“So do you think your friend Miss Thistlewaite will make a match with Mr. Ossory?” he asked Selina.

  “Julia?” Selina asked, surprised. “I do not think Mr. Ossory is interested in her.”

  “I do not think so, either. I think he is interested in you.”

  Selina did not respond.

  “Well?” Malcolm prompted her. “Is he interested in you?”

  “It would be immodest of me to comment.”

  “That is the type of response I would expect from most women, but is not what I have come to expect from you.”

  “Mr. Ossory and I have agreed to engage in a match—” Selina paused for effect “of chess.”

  Selina thought that Mr. Malcolm appeared relieved. She hoped so. She had been suddenly struck with the unworthy desire to make him jealous. “And had he a different match in mind?” Malcolm asked.

  “Perhaps. But I told him I was only available for chess.”

  “Poor Henry,” Malcolm said.

  “Would you have preferred that I answer differently?” Selina asked, hoping to provoke him to something other than sympathy.

  “I would have preferred that he go jump in the lake.”

  Selina was a little shocked she had achieved her ambition so easily, although she had most definitely not wished for so rancorous a response. “That is an extreme attitude toward someone who is your friend,” she said, looking at Malcolm in surprise. She was relieved to see that he was smiling.

  “Oh, I do not really mean it. I only felt that way when he was making up to you. I knew he had a shared history with you and I felt left out. I was even jealous of your former employer. But now that I know him to have been unsuccessful in his pursuit I no longer dislike him.”

  “Well, I am relieved to hear it, for I like him very much.”

  “You had better not be too enthusiastic in your praise, or I might find myself despising him again,” Malcolm said, but it was obvious he was joking.

  “What, am I to like no one but you?” Selina asked.

  “No, but you are to like me best.”

  Selina did not know how to reply to this, so said nothing. She couldn’t very well tell him that she liked him better than any man she’d ever known.

  At luncheon that day the conversation dwelt primarily on what costumes were to be worn to the masquerade ball. The gentlemen did not have much interest in the subject, but the ladies were quite excited and even Selina began to think that it had been a good idea to hold a masquerade.

  Lady Kilbourne suggested they look in the attics after luncheon. “For my sister never discarded a thing, and Malcolm put most of her belongings there after he inherited the house. There are probably costumes that could be contrived out of the clothing in the trunks up there.”

  “I don’t need to go up to the attics,” Cassie said, “although I will need to take a trip to the village to visit the dressmaker.”

  “Do you plan on going as a lady, Cassie?” Julia asked him.

  “Of course not. A Greek,” he said.

  “Any particular Greek?” Mr. Ossory asked him.

  “No, although maybe I’d better come up with a name, in case someone asks. Perhaps Plato, or Socrates, or Julius Caesar.”

  “Julius Caesar was Roman,” Selina told him.

  “Roman, Greek, whatever. I just plan to wear a thin white robe and put some leaves over my ears. I figure that will be the most comfortable costume. I went to one of these blasted things dressed as Henry VIII once and I almost suffocated.”

  “And what are you wearing, Selina?” Julia asked.

  “I have no idea. I was hoping to receive inspiration when I visited the attic.”

  “Why not go as your name sake?” Malcolm suggested.

  “My name sake?” Selina asked.

  “Selene, goddess of the moon.”

  “Cassie has already stolen my costume,” Selina said, smiling.

  “I told you, I am not a woman, I am Plato. Or Socrates,” Cassie said.

  “That is just about the most unlikely disguise I’ve ever heard of,” Mr. Dalton said to Mrs. Dalton, who told him to be quiet.

  Mr. Ossory and Mr. Dalton, who had decided to wear dominos, went to play billiards, while Julia, Selina, Mrs. Dalton and Malcolm went up to the attic together. Lady Kilbourne retired to her chamber. She told her son she was too old to play dress up, and would be wearing a ball gown to the masquerade.

  After a bit of rummaging around, Mrs. Dalton found a gown from the previous century and decided to go as Marie Antoinette.

  “I shall pretend I am seventeen again,” Mrs. Dalton told Selina.

  “Shall you powder your hair or wear a wig?” Selina asked her mother.

  “A wig, of course. I am not like Lord Cassidy. I care nothing for comfort. It is how I look that is important,” Mrs. Dalton said, laughing.

  Having found her costume, Mrs. Dalton laid it aside and began to help the others search. Julia found a milkmaid’s costume that had evidently been used for another masquerade years ago. “This is quaint,” she said, holding it up before her.

  “Oh, yes, my dear. You will look very charming in that,” Mrs. Dalton agreed.

  “So that leaves only Selina and Mr. Malcolm. Have you found anything, Selina?” Julia asked.

  “No,” Selina said. “But you all do not have to wait for me. I will continue looking on my own.”

  “Nonsense,” Julia said. “We will help you.”

  Selina smiled and thanked Julia, relieved that she seemed to have forgiven Selina for refusing to take part in her little scheme. She thought it strange that Julia still would not meet her eyes, but only murmured something and looked uncomfortable. Perhaps she had not completely forgiven Selina, after all.

  “So have you firmly decided against Selene, then?” Malcolm asked.

  “No, not at all. I just thought if there was something ready made I would use it, but I have no objection to masquerading as the moon goddess.”

  “I only ask because if you go as Selene, I intend to go as Endymion,” Malcolm said.

  “Who is Endymion?” Julia asked.

  “He was the mortal love of Selene. Selene caught sight of him, fell in love, and begged Zeus to grant him immortality in the form of eternal slumber. According to the myth, Selene showers him with kisses every night as he sleeps on a hilltop,” Malcolm explained.

  “How romantic,” Mrs. Dalton said.

  “It is rather tragic if you ask me. What good does it do Selene to have an everlasting love when he is eternally asleep?” said Selina.

  “I suppose she would rather have him sleep than die,” Malcolm said.

  “What does this moon goddess look like?” Julia asked.

  Malcolm shrugged. “There have been some paintings, including one by Nicolas Poussin. In his painting Selene wears light, flowing garments and has dark hair. However, Homer said she had golden-colored hair. It has also been said that she was white of face and arms and that the moon reflected her glow.”

  “She wore a crescent moon on her head, too, I believe,” Selina said.

  “Well, that does not sound too difficult a costume. We will just have to make a shopping expedition,” Mrs. Dalton said.

  “What does Endymion wear?” Selina asked Malcolm.

  “Actually, he’s usually portrayed wearing nothing more than a judiciously placed piece of fabric, but that would not be appropriate for our ball,” Malcolm said, grinning at Selina.

  “Good heavens, no!” Mrs. Dalton exclaimed.

  Selina said nothing. She was desperately trying to erase from her mind the image that his words had just created.

  “So I will have great latitude in arranging my costume. I will carry a staff, so that everyone knows I am a shepherd, but other than that, I think it scarcely matters what I wear. As long as it’s suitably rustic, of course.”

  Since there was no need to search for any more costumes, Mrs. Dalton and Julia collected theirs and started down the stairs. Selina remained behind for a moment with Malcolm.

  “Is that why you wanted me to be Selene? So that you would have such an easy costume?” Selina asked him.

  “I must confess I wanted us to have complementary costumes, but like Cassie, I did not want to be uncomfortable all evening, either. And I thought it fitting that Selina should go as Selene.”

  “So I am to arrange my costume in order that you can be comfortable?” Selina asked, before sighing dramatically. “I have been grossly misled. I thought you were a romantic, and now I find that you are merely lazy.”

  “As befits my character, Endymion,” Malcolm told her.

  It took Selina a moment to understand him, and then she laughed. “You are not too sleepy, I see. You are always quick-witted enough to offer excuses for your conduct.”

  They were interrupted by Mrs. Dalton calling Selina’s name from where she was waiting below.

  “I am coming, Mama,” Selina called back, and she and Malcolm proceeded down the stairs.

  For the next week everyone was busy making preparations for the upcoming ball. The ladies had volunteered to assist Lady Kilbourne in writing out the invitations, and when they were finished Selina and Malcolm drove around the neighborhood delivering them. The ladies also took a trip to Tunbridge Wells, where they purchased the items that were not available at the nearby village.

  Selina had found an illustration in a book called “Costumes of the Ancients” in Malcolm’s library and took it to the modiste. Her dress was to be white, with silver cording that crossed between her breasts and at her waist. She had thought at first that it would have been more fun to dress a little more exotically, perhaps as a sultana or a gypsy girl, but now she was becoming excited about dressing as Selene. She was having a crescent moon headpiece made, and she had also found a picture of a coiffure in the same book.

  Julia was very interested in Selina’s preparations for her masquerade costume and insisted on helping her. Selina thought Julia was trying to make up for her previous behavior and thought it was rather sweet of her. She had no idea that Julia was making an exact copy of her costume.

  For Julia had not given up on her plan to humiliate the Honorable Jeremy Malcolm. She had been indulged her entire life and taught to believe that she was superior to all others, and it had mortified her when she could not attract the notice of the prime catch on the marriage mart. Then when Selina came and seemed to catch his notice so easily she had been even further infuriated, even though she had planned for it to happen. What had disturbed her was that Malcolm had liked Selina even without the stratagems Julia had believed to be necessary. Julia did not like feeling herself inferior to others, and she had hated playing second fiddle to Selina for the past few weeks. When her new plan succeeded Selina would be relegated back to second place, and Mr. Malcolm would learn what a mistake he made in spurning her.

  The only flaw in her plan that she could see was that Mr. Ossory seemed to admire Selina as well. If a match between Selina and Malcolm came to nothing, then it was entirely possible that Mr. Ossory would offer for Selina, a thought which greatly upset Julia. Julia wanted Mr. Ossory to admire her, even though she would obviously never marry him. He was a respectable match, to be sure, but he was not good enough for Julia Thistlewaite.

  Although there were times Julia felt he was too good for her. His character was so noble, so open and honest, that when she was with him it made her ashamed of the deception she was planning. However, Julia did not allow these rare pricks of conscience to deter her from her goal. Once set on a course of action, she was not the type to shrink back from carrying it to its conclusion, no matter what the consequences.

  Eleven

  The night of the masquerade arrived and Selina eyed her appearance in the mirror with pleasure. Her dress was very flattering; the silver cording emphasizing her figure and the flowing white fabric rippling when she walked, giving the impression of moonlight. Her hair had been parted in the middle, then pulled back in a roll on each side, with two long braids falling over each shoulder. At the top of her head lay the silver crescent moon, and she had powdered her face and arms, then discreetly applied some rouge, so she did not appear too pale.

  Julia came into the room and looked her over critically. She herself looked very charming in her milkmaid’s outfit, with its laced bodice and full skirt.

  “You look very nice, Julia,” Selina said.

  “Thank you. You do as well,” Julia replied, but she seemed distracted.

  “Shall we go down?” Selina asked and, after putting on her mask, they left the room.

  Mrs. Thistlewaite met them in the hall, and Selina wondered what it was she was supposed to portray. She was dressed in a black evening gown.

  “And who are you this evening, ma’am?” Selina asked her.

  “I am a widow,” Mrs. Thistlewaite said. “And you, Selina?”

  “I am Selene, Greek goddess of the moon.”

  “So that is what the thing on your head is; I couldn’t quite make it out. I hope it does not give you a headache,” Mrs. Thistlewaite replied. Selina hoped that this would not be the general reaction to her costume.

  The three ladies descended the stairs, meeting Mr. and Mrs. Dalton at the bottom.

  “Selina,” Mrs. Dalton said, before correcting herself. “Excuse me, Selene. You look wonderful. The costume turned out beautifully.”

  “Thank you, Mama. I am quite pleased with it. You look beautiful as well.”

  “Yes, well, at least she is not attired as a pagan goddess,” Selina’s father said.

  “Thank you, Richard,” Mrs. Dalton said, choosing to take his words as a compliment. He just rolled his eyes, but Selina was glad to see he was smiling.

  She was beginning to understand his objection to masquerades. There was something very liberating about appearing under the guise of another. The very air around them seemed to pulse with excitement, and she felt as if anything could happen that night.

  Selina and her parents walked through the various rooms, marveling at the changes to them. When she’d first arrived she’d thought Hadley Hall was grander than anything she had ever seen, and tonight it surpassed even her initial impression. There were flowers intertwined around the pillars in the entrance hall, and satin hung on the walls of two of the rooms that adjoined the Saloon. Wax candles shone throughout the house, and every item had been cleaned and polished so that their light was reflected from every surface.

  She entered the Saloon, which was being used for dancing, and was so distracted looking at her surroundings that she collided with another guest.

  “I beg your pardon,” she said, turning toward the person.

  “It is I, a mere mortal, who should beg pardon from the illustrious Selene,” the man said. It only took Selina a moment to recognize the figure as Malcolm, even though he was masked. He was wearing some sort of robe, fastened at one shoulder, and belted at the middle. Selina noted with fascination that it left one shoulder completely bare, and hoped her father was not as shocked as she was. He was carrying a shepherd’s staff and wearing sandals, and Selina thought that if Endymion really had looked like this, it would have been perfectly understandable that Selene had fallen desperately in love with him.

  “You are pardoned,” Selina said majestically, once she’d recovered from her surprise.

  “Then perhaps I might request the honor of this dance,” Malcolm said, and led her onto the dance floor, after propping his staff against a wall.

  They were playing a waltz, and Selina was so relieved that she would be able to take part in it without humiliating herself as she had the last time, that it took her a moment to realize that her hand was resting on his bare shoulder. She jerked her hand back, but Malcolm reached for it and placed it back on his shoulder.

  “Surely the moon goddess is not frightened of a man of flesh and blood,” Malcolm said.

  “It is not your blood that frightens me,” Selina said, and Malcolm laughed.

  “You are forgetting that you are not Selina Dalton tonight,” Malcolm said, and pulled her a little closer.

  “And you are forgetting that my parents are standing by that column, watching us,” Selina said, putting the appropriate distance between them.

  “I was trying to, at any rate,” Malcolm said irritably.

  They waltzed in silence for a few minutes, and Selina began to feel sorry that she had destroyed the flirtatious mood between them.

  “So, mortal, how are your sheep?” she asked.

  “How are my sheep?” Malcolm repeated.

  “Pardon me, but I am trying to pretend you are Endymion, and I do not know how to converse with a Greek shepherd boy.”

  “Forget that I am a Greek shepherd boy, and remember instead that we are lovers. How would you converse with me then?” Malcolm asked.

  “I have as little experience with lovers as I do with Greek shepherd boys,” Selina said.

  “I am glad to hear it,” Malcolm said, smiling. “But can’t you pretend?”

  “No,” Selina said.

  “I see it is up to me then. My goddess, the moon cannot compete with your radiance this evening.”

  Selina was quiet a moment, before erupting into a nervous giggle.

  “What is so amusing?” Malcolm asked her.

  “I am sorry, but is that really how lovers speak to each other? It sounds like the most arrant nonsense. I do not think I can say that sort of thing with a straight face.”

  “How you can look the epitome of a seductive temptress and yet be so totally lacking in romance, I cannot understand,” Malcolm said, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

  “Do I look the epitome of a seductive temptress?” Selina asked, pleased by the remark. “No one has ever told me that before.”

  “Well, I should hope not. It is not a typical compliment in polite society.”

  “You look rather tempting yourself,” Selina said shyly. “Seeing you tonight, I almost began to believe the myth.”

  “I thought you believed it to be a tragic story.”

  “I do. I meant the first part of the myth, where Selene falls so in love with the beautiful young shepherd that she requests he be given immortality. I would change the ending, so that he did not sleep through eternity.”