The Compromised Duchess

The Masquerade Ball

The ball room was brightly lit with the glow of a thousand candles in overhead crystal chandeliers, magnified by the wall- to-ceiling mirrors placed at strategic points to catch the light and reflect it magnificently. The orchestra played wonderfully, and the dance floor was filled with eager dancers, all wearing beautifully crafted costumes, their laughter mingling with the gaiety of other guests that lined the edge of the floor.

Lady Laurel turned to her escort, her eyes gleaming in excitement. "This is the most magnificent masquerade yet, Benedict, the countess has certainly outdone herself."

Lord Benedict, duke of Trevellyan, smiled wryly. "Indeed, sister, my worst fears have been realized, for I had hoped to escape as soon as possible. This costume makes me itch." He scratched the sleeve of his Macbeth costume, a distasteful look on his face. "I order you to find yourself a suitor immediately so Mother will have no excuses to drag me to any more parties."

"How can I be expected to find myself a suitor if you keep glowering at every single man who has approached me for a dance?"

He snorted, "They are spineless, the lot of them, I would like to see you married to a man with spine, not these dandies in overstarched cravats and horrifying breeches. A little frown should not put a man off his quest for your hand"

"Benedict, are you frightening away your sister's suitors again?" A high feminine voice trilled behind them. They both turned to see Lady Farnworth, looking resplendent in an ivory, Grecian costume with a half mask. She was accompanied by Lord William, Laurel's second brother who was doing his best to appear bored and uninterested in the proceedings. "Shame on you Your Grace, there are several young ladies without a dance partner and here you hide behind your sister's skirts"

Lord Benedict scowled at the dimunitive girl who stood there teasing him with impunity. She barely came up to his chest, and her wild mass of red curls framed an impish freckled face. Lady Amelia simply grinned at him and linked her arms through his, pulling him onto the dance floor.

"Come now Your Grace, I haven't had a chance to dance all evening, and I know for a fact that you Your Grace, are a marvellous dancer." She said, throwing her friend a conspirational wink over her shoulder as she led Benedict to the head of the line of dancers.

Laurel laughed, the sound drawing admiring looks from the people standing close. A few men, as soon as they saw she was finally free of the Duke, hurried over to pay compliments.

Lord William slunk away, muttering something about fetching himself a drink. Laurel stood, peering through the bodies of her admirers as she tried to spot the person she had been searching for all evening. She wondered if Lord Giles had made it to the ball afterall, and felt a deep pang of dissapointment course through her.

"Lady Laurel, would you do me the honor of having the next dance?" Laurel turned towards the speaker, Lord Hensworth, a tall, fair, young man of about twenty, looking at her inquiring.

"I would be delighted Lord Hensworth" She inclined her head towards him, and smiled. She held out her dance card and he quickly scribbled his initials on it, bowing once again before turning to mingle with the teeming guests.


Lord Grayson strode through the doors of the ballroom, and was immediately confronted by an angry Countess, who stood arms crossed, glaring at him.

"Finally, you decide to come an hour late and you are not even wearing a costume." She cast a mocking eye at his formal dress, and white immaculately tied cravat.

He grinned at his sister and bent to place a fond kiss on her flushed cheeks. "And a good evening to you too Christy, lovely weather for a party, and you look positively stunning."