attendance who would recognize her.
“Oh, Lady Claire, do say yes,” Claude urged her. “It’s just the thing to liven us up.”
“Yes, do,” Lizzie echoed. “Imagine being invited to a ball in Venice. I can hardly wait to tell Arabella.” She shot a wicked glance over at the next table, where the others were laughing and chattering as though there were no connection between the two parties at all.
“It’s fancy dress, if that helps,” Gloria put in with an air of a gambler sweetening the pot. “There are a thousand costume shops in the city, because of Carnivale. You could come as just about anything.”
Fancy dress. With masks.
Perhaps Alice need not be left behind, after all.
Claire’s polite smile widened into sincerity. “Masks would be entirely appropriate, though we have no need for a costume—the girls and I, I mean. We have just the thing, don’t we, girls?”
*
“This is madness,” Captain Hollys muttered for what had to be the tenth time, pacing at Alice’s side like a tall, grumpy … lord.
At least, Alice thought he was a lord. Were baronets considered lords? It did not matter if they were or not—he had been outmaneuvered and out-argued, and here she was, walking to the ball with her very own noble bodyguard.
Whom she was determined to lose at the very first opportunity.
“One slip of the mask and you will be recognized,” he said, “and then all Her Majesty’s efforts on Jake’s behalf will be for naught.”
“I’ll just have to make sure my mask doesn’t slip, then,” Alice said cheerfully. “Fortunately, everyone expects Colombina’s face to be painted, so it could be torn right off and I’d still be all right.”
Ian, dressed as a harlequin, in long bloomers and a silk blouse you could fit both the Mopsies into, glared at her out of his blacked eyes. “If it is torn off, that means you will have been in a fight, and that must not happen under any circumstances.”
“Oh, Ian, do give over,” Claire said, taking his other arm companionably and patting it. “We must keep a positive attitude. And you must loosen up a little. You move too much like a military man.”
“I am a military man,” Captain Hollys said through his teeth.
“No, tonight you are a harlequin, a trickster,” Andrew told him. He and Claire made an odd couple—he as a pirate, and she in her raiding rig. Both wore the elegant gilded masks that were for sale at the base of practically every bridge in town, made of papier maché and tied behind with silk ribbons. “Tonight you move loosely, with grace and stealth, not command.”
“Alice, too,” Lizzie said. “That motley dress is so short you won’t have any trouble dancing.”
“I won’t be dancing,” Alice informed her. “I’ve never shown this much shin in my life, and I certainly don’t intend to parade it on the ballroom floor.”
“There will be any number of Colombinas,” Claire told her in soothing tones that did nothing to calm the butterflies in Alice’s stomach. “No one will know. Just remember—we are not going to dance so much as gather information. Mopsies, you are to scout where you should not be, and listen where you are not wanted. Alice, if by some mischance you are recognized, Ian will whisk you out of the palazzo and back to our hotel. Tigg and Andrew and I will engage likely guests in conversation and try to learn more about where Jake might be held.”
“And not a word to Claude,” Maggie reminded her cousin. “He cannot be trusted not to blab, though of course he would never mean to hurt anyone.”
“I still don’t like abandoning him to Arabella and that lot,” Lizzie said, kicking a stone off the pavement with her dancing slipper. It hit the water with a hollow sound and sank with no indication of the canal’s real depth. “I don’t think they’re good for him. Instead of encouraging him to go home and get a start in the business, they keep telling him to come hither and yon
“Oh, Lady Claire, do say yes,” Claude urged her. “It’s just the thing to liven us up.”
“Yes, do,” Lizzie echoed. “Imagine being invited to a ball in Venice. I can hardly wait to tell Arabella.” She shot a wicked glance over at the next table, where the others were laughing and chattering as though there were no connection between the two parties at all.
“It’s fancy dress, if that helps,” Gloria put in with an air of a gambler sweetening the pot. “There are a thousand costume shops in the city, because of Carnivale. You could come as just about anything.”
Fancy dress. With masks.
Perhaps Alice need not be left behind, after all.
Claire’s polite smile widened into sincerity. “Masks would be entirely appropriate, though we have no need for a costume—the girls and I, I mean. We have just the thing, don’t we, girls?”
*
“This is madness,” Captain Hollys muttered for what had to be the tenth time, pacing at Alice’s side like a tall, grumpy … lord.
At least, Alice thought he was a lord. Were baronets considered lords? It did not matter if they were or not—he had been outmaneuvered and out-argued, and here she was, walking to the ball with her very own noble bodyguard.
Whom she was determined to lose at the very first opportunity.
“One slip of the mask and you will be recognized,” he said, “and then all Her Majesty’s efforts on Jake’s behalf will be for naught.”
“I’ll just have to make sure my mask doesn’t slip, then,” Alice said cheerfully. “Fortunately, everyone expects Colombina’s face to be painted, so it could be torn right off and I’d still be all right.”
Ian, dressed as a harlequin, in long bloomers and a silk blouse you could fit both the Mopsies into, glared at her out of his blacked eyes. “If it is torn off, that means you will have been in a fight, and that must not happen under any circumstances.”
“Oh, Ian, do give over,” Claire said, taking his other arm companionably and patting it. “We must keep a positive attitude. And you must loosen up a little. You move too much like a military man.”
“I am a military man,” Captain Hollys said through his teeth.
“No, tonight you are a harlequin, a trickster,” Andrew told him. He and Claire made an odd couple—he as a pirate, and she in her raiding rig. Both wore the elegant gilded masks that were for sale at the base of practically every bridge in town, made of papier maché and tied behind with silk ribbons. “Tonight you move loosely, with grace and stealth, not command.”
“Alice, too,” Lizzie said. “That motley dress is so short you won’t have any trouble dancing.”
“I won’t be dancing,” Alice informed her. “I’ve never shown this much shin in my life, and I certainly don’t intend to parade it on the ballroom floor.”
“There will be any number of Colombinas,” Claire told her in soothing tones that did nothing to calm the butterflies in Alice’s stomach. “No one will know. Just remember—we are not going to dance so much as gather information. Mopsies, you are to scout where you should not be, and listen where you are not wanted. Alice, if by some mischance you are recognized, Ian will whisk you out of the palazzo and back to our hotel. Tigg and Andrew and I will engage likely guests in conversation and try to learn more about where Jake might be held.”
“And not a word to Claude,” Maggie reminded her cousin. “He cannot be trusted not to blab, though of course he would never mean to hurt anyone.”
“I still don’t like abandoning him to Arabella and that lot,” Lizzie said, kicking a stone off the pavement with her dancing slipper. It hit the water with a hollow sound and sank with no indication of the canal’s real depth. “I don’t think they’re good for him. Instead of encouraging him to go home and get a start in the business, they keep telling him to come hither and yon
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