Page 31 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous (Matchmaking Mischief Makers #2)
E ugenia took a nervous sip of champagne, the bubbles tickling her nose as she gazed about the room. Candles blazed in crystal chandeliers overhead, casting a warm glow across the assembled revelers while musicians played a lively quadrille in the far corner.
What would Thornton think of her costume? More to the point, what would Lady Pendleton think? She, after all, was the arbiter of Eugenia’s fashion choices, with the ability to crush her with a single derisive comment.
After thirty years of friendship, Eugenia should know better how to stand up for her decisions, yet her preliminary boldness always seemed to result in crushed feelings. Hers, that is. She smoothed a hand over her gown, the golden silk shimmering beneath her nervous touch.
“My dear Eugenia, surely that is not another champagne you are drinking?” Lady Pendleton had approached from behind, her eye trained on Eugenia’s glass. But now she took in her friend’s masquerade costume and gasped, her fan snapping open. “What were you thinking?”
She sank into her seat as her gaze traveled from the golden feathery headdress with its curved black beak down the line of shimmering luster.
“You told me nothing of your plans to appear in such a scandalous rig-out. Oh, my dear, you will regret tonight, for you are not the decorous woman of advancing years society expects.” She leaned forward and gripped Eugenia’s wrist. “You are trying far too hard. Who is it you wish to impress? You knew what I would say, didn’t you?
That’s why you kept your costume secret. ”
By contrast, Lady Pendleton’s elaborate gown in deep royal blue and emerald green struck just the right note. The peacock feathers in her headdress quivered with each movement, catching the light like living jewels.
“Why, Lady Pendleton, your peacock costume suits you wonderfully,” Eugenia replied.
She did not add that thoughts of a royal peacock immediately conjured images of overbearing vanity—exactly what Lady Pendleton projected, though in masquerade it was exacerbated to a fine point.
“Never before have I seen you look so regal.”
Lady Pendleton preened, stroking her overskirt that mimicked a peacock’s tail, adorned with embroidered “eyes” in shimmering thread and beadwork. “Do you really think so? Pendleton said I looked especially fine, but his opinion is hardly one I value.”
“Then you have gone to great lengths to entrance someone else?” Eugenia caught herself up. The champagne was definitely affecting her. She never spoke so boldly to her friend.
To her surprise, Lady Pendleton appeared intrigued rather than offended. Her dark eyes flashed with excitement. “One is never too old to enjoy a flirtation.” A smile played at the corners of her mouth, transforming her usually severe countenance.
Eugenia felt genuine shock. Lady Pendleton, though unhappily wed, was the last person who would court censure by allowing her eyes to wander.
“Oh, Eugenia, do not look at me like that. You cannot be so innocent,” Lady Pendleton said, running a hand down her heavily beaded bodice.
She accepted a glass of Madeira from a passing waiter.
“Of course, you have never been married, so know nothing of the tumults of the heart. However, when a very handsome gentleman takes notable interest, it matters not how old one is. It simply demonstrates the power we women exert over the unfair sex.”
“And what handsome gentleman do you speak of?” Eugenia asked, trying to modulate her shock.
“You really don’t expect me to answer that, do you?” Lady Pendleton leaned back with a sly look, fanning herself with studied languor.
Something was different about her friend, and it wasn’t merely the dramatic peacock feathers. Lady Pendleton appeared transformed. So… a man was involved. A man who was not her henpecked husband.
She glanced about the ballroom, filled with fabulously garbed guests in outrageous costumes. There was Bacchus draped in grape vines, Diana the Huntress in silver tunic and quiver.
And, now, Lord Thornton, sauntering through the crowd in a midnight-blue domino cloak over formal attire, his simple black half mask doing nothing to disguise his commanding presence.
To Eugenia, he looked the most arresting man in the room. As ever, her heart lurched, and she took a long draught of champagne to steady herself.
“I believe I shall seek some fresh air on the terrace,” she said. “The heat in here is quite overwhelming.”
“Yes, why not do that?” Lady Pendleton said, just as Lord Thornton arrived and urged Eugenia to stay.
“I don’t think I have ever seen you appear so daring, Eugenia,” he said admiringly. “A phoenix rising from the ashes and a magnificent peacock. I am quite cast into the shade by you two beauties.”
And that was when Eugenia realized the truth. The fiery blush stealing across Lady Pendleton’s cheek told her everything. Oh, dear Lord—Lady Pendleton’s flirtation was with Lord Thornton.
Lord Thornton, the man who had set Eugenia’s heart on fire thirty years before. A fire that had never been extinguished.
She drained her champagne, and Lord Thornton immediately relieved her of the empty glass.
The brush of his fingers against hers sent a familiar thrill through her body.
He smiled, and though Eugenia knew there was no collusion in its depths, she felt as if her world was suddenly both full and utterly empty.
Lady Pendleton, with her status and confidence, would always triumph over the Eugenias of this world.
If she had set her sights on widowed Lord Thornton, her ineffectual husband would be no impediment, while Eugenia would again be cast into the shadows of her friend’s brilliance.
The thought turned the champagne sour in her stomach.
“Why, there is our perfect match,” Lady Pendleton remarked, nodding toward a couple passing nearby.
“Miss Playford and Mr. Ashworth?” Eugenia replied, fighting to hide her disordered feelings. She squinted at the betrothed pair through the crowd—Miss Venetia in fiery-red-and-black cardinal costume, Mr. Ashworth as a highwayman with pistol and tricorn hat.
“Only two weeks remain before their nuptials,” Lady Pendleton observed. “Will you be successful in your second wager, my dear Eugenia? Though I wonder if this terrible scandal might give Miss Playford cause to cry off. She hardly looks joyful.”
Eugenia’s stomach twisted. Could Lady Pendleton and Lord Thornton truly be conducting an affair? The man with whom she had flown over London in a hot-air balloon after winning her first wager two years ago?
She straightened with as much dignity as she could muster. “Miss Playford could not ask for a more noble husband. This scandal has taken on ridiculous proportions. The lady in blue was clearly addled. I am confident there was no impropriety on Mr. Ashworth’s part.”
“Another balloon trip, Eugenia?” Lord Thornton’s eyes twinkled behind his mask. “Did you enjoy it so much?”
“I did,” she murmured, reliving those marvelous hours.
His scrutiny made her hand move self-consciously to her throat—still graceful, not like Lady Pendleton’s turkey neck. A new determination rose within her, befitting her phoenix costume.
“Balloon rides are perhaps an occupation for young lovers rather than those in their dotage,” Lady Pendleton said with a gimlet look. “Too much excitement might wear out one’s heart.”
“Just when I thought I was ready to retire with my pipe and slippers,” Lord Thornton chuckled, tapping his chest, “you, Eugenia, made me realize there was still a lot happening here.”
Eugenia nearly swooned at the gesture’s implication.
“Have you ever spoken to them both?” Lord Thornton asked unexpectedly, nodding toward the engaged couple.
Eugenia had to admit she had not. “But I spoke to Miss Playford frequently during Lady Pendleton’s Ghostly Gathering, and I know Mr. Ashworth by reputation. All reports confirm he is charming and congenial. I am confident my matchmaking has found its mark.”
“Then perhaps you should confirm your instincts,” Lord Thornton suggested, indicating where Miss Playford stood alone by a column.
Eugenia took a sip of her champagne as she considered this. And when Lady Pendleton leaned forward to command his attention, offering Eugenia her back, it was decided.
Approaching the young woman who stood a little apart from her aunt, now watching the dancers, Eugenia was struck by her melancholy expression as she watched the dancers. And more than a little troubled.
“My dear Miss Playford, how splendid you look. The cardinal bird suits you admirably.”
“Thank you, Lady Townsend,” came the lackluster reply.
“Your wedding approaches rapidly. Are the preparations proceeding nicely?”
Miss Playford’s fingers tightened around her fan. “Yes. My aunt has seen to everything.” Her voice was utterly flat.
“And Mr. Ashworth? He must be counting the days.”
At mention of her betrothed, the girl’s eyes grew suspiciously bright. “He says so, yes.” A tear threatened to spill.
“Forgive me, but you do not seem as happy as a bride-to-be should be. Is anything troubling you?”
Miss Playford’s composure nearly cracked. “It is nothing. Pre-wedding nerves, I suppose.”
“I have lived long enough to recognize true distress,” Eugenia said slowly.
“I wonder if there has been adequate opportunity for you and Mr. Ashworth to truly know one another’s hearts?
The most illuminating conversation I ever had was high above London, with nothing but air between myself and the truth. ”
“I beg your pardon?”
“In a hot-air balloon, my dear. The most liberating experience. One feels both removed from the world and somehow more connected to what truly matters. Oh—!” Eugenia patted the girl’s hand, excitement suddenly coursing through her. “Please excuse me. I believe I’ve just had an inspiration.”
She hurried back across the ballroom, golden feathers quivering.
“I have it!” she announced breathlessly. “I must organize for Miss Venetia Playford and Henry Ashworth to be alone in a hot- air balloon. It will enable them to discover the true love I am certain exists between them.”
Although Thornton raised his eyebrows with interested amusement, Lady Pendleton’s mouth opened in shock. “That, my dear Eugenia,” she said, “is the most outlandish proposition I have heard you make all year.”