Chapter Two

Diana detached herself from her parents, coming to meet Cassandra. The two girls embraced each other and exchanged affectionate pecks on the cheek.

"Oh, Cassie, I'm so glad to see you!" Diana cried, her lovely pale blue eyes wide as she looked at Cassandra fondly.

"Not as glad as I am to see you. It's been so boring without you to talk to, Di. How was Italy?" Cassandra asked. Diana had only recently returned from a three-week tour of Rome with her parents, and this was the first time the friends had seen each other in nearly a month.

"Oh, you know, eternal," Diana replied with a small laugh. "Very monumental. But of course, the art is heavenly. I wish you could have been there with me to see some of it."

"Oh, so do I, you fortunate soul. I am quite jealous. But trying to talk my parents into leaving the country is a waste of time. The Continent is full of foreigners, so Papa says, though I would have thought that is rather the point. Travel is supposed to broaden the mind, is it not?"

"Indeed, I must admit my horizons have been expanded," Diana confirmed.

"The statues in that direction do not leave much to the imagination."

"Diana! How scandalous!" Cassandra exclaimed with a giggle, though she could feel her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Well, maybe it is, but even so, I'm awfully glad to be home. I missed our talks so much." She cast a smile about the room. "Just think, Cassie, it is Maggie's come out ball. Can you believe it?"

"Hardly," Cassandra admitted. "It seems like only yesterday I was reading her bedtime stories and feeding her porridge. Now look at her." They stood back to admire the belle of the ball, who was in between dances and now standing at the center of a knot of admirers, all doing their best to make her smile and laugh.

"She looks happy," Diana observed.

"Well, she would. She's the center of attention, and there's nothing she likes more than that, bless her," Cassandra replied a little drily. "Look at them, all hanging on her every word."

"Her debut is a wonderful success, I think. She is really radiant tonight," Diana replied.

Cassandra tried to put her petty envy aside and smiled, genuinely pleased for Maggie's success. "Now, that will make her happy indeed." She paused for a moment before adding a little bitterly, "All I need to do to set the seal on her happiness is to find a suitor this Season and marry him."

"To leave the field clear for her," Diana said knowingly. "And have you had any luck with that while I've been away?"

Cassandra shook her head. "Not really. I have not met any gentleman of any note at all, only some of the same old faces from last year. And sadly, they have not grown any more interesting in the meantime either. I admit, I am skeptical of my chances of finding Mr. Right among this lot." She gestured with her eyes to the buzzing throng. The room was growing hot and stuffy by now, and the dance floor was heaving with half inebriated, excited couples engaging in a lively country dance.

The girls decided to go and get a drink. Once they had a glass of fruit punch each, they stood talking near the refreshment table.

"Well, the Collins' ball is next week. I hear Lady Madeleine has imported French champagne and several varieties of Swiss chocolate just for the occasion. It will be such fun!" Diana said with obvious excitement. "There will be a lot more people there . . . and a lot more eligible men."

"Yes, I suppose so," Cassandra agreed with a sigh. "But I do not think I can ever really enjoy anything this Season when I know how much pressure is on me to find a suitor. I mean, why must I marry at all? I do not wish to marry just anyone because my parents and my sister and society say so. Unless I fall in love, of course. And I see scant opportunity for that happening."

"My, you sound a little jaded for your years, my dear. However one likes it, that is the way of the Ton . The rich and powerful stick together," Diana remarked. "Wait until the Collins' ball. I am certain you will meet some wonderful, amusing, educated gentlemen there who will turn your head."

"Hmm, maybe you are right, Di, but I have not yet found a single gentleman of our acquaintance who cherishes the same passion for music as I do. Most prefer talking about their horses, betting, or the latest fashion in side-whiskers. I simply cannot marry anyone who does not love music!"

"Of course you cannot. And why should you?" Diana asked. "But I promise you, there will be many more opportunities to meet interesting people at the Collins' ball. There will be artists, and poets, and soldiers, and even the Prince Regent might show his face, so they say."

"Well, I have seen him several times already, and he is not very interesting," Cassandra said with small enthusiasm, recalling the over-dressed, over-fed, and not to mention scandalous Prince George.

"Oh, Cassie! How contrary you are at times. Well, if that does not catch your fancy, what about this?! The rumor mill says that Lady Madeleine's cousin, the famous recluse, the so-called Beast of Lindenhall, is going to be attending this year," she gushed excitedly.

"Is he?" Cassandra said, her interest genuinely piqued this time. "Now, him I would like to see. But I've never understood why they call the poor man the Beast of Lindenhall. It is very unfortunate. Has he ever eaten anyone?" she asked with a straight face.

Diana laughed. "Not that I know of, but there is always a first time, so we had better be careful. He is called that because, as I said, he is a recluse. He hardly ever comes up to town and, so Mother says, never attends the Season. You can imagine how she and the other mamas feel about that—a young, hugely rich duke, reputedly handsome, having the nerve to withhold himself from the marriage market. It is a great crime in her eyes."

"How strange. I suppose he just does not like all the falseness and gossip that drives the Ton , with all its silly rules. I can sympathise with that. But, I must admit, he sounds awfully intriguing. I wonder if we shall meet him at the ball." With her love of mystery, she found the notion quite thrilling.

"We very well might, but we shan't know because, have you forgotten, it is a masked ball?" Diana reminded her.

"Oh, of course." Cassandra's excitement faded somewhat.

"That is the best thing about it. A masked ball is always steeped in intrigue and mystery. One can dress in a lavish costume of one's choice and wear an elegant mask to hide one's identity and increase one's mystique. You will not know who that dashing man is whirling you about the floor to the latest waltz, and he will not know you. But you may make a connection, perhaps a shared passion for music, for a few magical hours. The usual rules hardly apply." Diana spoke with girlish enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling. "Does that not appeal to a lover of intrigue such as yourself?"

"Of course, I would not miss it for the world," Cassandra replied, a little more able to share in Diana's excitement now she knew a genuine curiosity would be attending the ball, one of the most important events of the Season. "Mama is thrilled about going," she added. "She claims it will be filled to the brim with suitable suitors."

"Indeed it will, but how will we know who they are if they are in disguise?"

"Equally, how will they know us?" Cassandra mused, finally seeing a rare opportunity for fun with no strings attached.

"So, are you looking forward to it?"

"Yes, I am now. In fact, I even have my costume and mask ready. I am going as a lyre bird. The mask is covered in feathers, and the colors are quite beautiful," Cassandra explained.

"How lovely. Did you choose it yourself?"

"Um, not exactly," Cassandra told her. "Mama offered Maggie and I a choice of two, a dove and a lyre bird."

"And you allowed Maggie to pick first, of course," Diana said, smiling as she drank the last of her punch and put the glass aside.

"Yes, but I did not mind. The dove mask suits her better, and I'm perfectly happy being the lyre bird, really," Cassandra told her before finishing her own punch.

"I'm sure," Diana replied wryly. "Well, lyre birds are very beautiful too. I'm going as a mermaid. The mask is quite pretty, with silver sequins, and my gown is turquoise, which I am very pleased with, for it will look well with my hair."

"It will indeed," Cassandra agreed, eyeing her friend's thick auburn hair a little enviously. "You shall make a very mysterious and alluring mermaid and enthrall all the gentlemen, I have no doubt."

"Just so long as they do not make jokes about me smelling of fish," Diana said, making them both burst out laughing.

The girls discussed the upcoming ball for a while longer and otherwise caught up on each other's news. But when a new dance was called, both were claimed by their respective dance partners and went off to the floor to take their positions for the waltz. Cassandra thought the waltz was the most romantic dance ever invented, and she looked forward to being swept across the floor by her partner, the nice but slightly socially awkward Lord Jasper Twelvetrees. Unfortunately, the young lord, in his enthusiasm, only succeeded in crushing her toes several times with his large feet.

She made it through to the end out of sheer pride, but then she was forced to beg exhaustion and retire to a chair, temporarily wounded. Diana soon joined her.

"I thought you might need this," she said, holding out one of the two long glasses of iced fruit punch she was holding.

"Oh, you are a positive saint, Di," Cassandra told her gratefully, taking the glass and having a few long sips. "That is nectar. Do you think anyone would notice if I stuck my poor sore toes in it?" she joked before asking, "How was your dance?"

"Oh, the dance was all right, but my partner was a little . . . mechanical in his movements."

"Drummed into him by a frustrated dance master, I expect. One, two, three, and so on."

"Exactly," Diana agreed. "Rather wooden. But it is a very nice party. Maggie looks as though she has ascended to heaven. I do not think she has taken a single break from the dance floor."

Cassandra looked across to the dance floor, just catching a glimpse of Maggie as she whirled by in a gentleman's arms. Her smile was radiant, just as Diana had said.

It is right that she should have a lovely time and get her way. It is her come out ball! I have no right to envy her. It is not her fault that she is so good at playing the pianoforte and everyone pays her so much attention. But how can I ever hope for anyone to notice my talent and assist me in developing it when Maggie is always the one in the limelight?

***

At around the same time that evening, only a few streets away from the Granshire mansion, an unadorned black coach emblazoned with the Lindenhall crest was pulling up outside the Duke of Lindenhall's stately but empty—except for the squad of servants he had sent ahead—Mayfair townhouse. Two liveried footmen leaped from the back of the carriage and hurried to let down the steps and open the carriage door, so their employer could disembark in perfect comfort and safety. Neither servant wished to risk the wrath of the so-called "Beast of Lindenhall."

The Duke made an imposing figure as he first filled the doorway of the carriage and then trod with his high-top leather riding boots deliberately down the steps. The gravel crunched beneath the feet of his tall, broad-shouldered figure. The flickering streetlamps casting shadows across his dark, somewhat angular features.

The footmen scurried back to fetch down from the carriage roof the small amount of baggage the Duke had brought with him. They had no idea of the conflicting emotions filling their master as he stood for a few moments, his silver-topped cane pressing into the ground, staring up at the granite fa?ade before him with a dour expression.

Beneath his greatcoat, Malcom Locksley shivered involuntarily at the sight of his old family home. To his eyes, the place was as welcoming as a tomb, brimming with echoes and phantoms of a lost past. On the rare occasions he came to town, when he was compelled to attend to estate business, he keenly felt the shadowy memories that seemed to linger around every corner, troubling memories he could never quite outrun. His heart clenched painfully, but he forced down the grief and anger threatening to overwhelm him.

Compose yourself.

With a grunt of scorn at what he regarded as his own weakness, he swept off his hat, revealing a tumble of dark curls, and mounted the porch steps. Before he had reached the top, the doors swung open. Golden light spilled out from an impressive, marble-floored vestibule.

"Good evening, Your Grace. The servants are all here to greet you," the butler said, bowing low before gesturing to the rows of smiling, expectant faces behind him.

"Thank you, Carlton," Malcom said with a cursory nod. "That will not be necessary. You are all dismissed." He made a shooing gesture at the servants with his hand before turning to an inscrutable Carlton.

"Very good, Your Grace," the butler acknowledged. He took Malcom's stick, hat, coat and scarf, and handed them to a lingering footman to deal with.

"Is the place all heated and aired as I instructed?" Malcom asked as he strode off towards his study, with Carlton at his heels.

"Yes, Your Grace, just as you said. I took the liberty of filling the drinks cabinet in your study, and in the drawing room, and the library just in case."

"Very good. I'll have a whiskey," Malcom said, entering his study. A good fire was blazing in the hearth, and the room was pleasantly warm. He threw himself into one of the nearby winged armchairs and gave a deep sigh.

"Certainly, Your Grace." With a respectful nod, Carlton went to fetch the whiskey, having the good judgment to bring the bottle along with him when he returned. He placed the glass and bottle on a side table within his master's handy reach and poured him a generous measure.

"Thanks, Carlton," Malcom said, accepting the drink and swallowing the dram in one go.

"Is everything satisfactory, Your Grace? Will you be dining in this evening?"

"No, everything is not satisfactory, Carlton. But I am not speaking about the house, and I do not wish to discuss it with you. I expect my cousin Viscount Lavington shortly. We shall dine in here as soon as the meal is ready. That is all for now."

"Very good, Your Grace." Carlton bowed and made a smooth exit. Malcom was grateful to the man, for Carlton made his own life much easier than it had been during his early years of taking on the dukedom, aged only twenty. Then, he had struggled daily to come to grips with the bewildering mess that was left for him to untangle after losing everything he held dear so suddenly. Somehow, despite a frequent wish to the contrary, his sense of duty meant he continued to exist.

In truth, it had been his Cousin Madeleine who had found Carlton and suggested Malcom employ him as a butler cum secretary almost five years now, and Malcom appreciated his talents more by the day. The man was adept at dealing with people of all kinds, in a number of guises, on Malcom's behalf. For if there was one thing Malcom Locksley hated, it was having to contend with other people.

The thought of it wrought another deep sigh from him, and he poured himself another whiskey as he stared into the fire, waiting for one of his only remaining friends, Terrence Crawford, to arrive and prevent the gathering shadows of memory from engulfing him.