Free Magical Masquerade: A Regency Masquerade by Hilary Gilman

dining table of mahogany, polished until it shone like a mirror,
reflected the silver of the candelabra and the flickering flames of the
candles. The room was heavy with the scent of pink lilies, tall and graceful in
sparkling crystal vases. They ate exquisite, alien foods served on Meissen
china: delicate quail in saffron sauce, tiny silver fish marinated in
unfamiliar spices, a strange dish made, according to the Duke, from ground
chickpeas. Minette began to see that Rochford had acquired more on his travels
than mere furniture.
    It had ceased to rain when their carriage arrived
at the Adelphi theatre in Strand. The night was fine but cold, and Minette was
glad of the ermine-lined velvet opera cloak that Rochford had punctiliously wrapped
about his Duchess. Arabella, who did not appear to feel the cold, insisted that
she would do very well with a handsome Norwich shawl, which she wore
negligently open to allow the world a glimpse of the diamonds that glittered
around her neck.
    The play that Rochford had selected was a merry
comic opera entitled Love and the Chase and did not impose any great strain on Arabella’s understanding. Minette, who
had never attended the theatre before, was frankly enchanted but shrewd enough
to counterfeit an ennui she was far from feeling. Eugénie, she was sure, would
condemn this artless entertainment as a dreadful bore.
    At the conclusion of the first act, Rochford said
with a weary air, ‘I suppose we will now be invaded by your usual court, my
love.’
    She lifted her eyebrows questioningly. She knew
nothing of her sister’s life in London, except that she had quickly attracted
the attention of the biggest matrimonial prize of the ton. That her sister
might have had other suitors had not occurred to her, nor that she should have encouraged their attentions, even after her
marriage. But so it was. Several gentlemen descended upon their box, greeting
her reappearance with acclaim. She was la
belle Duchesse , la sans pareille , the Rochford Venus . It was all very
silly but harmless, and Rochford seemed to regard the crowd as so many lapdogs.
In his presence, the gentlemen dared not speak intimately to his Duchess, and
so she was spared the necessity of any but the most commonplace conversation
with her admirers. She responded to their sallies with
a sweet kittenishness that entranced them, and they vowed she was more adorable
than ever.
    Half way through the interval, as Minette sipped
champagne and Arabella surreptitiously acquired a glass, which she gulped down,
then refilled several times, a gentleman appeared in the box and made his bow.
For a moment, Minette almost believed that her senses were disordered. For the
man bowing before her was so very like Rochford — Rochford as
he must have been before his disfigurement. ‘Cousin, I heard you had been
unwell, but I see this was a lie. You are as radiant as ever.’
    ‘I did not know you were back in Town, Franklyn,’
remarked Rochford coolly, as he stood and held out his hand.
    They shook hands, and Minette had the opportunity
to see them side by side. Franklyn Clareville was a touch shorter than the Duke,
and his frame was more remarkable for grace than power. His eyes were blue, not
grey, and his smile was considerably more engaging. She knew that they were
much of an age, but there was no doubt the Duke looked markedly older than his
cousin.
    There was a sudden squeal as Arabella cast down her
champagne glass and pushed eagerly to the front of the box where the two men
stood. ‘Frank! Frank! Oh, I am so happy to see you again.’
    She stood in front of him, her face very flushed
and her big eyes starry. He smiled down at her. ‘Can this fashionable young
lady be my little cousin?’ He took her hand and bent to kiss one hot cheek. ‘I
would not have known you, little Bluebell.’
    She blushed even more rosily. ‘Oh, you remember! No
one else calls me that. I’ve left school now, you know, and I’m to have new
clothes and be