Page 97 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

Chapter Twenty-Four

Only Sybil’s mother could have planned such an elaborate masquerade ball in less than two days.

And only her mother could be assured that the guestlist would respond immediately, canceling all other engagements. It did not hurt that word was out that Sybil was now in possession of a dowry. One of the largest in recent years.

If she wasn’t enough to draw the Minos Society out of hiding, her dowry most certainly would be. Not to mention, the event was being held at Priya’s house. None of her ledgers and notebooks of secrets were on the property because she was not a fool, but it would be temptation enough.

And if the Minos Society feared exposure, as evidenced by their masks and cloaks, then the Spinsters would unmask them for all to see. In the heart of Mayfair, their preferred hunting ground. Tonight, if all went well.

It had not taken long for Pierce to discover that a certain earl’s son, Lord Grant, had been shot in the foot and called for a doctor in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, he had also fled London before dawn on a ship bound for France.

“Are you sure about this, ma puce?” Amandine asked. “I have outdone myself, of course, and I am happy to do it, but your father and I know perfectly well that you are up to something.”

Sybil hugged her mother, who wore a stunning green gown and a mask of peacock feathers glued to a handle dripping with crystal beads.

For once, Sybil did not have a mask. It was uncomfortable.

“I’ll tell you as soon as I am able,” she promised. It was the best she could do. It was already difficult enough to keep Keir calm. He lurked in the shadows of the balcony as guests began to arrive.

“Is he growling?” Amandine asked.

“He does that sometimes.”

Amandine twinkled at him over her shoulder. “I like it.” She turned back to Sybil. “And you’ll let me make the announcement? I want to see Lady Cartwright’s face when I release the swans in the garden. Luckily, the weather has learned to behave. Oh, and the white butterflies for your announcement!” She kissed her cheek. “I am miffed this could not be done in my own house, but I must say Lady Langdon has outdone herself with the flowers.” Her smile broadened. “So much lilac. Did you know it makes Lady Cartwright sneeze?”

Sybil grinned back. “She sneezes like a poodle.”

“She does indeed.”

“And you look stunning.”

“Yes, I do. Ah, here’s your father. Isn’t he handsome? I do love a masquerade.”

“I feel like a fool,” Sybil’s father grumbled, crossing the landing to join them. He held up his lion mask, which sparkled with amber spangles and had a mane of matching yarn and fleece that reached nearly to his knees.

“Tres debonair,” Amandine beamed. “Very elegant.”

“I have to be in order to keep up with you,” he replied. “You look like a queen, my darling. And Sybil, you are a princess.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Sybil wore a sapphire-blue gown embroidered with so much silver thread that she gleamed and glittered under the light of the chandelier. Diamonds and pearls dripped from her ears and encircled her throat. It was ostentatious, obvious. White spangled silk feathers had been sewn to the back of her gown, like swan feathers. There were birdcages everywhere. Her mother did like a theme. Particularly one that insulted anyone who looked askance at her daughter.

“You were never an ugly duckling, Sybil, but I hope you make them choke on the swan you’ve become. Now don’t dawdle,” Amandine scolded. “It’s important to make an entrance, but if you wait too long, no one will notice.”

“Impossible,” Charles said. “My ladies cannot be ignored. Don’t know what you’re up to, my girl, but give them holy hell.”

“I always do, Papa.”

Sybil watched her parents descend the staircase, the banister wrapped with ivy. Garlands of spring flowers draped over portraits, hung by ribbons from the chandeliers. Lilies of the valley, delicate bluebells, perfumed lilac branches in silver urns.

And Keir, waiting behind her. She felt him there, solid and powerful.

The others were in position.

It was time.

Sybil had not realized how surprisingly difficult it would be to be the only one without a mask.

All of the other guests hid behind spangles and paint and feathers, turning to watch her descend the stairs. Conversations swelled and softened. The rumor of her dowry preceded her, as planned. If nothing else, her mother’s party would be remembered. Lilac sweetened the air, purple and white blossoms already scattered on the floor like stars. There were swans carved from ice, sculpted out of butter on the sideboard. Made of flowers. Dangling from the ceiling so they looked to be floating.