Delightful?No, thank you.
“And we have a lovely conservatory,” Lady Havendish added.
What did that have to do with her? She enjoyed greenery but not enough to idly wander in a conservatory with a man she had no interest in. She dipped her head politely at Lady Havendish. “I’m sure there shall be ample time to view the gardens and conservatory.”
“The masked ball shall have to do for now,” her stepmother said. “I hope you have brought your best dress.”
Ah, no. She hadn’t.
Lady Havendish nodded. “Yes, tonight is special. We will present a marvel from the depths of the ocean, and tomorrow, that marvel will grace our plates as a rare delicacy.”
How . . . delightful.
Louisa gave a slight nod, her mind racing over her belongings rather than fixing on this rare delicacy, whatever it was. She had packed for the trip—a trip to Brighton to see criminals—but nothing extravagant. Nothing the duchess would approve of. In fact, she had a dress with her that Camilla would absolutely hate.
Her grin turned inward.
She lived to displease her stepmother.
And it wasn’t as if she wanted to shine her brightest for this earl they wished to introduce her to, either. “I have just the dress in mind.”
A simple black day dress. Thoroughly out of fashion, since it was one of the dresses she always wore on the anniversary of her mother’s death, as well as the anniversary of the day she was taken captive. It would do perfectly.
Which reminded her . . .
What day was it today? If she was not misplacingtime, that bittersweet day was tomorrow.
Lawks. Itwastomorrow . . .
Her twentieth birthday.
And the ninth anniversary of her mother’s death and the tenth anniversary of her abduction. Birthdays were not days she usually enjoyed celebrating. Her most terrifying and saddest memories had happened on them. Yet somehow this year, she’d almost completely forgotten. Well, then, she’d just have to make the most of tonight, wouldn’t she?
*
“There is amasked ball tonight.”
“I know.” Oliver stared at the neat scrawl on the note from Lousia, not bothering to lift his head to the Fury who had followed them. He cursed his inability to observe and act fast if something were to happen out of his control. He wanted to be inside that house. He wanted to keep an eye on the angel who could turn impulsive at any moment.
Discomfort gnawed at him.
He despised the sensation. It made him feel weak. Powerless. Had he made the right decision? Sending her into that den of vipers without him? Send her in at all?
He almost barked out a laugh. What decision had he even made? She had all the power here.
His gaze swept over the corner of the stables they occupied. He had his own matters to attend to. The men had gone hunting and would return soon, so they would have to keep out of sight as much as possible.
He stretched his legs, shifting on the small stool beneath him.
“Are you attending?” Reaper asked, dangling a mask from his fingertips.
Oliver frowned at the swinging item. “Areyou?”
“And what if I’m considering it?”
“The moment you set foot in that house, I’ll alert everyone of an imposter with a scar on his face.”
Reaper tossed the mask at him. “This damn scar,” he said, mockery thick in his voice. “Always a damn hindrance.”
