**********************************************************************************
A half-hour later, the Duke of Eversleigh was announced in the music room of Mrs. August Welby's home. That lady was all aflutter. Having a real live duke present at her musical evening, especially such a distinguished one as Eversleigh, was beyond her wildest dreams. Finally she would be a success, counted among the foremost of society's hostesses.
The guests were partaking of tea and pastries when he arrived, the first part of the program having been completed. The Italian soprano was billed for the second half of the evening. Eversleigh accepted a cup, remained on his feet, and languidly surveyed the gathering.
"Marius," a familar voice said at his elbow, "one does not expect to find you at such events. Have you suddenly acquired culture?"
"Like catching a cold?" Eversleigh returned, turning his lazy, half-closed eyes on Suzanne Broughton.
"That does not answer the question," she said archly, slapping him on the wrist with her fan. "Is Signora Ratelli the attraction? Rumor has it that she is looking for a new protector.
"Hmm," he replied, "I believe I should find it a little disconcerting to share a bed with a partner who has to practice scales. "
She laughed. "I miss you, Marius," she said. "Have you not tired of the freckled little chit yet?"
"You mean her Grace?" he asked, eyebrows raised, hand straying-to the handle of his quizzing glass. "Good Lord, no!"
He strolled away in the direction of the chairs that had been set out for the audience and suffered through the first aria sung by the Italian. During the first break, before -1 the second selection, he made his excuses and left.
**********************************************************************************
Henry chattered brightly during the carriage ride to the opera house. She felt uneasy with Oliver for the first time and wished there were some way of avoiding the evening's entertainment. But cowardice was not one of Henry's vices. She smiled brightly as Cranshawe handed her from the carriage, her face now covered with the green mask, her figure covered with the matching domino. Her companion looked almost sinister, she thought, dressed all in black.
The atmosphere inside the building was quite different from that in the various ballrooms that Henry had visited. The noise level was noticeably higher. The dancing was considerably less elegant. In fact, the music seemed to provide only an excuse for men and women to touch and ogle one another. Ladies' fashions even among high society favored low necklines and a generous display of bosom. Yet many of the female dancers here made Henry blush with the obvious vulgarity of their dress.
As Henry preceded Cranshawe to the ground-level box he had reserved, a smiling gallant reached for her hand and tried to pull her onto the dancing floor with a "Dance, m' dear?" as the only introduction. Oliver's black arm encircled her waist and drew her against him. For the moment, Henry was glad of the protection.
Her relief was short-lived. When Oliver drew her onto the floor to waltz, he held her close, with one hand splayed firmly across her back so that her breasts and thighs came continually into contact with his body. When she raised an indignant face to his, she noticed that his eyes glittered strangely behind the black mask.
"Don't hold me so close, Oliver," she ordered crossly. "I shall tread on your feet and hurt you."
He flashed his charming smile. "I should consider it a pleasure to be trodden on by you, Henry," he said. "And I do not believe you are heavy enough to inflict much pain."
"Even so, sir," she persisted, pushing firmly against his shoulder with her left hand, "I wish to have more room."
"For one so young, you are a remarkable tease, Henry," lie said, smiling tenderly down on her. "I hold you close merely to protect you from the crowd."
"I don't like it," Henry said bluntly. "I believe most of the people here have had too much to drink!"
Cranshawe threw back his head and laughed. "Henry, I never had you labeled as a prude," he said. "I believe you are cross only because these revelers have a start on you. Let us return to our box and -order some refreshments."
Henry followed him, though she resisted all his attempts to ply her with alcohol. She insisted on drinking lemonade. Soon they were joined by two other couples, who appeared to know both her and Cranshawe. The talk became noisy and vulgar. Henry, who could usually hold her own in any conversation, found herself sitting in uncomfortable silence. When one of the men asked her to dance, she found again that she had to constantly fight to maintain a decent distance from him. At the same time she had to keep her head averted to avoid the smell of liquor on his breath.
As soon as she could attract Cranshawe's attention on her return to the box, she asked to be taken home.
"Henry?" he said in surprise. "We have just arrived and have hardly begun to enjoy ourselves yet."
"I shall never begin to enjoy myself here, Oliver," she said. "Take me home, please."
"My dear," he coaxed, "you lack experience. Come, let yourself go and join in the festivities."
"This place is vulgar, and so are the people in it," she said coldly. "I wish to go home."
"I am afraid we must stay longer," Cranshawe replied, his own voice stiffening. "I have instructed my coachman not to return before midnight."
"Then we must take a hackney," Henry said firmly, rising to her feet and grasping her reticule.
"Henry," he said, his tone becoming wheedling, "have I not earned this evening with you? It is true that many people of a lower order are permitted to attend these masquerades, but there are also many people of quality here. Do you not trust me to protect you from insult?"
"I wish to go, Oliver," Henry said, her own tone more reasonable. "I should not have come in the first place. I know that Marius would not like it. And, yes, of course you have earned my gratitude. But I shall repay you in time. Now, will you please hire a hackney?"
"No, I will not." He laughed, grasping her hand and leaning toward her. Come, Henry, let us dance again and forget these maidenly fears. You are not a maiden any longer, you know!"
Henry tossed her head. "If you are not gentleman enough to take me," she said icily, "I shall go alone." And she turned and stalked from the box.
She made it into the corridor that encircled the auditorium of the opera house before Cranshawe caught up with her. He caught her wrist in an iron grip.
"Stop behaving like a spoiled brat, Henry," he commanded in a tone she had never heard from him-before. "Come back into the box."
"Let me go immediately," she hissed, "or I shall make a scene.
Cranshawe laughed unpleasantly. "You would not attract much attention here even if you screamed at the top of your lungs. Do you think I am about to let you go now, Henry, when I finally have you to myself?"
"What do you mean?" she demanded, eyes wide with a mixture of indignation and dawning fright.
"I have wanted you for quite some tune, my dear," he said, smiling confidently down into her face. "Tonight I intend to have some reward for my care of you."
"You must be mad!" Henry cried, fear forgotten in a terrible burst of anger. "I intend to leave this place right now!"
She turned to leave, but before she could move one step, two hands clamped onto her upper arms. Henry kicked out with one foot; her evening slipper came into sharp contact with Cranshawe's shin and he swore.
"Little minx!" he said between his teeth. "It is going to he a pleasure to teach you some manners. I see that Marius has failed."