These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel(6)

I was just filling my plate with far too many desserts when a voice spoke directly into my ear. “Ah! The hero has returned. And found her cake.”

I jumped slightly, nearly dropping my precious food on Mr. Kent’s shoes. Beside him stood Robert, glancing around as though Rose might suddenly appear out of a tapestry.

“Yes, I am extremely heroic and wonderful,” I declared. “It certainly wasn’t my little sister who handled the whole thing beautifully and was then set down by my angry mother.”

“Ah,” Mr. Kent said lightly, “she was not thrilled that your sister’s talents were on display?”

“No,” I said, taking a bite of cake, “she was not.”

“If it’s at all reassuring,” said Mr. Kent, “the ballroom is far more preoccupied with Mr. Braddock’s sudden departure.”

Robert frowned. “Yes. It was rather odd. Perhaps he went to find a doctor?”

“Or he was simply being dramatic,” I countered. “Hoping that we would fall all over ourselves, wondering what could have possibly been the matter.”

A particularly loud babble of conversation rose, and I turned to see Mr. Braddock entering the dining room as though summoned by our talk. Indeed, a swarm of eager guests converged to speak to him, and he hurried back out of the room in a matter of seconds.

“This entire ball has gone mad,” I muttered.

“Why, Evelyn, he seems like the perfect man for you!” Robert teased gently.

“Ha! That mysterious act is a mockery of men who have suffered any real grief or pain.”

The slightest gleam appeared in Mr. Kent’s eye. “And yet your mother wanted you to dance with him—what is she thinking?”

“Oh, she thinks him highly eligible. Though she thinks nearly everyone is suitable as long as they propose soon. But because Mr. Braddock is now in Bramhurst, she’s going to pester me about him this whole winter. It’s already unbearable.”

“I see.” Mr. Kent met my gaze before I looked down at my pudding. “Is there anything I might do to help?” All the usual lightness had left his voice.

“No, thank you, Mr. Kent, I simply must wait and hope she’ll learn patience,” I replied.

He gulped down the last of his wine. “What would make her more patient?”

“If Rose were to finally promise herself to Robert,” I blurted out.

I paused for a moment to contemplate. Dear God, did I really just speak those words aloud? No, no, I’d never. But Robert’s slack jaw and wide-eyed expression confirmed the truth.

“Miss Wyndham, I’m—I’m sorry. I did not mean to—” Mr. Kent said, looking rather distraught.

“Excuse me,” I muttered, thrusting my desserts into his hand and rushing away, deeper into the crowd.

Blast. Blast. Blast! What an idiotic mistake. I didn’t even know why I said it. I’d had only one glass of wine! Possibly two. And a half. But it was foolish! Exceedingly! It was the truth, but it was not my business at all. Rose. I needed to find Rose and warn her before Robert tried to surprise her with a sudden proposal. This was not the way it should have happened.

Distressed, I wove through bodies, squeezed past fences of guests, and searched for my sister. She wasn’t among those finishing the remains of dinner in the dining room. She wasn’t dancing in the center of the ballroom, nor was she resting on the side. And she wasn’t playing or laughing at the whist tables in the crowded game room. This was ridiculous. A ball with hordes of guests everywhere—half of them in love with her—and she somehow vanishes. Rose should have been in one of these rooms. She was the responsible one. She wouldn’t have run off, unchaperoned, to some part of the house that was open to family only.

Twisting down another corridor, I calmed at the sight of her blue satin dress and blond head. But my heart quickly regained its rapid pace when I saw the two men who blocked the path to her, for it was not only the unwelcome Mr. Braddock but also the carriage lifter who had been slinking about outside the house. Fear knotted in my stomach as I gained on the trio.

“Rose!” I called. “What in heaven’s—”

My words were drowned out by Mr. Braddock’s: “Again, sir, as you were not invited, I must ask you to leave.”

The giant studied Mr. Braddock, saying nothing. Behind them, Rose looked pale and uncomfortable, but unharmed.

“Now, sir.” Mr. Braddock took a step forward, still not acknowledging my presence behind him. Rage lined his voice with a jagged edge. “I would hate to remove you myself.”

It felt dangerous standing in the middle of the hall, directly between him and the giant’s potential exit. Nervously, I shuffled to the side. A tense silence followed, and something indecipherable seemed to pass between the two until at last the giant conceded. His expression softened as he turned to Rose. “Thank you for your assistance, Miss Rosamund,” he said with a light French accent. “It appears I must be leaving.”

“But how might I help further?” she asked, glancing cautiously between the two men.

“I will send a message with my information,” he said, giving her a quick bow. As he passed Mr. Braddock, he gave a final nod. “I’m sorry for the intrusion.”

Mr. Braddock did not let up. “Leave the way you came in, and do not disturb our guests.”