Bal Masque by Fleeta Cunningham

say? It’s too bad that such a thing happened at the last moment before your wedding. Pierrette is inconsolable. And her mama will not stop weeping.” Her tall uncle bent to kiss her cheek. “I almost didn’t come myself, but I know Charlotte would rather have part of the family here than none.” He took the chair beside Lucienne and patted her hand. “It’s that new horse I gave Pierrette for her birthday. Such a fine animal, but I was afraid it was too big for her. I thought we had trained it to carry a lady in safety, but Pierrette is foolish sometimes and takes paths she shouldn’t. That devilish horse saw his chance and got away from her. Ran right under a low branch and scraped her out of the saddle.”
    “Oh, Uncle Gaston, no!” Lucienne felt her bright plans falling into heaps of shattered dreams. How could Pierrette be such a fool?
    “She’s not injured, Lucienne, not really hurt at all. Just bruised and scraped, and she has a masterpiece of a black eye. Of course, she couldn’t show herself at your wedding in such a condition. She’s bawled all day about missing it, but we said you’d understand. She just couldn’t come, looking as she does.”
    Lucienne left the dinner table in a state of combined fury and exasperation. Just as Philippe had warned her, the softest link in her plan had given way. What to do? How to fix this thing? Darkness enclosed the house and outbuildings as Lucienne escaped the family. She found a darker place on the veranda and hid herself in the shadows. She had to think, think quickly, how once more to salvage her plans—plans which did not include marriage to Armand Dupre, she assured herself.
    Dorcas wouldn’t attempt to trade roles. That possibility had been eliminated. Now Pierrette, the little fool, had managed to get thrown from her horse, a thing Lucienne couldn’t imagine happening to herself. Did the silly chit actually get thrown, or did she lose her nerve at the last minute? No matter, Pierrette wouldn’t be here for the wedding. That was the situation. No one else, not one single person, could Lucienne bring to mind who would be able to manage the masquerade. It was so easy before, just trade one bride for another. With the bridal couple in costume and hidden by masks, the substitution was easily managed. A bride for a bride, so to speak. A bride for a… Lucienne bolted upright. Of course, if a bride could be substituted for a bride, then the same could be said for a groom. And the matter was even easier.
    Lucienne paced the dark corner, looking at all the angles of the plan that had popped into her head. It would work. There was no reason it shouldn’t. Philippe would think it hilarious, exactly the kind of high-spirited scrape to tempt him. She just had to inform him of the change of plans. How to accomplish that? There had been no more word about the possible duel, so Armand’s intervention must have been successful. Still she hadn’t seen Philippe since the small masquerade. It had been misery for her, but he was being discreet, she supposed. It would be hard to be in the same room with him and not let her true feelings show. He was better at hiding his love than she was, but it must be difficult for him, as well. Of course he’d been absent from the festivities to protect their secret. She understood that.
    Somehow she had to reach him, tell him how things had changed. She couldn’t go to him herself, she knew. Propriety demanded her presence within her own home until the wedding. She supposed she could send a note. Yes, a note would do, but who could she trust to carry it? Who could leave the plantation without creating gossip? One of Pierrette’s brothers? Oh, no, they’d reveal everything to Uncle Gaston. Marie? No, she couldn’t risk that. Someone… She must be able to trust someone!
    Lucienne stared out into the darkness, searching the skies for a solution. She wasn’t sure how long it took for the answer to come, but it came from the