Page 27 of A Lady’s Dangerous Secret (Scandalous Secrets #1)

“Oh Nan, you’re the dearest. Without you, we would not be able to attend these events that are absolutely necessary in our education for navigating Society,” Eleanor gushed.

The Dowager Countess clicked her tongue. “If you would have told me twenty years ago that I would be going to a Stanhope masquerade ball at my age, I would have told you that you were fit for Bedlam.”

Eleanor’s usual lazy smile widened into a grin.

Her grandmother shook her head. “This one is trouble. God save the man you marry. He’ll be following you around like a puppy dog,” the Dowager Countess chided warmly.

She then turned to Charlotte with a stern face.

“Charlotte, you missed my diatribe earlier, but I told these young ladies that they must behave themselves. It’s going to be tempting to engage in all sorts of wicked new moments that could lead to debauchery.

You must show restraint. And I’m serious.

You cannot ruin yourselves. I’m only allowing Eleanor’s attendance, because she would have sneaked out anyway.

” She paused and lifted her eyebrows. “Even if I locked her in her room and had footmen stationed at all windows and doors. She has proven in the past to be a clever prisoner.” Eleanor’s grandmother pursed her lips.

Her granddaughter did not appear phased. “Now, Nan, you were once a debutante at the Stanhope Masquerade Ball.”

“Ages ago, but some things never change. That is the reason I’m warning you to behave. Over the years, I’ve seen ladies ruined at this event, so don’t put your futures at risk. I saw that black door invitation.”

Eleanor raised her golden eyebrows in a similar manner to her grandmother. “No need to worry. I did just fine in Italy under Aunt Lydia’s care. This masquerade ball, even the black door, must pale in comparison.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” her grandmother responded with a huff.

The carriage came to a stop and the door opened before the conversation could continue. The group of women donned their disguises.

“Don’t stray too far,” the Dowager Countess chided while they were still in the carriage.

The footman helped the ladies out of the equipage.

Eleanor led the way, followed by Beatrice, then Charlotte, and finally, the Dowager Countess.

Although Charlotte still felt melancholy, she could sense the energy and excitement pulsating in the queue of guests who waited to enter the ball.

The queue, which snaked along the circular drive, slowly moved forward.

In the middle of the drive, fittingly, a marble statue of Poseidon loomed over the guests with his trident.

Torches lit the walkway of the stately home, allowing her to admire all the costumes as they stood in line.

She forced herself to focus on the present with the hope it would distract her from the past.

When she was confined to her bedroom recovering and her friends had visited, Eleanor had regaled them about her vision for the ancient Greece costumes.

Looking at their ensembles, Charlotte saw Eleanor had really outdone herself, and the designs outshone those of the other guests awaiting entry into the ball.

Beatrice was dressed as Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, and donned a scandalously draped tunic that revealed the crease between her breasts.

She wore red roses in her upswept hair and held a golden apple in her hand.

Her costume was accented by a golden mask, which matched her earrings and numerous bracelets.

Eleanor chose the mischievous Até, goddess of delusion, rash decisions, and folly, who was known to ruin men.

She was dressed in a black tunic with a black bandana, in which she had cut out holes for the eyes.

She carried a small basket that contained irregular pieces of plaster and had a black cloth wrapped around her wrists.

Blood-red rubies adorned her throat and ears.

The Dowager Countess wore one of her typical gowns for evening events, but held an aubergine mask adorned with feathers up to her face with a mask stick.

“Eleanor, the costumes are all stunning. What’s in your basket? And what are those strips of black cloth around your wrists?” Charlotte asked.

The side of Eleanor’s mouth quirked up. “I’m so glad you asked.

I took some artistic liberties. These are my knucklebones.

” She jangled her basket. “The ancient Greeks gambled with them, so I thought this would be the perfect vice to lead unsuspecting men down the path of evil.” Eleanor toyed with the cloth wrapped around one wrist. “As for this fabric,” her grin widened, “there are many possibilities. It can be used to blindfold someone or tie someone’s hands together, or even better, tie someone to something. All types of folly.”

Although she was trying to forget her night with James, he had opened her eyes to what was possible with a man.

From the look on Eleanor’s face, Charlotte was pretty sure her friend referred to a particular style of bedroom activity.

Beatrice’s eyebrows were furrowed as she mulled over Eleanor’s accoutrements in confusion.

“I heard that, Eleanor!” The Dowager Countess glared at her granddaughter. “I need to tie you to the carriage and not let you enter the ball,” she threatened.

“Nan, you know I would never actually do any of this...” Her grandmother scowled and Charlotte was close enough to hear Eleanor mutter under breath “…and get caught.”

Charlotte tried to ease the tension by turning to Beatrice. “What inspired your costume as Aphrodite?”

The moment she finished her question, she realized this topic was a mistake.

The usually unshakeable Beatrice looked down as her cheeks flushed bright red. “It’s nothing,” she murmured.

“Thanks to Eleanor, I think we have the best costumes,” Charlotte offered.

Eleanor, Beatrice, and her grandmother all nodded in response.

Charlotte was thankful Eleanor rambled on about improving costumes.

Finally, the group reached the door and gave their invitations to the costumed man who permitted entry.

He wore a white linen cloak with a white mask, which provided a stark contrast to the dark-red brick of the mansion.

The women entered the stately home into a grand foyer, outfitted with a black-and-white checkerboard floor and a stunning black-marble fireplace adorned with gold accents.

It was already a crush of tunics and cloaks of all colors, though predominantly white.

There was more flesh on display than Charlotte had ever seen in one place.

Eleanor led the way, and they wound through the crowd with the Dowager Countess bringing up the rear.

The masked men and women were in closer proximity to one another than was socially acceptable.

They spoke with their heads bowed, but Charlotte did not witness any lascivious acts.

She had been expecting a far more shocking affair, and was disappointed.

As they wove their way deeper into the house toward the ballroom, Charlotte detected a distinct scent in the air.

Her stomach turned in response. Now that she was no longer an innocent, she knew it was the smell of sex.

It immediately thrust James into her mind.

More specifically, a naked James. She tried with all her might to dispel these traitorous images.

The group entered the ballroom befitting a country manor, with ceiling-high windows draped with rich brocade draperies and multiple chandeliers illuminating the space.

Musicians played in the background, and Charlotte witnessed the source of that debauched smell.

Scantily clad couples danced in abandon, their bodies gyrating to the music in a fashion Charlotte had never witnessed before.

Some pairs passionately kissed while others…

oh! Others fondled the private areas of their partners as if they were the only ones in the room.

Her mouth fell open after she caught one man’s hand stroking between the legs of a masked women while her head was thrown back in ecstasy.

The Dowager Countess had moved right behind Charlotte, and she heard her mutter, “Some things never change.”

Charlotte whipped around. “Has it always been like this?”

“Yes, my dear. This is what happens when Society is too restricted. Everyone’s just bursting at the seams to break free.

” The Dowager Countess shook her head and waved her hand in front of her, as if presenting a tableau.

Charlotte rotated back around. Even though she was more knowledgeable about what the couples were doing, she was still utterly scandalized by the open displays of affection.

Yet, she had no idea of the identity of the individuals, which she supposed emboldened them to act in such a way in the midst of a crowded ballroom.

Eleanor paused at the periphery of the dance floor and turned to face the others. She had a wide grin on her face, and her arms spread widely. “This is it.”

Charlotte heard the Dowager Countess mumble under her breath before they formed a small circle around their fearless leader and awaited further instructions.

Beatrice stood across from Charlotte with a calculating look on her face as she scanned the crowd.

Between choosing Aphrodite and searching through the guests as if she planned an assignation, Beatrice was acting quite uncharacteristically of her usual decorous self.

“Let’s grab drinks and find Bridget,” Eleanor said.

The women made their way to the refreshment table where there was a punch bowl.

Charlotte was not used to serving herself at balls, but it seemed Society’s rules had been tossed aside.

As the ladies sipped their drinks, searching the crowd for Bridget, a tall woman walked over to them.

She wore a tunic in which a slit was shockingly fashioned to expose her leg up to the thigh.

“Welcome, lovelies, are you enjoying yourselves?” the woman crooned.

The Dowager Countess spoke up, “Lady Stanhope, I see you’ve carried on the tradition of the masquerade ball.”

Her eyes sparkled behind her silver mask. “How’d you know it was me?” she asked laughing. “I couldn’t let the efforts of my predecessors be in vain, Lady Downham . I hope this ball lives up to prior ones.”

The Dowager Countess shook her head. “For the sake of my granddaughter and these innocent young ladies, I hope it does not.”

Lady Stanhope let out a generous chuckle that would be shunned in any drawing room. “Well, I do hope you enjoy yourselves.” She turned with flourish as her tunic spun around her, and she glided over to the next group.

“The wives of the Barons Stanhope have always been eccentric. This one’s an actress,” Lady Downham commented. She released an exasperated sigh.

“Beatrice, do you see any sign of Bridget? You’re a bit taller than me,” Eleanor asked. Charlotte applauded her friend for trying to cover up Beatrice’s obvious perusal of the crowd.

“No, I don’t see her or Lord Carrington.”

“I’m surprised we haven’t spotted her. I created glorious wings for Bridget’s Nemesis costume.

” Eleanor led the group of women into the crowd around the dance floor in search of their friend.

Charlotte thought more about Bridget’s costume and drifted to the back of the pack.

She did not understand why Bridget had chosen the goddess of retribution and vengeance.

Bridget seemed rather timid and subdued.

Nevertheless, “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” and perhaps Bridget was a woman slighted.

She adored her newly discovered friends, but she had the disconcerting feeling that each woman was hiding something.

Charlotte shuddered as she recalled Beatrice’s words when they first met.

We all have our scandalous secrets, and nothing in the ton stays hidden for long. The only safeguard is to keep it to yourself or rid yourself of anyone who would tattle.

Charlotte was so lost in her thoughts that she startled when a hand suddenly grabbed her wrist. She stopped walking and searched for the source of her detainment. A tunicked man with light-brown hair and cornflower-blue eyes, not dissimilar from her own, gazed down at her through a white mask.

“What do we have here?” the man asked smoothly. She jolted as the voice registered in her mind. It sounded eerily familiar.

“Nate?”

“Tut, tut. There’s a mask for a reason. No guessing identities, sweetheart,” he drawled. He tugged Charlotte closer to him. She was caught off guard, and her hands splayed across his chest to prevent herself from toppling over. She definitely knew this voice.

“Nate! It’s Charlotte.”

“Charlotte?”

“Your sister, you dolt!” The hands that had moved to her waist released her, and her older brother stepped back in revulsion.

“What are you doing in London? And what are you doing here?”

“I sent word to you, Henry, Arthur, and Father to let you know I would be in London for the Season! I assumed no one would care except Arthur, but I tried anyway. I guess I was right.”

Nate puffed out his chest in indignation. “Dearest sister, you assume I read my correspondence. I do not.”

“Regardless, you didn’t even recognize me!” she hissed through her teeth.

“You are wearing a veil!”

“But I recognized you! I knew your voice,” Charlotte argued while she tried to keep her words from trembling. She was absolutely crushed. She knew how little most of her family thought of her, but this was a low point.

“You sound different. You’ve matured.” Nate moved his arm in a vertical motion, indicating her growth. Charlotte willed herself not to burst into tears.

“I just made my debut! Aunt Frances has been telling anyone who will listen about me, especially men of marriageable age. You have heard nothing?”

He shrugged with an annoying amount of insouciance.

“Honestly, Charlotte, I didn’t. I try to avoid Society events at all costs, but I make an exception for the Stanhope Masquerade Ball.

It’s actually quite fun, which can’t be said of all those dull events where marriage-minded mothers throw their daughters at me, even as a second son. ” Nate cringed.

“You should have recognized your own sister.”

Nate shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands in defense.

She did not want to fight with her brother, so she turned on her heel and walked away before she said something she would regret.

Nate’s behavior should not surprise her.

She was the forgotten fifth .

Charlotte looked around and realized she had lost her friends in the crowd.

Not for the first time, she felt utterly alone.