The masquerade ball demanded far more of the Duke than the previous gathering. He had taken care that the invitations specify attire so elaborate as to render each guest unrecognizable, with conversations to be conducted only in whispers or hushed tones. For two full weeks he had busied himself with selecting the decorations, the music, the menus, and every other detail that might lend the evening its enchantment.
Sebastian, ever attentive, gladly assisted his master in choosing an appropriate costume. The Duke had insisted he wanted nothing extravagant. Yet butler, being Italian by birth, persuaded him otherwise, declaring that true masquerade demanded splendor.
— "Sebastian, you have outdone yourself. I daresay in this guise I shall remain truly unrecognized," the Duke observed with quiet amusement.
— "Indeed, Your Grace," replied Sebastian, pride unmistakable in his voice.
Nathan turned his gaze to the window, watching the carriages draw up and the masked figures step down. He longed to catch sight of Alex before Alex could discern him. But as the hall grew steadily more crowded, he resolved instead to slip among the throng and seek the Young Lord for himself.
If there was ever a ball worth remembering, it was this one. No one seemed to recognize the Duke; and if anyone did, they lacked the courage to approach him with their questions. The hall lay hushed, save for the music that floated through it, gilding the silence.
What a pleasure! It was a remarkable idea!
Nathan moved slowly among the guests, his eyes searching for Alex. Then, in the far corner, he caught sight of a dark-haired gentleman in a hat and a purple tailcoat.
Judging by his height and build, he resembles him…
The Duke lingered, studying him more closely. This man looked peculiar enough that one could guess his passionate desire to remain unrecognized.
Suddenly, a lady approached the Young Lord. Nathan drew nearer and his heart gave a start as he recognised the woman.
Ophelia, what mischief are you weaving?
They began to dance. The Duke's gaze never left them.
Yes, it is surely him. No disguise could conceal that grace, that cadence of step, those gestures, that mastery... How could Ophelia have known it was he? Or had mere chance itself conspired to lead her to such a perfect partner?
When the dance ended, they parted, and Alex withdrew again into the shadows. The Duke followed him, unseen. Passing by, he caught a clear glimpse of Alex's face.
These eyes are impossible to disguise. No mask could ever dim it.
Nathan smiled to himself. He longed to provoke Alex, to tease him as he had in days past. And what stage could be more fitting for such a game than a masquerade? He circled the boy from behind, moving with deliberate silence, bent close to his ear, and whispered,
— "I recognised you at once, Young Lord."
Alex startled, turning sharply. Nathan regretted that the mask hid his features entirely — all but those arresting eyes. Alex's gaze swept over him, from head to toe, with a scrutiny that felt almost insolent.
Then, in a sudden motion, the Young Lord stepped nearer, his hands clasped behind his back, rising just a little on his toes as he whispered:
— "Depends on who you were looking for."
The words came languid, unhurried — so near his lips that a sudden heat stirred in Nathan's blood.
He has no talent for losing. Too cute.
The Duke allowed himself a smirk.
— "You chose a stunning outfit. I must admit — for the first time, you weren't the center of attention. But you forgot to hide one of your most striking features."
— "And what might that be?"
Nathan longed for revenge. It was intolerable that a boy could lead the Duke into such madness. He leaned closer still, letting his eyes linger on Alex's, and whispered,
— "Your celestial blue eyes."
Though Alex's entire face was covered by the mask, the Duke noticed his eyes instantly widened. The Young Lord quickly stepped back.
How I wish I could see his face at that moment.
— "All right, you win. By God, I was so determined to fool you."
The Duke laughed and asked:
— "I'm sorry for spoiling your plans. Will you share your wicked scheme with me?"
At that moment, a woman approached them, the one with whom Alex had danced. She quietly bowed but evidently, the Duke did not wish to play games with this particular lady.
— "Ophelia, how did you guess?"
— "Nathan," she replied with a playful huff, "have some respect for my disguise and don't call me by my name! You yourself asked your guests to respect the rules of the ball — how can you be so shameless! I just wanted to play a little longer with Young Lord Carlston!"
Ophelia doing what she does best.
— "How did you know it was me?" Alex asked aloud.
— "I spotted Nathan right away. But he was far too busy to notice me, watching some mysterious gentleman across the room. Who else could it be but you? And besides, you're the only one he would approach." She laughed lightly.
Damn it, Ophelia, why say that out loud…
The Duke felt a flush of embarrassment.
— "It's a pleasure to see you again, Young Lord Carlston. I regret that we didn't have time to get properly acquainted the last time we met. And I must say — you dance better than he does!"
— "Touché, Ophelia. Though it's true, dancing has never been my strength."
Still laughing, Ophelia turned to Alex again.
— "Shall we dance once more?"
What is she trying to do?
He longed to give her the slightest nudge, to make her stop tormenting his friend — or, truth be told, himself. Yet it would be no simple task to do so without drawing attention. Nathan cast an absent glance at Alex and found him watching. The Young Lord's expression betrayed his embarrassment; he seemed truly uncertain how to respond.
— "Ophelia, I believe the Young Lord might need a moment's rest." the Duke interjected.
— "Nonsense! The evening has only begun," Ophelia countered. "Young Lord, don't listen to Nathan, listen to your heart. Would you rather dance and enjoy this evening?"
With reluctant silence, Alex gave the faintest gesture of assent. Ophelia, delighted, swept him back into the hall.
The Duke felt a faint unease. It struck him that Alex had no wish to dance with her at all. That much was plain. Yet there was nothing for him but to remain still and watch.
He must have longed to find his chosen lady and take her to the floor, yet Ophelia had claimed two dances for herself. What her purpose may be I cannot say — though the sight of it troubles me less than with the lady… How was her name?
Then, quite suddenly, Nathan saw Alex falter. The misstep was hardly disastrous, yet noticeable all the same. His movements thereafter bore a certain restraint, a quiet stiffness that betrayed unease. The Duke's chest tightened with a pang of concern.
Poor boy, was this his first time stumbling upon the floor?
As Ophelia and Alex drew near, Nathan readied a word of comfort for his friend. But before he could speak, voices rang out:
— "Lady Ophelia, we knew it was you! No one else moves with such grace! And you, Your Grace, of course, who else would Lady Ophelia spend the evening with? But we're intrigued — who is your partner? Will the gentleman honor us with his name?"
Alex bowed, silent, and remained so.
The merriment is over and now the work begins.
As host of the ball, the Duke was obliged to step into the conversation. The lords complimented his clever invention of a masquerade, declaring that he had brought the idea to perfection. Some even confessed they were dancing for the first time in years, for otherwise — so they said — no one would approach "the old logs." Laughter followed.
Nathan felt a wave of distaste at the rough implication, but outwardly he smiled and thanked them for their kind words. He had no wish to claim undue credit, and so he merely remarked that the inspiration for such an evening had come from a dear friend.
— "Ah! It must be your new friend, Young Lord Carlston," one of the lords exclaimed. "Of course! How did we not see it? You are Young Lord Carlston! Everyone's talking about the two most eligible gentlemen of the season having formed an alliance — and now intending to divide the ladies among themselves."
Damn it.
Anger rose in the Duke as they hurled vile rumors at him with brazen ease. At once, he saw how his reckless words had betrayed Alex completely.
Damn it. What a fool I am.
Aloud, he only chuckled and replied:
— "That is utterly untrue."
But naturally, the lords couldn't have cared less.
— "And how is your mother, Young Lord?" one of them added. "A shame she didn't join us this evening. And don't worry, a stumble on the dance floor? Happens to us all! You're young, enjoy the ball!"
The situation grows worse.