The large mustache quivered in a manner that indicated a smile, although I could not see his mouth beneath it.
He waved a hand toward the reception rooms. “I left them outside, where they would not be in the way.”
He replaced his hand lower on my back and touched my bare skin. A jolt of electricity skimmed up my spine, setting my whole body alight. I frowned into his chest in an attempt to stop the strident clamoring of all my intimate parts, parts which very badly wanted to reacquaint themselves with his. “Indeed. Your harem must mean little to you if you keep them outside like animals.”
“They are only women.”
I looked up through my lashes into the lovely amber eyes that I would know anywhere, annoyed with his drawled words. “Is that the prevailing attitude towards women where you come from? Do they matter so little?”
“In Arabia, women do as their husbands tell them and don’t question the men’s wisdom.”
“Which is probably why Arabia is sometimes viewed as being backwards,” I retorted, fuming at his misguided perspective. “Any country with such an ancient history should have more sense than to allow a man to possess more than one wife. I have always felt the Arabs to be part of an intelligent, highly cultured society, but about this, I must admit they sadly fail to gain my admiration.”
“Could it be, Scheherazade, you would like to have more than one husband?”
“Certainly not!” I replied indignantly.
The conversation was not going at all as I had planned. I found it difficult to flirt with him when he insisted on sticking to topics that irritated me.
“In my country,” I continued with some heat, “women desire the love and respect of only one man. As long as they are treated as equals and respected for qualities other than the physical, they are happy.”
The mustache twitched again.
“St. Petersburg must have changed since I last visited it. I don’t remember its society being so liberal,” he commented in Russian.
I smiled at his attempt to catch me out, and sent a thank you to my mother for having taught me her native tongue as I responded in the same language. “A good deal has changed, I am sure, since you last visited. Women are taking their rightful place in societies all over the world, not only in St. Petersburg.”
He looked startled to hear Russian in reply, then the mustache twitched and the corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile.
We danced without speaking for a few minutes.
“What of the men in your country?” he asked finally, returning to English. “What role would you have them play? Jester to their queen, perhaps?”
The music ended. He put a hand on my elbow and we made our way through the crowd to the side of the room.
“Men play fools well enough without any help from women,” I said lightly. The conversation was moving entirely too close to home for my comfort. I tried desperately to think of a way to change the subject, but was compelled to meet his gaze when he turned me to face him before releasing my arm.
“What would you have us do, Scheherazade? Stand by quietly and watch as you women trample on our hearts?”
I wondered if my disguise had been as successful as I had previously thought. Griffin watched me with an intensity that was almost intimate, waiting for me to answer a question that had not been asked.
I dropped my gaze at last, unsure of what he wanted from me. I didn’t know whether he was making an advance to a strange woman, or whether he was asking me for my feelings. I was unwilling to answer until I knew which question he asked. When I looked up he was gone.
An enjoyable five minutes were spent a short time later in conversation with Helena, who was dressed as a French shepherdess complete with stuffed lamb. I recognized her at once, and waited until her sister-in-law, dressed as Mary, Queen of Scots, was engaged before I approached.
“I can’t talk to you long,” she said nervously, looking over her shoulder at Lady Sherringham. “But I do want to meet with you. Would tomorrow morning suit you? I’m supposed to return books to the library at ten.”
I agreed to meet her and asked casually if Griffin had changed his mind about attending the ball.
“Oh, no. He wouldn’t even see me when we left. He locked himself in his study and refused to come out,” she said sadly.
The better to paint himself as an Arab, I thought. I wondered if Helena would know him when she saw him…if he was still here. I had not seen the tall Arab sheikh since our dance.
“I see your cousin is here,” she said with a giggle.
“Yes, unfortunately he is.”
“I must run, but I will meet you tomorrow morning. Au revoir!”
A short while later, as I stood at my aunt’s side, I noticed a flash of blue on the dance floor. Helena was dancing with Griffin and the look of delight on her face told me she had recognized him. I was possessed by the mad desire to know of what they were speaking, so swallowing my pride, I found Freddy and told him I would give him another dance.
“I live to please you, most beloved cousin,” he said as he led me onto the floor. To my surprise, he did not once make a reference to either the Union or marriage, but instead chatted about commonplace topics. As we passed by Griffin and Helena, her gentle laugh reached my ears. I kept my face turned away, but watched out of the corner of my eye whenever possible. Griffin paused for a moment when he spied Freddy and me, but we were soon too far away to watch him any further. Freddy was difficult to lose after that but I made my escape by pleading a headache.
A long hall ran the length of the great house with doors to the various rooms opening off it. After attending to matters of a personal nature, I came down the stairs into the hall, aware of a man’s voice floating up from below. Surprised by the name that was mentioned, I peered over the banister as I descended and noticed Freddy, tucked away behind a large palm, engaged in conversation with a man dressed as a giant white rabbit, complete with fancy waistcoat and pocket watch.
“Scheherazade? What’s that, then?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just don’t botch things up again.”
“Nothing will go wrong. Not this time. Not when I have this with me.” The man in the rabbit suit pulled out an object—what, I could not identify—from his waistcoat and showed it to Freddy.
“Make sure it doesn’t.” Freddy moved off, leaving me with a distinct sense of unease. I hesitated for a second, then followed, but quickly lost them in the crowd.
The ballroom was even more crowded than earlier, with people clustered in small groups along the walls, talking, laughing, and watching those who were dancing. As I squeezed by a large women dressed as Catherine the Great, I came face to face with an American cowboy who was laughing with a tall, amber-eyed sheikh.
Abruptly the sheikh turned, and much to the surprise of the Columbine standing near him, whirled her into the dance. My chin up, I strolled past with only the briefest of indignant glares.
“Lieutenant Angus,” I smiled, stopping as I spotted a familiar face, but unable to recall his surname, “are you enjoying the dancing?”
Excusing himself from a conversation with one of the other Yeomen, he replied to the affirmative. I batted my lashes and waited expectantly.
“Are you engaged for this dance?”
“Not in the least,” I replied, my eye on the colorful Arab who was still dancing with the Columbine.
As we stepped into the dance, the music ended.
“Shall we wait for the next one?” Angus asked politely.
Far across the room two tall white rabbit ears bobbed and headed out a door which led to a courtyard. “I—I suddenly feel the need for a little fresh air,” I replied, curious as to where Freddy’s friend was going. I took hold of Angus’ arm and tugged him toward the door. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to escort me outside for a moment or two?”
I really gave the poor man no choice, but he was nice enough to fall in with my wishes without complaint. Outside, stone steps led down to a plea
sant shrub-lined path, running the length of the house. Large stone urns were interspersed between the tall shrubs, affording many choices should a person wish to avoid being seen.
One glance at Angus and I realized my mistake. He assumed I wanted to stroll outside for amorous purposes and moved closer in preparation. I considered my options and decided that an appeal to his sense of chivalry was the answer. Brushing aside my remorse at prevaricating, I spun a quick tale.
“Did you see the man in the giant white rabbit suit? No? Well, he came this way, and he has been…well, let us say, he has made himself objectionable to me. I wish to locate him to make sure he’s not doing the same thing to another woman, and I had hoped you might help me confront him.”
Angus, a typical example of his gender, puffed up importantly as I appealed to his masculinity. “Of course I will help you!”
I turned to face him as I spoke, simpering in a manner that I personally found repugnant, but which is so effective to those of the male persuasion. “I do so appreciate it, you see, there is no one else to whom I can turn.”
As the words left my lips Griffin passed by, the Columbine clinging to his arm. His glare left little doubt in my mind that he had not only guessed my identity, but had also heard me utter the puerile drivel.
“Let’s start down there,” I pointed in the direction opposite to the one Griffin had gone, and started off towards a particularly dark corner. Annoyed with my draperies, I detached one side of the veils so I could search without encumbrances.
I instructed Angus to search along the far wall as I started down the side next to the house, examining behind and in each urn as I passed them, only to reach the far corner without success. A small metal gate led out to the street beyond. I looked out, shivering a little in the cold evening air, but could not see beyond the pavement directly in front of the gate.
“Well,” I said, turning around to see why Angus had been so quiet, “I guess we will have to look at the other end.”
“If you like,” Griffin replied, his voice noncommittal.
I blinked at him for a moment before demanding, “What have you done with Angus?”
“The gentleman was needed elsewhere,” he answered, frowning. He must have thought the horrified face I made was in response to his statement. “I realize he is the only one you can turn to in a time of need, but are you really that despondent at his departure?”
“Not in the least,” I replied truthfully. “I am concerned about the man standing behind you pointing a pistol at your head.”
Griffin spun around and would have lunged had not a voice from behind me ordered him to halt. Something cold and sharp pricked my jaw. I turned my head slightly and saw the open gate and the furry white suit of a giant rabbit behind me.
“One move towards my friend there, Mr. Sheikh, and the lady loses more than a veil.”
Griffin turned back slowly, his face impassive. The short, stocky man behind him reached around and removed the scimitar, then nudged Griffin with the pistol and ordered him to walk. A hand gripped my shoulder painfully, forcing me to follow, the knife moving to press up against my shoulder blades. Anger rose within me as we passed through the gate and towards a closed carriage parked a short way down the street.
“This is ridiculous,” I said as we were herded along. “Kidnapped in the middle of a masquerade ball. And by a giant white rabbit!”
Only the sight of the very real pistol held firmly against Griffin’s back kept me from saying more. We stopped next to the carriage.
“Get in.” The man with the gun pushed Griffin.
“No,” he replied in a low voice.
I started forward as the thug shoved Griffin, slamming him with brutal force into the side of the carriage. The knife was back at my throat, digging in with a pain that cause me to gasp. Warmth trickled down my neck as the man in the rabbit suit pulled my head backwards, the wig loosening under his grip.
“Now, do you get in nicely or do we have to cut up the lady?” the rabbit asked Griffin, his voice striking a chord in my mind. I was sure I had heard it before.
Griffin glanced at me. His eyes focused on the trickle of blood creeping down my neck onto my bosom before they lifted to meet mine. A second later he leaped on the man with the gun, sending him flying backwards. I had enough wits about me to push backwards and down, slipping out of the rabbit’s grip, leaving him staring in surprise his handful of long black wig and veils. Wishing I had my walking shoes on so I might impair him more effectively, I kicked him as hard as I could in an area that generally is known to disable gentlemen. It certainly did give the rabbit pause for thought.
“Cassandra, get out of here!” Griffin bawled as he lunged onto the rabbit man. I looked around for some sort of weapon, and spied the man with the pistol pulling himself up to his feet. Without even a thought of what I was doing, I threw myself on him, knocking my head against his as we tumbled to the ground. Gasping with pain, I sat up, shaking my head. The man beneath me groaned and tried to sit up as well.
I struck him as hard as I could directly on the temple and watched with satisfaction as his head snapped back and hit the curb.
“I am beginning to see the value of taking the offensive stance, rather than the defensive,” I told the unconscious man.
Various oaths and strangled noises issued from the two men still locked in battle. Griffin had a hold of the knife, but the bunny-beclad thug was slowly turning it towards his face. Having successfully dealt with one man, I thought I’d assist Griffin with his. Sucking on a bleeding knuckle, I limped over to them and waved my fists at the attacker. Abruptly, the man released the knife, ducked down, and squirmed out of Griffin’s grasp. Grabbing his semi-conscious partner, he leaped into the carriage, whipped the horses, and sped off into the darkness.
Griffin leaned against the wall, breathing heavily and holding his right shoulder.
“Well,” I said, straightening my costume as best I could, feeling especially pleased at the villain’s reaction to the threat I posed him, “there’s another one for Caleb.”
Griffin looked at me as if I was insane.
“Caleb was my father’s stable boy. He taught me how to fight, and clearly that villainous rabbit saw that I knew what I was doing when I waved my fists at him,” I explained.
“Despite your prowess in brawling,” he replied grimly, peering under his hand, “I think the appearance of that bobby coming around the corner had more to do with them running than the terrifying thought of you attacking.”
The sight of blood on his shoulder distracted me from a sharp retort. “Are you injured?”
I pushed his hand off and examined the wound. He had a long but shallow cut running across his shoulder.
“No more than you,” he replied, straightening up to face the constable. I dabbed at his shoulder, then wiped off my own blood.
It took a good deal of explanation, but in the end we convinced the constable that we were not seriously hurt and couldn’t identify our attackers. Griffin promised to report the incident fully in the morning.
“Will you stand still for one moment and let me tell you about Robert?” I asked as we limped back to the house.
“No,” he snapped, and tugged me toward the stone stairs that led to the verandah.
“Of all the obstinate…fine, will you at least listen to my theory of the unwarranted attack upon us? I have a suspicion about the identity of the man in the white rabbit suit—”
“No,” he said, just as shortly, and refused to say another word until he deposited me next to Caroline.
Despite our disheveled appearances, no one paid attention to our return. I had lost my veils and cap, and had to pull my braid around front to hide the dried remnants of blood. Griffin was dirty, but his costume fared better than mine. He escorted me to my aunt’s side, then made a slight bow and excused himself. I was furious with him for refusing to speak on the subjects which weighed most on my mind.
“What a very dashing sheikh Mr. St.
John makes. I take it from your frown that your disguise was not successful?” she asked.
“Not particularly, no,” I replied, picking at a spot of blood on the delicate gauze as I fumed to myself.
She nodded. “Ah. Did you have a pleasant stroll with him?”
I looked at the well-meaning twinkle in her eye, and couldn’t stop the words. “Not really. He still refuses to speak to me. Two men tried to abduct us, held a pistol to Griffin’s head, and a knife to my throat. We escaped. I am a little sore and believe I will go home. If you don’t mind me borrowing Geoffrey, I will wish you a good night.”
My aunt is seldom surprised by anything I say, so the look of astonishment on her face was almost worth suffering the attack. I limped off to find my coat and Geoffrey, my uncle’s coachman.
Chapter Seventeen
I met Helena the next morning outside of Westminster Abbey, since the library was only a few streets away. After my success with the Scheherazade costume of the past evening, I was convinced I could manage to look like something less than a rag-picker next to her, so I wore a new white suit with a blue and white striped vest, and a white bolero jacket trimmed with blue braid.
I felt very proud of my smart new ensemble until I observed her in a pretty blazer suit of sky blue with rows of dark blue tubular braid.
My lips pursed as she drew close, causing her to burst into laughter at my jaded look.
“Well, really, Helena, it is too bad!” I said indignantly, circling her to get the full effect of the charming outfit. “Here I sit in my new white duck dress thinking that at last I can hold my own with you, and you insist on floating over to me looking like a rain-washed summer sky.”
She raised her hand, still laughing. “I promise you, Cassandra, it is an old gown that I have had for two years.”
“Hrmph.” It was hard to be disgruntled with her when she looked so charming, so I gave her only a brief lecture as to the horrors of the feather industry with regards to her hat, and we settled down on a nearby bench to chat.