LITMIR.BIZ

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blue damask. In masks, no one would know who they were and she’d be free to whirl and turn about with him, enjoying his smiles in a crowd as easily as she did in this closet. For the first time in years, she contemplated accepting Rose’s invitation to join her in London for the Season. With Gregor by her side, even in a mask, she felt sure she would not fear society as much as she did.

      ‘What do you think?’ he asked, turning as well as he could in the cramped confines of the priest hole.

      ‘No one will guess it’s you and not Laurus. You’re matched in height and the domino and mask hides your hair and most of your face.’

      ‘Then let’s be off to make our mischief.’ He held out his arm to her, throwing back the side of the short cape with the flourish of a musketeer.

      She clung to the hardness of his arm beneath the shirt, the heat of him spreading through her and settling low inside her stomach. It’d been like this before when he’d escorted her onto the dance floor at Petunia’s wedding, the eyes of all the guests on them as they’d taken their place in the line. For the first time the thrill of dancing with him, not the moment it had all turned sour, dominated her memory of that night.

      ‘You two make quite a Christmas pair.’ Laurus whistled as they stepped into the hall. ‘Now come on. I can’t wait to surprise everyone.’

      He led them back to the sitting room, waving them to a stop outside the door. He leaned forwards just enough to peer inside without being seen, watching as everyone drew out the last line of the long song. ‘And a partridge in a pear tree.’

      The family clapped and Laurus waved Lily and Gregor forwards.

      If Lily expected their entrance to be one of the measured Marbrook ilk, she was pleasantly disappointed. With a mischievous wink, Gregor clasped her hand and pulled her into the room. Just over the threshold he let go and flung out his hands to announce his appearance in a booming voice to startle the children and amaze the adults.

      ‘The Lord of Misrule has arrived!’

      ‘It’s Laurus,’ James and John cried at once and, along with Daisy, jumped to their feet to rush at the Lord of Misrule. Poor little Adelaide, too young to understand, buried her face in her mother’s chest and let out a wail.

      ‘It isn’t Laurus.’ Lily’s brother stepped in behind the Lord of Misrule and John and James’s eyes grew as wide as pewter plates, along with half the adults.

      ‘Then who can it be?’ Daisy cried.

      ‘You must follow me to find out.’ Gregor led the children in a merry dance around the room, snatching one of the tin horns off of the floor and blowing a very off-key but lively tune. The children followed, jumping and skipping around the furniture in imitation of the Lord of Misrule while the adults clapped and laughed at the sight. Lily followed in amazement, stunned to see Gregor so carefree. Though he was nothing like the rest of his family, even he possessed a distinguished reserve which he happily cast aside tonight.

      As he rounded the sofa, he caught her hand and pulled her to the door. ‘Come, my fair queen, we must lead the way to the servants’ ball.’

      His hand was tight in hers as they marched together in time to the boys’ loud singing and tooting of horns. Lily’s sides hurt as she laughed and spun with Gregor, turning with him to enjoy the beaming faces of the children and the adults who followed behind them as they led the way to the servants’ celebration.

      The ballroom, at one time the great hall, was a long room with a high timber ceiling and a wide stone fireplace at one end. The parade of merrymakers broke into the centre of a country dance, taking up places in the line to join the servants who clapped and twirled to the lively tune of the fiddle. Rose partnered with the butler and joined him in the dance, while Petunia, holding a now-mesmerised Adelaide, stood along the sides as Charles swept the old housekeeper nearly off her feet. Daisy promenaded with a footman while the two young scullery maids danced with John and James. Lily’s parents joined in the line, taking their place just beneath Lily and Gregor, who led the reel as the top couple.

      Lily held on tight to Gregor’s hand as he led her through the steps, his laughter rising with the music. Past the darkness of the mask, his green eyes were alight with his excitement and, when the dance made her and Gregor face one another to sashay down the line, something more.

      When all the couples had passed, James and John began to chant, ‘Unmask! Unmask!’

      The servants and adults soon joined in until Gregor led Lily back into the centre of the line. Holding up her hand, he had the two of them bow to one side and then the other before he let go of her to pull back the hood and sweep the mask from his face.

      A gasp of surprise rushed through the room, nearly snuffing out the candles before the servants’ murmurs of astonishment silenced even the fiddler. If Gregor was aware of the stir he created, he didn’t show it as he smiled at Lily, his hair ruffled over his forehead and damp with perspiration.

      ‘Well done, well done.’ Laurus appeared now and clapped, snapping all out of their astonishment to join him in their thanks.

      Soon the fiddler struck up the next dance and the servants, bidding goodbye to Sir Timothy and Lady Rutherford, resumed their celebration while the family wandered back towards the other wing.

      Gregor and Lily were the last to leave, lingering far behind the family which said their goodnights at the bottom of the stairs. Rose and Edgar led their tired boys up to their rooms, the twins protesting going to sleep even while they yawned and rubbed their eyes. Even Daisy moved with heavy feet as mother and father ushered her up to bed, followed by Petunia and Charles and little Adelaide, who snored on her father’s shoulder.

      Lily was sad to see them go and for the evening to come to an end. The troubles in the dining room seemed so long ago and she didn’t want to lose the lightness and excitement surrounding her now. It stretched out to encompass Gregor, the smile on his face not dimming as they stood together at the bottom of the stairs. The flush of excitement illuminating his face made him seem younger, as though the troubles with his family and his time in France no longer haunted him.

      ‘Well done, Marbrook, well done.’ Laurus clapped his friend on the back.

      ‘A very exhilarating reign.’ Gregor took off the cape, then shrugged out of the doublet.

      ‘I expect the same level of enthusiasm tomorrow night at the ball.’

      ‘We’ll make it one you won’t forget.’ Gregor laughed as he exchanged with Laurus the doublet for his waistcoat and coat.

      ‘I hope so.’ Laurus winked at Lily as he took from her the crown of flowers before she slipped the bodice and dress down over her hips and stepped out of the old garment. Then Laurus pointed over their heads. ‘With only one berry left, it seems a shame to leave the poor thing hanging.’

      ‘Goodnight, Laurus,’ Lily cried, half-serious, half in jest as she tossed the old gown over her brother’s shoulder.

      ‘Goodnight.’ He skipped up the stairs, disappearing into the darkness at the top with a whistle.

      Lily should have been angry at Laurus for his implication, but it was difficult to think of anything with Gregor standing so close. Here before her wasn’t the arrogant lord who’d refused to acknowledge her after her fall, but the young man who’d told her of his troubles in the alcove. What might have happened between them if the secret heartaches they’d shared hadn’t been interrupted by his family’s arrogance? There was no one to interrupt them now.

      While he did up the buttons on his coat, Gregor examined the sprig of mistletoe and the lone berry still clinging to it. ‘It does seem a shame to leave it.’

      ‘You must excuse my brother, he has quite the teasing sense of humour,’ Lily remarked, trying to change the subject and draw Gregor’s attention away from the sprig hanging over them like some sword of Damocles. The intimacy was already too much without the encouragement of the small plant. ‘Even when he isn’t the Lord of Misrule he can’t completely

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