Page 3 of The Laird's Masked Desire
“And what,” she asked, “would we dae?”
Margaret’s lips curved, not in amusement, but in certainty.
“I have a plan,” she said, suddenly remembering her father mentioning it to one of the visitors prior to these. “The Masquerade. That is where he means tae send ye.”
Margaret did not look at her as she continued. It was easier to think if she fixed her gaze upon the far wall and saw, instead of paneling and candlelight, the shape of the danger before them.
“He believes that once ye are there, once ye are masked and cloaked among the others, the matter will be beyond recall. If Kenneth MacGregor chooses ye, if the arrangement is made before witnesses and under sanction, then Faither need only accept what he has himself contrived.”
Eleonor’s voice shook. “Then what can be done?”
Margaret turned. “What can be done is that he need never sendyeat all.”
Her sister only looked at her. Margaret saw the confusion first, then hope, then fear of hope itself.
“Ye will go tae Falkland,” Margaret said, and at once Eleonor began to shake her head.
“Nay, Margaret, I cannae?—”
“Ye will go,” Margaret repeated, “but ye willnae remain.”
She crossed to her sister again and lowered her voice, though there was no one near enough to hear.
“At the Masquerade all are masked. Names are forbidden. Faces are concealed. Nay one is meant tae ken one lady from another until the claims are made and the private arrangements begin.” She held Eleonor’s gaze. “That is our advantage.”
Eleonor drew a breath, but said nothing.
“I will take yer place.”
Eleonor’s lips parted, but no sound came, so Margaret continued before objection could form.
“Ye and I are near enough in height. With the proper gown, the proper cloak, and yer mask, nay one will look twice, provided I dinnae invite notice. I will remain quiet. I will stay among the shadows. I need only endure the evening until the matter is done.”
“Margaret…” Eleonor’s voice broke entirely. “Nay. Nay, ye cannae mean it.”
“I dae.”
“But if ye are discovered?—”
“I must nae be discovered,” Margaret said. “And I dinnae mean tae be.”
Eleonor stepped back, pressing one hand to her mouth as though to contain either a sob or a protest.
“He might choose ye,” she spoke at last, the words escaping with visible difficulty. “Another man, I mean, some stranger. If he did?—”
Margaret was calm. In fact, she was much calmer than she thought she would be.
“He willnae.”
“Ye cannae ken that.”
“Nay,” Margaret agreed, “but I ken this: I am less likely tae attract interest from men who attend such spectacles in search of novelty, and I have nay intention of making meself remarkable. I shall keep tae the edges, speak tae nay one if I may avoid it, and depart the instant I can. Faither will believe ye have obeyed him. By the time he learns otherwise, ye must be gone.”
Eleonor had begun to cry very quietly.
“And Stephen?” Eleonor asked. “How am I tae go tae him? Where? When?”
“At once, once we are there.” Margaret spoke with increased precision now, for this was the part that mattered most. “Ye must be dressed as me maid before we leave our chambers. Nay one looks closely at servants when there is a pageant tae be attended. We will find some small room, some closet or passage where nay one is expected tae linger. There we shall exchange clothes. Ye will take the gown meant fer yer maid and go out by the servants’ corridors. Stephen must be waiting beyond the palace grounds.”
