Unmasked

Venice, Italy, 1795


The moon had risen, full and swollen on the horizon, her face shining with the promise of an eventful evening of delightful excesses.

Gwendolyn Rawleigh sighed. “What could be more decedent than a holiday spent in Venice during Carnevale?”

The three happy tourists, Gwendolyn, her twin brother, Preston, and her best friend, Ellie Appleton drifted along the Canale di San Marco in a gondola toward their destination.

A low, thoroughly feminine laugh pulled Gwendolyn’s gaze from the moon across the Laguna Veneta, to the arch of a stone bridge that straddled a small waterway less than ten feet away. A scandalized breath caught in her throat as she watched a man raise the hem of the laughing woman’s skirt to expose her entire leg from ankle to thigh. It looked as if she had no underpinnings on at all! Her heart pounded. She couldn’t turn her head to look away, even for the sake of decorum; the fact being, she was mesmerized. The man’s hand stroked the front of the woman’s leg and Gwendolyn could swear she felt the warm caress kiss her own thigh. He dropped to his knees, and just as he did so, the couple went out of view.

She expelled the breath she’d been holding. What had that man been about down on his knees like that? She would certainly like to know. Her cheeks suffused with heat, she focused once again on her companions.

Ellie giggled and turned from the moonrise to Gwendolyn, the bounce of her dark brunette curls echoing her enthusiasm. “I’m so happy to be here with you and Preston, Gwennie. You both look simply stunning.”

Gwendolyn shook off the sensual murmurings in her mind. “Thank you, so do you. I’m certainly happy we’re not in London.”

Preston grinned at his sister’s comment then turned to Ellie. “I can’t wait to hear how you got your m’ma to allow you to miss the pre-season affairs in order to traipse about the most romantic city in the world with my spinster sister.”

“Oh stop, Preston.” Gwendolyn gave him a playful slap on the arm, gaining his full attention. “I’m not such a spinster.” When standing, her brother’s sandy-blond head towered over her by a foot, but her advantage was that she’d been born first.

Preston smirked at her. “Of course you aren’t. That’s why you’ve designed to avoid your season in lieu of a trip to the continent.”

He spoke the truth, and Gwendolyn knew it. She stamped down a small pang of guilt, refusing to allow it to affect her blissful mood. She was mainly here to evade the practically unavoidable marriage market she’d been subjugated to back in London. Even though her fortune did not dictate the need for a husband, society had its standards. And at so many seasons out, she wished to take a chance at making her own choices. Besides, a marriage should be a mutual thing, not some silly prize awarded for the best sow at the fair. “Now you, hush, or I will pull rank and send you home,” she taunted.

“A minute and a half doth not a rank create.” Preston said wryly, his gaze delving playfully into her eyes.

“I beg to differ, sir. I could have hitched your cord to m’ma’s tail bone so that you could not have emerged at all,” Gwendolyn shot back, unable to hide her grin.

Ellie gasped at Gwendolyn’s words, her blue eyes gone wide.

“Ha! You wish it were so! The only reason you were born first is because I was being polite.” He huffed out a lively but exasperated breath as if they’d had this conversation many times before and placed a hand atop her gloved one. He then lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “I know the traditions of our set make your blood boil, Gwen, but remember, Ellie is young and innocent, and may not be as offended as you are.”

“I, too, am innocent,” she whispered, her tone forlorn.

“Yes, you are. And if I don’t keep you so during this trip, m’ma will have my head—once she finds out I took over as chaperone, that is.”

His sympathetic smile warmed her heart. Preston had her best interests in mind, after all. He’d never enforced things on like m’ma did, and she loved him dearly for it.

The trio arrived at the private palazzo for their very first ball abroad, and Preston handed each of the girls from the gondola. “Miss Ellie, I trust you won’t allow my sister to corrupt you on this trip.”

Ellie stepped onto the jetty, and gave Preston a crooked smile. “You know better than that, Preston. And shame on you, you sound just like my m’ma.”

Pulling a face, Gwendolyn watched Preston give Ellie’s dainty hand a squeeze then wink at her friend.

“Preston, if you coddle Ellie too much, she’ll get spoiled and not have a good time.”

“Well, what are chaperones for?” he murmured and made sure Gwendolyn had her footing.

They approached the double doors of the palazzo. “These houses are strange, and so close to the water,” Ellie commented, tying on her mask.

“Not strange for the inhabitants, I assure you,” Preston replied, adjusting his mask.

“Ellie just thinks it’s strange because it’s different,” Gwendolyn announced, handing a doorman their invitation.

Gwendolyn and Ellie had been best friends well before Gwendolyn’s first season out, four years ago. She adored Ellie as if she were the sister she’d never had, and she was sure Ellie shared the same feelings of kinship. She almost felt it her duty to guide Ellie in matters of the heart and protect her from the ridiculous tradition and pressure on young ladies that society insisted upon before, during and after ‘the season.’ She’d seen the way the affluent Appleton family had sheltered their only daughter, and Gwendolyn thanked God her mother hadn’t done things the same way—especially after her father had passed on.

Even though Ellie had never expressed it, Gwendolyn knew Ellie appreciated her help. She observed how Ellie listened with rapt attention to the little things Gwendolyn would teach her that every girl should know. Yes, Ellie was quite lucky she had Gwendolyn to instruct her.

Once inside the palazzo, the small party ascended a wide marble staircase, which spilled out onto a runner of thick red carpeting, then down a long elegant hallway to a splendid dining room. The lavish sight sent tingles up Gwendolyn’s back. Moments before she donned her mask, she gazed at the other guests in wonder. She’d always found fancy dress gowns fascinating, but the masks, a required complementary piece to one’s costume during Carnevale, tipped the scales. Every kind of man, woman and beast was represented on the faces of the partygoers, both mythical and non. Some masks were adorned with lace and jewels, some were elaborately painted and some were merely black or white. She smiled wishing she had masks from which to choose and attire herself with any time of the year.

“Ellie,” Gwendolyn whispered. “I’ve found my passion.”

Ellie’s intake of breath mirrored her shock and she turned to Gwendolyn.”How you tend to stir up scandalous feelings, Gwennie.”

Smiling at her friend’s reaction Gwendolyn clarified her statement. “The Carnevale masks, my dear.”

“Carnevale masks?”

“You see,” she glanced back at Preston to make sure he was far enough away not to hear, “behind each mask lays the promise of a clandestine passionate encounter that will leave you breathless.”

“What was that, Gwen?” Preston poked his head between the two girls.

“Needless to say, I was pointing out the décor, Preston. Look at all the candles, El.”

“Indeed. It’s practically daylight in here!” Ellie readily agreed as if she could read the train of Gwendolyn’s thoughts.

Gwendolyn smiled. She and Ellie’s harmonious rapport had come in handy a time or two in their lives. To be honest, her comment to Preston wasn’t a lie—Gwendolyn truly was in awe of the room.

The crystal chandlers shimmered and reflected the flames. Light sparkled and danced around the room as if tiny pixies skipped about. The huge mirrors at each end of the room multiplied the opulent effect, as did the gold leaf molding and buttress combination that crisscrossed on the ceiling, separating painted scenes of angels and other celestial beings. Between the tables, the polished marble floor fairly glowed and all the light reflected back to the shining crystal above.

“Look at all the wine,” Gwendolyn grinned, her gaze on the tables. “There are at least four bottles per each party of six.”

At the nearest table, Preston pulled out two chairs for his sister and Ellie. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m famished.” He set his mask upon the table and made to take the seat to the right of Ellie’s when Preston glanced toward the entrance. “Albert,” Preston shouted above the din of the room and waved his hand, “over here.”

Out of decorum, Preston presented his friend. “Girls, you know Albert Pedley of course?”

Gwendolyn turned to her brother. “What is he doing here?” she whispered while Albert bowed and made pleasantries with Ellie.

Preston shrugged a shoulder. “I invited him.”

She blew out an exasperated breath. She’d always thought Albert looked like a sneaky weasel, with his dull brown thinning hair and muddy hazel eyes that were entirely too close together for her taste. None of his visual impediments would have been a problem if his personality hadn’t matched his looks so well. “Pres, you know I can’t abide the man.”

“Oh, Gwen, don’t be that way.”

“I’m sorry, dear brother, something deep inside won’t allow me to trust him.”

“Shush now, or the poor chap will hear you.”

“Poor chap, indeed,” she grumbled, “I dare say he won’t have heard anything different from what he’s already aware of.” She glanced over her shoulder at the offender. “Look at him drooling over poor Ellie. Can’t you make him stop?”

Ellie giggled at something Albert said.

Preston cleared his throat. “Albert my boy, you’ve arrived just in time for supper.”

Albert turned to the Rawleighs and smiled. “Thank you for allowing me to join you. There is nothing like a holiday with old friends.” Albert nodded a greeting to Gwendolyn and sat next to Ellie.

Gwendolyn’s smile didn’t quite meet her eyes and she didn’t give a fig if he noticed, either. She didn’t like the soggy biscuit one bit, no matter how much her brother did, and no matter how many knights adorned Albert’s ancestry. His unwelcome offer for her last season only intensified her hostile feelings toward the man. If her brother hadn’t loved her so well, she was sure she would have been handed to Albert Pedley and his withered fortune on a silver plate. She shivered at the thought.

A server came to their table and began opening the wine. Gwendolyn held out her glass to him with enthusiasm and shook off her frustrations, determined to have a memorable time on her holiday. However, Ellie covered the rim of wine glass with her fingertips.

Gwendolyn sighed. “You will have to excuse Ellie, Preston. Her mother insists that tea is the only civilized drink in the world.”

“It’s true, you know. M’ma says the very reason father—”

“Now Ellie,” Preston interrupted her, then offered to take the wine from the server— he never stood on ceremony when it came to his friends. The waiter relinquished the bottle and Preston gently removed Ellie’s hand. He poured her a glass of the deep cherry-plum cabernet. “There are people who have been consuming wine responsibly for centuries, and besides, your m’ma is not here.” He grinned. “So you can have her share, as well.” He passed the bottle to Albert who poured himself the rest of the wine, then handed the empty bottle to the server.

Ellie blushed and deflated some.

“Thank you, Pres. I’m going to make Ellie have a good time on this trip even if I expire from performing the task.” Gwen took a sip of her wine.

“Then I shall do the same.” Preston lifted his glass. “Here’s to a good time.” He winked at Ellie.

Gwendolyn’s dearest friend raised her glass with reluctance and all four glasses clinked delicately.