Page 16 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

“I expect you’re right,” I managed.

“I don’t think we’re technically supposed to introduce ourselves until the unmasking at midnight,” Helena continued, “but I suppose we might bend the rules, mightn’t we?” She gave me a warm, confiding smile – one that I never saw as her stepdaughter. “I am Lady Scott-Holland, and my daughters Agatha and Cassandra are about the place somewhere… Ah!” She smiled. “There’s Agatha over there, dancing with the prince.”

“What a beautiful gown,” I said, turning to look at them. “And how well she dances.”

In fact, Agatha did dance well, and the dress – a frothy pale pink confection on to which I had laboriously stitched hundreds of seed pearls – suited her perfectly. She and the prince made a handsome pair.

“Are you much acquainted with Prince Stefan?” Helena asked.

I widened my eyes. “Me? No, I have never had the pleasure of meeting the prince before this evening.”

“Yet he seemed quite taken with you.” Helena’s smile was getting nowhere near her eyes, which were watchful. “To be singled out to dance twice in a row! I really must ask the question on everyone’s lips. Who are you?”

“I suppose you will all find out at midnight,” I replied sweetly.

“How mysterious,” Helena said, her voice flat.

“Are you well acquainted with the prince, Lady Scott-Holland?” I asked innocently, ready to gather as much information as I could on the progress she and Agatha had made.

Helena’s eyes lit and her mouth opened in response, but suddenly a familiar voice caressed my ear.

“There you are,” said Nicholas Wynter. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

My eyes flashed to his, an unreadable frost blue. Mine, I hoped, did not betray the utter panic I felt.

“If you’ll excuse us, Lady Scott-Holland, I need to borrow this lovely young lady.” He was utterly calm, unruffled.

“Of course, of course.” Helena nodded.

I had absolutely no desire to go with him, or to cut short my conversation with Helena. I had waited years for this opportunity.

“Lady Scott-Holland and I were talking,” I said, allowing a touch of ice to creep into my voice.

Unbelievably, Nicholas Wynter laughed. “No need to get on your high ropes with an old friend, is there?” he asked me. Then, sharing a conspiratorial wink with Helena, he added, “Honestly, she’s always been like this. She used to order me around with great authority, even when she was in the nursery.”

I stared at him, my mouth opening, but no words coming out. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Helena absorb this detail thoughtfully.

Unfortunately, Nicholas used my momentary confusion to turn away, making it clear I was to follow, tossing a charming smile over his shoulder at Helena as he did so.

I walked beside him, rigid with fury, as he made his way through the ballroom. It would hardly help matters if I refused to go with him or made a scene.

“Feeling faint?” he said loudly, out of nowhere. “Of course, we must get you some air!” He led me out of a pair of French doors and on to an enormous stone balcony.

I looked around. There was no one else here, which suited me just fine. It was time to tell Nicholas Wynter exactly what I thought of him.

“What on earth do you think you are doing?” I snapped.

“Finding us somewhere to talk privately, Miss Grey. What else?”

So he knew who I was.

He leaned back against the balustrade, the picture of tranquillity. He was partly in shadow now, but still disgustingly handsome. His dark hair gleamed; his eyes behind the silver mask he wore seemed an even more dazzling arctic blue than when I had seen him last. He wore a waistcoat of silver brocade underneath a black suit. As a dressmaker I had no choice but to admire the craftsmanship. It fit him like a glove.

“I have no desire to talk to you,” I said. “I thought I had made that abundantly clear. In fact, I am worried that you may need medical attention. Tell me, did you suffer any head injuries as a child?”

His eyes flashed appreciatively. “I knew that I had a good feeling about you.”