30 Day Image Prompt Competition - August

Day 7 Prompt 2 - The Masked Ball

“I cannot do it, Tim. Not this time.” Lady Kelsey Donovan stared across the dining table at her younger cousin, her face as firm as her resolve.

“But, Kels, he’ll kill me if you don’t help me,” Timothy pleaded, his face mirroring the desperation he was feeling. “Or worse, send me off to the colonies, out of sight out of mind.” He strode around the table and reached for her pale hands with his own trembling ones. “Please, Kels, just do this for me, this one time. I swear that I will never ask anything of you again.”

“You say that everything, Tim, dear. I cannot keep bailing you out. Sometime, you have to face up to the responsibilities of your actions.”

“I will, I swear but not this time.” He picked up the white envelope that lay on the polished surface. “All you need to do is go to the ball, find my notes and retrieve them before the Duke gives them to Father.”

“Whether or not I will get the notes for you, there will still be the debt to pay to the Duke. He is going to want the money you owe him.”

“I know, I’ve already thought of that. Bradshaw has said that he will loan me some of the money, enough to appease the Duke, and I will do what I can to secure the rest. Father need not know anything about this.” He offered the envelope to her. “Please, dear cousin, for me.”

Kelsey stared long and hard at him. Of all of her cousins, he was her favourite, yet he was also one who suffered the most weaknesses, namely gambling and an over indulgence of alcohol when he was gambling. His latest adventure had resulted in him owing the Duke several thousand pounds, an amount that he had no way of paying without going to his father for the money. The Duke, knowing that Timothy had no way of paying the debt, had threated to take the notes to her uncle to show him just how bad a gambler his son was.

She looked down at the envelope in her hands. Her uncle was a sweet and gentle man who would not be able to take the shame of knowing that his youngest son had run up such a huge debt. He had struggled to raise his own four children as well as his orphaned niece on his own after his wife’s death. Worked hard to teach them all how to behave in society, how not to over indulge in activities that would bring scandal to the family name. They had all heeded his teachings, all except Timothy, who found the lure of fine wine combined with the thrill of gambling too much of a temptation to resist. It would destroy her uncle if he ever found out.

Sighing to herself, she looked up at the desperate young man before her. “I’ll do it.”

His relief was evident as he pulled her to him for an enthusiastic hug, words of gratitude tumbling in an incoherent jumble from his lips. Kelsey stood still in his embrace for as long as she could stand it before she pushed him back and held the envelope up to him.
“Tell me what I need to know and do.”

The ball was already in full swing when her carriage rolled up outside the impressive country residence of the seventh Duke of Edenfield. Kelsey sat inside waiting for one of the footmen lining the steps leading up to the house to come and lower the steps of her carriage to allow her to alight.

She looked down at the ball gown she and Mrs Kirkman, her maid and excellent seamstress, had spent most of the day creating and prayed that she had the courage to go through with her mission. After reading the invite it had been Nellie Kirkman who had come up with the idea of a Spanish themed dress. She had pulled out reams of red and black silk and swiftly stitched them together to form a layered skirt, trimmed and covered with red and black lace. The red fitted bodice had a mock waistcoat of black lace which was a perfect backdrop for the red lace fan. A gold mask, trimmed with black, covered the upper half of her face whilst a black lace headdress kept her thick, black locks in check. A red feather completed the exotic ensemble whilst laced edged black gloves covered her hands up to her elbows.

The carriage door opened and she accepted the hand of the footman with a grateful smile as he helped her down. At the entrance to the ballroom she stood trying hard not to flee from the attention cast her way. Trying to look more confident than she was feeling she stepped into the room and walked towards the seating area where several ladies were sat watching the dancing taking place.

Whilst a part of her was thankful that the ball was a masked event there was another part regretting it for even though she thought she recognised some of the attendees she could not be certain of their identity. Keeping the red lace fan across the lower, uncovered part of her face, she took a seat and waited for the expected stream of would be suitors wanting to claim a dance from the mysterious lady dressed in the red and black gown.

After a half dozen dances with energetic young men keen to strike up a relationship with her, Kelsey saw her chance to slip away. The free flowing punch and fine wines had created a vibrant atmosphere that had drawn people into its grasp so that they were unaware of anything happening on the edges of the ball which was what Kelsey wanted. No one saw her slip out of the ballroom doors into the main house and slip quietly up the carpeted stairs to the first floor. Timothy had said that the notes were kept in the Duke’s private sitting room situated next door to his bedchamber. She had seen the Duke deeply involved in a discussion with some of the male attendees and knew that she would have some time to seek out those blasted notes.

His sitting room was empty when she pushed open the carved oak door. A sombre room with a large desk dominating the centre, sitting sideways to the large windows overlooking the gardens. A well-padded sofa sat before the window offering the sitter a comfortable place to sit and read whilst looking out over the gardens. In the vast fireplace, a fire burned low in the hearth, keeping the autumnal chill from the room. On either side of the fireplace, floor to ceiling shelves stood filled with books of all sizes. It was a room she would have loved to explore and settle down with a good book if things have been different.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts of those damnable what if’s that seemed to haunt her, she hurried over to the masculine yet elegant desk and started to rummage through the drawers on each side. Whilst she did find some notes along with a record of payments made, there was no sign of those her cousin had signed. She uttered a few unladylike curses under her breath before rummaging through the top of the desk. Nothing.

A sigh escaped her red painted lips as she looked around the room. The notes were not in or on the desk and there was nowhere else they could be hidden. The drinks cabinet contained only drinks, the bookcases only books and there were no secret compartments around the fireplace. They simply were not there.

She looked across at the connecting door opposite. Perhaps the notes were in his bedroom. He had told Timothy that he was going to give them to her uncle at the earliest opportunity. Perhaps they were hidden in there. She cast a worried look at the door leading back into the passageway before gritting her teeth and crossing the room to the connecting door. With a plea that the room would be empty she twisted the handle and pushed the door open before walking straight into a very hard, very muscular and very naked chest!

Lucas St James, seventh Duke of Edenfield stalked angrily into his chamber. Long, graceful fingers tugged angrily at the lace cravat at his neck before flinging it on the bed and attacking the buttons of the fine linen shirt that he wore. His long black velvet coat had already been discarded upon a chair by the door and was soon followed by his silk waistcoat.

“Here is a clean shirt for your, my lord.” His valet, Jonas Flynn, entered the room from his dressing room, a clean shirt in his hands as he watched his lord disrobe.

“Stupid, clumsy woman!” Lucas muttered as he released the buttons at his cuffs before yanking the shirt of his body. “She should never be allowed to walk anyway with a glass of wine in her hand.”

Jonas retrieved the shirt from the floor where Lucas had thrown it and offered the clean one in its stead. He had seen the young Lady Rishworth stagger towards the Duke, clearly feeling the effects of the wine she had been imbibing over the course of the evening. As she had neared his tall form, her foot had slipped and she had stumbled forwards, throwing her glass of fine red wine all over the Duke’s white shirt. Everyone watched as the young girl had let out a mortified cry before swooning at his feet. The  Duke had tersely ordered his staff to tend to her inert body before storming up the stairs to his chambers where he had removed the now soiled shirt.
“Do you wish for assistance, my lord?”

Lucas shook his head and placed the shirt on the large, double bed that dominated the room. He wanted to have a quick wash before he dressed to take away the scent of the wine from his skin. Unlike other members of the gentry he was acquainted with, Lucas was quite able to dress himself and much preferred to do so.

“No, thank you, Jonas. I’ll manage myself.”

“As you wish, sir. I shall take this shirt to Mrs Flynn so that she can soak it before the stain sets.” With a nod, Jonas retreated from the bedchamber to head down to the kitchens where his dear lady ruled the roost.

Lucas sighed and poured some water into the bowl by the bed. He hated hosting balls at his residence, preferring the freedom granted to him to leave whenever he wanted when he attended other people’s balls. Now he would have to wait until the last guest decided to leave before he could have the solitude he craved. No doubt the young Lady Rishworth would be waiting for him to reappear as well.

As he was drying himself off he froze as he heard a sound coming from his sitting room next door. The upper levels of the house were off limits to guests and he knew his staff regularly patrolled the corridors whenever a ball was being held. Someone had obviously managed to slip through. If it was Lady Rishworth she would get a taste of his temper for her impudence.

Feeling his temper start to boil, he stalked over to the connecting door and yanked it open, ready to let whoever was intruding know just how much they had angered him. What we was not expecting was a young lady clad in an enticing creation of red and black to fall into his waiting arms. Her lace covered hands rested against his bronzed chest whilst her startled face looked up to his, his luscious red lips a temptation he found too difficult to resist.