Let them see you tonight.

"Chin up," Lady Blackwood instructed, the carriage drawing to a halt. She reached her hand over, steady and sure, and straightened the gold domino mask tied to Nicola's face. "Shoulders proud, back straight. Smile."

Nicola nodded, her stomach knotting as the carriage door was thrown open. Tepid air from outside lurched up to greet her, stirring the silken skirts of the gown she wore, whispering against the naked flesh of the tops of her arms. There was chatter outside, horses' hooves against the cobbles. It sounded busy, excited.

Let them see you tonight.

Lady Blackwood was assisted out first, notching her chin high with an ingrained austerity. She straightened her opulent gold-sequinned gown, swiped at an imaginary crease in her black elbow-length gloves, then stood back for Blanche to exit. The girl favoured flare over grace and bounded out the door, her shimmering black gown billowing wide before settling. Blanche was grinning as she straightened the same gold mask over her face that Nicola wore, her silver eyes glinting in contrast to the starkness of her dress and the clash of colour of the mask.

Following her, Nicola stepped out the carriage with the assistance of a footman, straightening her shoulders, and she craned her head to take in the façade of the building before her. Newly commissioned by the Prince Regent, the Henley Rooms was a majestic three-story face brick structure with four imposing columns over the entrance. She felt ribbons of her hair slip against the exposed skin of her back, artfully curled and pinned to her crown to allow for a natural looseness and fall of her wayward locks. Nicola glanced down, assessing her black gown, and seeing that it was flawless, the fabric glistening like an iridescent diamond as it caught and absorbed light, did exactly as Lady Blackwood instructed.

The three of them strode up the few steps inside the building and were greeted by a vast entrance foyer where they were to be ushered inside and then announced to the occupants of the main ballroom. There were also two other ladies in the foyer who beamed with jubilant smiles and animatedly strode towards them when they apparently recognised Lady Blackwood.

"Lady Sinclair," Kathleen said happily, "Lady Weatherly, how delighted we are to see you in attendance tonight."

The first, a slender black-haired woman in an inky gown, smiled wondrously. "Wouldn't dream of missing this," she said. Her companion, vastly shorter, was wearing a golden gown that unfortunately clashed glaringly with the vibrancy of her red hair and complexion of her skin, but she didn't seem to care as she came forward and hugged Kathleen, then Blanche and finally Nicola.

"Victoria means to say that we are excited to be joining you this evening," Lady Weatherly said sweetly.

Nicola knew of them, of course, but had never made their acquaintance before. The women were married to two of the most powerful men in England. Though their appearances were rare at events of late, when they did hold company there was not a soul in town who did not know about it. "I am astounded and so very pleased Jason had the foresight to invite you to join us," Kathleen said to the both of them. Nicola found herself curious at that. Being titled ladies of repute and (mostly) good reputation, having them in attendance tonight and as guests of the Blackwood's ensured a hefty dosage of clout.

"Look, Em," Victoria was saying, propping an elbow atop Blanche's shoulder and leaning casually against her. "This one is almost as short as you."

Nicola snorted. Blanche glared at her through her mask. "One day, my incredibly tall husband will show the lot of you," she declared with a grin, shaking Victoria off with casual ease and staring up at her.

"Oh, indeed," Victoria laughed. "And where is this Apollo?" Together they began to walk towards the double mahogany doors that opened onto the ballroom.

"He doesn't know it yet," Blanche groused, but Nicola knew she had taken a liking to the other woman.

Kathleen ushered Nicola forward and she fell into step beside Lady Weatherly, the three of them stepping into the light of a brightly lit chamber. There were stairs, Nicola realised belatedly as she blinked to adjust her vision, carpeted in rich burgundy that led down into the throng of glimmering, masked people... people who were all turned to her.

Let them see you tonight.

Well, she thought as nerves bit and twisted within her, they certainly were doing that. She repeated Jason's note a thousand times over, finding solace and strength, or trying to, but her stamina wavered as she came across the sea of faces, black and gold glittering masks turned to her entrance like greyhounds honed to the lure. There were whispers, faces of speculation and curiosity, of judgement. She couldn't recognise one of them if she tried, but she didn't allow her gaze to focus on them. Her skin was crawling with the attention, but then Kathleen touched her arm, indicating that she should descend, flanked by her companions who were all notably titled and ranked. It was deliberate, Nicola realised as she walked down those steps with Lady Emily Weatherly on her left and Lady Victoria Sinclair on her right, to have these two women beside her, not as her superiors but as her equals. And, because what felt like a thousand eyes were clawing at her just then, Nicola steeled her shoulders. Let them look, she thought, as she notched her chin higher, and smiled for all she was worth. The girl that had always been politely reticent, good-natured, and deemed at times unnoticeable on the fringes of a ballroom, was suddenly the centre of speculation. How she let them perceive her now was in her control, in her power. She could not control what they thought about her, but she could control what they saw. It helped her confidence when Victoria Sinclair cursed most foully. "Nobody told me there would be stairs," she griped, stumbling over the edge of a step before straightening.

"Yes," Emily said wryly, "God forbid that a three-story building had the contraptions installed, and nobody wrote to tell you."

The unknown mass of glittering faces shifted, churned almost as one, as Nicola and her companions joined them. It was difficult to recognise any familiar faces, not that the masquerade was intended for notoriety, amidst the masked opulence, every design the same and yet different. Black and gold, indeed, helped to add anonymity to identities tonight unless otherwise introduced, and Nicola scanned the crowd as best she could but was unable to spot him, the one face she longed to find above all else. The ballroom was vast, with three huge crystal chandeliers that hung the length of the baroque styled ceiling. Lavish curtains draped artfully against one length, over tall doors that were pushed open unto a terrace. She was not allowed to peruse for long, however, as soon she was inundated with introductions, moving from person to person, obligated to smile, chin up, laugh politely, carry on to the next and repeat. Nicola knew some, but most were unfamiliar, and most knew of her, which was disconcerting. During all this, more people were announced, men and women alike, and drifted down those steps, attention would shift and delegate importance to the person who had entered, and there would be a new lull as conversation shifted.

"Where is Jason?" Blanche asked her mother during a reprieve as they gathered to one side, a lull in the excitement of the newly arrived Blackwoods, a semi-circle of gilded protection around Nicola.

"Heavens, Blanche, you ask as if I am his timekeeper," Kathleen muttered. By now, even she was starting to tire with the constant flux of conversation, and they had hardly been there half an hour. "How should I know? Your brother keeps his own agenda."

The other two women glanced at each with a smile. "I believe our husbands have probably kept him preoccupied with a game of cards and some brandy," Victoria explained. "Gabriel did mention he was going to arrive with Blackwood tonight. That is why Emily and I have arrived together." She tapped the shorter red head with her dance card that was tied to her wrist.

"Sebastian wouldn't enjoy this without some liquid encouragement," Emily agreed.

"So, we endure while they get foxed?" Blanche asked dryly, rolling her eyes.

"I could use a drink," Nicola muttered, thinking of the sherry she had in her chambers that she used to calm her nerves before she went to bed. It would certainly help in this climate.

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Victoria trilled happily. "I'll go fetch us some champagne!"

Kathleen opened her mouth to protest at that, but the other woman had disappeared on her self-appointed mission. Emily turned to Nicola and touched her arm. "They'll be here soon," she said warmly.

"I should hope so," Blanche grumbled, studying her dance card. "It is getting harder and harder to keep a dance open for him and he is taking his time getting here."

"Who, dear?" Kathleen enquired, intrigued that her daughter was favouring someone a dance.

"Oh, goodness," Nicola groaned on a laugh, predicting the reaction already and covering her mouth with her gloved fingers.

"Mr Southill," Blanche said, oblivious to the horrified expression on her mother's face.

"I don't believe I know him," Emily mused.

"You will," Nicola said, arching her brows- a gesture that was lost behind the mask.

"Oh, I am intrigued."

Kathleen made a grimace so profound Nicola rather thought she was about to curse. Instead, she threw Blanche a speaking look. "Of all the men in London, you had to set your cap for him?"

Blanche had a constitution made of iron for she merely smiled benignly, unperturbed by her mother's vexation. "Naturally, mother, but what did you expect? That I'd settle for an ordinary man or a boring duke?"

Emily snorted at that. "You need to meet my duke before you cast judgements, dear."

While they had been conversing, a hushed silence waved through the crowd, compelling conversation to murmur down. Heads turned once more, this time in unison, to the stairwell at the front of the ballroom. There hadn't been an announcement, or if there had been the din in the chamber had prevented her from hearing it, but Nicola's attention was delayed and she only turned to witness who had entered when she saw Emily do the same.

It was clear why the room was silent. Nicola found that her own speech had left her at the sight, her heart making a strange flutter.

"That's Sebastian," Emily whispered, leaning close and gesturing to the first two men descending the stairs. "And Gabriel, Victoria's husband." The two men were exquisite. If they were aware that the collective attention of the ballroom occupants was upon them, they did not show it. Sebastian made a comment that had Gabriel Sinclair laughing with a wicked smile before they shifted apart and continued down with a lazy, casual gait. The astounding beauty and magnetic presence of the two men, dressed in their evening finery, was evident in the cool confidence of their poise, the easy fluid grace of their step.

But it was not only them that caused the crowd to stir in silence, the three men who emerged next almost made Nicola forget how to breathe entirely. Even masked, she knew it was him. The way he moved, the wry smile as he fixed the cuff of his black coat sleeve, his powerful shoulders swaying with an articulate grace as his legs swallowed the stairs. He was dressed entirely in black except for the fine gold brocaded waistcoat and the white of his cravat. Similarly, so were the two men who flanked him, a step behind- most definitely Nathaniel and Oliver, refined and honing their own brand of masculinity.

"Are they a package deal?" Victoria murmured, returned from her champagne quest and pressing the glass into Nicola's frozen fingers. "If you have one, do you get the others too?"

"You are terrible, Vicky," Emily reprimanded, but like her companion, her eyes were frozen on the men encroaching on the crowd.

About halfway down the stairs, Jason had allowed his gaze to scan the people below him, that smile unwavering, and almost instantly he latched onto hers. It was a clash, a jolt that touched her very core, and his smile deepened, tilting his chin. Let them see you.

She wanted this man. Nicola wanted him with an all-consuming rage that burned through her like a devouring and never-ending flame. And maybe he did not love her, but she knew enough to know that he wanted her, too, and possibly that was enough. For now, this night, it was enough.

People shifted, whispers rippling across the ballroom, and the human sea separated as five magnetically powerful men sauntered through the melee, unperturbed by anybody else, unheeding of their surroundings, as they moved with a single intent.

"Victoria might have a point," Blanche whispered in agreement with the other woman's previous statement.

"That's your brother," Nicola remarked. If she weren't so enamoured with Jason, she would have agreed. They made a formidably beautiful ensemble.

"Obviously I don't mean him," Blanche returned tartly, but then she was forced into silence as Lord Sebastian Weatherly entered the small space of their circle. He smiled at his wife first but bowed to Nicola.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Eversley," he murmured in a darkly handsome voice, eyes as deeply blue as sapphires held her gaze. "I trust you will allow me the honour of a dance." He didn't wait for Nicola to assent, simply acquired her card from her wrist and added his name to a slot. His smile was wolfish before he winked at her, then turned to his wife. "Emily, darling, did grandmother choose your gown again?"

The small redhead squirmed. "It was all I had available last minute," she grumbled as Sebastian tucked her to his side.

The next gentleman swooped in, Lord Sinclair bowed fluidly and without preamble added his name to Nicola's card, as well. "A pleasure, naturally," Gabriel said. "Blackwood has a good eye for fine art, I see." He too moved to his wife, grinning down at Victoria possessively.

"What about your eye, my love?" the woman asked of him, fishing.

"Chaos," Gabriel intoned drolly. It earned him a flick.

Nathaniel added his name to her card next, murmuring a warm greeting and even managing a bow, and when he didn't offer to add his name to Blanche's card, Nicola feared Blanche would rake her nails across his face, if she could reach, but she exhibited curious restraint and merely settled for glaring at his back. Oliver gallantly and with aplomb followed, lingering a while to ask how Nicola was fairing, and then Jason...

Let them see you.

Her heart stuttered, but she met his iron hard eyes as he approached, drew as close as was appropriate, and bowed over her knuckles. She smiled, positively beamed, and dipped a low curtsy with as much grace as she could muster. It was a show, all of it, because she knew that she would have much rather thrown herself into his arms. The readability of her thoughts must have been evident, even with her mask, because his teeth flashed. "Behave," he murmured, straightening. "Miss Eversley, I am honoured by your presence. Allow me the privilege of-" he looked at her card and then scowled, glancing at Sebastian. "-I suppose the second waltz then, since your card is full."

"So formal," Nicola teased.

"Appeasing the herd," he told her quietly. "I would have liked the first dance, but apparently dukes have cotton between their ears."

"Dukes," Sebastian intoned sardonically, "don't take instructions well."

"You contrived all of this," Nicola said. "Everybody-"

"Later," Jason murmured, "we will talk. Enjoy yourself, Nicki." He stepped to the side, remaining in their circle, and the orchestra began to pick up the first dance. Sebastian took his leave of his wife, leading Nicola into the middle of the ballroom.

Her mind was reeling. All of it, Jason had orchestrated like a finely coordinated dance. The presence of Lord Weatherly and Lord Sinclair, their wives- their merry gathering was a statement. Nobody would dare insult any of the lord and ladies now associated with her, now favouring her dances and, through association with Jason, their acquaintance and friendship. Even if Wilhelmina dared to slur Nicola, with the support and confidence of the people in her circle tonight, there wasn't a peer in England brave or stupid enough to encourage an enemy of the future Duke of Hawthorne or the Duke of Rochester, let alone the Marquis of Northwick. "You're a friend of Lord Blackwood?" Nicola asked the tall man now leading her with ease in a waltz.

Sebastian smiled. "We go back a few years."

"Really?" She thought Sebastian a few years his older, so she wondered briefly the nature of the association.

"Ran into a spot of trouble with my wife several years ago," Sebastian explained. "Jason was the first person I asked for assistance. He's a good man."

"Trouble?"

"That's a conversation for a more intimate setting, Miss Eversley." His smile was devastating. "Perhaps, when you call upon my wife in the near future, she will regale you of her story." It was a sly invitation, and Nicola grinned up at him, warmed by his openness.

She did enjoy herself after that. Her card was full and every partner relished the opportunity to talk to her, to laugh with her. It was exhausting and exhilarating. Jason watched her, she felt his eyes, often meeting him amid the dancers while he whisked away one of the ladies in their party, but there wasn't an opportunity for a moment alone with him, and that is what she desired the most. It was difficult to discern people apart in the masked and glittering crowd, awash with hues and tones of gold and black. If their familiar group had not remained in the same place, she would have lost them in the mass of humanity surrounding them. It was only Jason's steel-hard eyes she could firmly identify amidst the chaos, only his face hewn from a memory of infatuation that allowed her to recognise the hard contours of his jawline, the specific way he grooved his lips when he smiled.

She wondered, through all of this, if he was still contemplating the author of his letters, if he remained adamant to discover her identity, or in lieu of the events leading up to these moments, he had lost interest, or didn't care.

An few hours must have passed, where she danced and laughed, sipped champagne and ate delicacies that bordered on tasteless and stale, before Jason finally stepped up to her again, to claim her last dance, and he guided her to the floor. Her feet and back were complaining, but she had longed for the time with him since the night began, and when his hand slid to her back and the other held hers in his, it felt as if they had fitted into place, a perfect piece. A sigh escaped her. "Scandal suits you, Nicki," Jason said, stepping with her into the sway of the waltz.

"Do not for a moment believe that should be incentive to incite it more often."

"But it's so much fun." His smile was pleasant, amused, but his eyes were dancing. "Your smile is magnificent. It has been all I've witnessed tonight."