Chapter One
London, England, 1826
Laughter pealed out through the darkened streets and alleys. It mingled with the low hum of conversation spilling out of the doors of the gaming houses and gentleman's clubs on Pall Mall, the Street of Palaces. Moonlight glittered upon three cloaked and hooded figures who slunk their way around the wrought iron fence surrounding St. James's Square, their cloaks flapping like bat's wings in the warm summer breeze. The two larger figures stumbled against each other, and the smallest one laughed again, the sound high, tinkling, at odds with its sinister appearance.
One of the larger figures drew the others against the fence and huddled with them. "Shh, Georgiana, before someone recognizes us. Neddy, you must shut up. You're making Georgie laugh."
Lady Darleigh opened her eyes wide and gave the cloaked man a pleading look, one that had never failed to bring him around. "I can't help myself, Rees. You look too ridiculous."
Rees Viscount Hammond scowled, no doubt trying to frighten her into quietness, but his mask blunted the effect and only made him appear silly. He was a highwayman this evening, complete with a black hat and brace of pistols -- unloaded, of course. She fought off another bout of laughter.
"You had better help yourself, Georgie," he hissed. "If Brock discovers what we're up to, he'll forbid Neddy and I to see you again. And I, for one, have grown quite used to your company."
Despite the midsummer evening's warmth, Georgiana slung her arms around her two companions' shoulders and pulled them close against her. She'd almost forgotten about Brock, her dear husband. Damn Rees for reminding her. "All right, I'll behave."
A muffled snort emerged from Neddy. "For how long?"
"For as long as I need to," she informed him, then squelched more giggles.
Rees put a finger against her lips. "Georgiana..."
She released them both and pushed Rees's hand away. "I promise, no more laughter."
"Let's move on, can we?" Neddy asked. "I'm boiling in this cloak." He pulled at the strings near his throat, revealing a Harlequin costume beneath, white covered with black diamonds and glittering gold thread. In his free hand he held a hat in the style of Napoléon's, long and arched on top and decorated with gold braiding.
Unlike Neddy, Georgiana had little trouble with the heat this eve. Her costume, that of an Italian peasant woman, left her quite cool, no doubt due to the low-cut bodice and the way she'd dampened her single cambric petticoat. The dress clung lovingly to her every curve and made her feel quite daring, if not a little reckless. The stuffier patronesses of the ton, such as Lady Cowper, would no doubt faint dead away at the sight of her dressed thus, but Lady Cowper wouldn't dare set foot in Watier's Club, not on this night.
Her smile faltered. How forgiving would society prove of tonight's escapade? Did she even care if society forgave her? She wrapped her fingers around the egg-shaped pendant that dangled from her neck by a chain. Just touching its cool glass surface gave her confidence.
No, she didn't care.
His gaze settling on the pendant, Neddy shuddered. "That's an ugly piece, Georgie. Looks like a drop of blood. Don't think I've ever seen you wear it before."
"I found it in the bottom of my trunk, while rummaging through some old clothes. Thought it matched my costume rather well."
"It does at that. Make sure it finds its way back to the bottom of your trunk tomorrow."
Self-consciously Georgiana tucked the pendant into her bodice, until only its chain showed. While just a young girl, she'd found it in a Welsh meadow, near the base of an oak tree. At the time, the pendant's strange appearance had captured her fancy and, afraid she'd have to surrender it to its proper owner, she'd kept quiet about her find. Through the years, she'd forgotten the pendant existed...until earlier this evening, of course.
She released the scarlet egg and smiled at Neddy. "You're uncommonly chivalrous tonight."
"I'm cranky because I'm hot."
"Take the deuced cloak off, then," Rees demanded.
"I can't." Neddy glanced meaningfully at the cloak's hem. "Georgie's stepping on it. If I remove it I'll sweep her off her feet."
"Not likely," she soberly informed him, and they both laughed, the sound cutting through the night like a whistle on a teapot.
Rees waved his arms. "Devil take it, you'll both be quiet or I'll chase you home."
"Ah, so we're horses, are we, to be herded into stables?" she asked, one eyebrow raised in mock censure.
Neddy took her cue. "Are you jockey or groomsman?"
A reluctant smile curved Rees's lips. Soon he was chuckling, too. "You two will be the death of me. If I wasn't so afraid for Georgie, I'd leave you here to fend for yourselves."
"You know how much we adore your company, Rees. If I had a brother, he would be just like you," she soothed.
She'd needed weeks to convince Rees to come with her and Neddy to the masquerade. Neddy had gleefully supported the idea when she'd first mentioned it. He knew how to enjoy himself. Rees, on the other hand, was too damned serious. He'd talked endlessly about the potential damage to their characters. No doubt Brock had chosen Rees to squire her around for exactly that reason. He'd hoped Rees would keep her out of trouble.
She linked her arms through Rees's and Neddy's. Their cloaks swirled around them as they hurried through St. James's Square, then turned onto Pall Mall, keeping to the shadows. As they walked, Georgiana looked up at the sky and saw the stars twinkling above her. They were a beautiful white, but cold and very far away, taunting her with the promise of the night. She turned away from them, unable to rid herself of a feeling that their outing this eve, while it seemed quite promising in terms of fun and adventure, would leave her equally unfulfilled.
As they passed a church fitted with alcoves and colored glass windows, a barn owl swooped above them and roosted in one of the alcoves. Strident cries, presumably from the prey gripped in its talons, accompanied its long, mournful hoots. The two men glanced at it and hurried on, not even slightly interested. London embraced all sorts of predators; the owl was simply one of the more honest, well-mannered ones.
Georgiana shivered, however. Her sense of impending change -- perhaps not all for the good -- grew sharper. Unwillingly she remembered the lessons that her Aunt Gwynllian had insisted she learn while growing up in Wales. According to her aunt, if an owl flew over one's head with prey in its grip, someone close would die soon.
She forced the superstitious thought away. Her aunt was full of such warnings and had drummed them into Georgiana at a young age. While other girls had learned to manage household accounts and embroider pretty flowers along the hems of their gowns, Georgiana had discovered the meaning behind a crow's caw and a salmon's insistence on swimming upstream.
Sometimes she wondered what her childhood would have been like if her true parents, Sir John Wesley and Lady Margaret, had survived the carriage accident that had nearly claimed her life, too. Then again, she ought to thank Sir Stanton and his sister Gwynllian for their charity and the love they'd shown her through the years. She could have ended up in an orphanage. Instead, Sir Stanton and Gwynllian had taken her in when she was just a baby, and she'd grown to love them as much as she might a mother and father.
Neddy tugged on her arm. "Come on, Georgie. Stop looking at the church. You're too far gone to repent now. Watier's Club awaits us."
Rees paused to look back at them. "You're trembling. Is something wrong?"
Georgiana took Neddy's arm.
A frown crossed Rees's face. "Georgie?"
"I'm fine." She for
