Page 46 of Matters of a Duke’s Heart
William followed Dorian down the opposing hallway which led to the drawing room.
It was by far Dorian’s favorite room with its vivid green velvet chairs, matching settee and heavy oak furniture; it was both dark and welcoming all at once.
Like most of Ravenshire, it was dark and brooding on the exterior but soft and welcoming on the inside, much like its master.
Only the formal parlor and the dining room had been lifted slightly with lighter colors, grays and whites amid the dark nearly black greens. The one commonality between all three of the rooms was the presence of a pianoforte within.
Dorian being an accomplished pianist found solace in his music, its presence the only light in his otherwise dark existence. When he was forced to host or socialize he often retreated to his music to calm his own rattled nerves and short temper.
William flopped into one of the armchairs while Dorian sat more gracefully across from him. The mood in the room was surprisingly light. The ride had apparently done them both good.
“Your Grace,” Anna, one of the maids, appeared in the doorway, a silver tray in her hands. “A special invitation arrived for you while you were out.”
As she stepped closer Dorian could see that the envelope contained no ordinary invitation, a gilded seal upon its wax closure. As Anna paused before them, William snatched it off the tray before Dorian, who grumbled disapproval at the man’s forwardness.
“Thank you, that will be all.” He dismissed her, and Anna bowed slightly before retreating quickly. Turning to his dastardly friend he said, “I believe she said it was addressed to me. Not you. Last I checked your invitations go to your estate, not mine.”
“Oh, stop complaining, let’s see what it’s about shall we?
” He had already torn the seal and was reading the contents, a mischievous grin consuming his face, “A masquerade ball! How wonderful! Now that is exactly what you need. Music, dancing, entertainment, time away from this dark, dank home of yours.”
“Hardly.” Dorian scoffed, narrowing his brows grumpily, “And my home is not dark and dank. I just prefer the richer, earthier tones, they make me feel at home.”
“Yes, this is exactly what you need. A chance to get out into society, enjoy yourself, meet people. Without your normal concerns of judgement. It’s a masquerade ball, that means lavish costumes and even more lavish masks to hide one’s identity.”
William argued, giving him a look that said, ‘you’re going.’ “Not a soul will know it’s you! You have no excuses this time. Besides, look at who is hosting you cannot turn it down. It would be indecent not to accept.”
Handing the letter over, Dorian took it in his hands.
Reading it in its entirety with mild apprehension.
He was right, he wouldn’t be able to refuse this one and avoid further social ruin.
There was already enough rumor milling around his name, his father would not tolerate him giving the masses any further fodder.
With a deep sigh of resignation, he accepted that William was right, and he would in fact be attending the masquerade. He could not refuse, he just had to be brave enough to make it through the occasion.
His mind started wandering to mask designs, running through scenarios until he had a design that would hide the entirety of the left side of his face. For a fleeting moment, a glimmering feeling of something akin to anticipation or maybe it was excitement that dawned within him.
“Perhaps you are right,” he admitted hesitantly, “this may be exactly what I need.”
“There he is! I knew your good-natured self must still be somewhere inside that dark brooding body of yours,” William teased. “Now, what shall we wear?”
Dorian couldn’t help but smirk, perhaps this will be a nice change of pace after all.
Chapter 3
The air was thick with excitement as their carriage neared the front of the line, music lofting through the open windows. As it rolled to a stop in front of the entrance to the grand masquerade ball, anticipation brewed in the two young women passengers.
Exchanging an exhilarated look, the sisters clasped hands and squealed in excitement before recomposing themselves and exiting the carriage. They stepped down on the iron step with the assistance of their footman.
It was the first time they had been allowed to attend such an event without being escorted by their mother and father, who had chosen not to attend the festivities this year, much to the ultimate surprise of their daughters.
They had placed their trust in the girls fully to represent the family with honor and grace on their behalf.
The decision was slightly taboo, as neither of the women was betrothed nor married. However, the choice had been financially motivated and at the end of the day the best way for them to make advantageous matches was to be out among the masses of society.
We will make you proud, Miriam silently vowed, reflecting on her mother’s look of pride as she had helped the girls get ready for the evening.
She had carefully curled and pinned each of their hair in styles befitting their hair type.
Miriam's brown hair curly with volume; Charlotte's similarly-colored hair just the opposite—straight and silky—pinned up into loose spirals with their mother’s own bobbles.
Miriam knew it had been difficult for her to send her daughters out without her, but she had held back from divulging her worries. She could tell, though, the need for them to make suitable matches and save the family’s standing was becoming more and more dire by the day.
“So do I get to meet your mystery love this evening?” She inquired quietly as they ascended the steps to the entrance.
“Soon sister, soon. Tonight is a masquerade, no one is supposed to be able to recognize anyone. Wouldn't meeting him defeat the very purpose of the festivities?” Charlotte responded gleefully.
Dozens of voices in joyous discussion sounded through the doorway as they stepped across the courtyard and as they headed up the steps the sound amplified.
Miriam was in a dress of deep emerald-green, complete with a matching mask featuring gold accents, in patronage to their host partially covering her face.
While Charlotte wore a deep purple gown with a gold threaded bodice, her mask was less intricate but still complemented her dress.
Despite their families ailing finances the girls had both been able to muster up suitable gowns for the occasion, taking on the task of making their own masks to match.
Charlotte was half the artist that Miriam was and while she had offered to help her sister, she had insisted on them making their own.
“Hmmm. Perhaps,” she acquiesced finally. Whispering teasingly, “But mark my words, Charlotte. I will figure out who it is. I’m a fine detective after all.”
Charlotte just smiled and winked playfully in response.
They were almost to the front of the line to be introduced by the herald.
Not by name of course, instead by their costume.
Miriam could feel the bubbling excitement rolling off of her younger sister as her eyes wandered the guests gathered therewithin.
Disappearing only moments later into the swirling crowd gathered around them.
Miriam highly suspected her sister had gone in search of her secret love.
She would have to keep an eye out and see if she could gander a look at the mystery man.
Though she had finally confided in Miriam what had been weighing so heavily on her, Charlotte had refused to share his name with her.
Left alone, she wandered into the crowd exchanging brief hellos as she went.
Nabbing a glass of wine from the tray of a passing servant she sipped on it with deliberate pretentiousness.
When no one in particular took notice of her she sighed, she had hoped for some semblance of entertainment tonight.
Settling along the wall she gazed out at the dance floor, admiring the swirling skirts of various colors.
It is going to be a very long, very boring night, if I have to stand here alone, she thought with a deep sigh.
A mere moment later an extraordinarily striking figure caught her eye moving amongst the crowd to a spot further up the wall to her right.
Tall with broad shoulders and brown hair he moved gracefully through the crowd unhindered, as the guests parted for him.
It wasn’t just the utterly exquisite craftsmanship of the mask itself.
It framed his eyes in a way that made them stand out.
It was intricately graced with golden flaking, that through delicate brushwork formed a sort of lace pattern from cheek to cheek.
As an artist she could not help but notice.
Yet it was his hauntingly beautiful dark eyes that shone through it that mesmerized her instantly.
He was watching her with an unreadable expression.
Intense, dark, his presence was powerful. When his gaze locked with hers, her breath caught, a sudden blanket of goosebumps covering her skin. Her pulse raced, unsteady, she quickly looked away. A nearly painful thrill shooting through her chest. What was that?
In a wild game of cat and mouse the two of them circled through the crowd, slowly being drawn together by their growing curiosities.
Fate drew them together moments before the first chords of a waltz started up, with only a smile in greeting he extended his hand to her.
With only a mere moment's hesitation she took it and let him lead her onto the dancefloor.
They took up their position alongside the pairs already gathered there.
As they took their first steps in perfect balance, that thrill shot through her again. It seemed effortless when they moved through the steps, their dance flowing with skill and grace.