An orchestra played on the balcony above the ballroom. The air was filled with scents of champagne, hors d’oeuvres, and perfume.

Joanna’s eyes landed in the middle of the crowd on her uncle, the Duke of Ashton, dressed like the moon, talking to the prince regent himself, who wore the costume of Zeus. Ashton was an older man in his fifties, with hair just beginning to gray. His physique showed strength, and his face had an attractive profile, with a straight nose and square jaw.

With a puffy face and meaty cheeks, the prince stood next to her uncle. His robe was adorned with thunderbolts and golden embroidery, and he wore a golden chain around his neck. His translucent blue eyes holding a lewd glimmer, he studied the ladies around him as intently as if he truly fancied himself the mighty god appraising mortals.

At the sight of them, Joanna’s chest tightened, and she found Charlotte’s hand and squeezed it. Charlotte, pale-faced, was looking at them, as well. Gideon, however, was oblivious, his gaze darting from female to female. He was a good brother, but he had a weakness for women and often spent nights away from home. Joanna didn’t want to know what he did in those hours of absence.

“Enjoy yourselves, my dear ones,” said their aunt and left them with a bright smile, no doubt needing to attend to other business as a busy hostess.

“Ah, there you are, Lillith,” said a stately blond woman in her fifties coming to Joanna from the entrance doors with a very pretty lady in her early twenties who looked like a younger version. “Ah, be a dear and go and fetch slippers for Lady Isabella and myself. They’re with my maid, Christine. It’s quite urgent.”

Changing shoes for the ball was the task of a lady’s maid. Embarrassment flushed over Joanna, her face and neck heating as if scalded. Her dress was, perhaps, simpler than the dresses of most ladies here, but she had made an effort. Charlotte’s eyes widened. Gideon frowned and stepped towards the lady.

“Forgive me, Lady Whitemouth,” said Gideon, “you’re mistaking my sister for someone else. This is Miss Joanna Digby, the duke and duchess’s niece.”

Lady Whitemouth’s face fell, her mouth opening. Her daughter had the decency to look embarrassed for her mama. “Oh my! Mr. Digby, of course I remember you. Miss Joanna Digby, I could swear Lady Footer’s companion, Lillith, came wearing something very similar. She has your figure, and a similar wildflower crown…”

She trailed off, and Joanna became clear about her mistake. A lady’s companion was a woman hired to assist a noblewoman. They were treated like servants, but could attend events and wear costumes like guests.

Lady Whitemouth shrugged. “I didn’t expect a lady to come with a crown of wildflowers.” She then smiled politely at Charlotte. “I forgot the duke had two nieces. I know Miss Charlotte, of course.” Charlotte gave her a careful smile in return.

Joanna was ready to fall through the ground. She couldn’t feel more humiliated. Yes, she had wildflowers and was bigger than the willowy beauty standard that modern society held, unlike Charlotte and even Lady Isabella, who threw an apologetic glance at her.

“I beg your pardon,” said Lady Whitemouth. “I do need to change into my ballroom slippers.”

With that, both Lady Whitemouth and her daughter moved a few steps away. Lady Whitemouth was fiercely fanning herself, and Joanna wished she could do the same; her face felt like it was cooking under her stupid large mask.

“Some ladies are just rude, darling,” said Charlotte, squeezing her hand. “You didn’t deserve that. And your wildflowers are beautiful! They’re perfect for the costume of Persephone. Some people just don’t know what they are talking about.”

Gideon threw a gaze full of empathy to her, as well.

“Thank you, sister,” said Joanna, though, she must admit, hiding behind a simple costume or a large face mask felt comfortable. It was easy to blend into the background, just like Lady Whitemouth had implied.

Two gentlemen, one dressed as a pirate and one as a knight, greeted Gideon and Charlotte. Her dance card quickly filled up, and she was out dancing in no time, while Gideon got pulled into conversation with another group.

Joanna hid in the shadows behind a column, her heart pounding. Just steps away, Lady Whitemouth spoke with someone Joanna didn’t know.

“Look at her, Miss Charlotte, the duke’s niece… Ah, what a beauty. Just like my Isabella. Just look at them, two diamonds.”

“Indeed, Lady Whitemouth, though no one can compare to your Isabella.”

“Ah, stop it. And yet, indeed, you’re right. What a shame about the two Digby siblings. Miss Digby and Mr. Digby are like the children the Duke and the Duchess of Ashton never had.”

Threesiblings! Joanna ached to correct her. There were three of them.

“The duke must be incredibly proud of both,” said Lady Whitemouth. “Miss Digby has beauty and a pristine reputation, so she is a great match. And of course, Mr. Digby may be a solicitor now, but one day he will be the next Duke of Ashton.”

Joanna looked at her empty dancing card and then at her willowy sister on the dance floor, rosy-cheeked, her blond curls bouncing, dimples around her pretty mouth. It was as though her sister had forgotten why they came here!

“Here you are,” said Gideon by her side as he brought her a cup of punch. “Hiding in the shadows as usual, I see. Come on, let’s go closer to the dancers. Perhaps someone will invite you to dance, too.”

Just as they took their place among the spectators, the dance ended, and Charlotte was brought back to them by her dance partner, who was dressed like a medieval minstrel. As he gave a polite bow, and retreated, she saw her uncle and the prince himself making their way towards them.

Charlotte threw a panicked glance at Joanna, all her lightheartedness gone. Joanna’s heart tightened, but she smiled at Charlotte with encouragement. She wished she could give her sister all the strength she had.

Joanna and Charlotte curtsied deeply in front of the prince, and Gideon gave an equally profound bow.

Ashton nodded to Charlotte. “Your Highness, of course you remember my niece, Miss Digby. And this is my nephew, Mr. Digby.”

Joanna expected him to introduce her, as well, but his gaze just brushed by her. Joanna’s stomach clenched. Was she really so invisible, so forgettable that her own uncle didn’t introduce his second niece?

“What a delight,” said the prince, slurring his consonants slightly as he cocked his head to the side. “Little Red Riding Hood.” The prince grinned as his lustful gaze slid over Charlotte with no shame. His cheeks were flushed, and he had a glossy look about his eyes. “May I have the honor of stealing Red Riding Hood for the next dance?”

Charlotte cleared her throat and pressed out a strained, polite smile. “Of course, Your Highness. I would be delighted.”

The next dance was announced a few moments later, and the prince led Charlotte to the dance floor. Joanna followed their every move, worried about her sister. Her uncle started a tense and awkward conversation with her brother about the weather, clearly neither of them comfortable, while Joanna, feeling like she must have stopped existing altogether, watched Charlotte dance with the prince. From time to time, they exchanged empty remarks.

Joanna just needed to make sure her uncle was occupied. Then she’d make her move.

When the dance ended, the prince brought Charlotte to Gideon, and both Ashton and the prince, bowing politely, left them. Gideon was distracted by another young lady, and Joanna led her sister a few steps away from him.

“How are you, darling?” Joanna asked. “Was it truly horrible?”

Charlotte took a deep breath and let out the air very slowly through her tensed lips. “It was. I could not believe I heard with my own ears what he wanted, sister!”

“That is so ungentlemanlike!” Joanna whispered in outrage. “You’re a proper lady with a flawless reputation and an understanding with Mr. Linsby. He’s about to propose! Everyone knows that. Uncle can’t humiliate you like that!”

Charlotte nodded, tears in her eyes, her nostrils flaring quickly as she breathed. “The prince told me he was aflame with desire the moment he saw me. But, of course, he can’t marry me—he has his queen. Oh, sister! If I don’t do it, Uncle will never release the lands that should belong to Gideon!”

As though in confirmation, she caught the prince regent’s gaze over the crowd lustfully devouring Charlotte.

“Stay strong,” said Joanna. “We talked about it. Don’t do anything drastic, and I’ll take care of it.”

“Right…” Charlotte sniffed. “Some sort of secret information you have on Uncle. Oh, Joanna, I do not wish to be a woman of ill reputation! I love Mr. Linsby, and I want to be his wife. Maybe we should tell Gideon after all.”

“We mustn’t tell Gideon,” Joanna said firmly. “He’d challenge the prince to a duel to protect your honor, and that is treason. He’d be hanged. No. No one else must know.”

“Would you like ices, Charlotte, Joanna?” asked Gideon as he came back to them. He frowned when he saw Charlotte’s distressed face. “Charlotte, what is the matter?”

“I would like ices,” said Charlotte as if she had not heard his second question.

“Not me, thank you,” said Joanna.

Around the ballroom, several gentlemen admired Charlotte from afar as she ate her ices. A man dressed like a knight escorted Lady Isabella to the dance floor, his eyes fixed on her. In fact, many young ladies—all slimmer, more elegantly attired, and exuding greater confidence than Joanna—basked in the attention and interest of the young men.

But no one spared her a glance. What would it be like, just once in her life, to be the center of someone’s attention? Just once, she wished a man to look at her as they looked at Charlotte, Lady Isabella, and the other pretty ladies.

She stood for a few moments, with her chest aching and her cheeks burning.

But then she remembered herself. Enough self-pity.

It was time for her to find proof of her uncle’s suspicious activities. If she didn’t try it today, who knew when she’d get another chance? There were many people around, so there was excellent cover to be sneaky…and being so invisible and insignificant would be her strength today.

She turned to walk through the ballroom towards the hallway when suddenly the guests parted before her like the sea before Moses, and she was stopped in her tracks.

A tall and muscular man dressed like the god of the dead stood in her way.

And his gaze held her in an unbreakable grip.