Chapter Four

Lady Grace swam through the chatter aimlessly, her gaze fixed only on the search for Juliet. The Spring Masquerade Ball was held every year to integrate new men and women into the elite society so they could get accustomed to each other and hopefully get married. While this year's was no different, Grace had more at stake because the major reason she held it was to find a match for her niece. Juliet had suffered one too many rejections in the past seasons, and it was beginning to weigh down on Grace.

"Marvelous party, as usual, Lady Grace. You've outdone yourself." A voice called amongst the chatter as Grace continued to wade through the crowd. She stopped and gave a courteous reply before heading off one more time.

Grace herself was not fortunate to have a husband, a feat which by no means was a fault of hers. She had gotten married a long time ago, but her husband had suffered a severe case of the fever and was not able to survive it. This was also around the same time her beautiful sister, Lady Celia, suffered the same disease. Grace remembered just how distraught she had been when her sister and husband died with merely months between. Since the terrible disaster, she had always felt some form of innate responsibility for Juliet.

Grace saw one of the housemaids moving around the crowd with fruit trays and hurried towards her.

"You. Wait!" She called as she quickened her steps. Amidst the loud chatter surrounding them, the maid heard her and turned in her direction.

"Is anything the matter, my lady?" The maid asked, a quizzical look of concern resting on her face.

"Juliet. Have you seen her?" Grace asked once she got close enough.

"Last time I saw her, she was hanging by the balcony."

"Thank you." Grace said, gently tapping the maid on the arm and heading off once more.

She was almost at the door leading to the balcony when she got stopped one more time by a feminine voice, determined to compliment the effort she put into planning the ball.

"Marvelous effort on your part, Lady Grace." The voice called behind her. She froze. She would recognize that voice anyway. It was the voice behind most of the salacious scandals in town. The voice of the one and only infamous gossip monger in all of London. Grace cleared her throat anyway and turned to look at her.

"Lady Violet Northam." She said curtly, taking note of the slightly tall lady in a silky green gown before her and the two other ladies who stood firmly behind her.

Lady Violet's mask was flimsy at its very best. It covered her face but not enough to deem her unrecognizable. Perhaps that was what she was going for.

"So nice of you to come." Grace greeted, trying to remain as level-headed as possible.

"Pray tell, are you jesting? I would never miss this for the whole of England." Lady Violet replied, gently pulling out her makeshift fan.

"I hope you've been well entertained by the maids. Let me know if you need anything." Grace said again, unsure of where the conversation was going.

"I find everything to be quite to taste, thank you very much." Lady Violet replied, a smile of satisfaction settling on her face.

"I'm glad." Grace replied. "I'm afraid I must hurry. I am searching for someone, and it is important I see her as soon as possible."

"I shall let you go, Lady Grace." Lady Violet replied, slightly bowing. Grace did the same and took off again. Her niece was at the balcony, and she needed to talk to her, or warn her.

Lady Violet Northam was like a hound, who always sniffed around balls and parties for scandals. She could turn the tiniest miscommunication into a massive war. It is no wonder she still attended balls and parties like this since she hadn't found a husband yet.

"There you are." Grace sighed, immense relief coursing through her veins once she set her eyes on her niece. "I was worried you might have stolen one of the carriages and rode back to Willowbrook."

Juliet stood, slightly resting against the railing. The mask was still settled on her face, but Grace could tell she wasn't happy.

"What happened?" Grace asked, moving closer to the railing near Juliet.

"This is a futile effort, Aunt Grace. The men I've been engaging with so far only either want me to take my mask off, or they want to know who my father is."

"Oh, dear."

"Father has gone to chat with other chaperones. I do not know where Adam and Camilla are. I am all on my own here. I might take you up on that idea and steal a carriage after all."

Grace allowed a moment of silence to pass between them—one filled with everlasting chatter and loud music.

"You know that will only enrage your father." Grace replied. "Perhaps you just need to try harder."

"I have tried as hard as I can, Aunt Grace. Perhaps marriage is not cut out for me."

Grace reached for her niece's shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. "Your future husband is out there, Juliet. For all we know, he is probably here, right now, in the hall, dancing miserably because no other woman will interest him."

Juliet smiled behind her mask. "I appreciate this a lot, Aunt Grace."

Grace smiled and squeezed Juliet's shoulder again.

"I promise you, there's someone out there for you. Sometimes, all you need to do is to stop looking."

Juliet nodded. Grace shifted away from the railing and made to go back inside the hall.

"I have to go. There are people in there who need me. If you require any assistance, do not hesitate to call upon me. Or worse, ask one of the maids to fetch me."

Juliet smiled. "Thank you, Aunt Grace."

Grace turned away from Juliet and headed back inside. Some part of her felt wounded as she found herself amidst the crowd of masked men and ladies dancing. She couldn't help but feel like she had failed Juliet somehow, and in failing Juliet, she had failed her sister.

***

"It must be exciting, isn't it? Becoming a Marquess?" Lady Helena Waters asked in the middle of her slow dance with Weston.

Weston, who couldn't be less bothered, replied with a grunt.

"My mother informs me that part of the reason you came to the ball is for your sister."

Weston nodded. He looked past Helena and into the crowd. His eyes swept around for his sister.

"You have to admit, though, this is more delightful than you thought it would be." Helena said, oblivious to Weston's disinterest.

Wrong. It was worse. So far, all the women he'd chatted with were more interested in his newly acquired title. After talking with the third lady at the party, he began to grow suspicious that his mother had been sending those ladies to him with tales of his new title.

His eyes finally landed on Anne in the corner of the hall, dancing wholeheartedly with a tall, handsome young man. Weston smiled, perhaps for the first time since getting to the ball. Anne did know how to pick them.

"Do you think we might have the opportunity to dine together anytime soon? There is still a lot about you that I am curious to know." Helena asked, shaking him out of his reverie.

Weston suddenly grew hard of breathing. He was feeling suffocated, and he needed to get out as soon as possible. He thought of the most subtle way to excuse himself without the lady taking offense.

"I'm afraid I must ease myself. Would you excuse me, Lady Helena?" He finally said. A wave of red hot flashed across his cheeks as the last word escaped his mouth. Helena looked at him for a while, intricately amused. After a while, she bowed gently.

"Absolutely, my lord."

Weston threw her a grateful smile and broke the dance. He could feel Helena's tight glare on him as he headed outside the hall. He removed his mask the second he stepped out of the hall, and relief coursed through his veins.

He felt the cool evening air sweep across his face and heaved a sigh of relief. One more second in the hall, and he would've run out like a madman. That would give the ladies much to talk about and help his chances of landing a maiden. Weston wondered just how distraught his mother would be if that happened.

He started to wander, looking around, letting the gentle breeze continue to settle on his face. It didn't take much time before he found himself in a quiet garden laced with flowers of all sorts. His curious side leaned down to inspect the flowers and admire them. Slowly, the flowers grew from curious pieces of art to a reminder that beauty existed all around him. Perhaps he had closed his eyes a bit too tight and needed to open them a little. Eliza was the last beautiful thing in his life. Maybe he was starting to heal.

His array of thoughts was instantly interrupted by the most curious sound. At first, he could not tell what it was, but as he walked closer to it, he started to make it out. It was the sound of a woman sobbing quietly. He moved closer to the direction of the sound, which was deep in the gardens. That was when he saw her.

She was sitting on a wooden bench, slightly illuminated by the bright moon. Like him, her mask was also off her face but the rest of her attire was ridiculously designed with roses.

"I assume it is not the boring party that makes you cry?" He said aloud, his way of informing her of his presence. She became alert instantly and reached for her mask.

"Good lord—uh—I deeply apologise. I thought I would be alone out here." She said, bringing her mask closer to her face, ready to fix it back. Weston could see the sheer horror in her eyes.

"You don't have to wear the mask if you don't want to." Weston replied. "Like you, mine is not on my face."

The lady froze, at first unsure.

"Masks are but a mockery of who we are, don't you agree?" Weston asked. He walked towards her, fixing his eyes on hers the whole time. If he noticed the slightest bit of discomfort, he would retreat his steps.

"Where did you get that from? Some old book riddled with dust in some ancient library?" The lady asked, the upset expression on her face slowly fading

"You may say so." He replied, although she couldn't be further from the truth.

Eliza had said it to him.

Weston reached into his pocket and pulled out a white scarf. "For your tears, my lady."

"It's Juliet. Juliet Fairmont." Her voice was soft as she reached for the scarf. "Thank you."

"Lady Juliet." Weston said as if feeling the name around his tongue. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Lord Weston Edgeworth."

Juliet returned the scarf to him after drying her face. "The new Marquess of Estfield. My father might have mentioned you once or twice."

"With good things, I hope." Weston asked, lowering himself onto the bench beside Juliet. She never complained. For some reason, he could tell she welcomed him instead.

"You do not want to know." Juliet replied.

"The whole thing is rather pretentious, don't you think? A masked ball." Weston asked.

"I am only here because I am being pressured to get married." Juliet replied.

"As am I" Weston said, excited to find a kindred spirit. "The pressure has gotten even heavier on me now that I've recently come into the title."

"That must be hard." Juliet replied. "This is my third season without a husband. The only thing my father hasn't threatened to do to me is consign me to perdition himself."

"I don't imagine that to be an enjoyable experience."

"No, it is not." Juliet replied. "Having the Earl Of Willowbrook as a father takes its toll."

"My sister Anne is in the ball as well. This is her first year as a member of the elite. I feel responsible for her, hence the reason I'm here."

"That must be exciting. Having a sister."

"It can be exhausting at times." Weston replied. "She enrages me most days, yet I must take care of her."

"She is your sister. It is her job to enrage you."

Weston leaned further into the bench. The faint sounds of the crowd murmurs and the loud music could still be heard, but not enough for it to be a disturbance. The garden's serenity and the fragrance of the nearby roses eased him into peace. He felt relaxed out here, with Lady Juliet, rather than in there, with the multitudes of people trying to dance with him. He turned to look at Juliet. Part of her face shone in the moonlight. While there were still dried traces of tears on her face, she couldn't look even more flawless than she did if she tried.

Perhaps she could. He would like to know that.

"What about you? Do you have a sister?" He prodded.

"No. I do have a half-brother, though. Pray, I desire to discover a means to dispatch him and dispose of his remains in the river without drawing undue attention."

"He annoys you that much?" Weston asked, stifling a chuckle.

"He might as well be the bane of my existence." Juliet replied.

"My mother is mine. She had always been pressuring me to enter matrimony posthaste."

"Parents." Juliet responded. "Whatever shall we do without them?"

"Everything."

Juliet laughed. Not the kind of pretentious lady-like laugh he'd seen over the years at several courts. She laughed heartily, without a single care in the world. He watched her and felt a grin creep up his face.

"I apologise." Juliet said as soon as she stopped laughing.

"You have a joyous laugh. You do not need to apologise for it."

Juliet nodded and threw him a slight smile. He was glad she was comfortable enough to take his word for it.

"So you haven't gotten engaged before?" Juliet asked.

"I have. Once. It seems so long ago now, in hindsight."

"May I ask what happened?" Juliet asked.

Weston looked into her eyes. At that moment, he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her about Eliza and how she had been the one thing that brought light to his life. He wanted to tell her about how miserable he had been ever since she died. He wanted to say to her about the fall he had witnessed and how she wasn't able to survive it. He felt safe with her and wanted her to know all about him.

"My lord?" Juliet said, shaking him out of his reverie.

"I do not want to bore you with ancient history."

"The boredom might be precisely what might save me this night, Lord Weston."

It was Weston's turn to laugh. And he did, just like her.

As he opened his mouth to speak, a voice behind them froze him into one spot.

"Good heavens!" Lady Violet Northam squealed like a cat being strangled.

Juliet turned to look at her, sheer terror written on her face.

Oh, Lord.

Instinctively, she reached for her mask and placed it on her face. This was not good.

"This is impossible." Lady Violet's voice rang out again.

"This is not what you think." Weston started, but he might as well be speaking to the wind.

Lady Violet had disappeared just as soon as she'd come.

The terror in Juliet's eyes multiplied as she watched the determined gossip monger scramble towards the hall.

Her life was about to take a turn for the worse.