Lady Wicked by Sabrina Vance Page A

attended, she had thought he was the
man in the peacock feathers, then the man in lion face, and others.
It had occurred to her in the second year, that he simply changed
costumes throughout the evening to ensure that his guests were
never entirely certain which man he was. Perhaps he switched
costumes with his brother too. They were a similar build so it
would add to the confusion.
    And that was all part of the fun. If no one
knew who they were, the guests could do almost anything they liked,
to anyone they liked, behind closed doors where there were so many
secrets that no one would dare reveal what went on. It was a
self-perpetuating secrecy act. No one would confess because no one
wanted to be shunned… and everyone loved the illicit nature of
their partying.
    As Lady Wicked, Amelia would play her part.
She would eat, drink and make merry. And if she saw someone she
chose to know a little more intimately, there would be no society
rules telling her she could not be forward. She had seen many
intriguing, lurid, things at Hamilton’s Masquerades. She couldn’t
help wonder how often the handsome and enigmatic Hamilton brothers
participated. Perhaps, she mused, this would be the night she would
take one to her bed, providing she could identify him.
    A knock at the door made Amelia start.
“M’lady?” called her maid, a young, solid-looking girl called Beth.
“Your carriage will arrive in one hour. May I help you dress?”
    “No, Beth. Return in a ten minutes to attend
to my hair.”
    “Yes, m’lady.”
    Amelia listened for obedient Beth’s footsteps
fade away before she approached the bed. Stripping her simple blue
day dress and undergarments, she laid them over the velvet chair,
changing into her specially commissioned evening petticoats. The
silk gown slipped over her body easily. Cut low on the bosom as was
the fashion and skimming over her hips, it was demure and elegant
but still whispered expensive.
    Opening an exquisitely decorated box, Amelia
fingered the jewels she’d collected over the years. Rubies,
emeralds, pearls… ah, these were the ones she wanted. A glittering
diamond necklace and matching drop earrings would be her only
adornments other than the mask. They were far too precious for
general wear, but the Masquerade was far from general. Hamilton
expected the best, and he was going to get it.
    The senior Hamilton brother was a fixture at
various functions Amelia attended but he’d barely spoken to her
over the few years she had lived in London. She often found him
looking at her intently, his piercing blue eyes seeming to bore
into her very soul. His dark hair was cut in waves, but that was
the only gentle thing about him. Everything else about him spoke of
raw masculinity, from his square jaw to the powerful set of his
shoulders.
    His brother was like a copy punched from the
same mould, with similar brooding eyes and commanding body, but he
seemed more outgoing than the older, brooding Hamilton. She had
even spoken with the younger Hamilton a few times and found he had
a quick humour that made him enjoyable to verbally spar with. She
found them both strangely captivating and they made her heart race
whenever she was fortunate to catch a glimpse of either. It was
strange; she hadn’t been this attracted to any man in decades,
never mind two.
    Trying to glean information about the
brothers was a different matter entirely. Everyone seemed to have a
slightly different tale to tell about the brothers, and Amelia had
soon given up trying to fathom what was truth and what was rumour.
It was almost like they didn’t want anyone to know their true
selves. She knew the feeling.
    When the maid knocked again, Amelia admitted
her and waited patiently while Beth’s nimble fingers wound their
way through her air, creating pretty curls that would hang down her
back, long and loose in defiance against current styles which
favoured short curls and buns.
    By the time the carriage arrived, Amelia was
tapping her