My Lady Rival Read Free

Kat whispered as they walked past the butler to the landing which overlooked the ballroom.
    “Of course he let us in,” A lex replied. “We had an invitation.” He would have reminded himself to thank Lunsford for arranging their attendance but was fairly sure his friend would have no qualms in prompting his gratitude at the first opportunity.
    “Did you hear him sniff?” Jo asked. “If that smell from the carriage is clinging to our clothes, then I’m leaving right—”
    “Good heavens.” His mother stopped short, three feet before the first stair. The

    “Good heavens.” His mother stopped short, three feet before the first stair. The hand lying over his arm tensed, her fingers digging into his coat sleeve.
    Directly in their line of sight hung a row of four grand chandeliers, each sparkling with crystal teardrops and heavy with the flame of what seemed a hundred candles. The scent of candle smoke filled his nostrils as thin black streams lifted from the chandeliers to waft toward the ceiling.
    Ten marble pillars, five on each side, stretched from the ceiling to the floor below, where a host of masked men and women milled about the perimeter of the dancing. Their movements were stuttered, their numbers allowing only small steps in any direction. Heads bobbed from left to right as the guests greeted others who brushed against their shoulders by virtue of the crowd’s crush; feathers stacked high on masks waved from each corner of the room, and half faces obscured by silk and velvet disguises drew attention to the mouths beneath: laughing, smiling, pursing, frowning, drinking, gossiping, shouting to be heard above the din of gaiety. Strains of music floated overhead from the balcony, pushing and pulling the dancers in the center of the ballroom, their mouths huffing for breath.
    The noise should have been overwhelming, the wealth intimidating in its brash opulence of crystal and gold, marble and jewels. The sight of so many people, each with the potential to sneer or unmask him for the common upstart he was, should have been at least the tiniest bit disconcerting.
    Instead, it felt like a welcome.
    A lex smiled and bent his head toward his mother’s ear. “I was hoping at least for elephants to ride upon. Or a river of gold. Harem girls would also have been nice—”
    “I don’t want to hear about harem girls,” Susan said, her skin pale and the corners of her mouth pinched.
    Behind him, a finger jabbed his ribs. “They’re pushing us back here,” Jo complained. “Keep going!”
    A lex led his mother down the stairs, pointing out the strange and ludicrous to ease her nerves. “There appears to be a bull over there by the terrace. See his horns curved above the mask? No, don’t smile—he’ll surely see us and charge.” Halfway down. “A h, a unicorn! A nd it appears she even applied some sort of paste to her face. Now, that, Mother dear, exhibits a fair amount of creative dedication.”
    “Hmm.” His mother’s hand still clung to his arm, as if she would tumble down the stairs to her death if he were to withdraw his support. He had never seen her afraid, not once in his life, not even after his father had died. Yet now her touch held the slightest tremor—she who had always been his definition of strength and bravery—and he felt like a damned monster for forcing her to come. She’d refused at first, hadn’t she? She hadn’t wanted to relinquish her widow’s weeds for a ball gown, her melancholy expression of mourning for one of pretense. But he’d coaxed and charmed as he did best until she agreed to attend the masquerade, knowing that neither Jo nor Kat would come without her acquiescence to his knowing that neither Jo nor Kat would come without her acquiescence to his plans. She’d agreed for his sake. A lex’s jaw clenched. God help anyone who dared to scorn her tonight.
    “It might take a bit of creativity if she were the only one masked as a unicorn,” Jo said snidely behind