Masqueraders Read online

  Out on the terrace, under a starry sky, the Unknown raised Miss Grayson’s hand to his lips, and held it there a long moment. She shivered a little, and her eyes widened.

  ‘Take off the mask!’ He spoke little above a whisper. ‘Oh – no!’ she said, and drew her hand away.

  ‘Ah, don’t deny me!’ An arm slid round her shoulders, and deft fingers sought the mask’s string over her ear.

  ‘You – you must not!’ Letty said faintly, and put up her hand to stop his against her hair.

  But the string was untied, and the mask fell. Her hand was caught and held; she lay back against the Unknown’s shoulder, and felt his other hand gently forcing up her chin.

  It must surely be a mad dream from which she would awaken soon. She looked up and saw only glittering eyes behind the blackness of the mask, and the hint of a smile in the moonlight. The arm tightened about her shoulders; the hand beneath her chin pressed more insistently, and the Unknown bent his head till his lips found hers.

  The spell held for a moment; then she quivered, and made a fluttering movement to be free. The Unknown sank on one knee, and lifted the hem of her gown to kiss. ‘Forgive me!’ he said. ‘I may never have the chance again, Letitia.’

  She stood poised for flight, but his words kept her still. Half timidly she stretched down her hand to him. ‘Oh, do not!’ she said. ‘I think we are both mad to-night.’

  He came to his feet, and stood holding her hands between his. ‘But you will remember.’

  ‘I shall see you again?’ It was a forlorn petition.

  ‘Who can say? This I promise: if ever you are in danger, or in need of a champion you will see me, for I shall come to you then.’ He stood for a moment, silhouetted by the silver light against the deep blue sky; then once more he bent, and, turning her hand upwards, pressed a kiss into the palm. ‘Adieu, ma belle; you will not forget.’

  He moved swiftly to the low parapet that walled the terrace in; looked over an instant, and placing his hand on the top, vaulted lightly over, down into the silent garden a few feet below.

  She ran forward, and peered over the low wall. There was no one in sight, but she thought she heard an echo of his adieu borne back to her on a soft wind.

  Nine

  Mohocks Abroad

  It seemed Robin was well satisfied with the night’s work; his sister visited him as he lay sipping his chocolate in bed next morning, and cocked a quizzical eyebrow. Robin smiled sweetly, but volunteered no confidences. He went to call upon Miss Grayson later in the day, but although Letty was delighted to see her dear Kate, she was a little abstracted, and had but a few words to say of the ball. Yes, it had been very amusing; she wished Kate had been there. Yes, she had danced with a number of gentlemen. It was a pity Mr Merriot had chosen to wear crimson.

  Robin went off with a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. He was constrained to drive out visiting with my Lady Lowestoft, and went, smothering a yawn.

  Prudence – she was beginning, she thought, to feel more of a man than a woman – strolled round to White’s, and found Mr Walpole there reading the Spectator. Mr Walpole was graciously pleased to exchange a few words; he had a small flow of tittle-tattle at his tongue’s tip, and announced his intention of retiring to Strawberry Hill. He protested that these late nights in town were harmful to his constitution. He raised supercilious brows at the sight of Mr Markham entering the room, and retired once more behind the Spectator.

  Mr Markham bowed to Prudence, and went to write letters at a table against the wall. Prudence stood talking to one Mr Dendy, and was presently tapped on the shoulder.

  ‘Here’s your man, Devereux!’ said the voice of Sir Francis Jollyot.

  Mr Devereux came up with his mincing gait. ‘’Pon my soul, so ’tis!’ He swept a leg, flourishing a scented handkerchief. ‘I am but this instant come from Arlington Street, where they told me you had walked out. I have to beg the honour of your company at a small gathering I have a mind to hold to-night. A little game of Chance, you understand.’ He held up a very white finger. ‘Now don’t, I implore you, don’t say me nay, Mr Merriot!’

  Prudence smothered a sigh. ‘Why, sir, I confess I had purposed to spend this evening with my sister,’ she began.

  ‘Oh, come now, Merriot!’ expostulated Jollyot jovially, ‘you must not deny me my revenge!’

  ‘To be sure, I live in a most devilish outlandish spot,’ said Mr Devereux mournfully. ‘But you may take a chair: you know you may take a chair. ’Pon rep, sir, I do positively believe an evening spent at home is vastly more fatiguing than a quiet card-party. ’Pon my honour, sir!’

  There was nothing for it but to show polite acceptance.

  Mr Devereux was wreathed in smiles. ‘To tell you the truth, sir, I’ve had a devilish ticklish task to find anyone free to-night,’ he said naively. ‘Fanshawe’s engaged; so’s Barham. Molyneux goes out of town; Selwyn’s in bed with a trifling fever.’

  Over against the wall Mr Markham stopped writing, and raised his head.

  ‘I’m overwhelmed by the honour done me,’ said Prudence ironically.

  The irony went unperceived. ‘Not at all, my dear Merriot. Oh, not in the least! I shall see you then, at five? You can take a chair, you know, and be there in a trice.’

  ‘As you say, sir. But I think I have not the pleasure of knowing your address.’

  Mr Devereux simpered elegantly. ‘Oh, a devilish inconvenient hole, sir! I’ve apartments in Charing Cross.’

  ‘Ah yes, I remember the street now,’ Prudence said. ‘At five o’clock, sir.’

  Mr Devereux beamed upon her, and airily waved one languid hand. ‘Au revoir, then, my dear Merriot. You will take a chair, and suffer not the least inconvenience in the world. An evening at home – oh no, ecod!’ He drifted away on Jollyot’s arm, and the rest of his sentence only reached Prudence as a confused murmur.

  Mr Markham went on with his writing.

  Prudence walked slowly back to Arlington Street, and remarked to Robin, on his return, that she was in danger of wearing herself away to skin and bone.

  Robin was bored. ‘Heigh-ho, would I were in your shoes! All this female society gives me mal-à-la-tête.’

  ‘Give you my word these card-parties and drinking bouts will be the death of me.’

  Robin swung an impatient foot. ‘Does it occur to you, my dear, that events have not transpired precisely as they were planned?’ he inquired with a rueful look.

  ‘It has occurred to me many times. We meant to lie close.’

  ‘Oh!’ My Lady Lowestoft was arranging flowers in a big bowl. ‘But the bon papa planned it thus, my children. I was told to present you to the world.’

  ‘Egad, we owe it to the old gentleman, do we?’ said Robin. ‘I might have known. But why?’

  ‘Settlement, I think he judged it wisest. You escape remark this way. That is true, no?’

  ‘I suppose so. But the impropriety of Prue’s conduct – oh lud, ma’am!’

  ‘Consider only the impropriety of your own, my child!’ chuckled my lady.

  ‘I do, ma’am, often. But as regarding this charming réunion to-night, Mistress Prue, you’ll be pleased to take a chair, and eschew the Burgundy.’

  ‘Behold the little mentor!’ Prudence bowed to him. ‘Rest you content, my Kate.’

  The evening was like a dozen other such evenings. There was dinner, and some ribald talk; cards, with the decanter passing from hand to hand, and the candles burning lower and lower in their sockets. Prudence made her excuses soon after midnight. Her host rolled a blear eye towards her, and protested thickly. Prudence was firm, however, and won her way. A sleepy lackey opened the front door for her, and she stepped out into the cool night air.

  The street was deserted, but she knew a chair might be found at Charing Cross, a few score yards aw