5. Chapter Five

Kairos

Chapter Five

Miss Violet Clympton had spent the better part of a week pondering what was meant by the concept of a "Masquerade Ball". The event was to be put on the following Friday and all that the Duchess of Hastings had required was that "every attendee wear a mask".

The announcement of this event had created something of a scandal among the ladies of the Ton as the propriety of such an event was discussed. The shyer ladies spoke about "the indelicacy of playing a role". Whereas the more flirtatious among them were thoroughly excited and giddy at the prospect of dressing up in an elaborate gown and hiding their identity.

Lady Clympton had been to a Masquerade Ball in her youth and told her daughter that she would need to find a costume. This caused another series of worries as a suitable outfit would need to be found and created.

In the end, the topic was hotly debated in the realms of the upper class that week and many a parlour was filled with the discussions of those who wanted to "make the full effort" and those who were merely going to "wear a mask with a normal evening outfit". It got to the point that many a young lady would guard her costume choice for fear that it would be stolen by a rival.

Violet found herself rolling her eyes at the ridiculous controversy that had been created when it was discovered that two young ladies had both planned to be a shepherdess. It had been such a scandal that hair accessories had apparently been flung at each other in the modiste and there had even been a nasty incident with a thrown bonnet catching a particular young lady near her eye.

It was a topic that she had positively refused to discuss with anyone, least of all the Viscount who was hugely curious about which costume she would be wearing. This, however, was a topic upon which she would not be drawn, and she had remained deliberately tight-lipped about the whole situation. He had tried attacking her from various angles every day that week, all of which had failed to draw even a hint from her as to which character she would be adopting.

"Come now, Miss Clympton!" he had exclaimed at a tea shop on the Tuesday, "I must insist upon knowing who I am to pursue at the ball on Friday."

Violet merely shrugged her shoulders and took an amused sip of tea, "Maybe I don't wish to dance with your lordship at the ball," she replied.

Lord Bridgerton made a great show of being physically wounded by these words at which she merely smirked. He gave up in his questioning for that afternoon but raised a conspiratorial brow.

"I do know that Miss Wethering is going as Helen of Troy," he confessed.

Violet groaned. She had hoped that her cousin might adopt her idea of keeping her costume a secret, but it seemed that Lord Paisley's questions had been too discerning.

"Why should that help you in the investigation of my costume?" she asked.

The Viscount smirked, "Because, Miss Clympton, I know how close yourself and Miss Wethering are, almost like sisters if I'm not much mistaken and close relations have a habit of dressing alike. So, I shall be looking for another Grecian princess at the ball."

Inwardly, Violet groaned because he was spot on! She and Cordelia had spent many afternoons discussing stories, legends, and historical characters who they could go as, until her cousin had suggested Greek mythology and they had both decided to take a character from the myths. Cordelia had naturally chosen a famous golden-haired beauty, but Violet had wanted to be more subtle and had chosen the elusive goddess of the hunt, Diana. She had plans to disguise herself as well as she could, having borrowed a long and very realistic wig of inky black curls to wear. When combined with her golden mask, Grecian huntress dress and bow, she had hoped that she might be suitably hidden from the Viscount, but his powers of detection might prove too good, even for her powers of concealment.

With an exaggerated shrug, she took another sip of tea and merely smiled at him, "Who knows if you are right, my lord? You'll just have to wait and see."

Lord Bridgerton smiled smugly at her, obviously certain of his success. He took a sip from his own teacup and raised that same eyebrow in a challenge. Violet merely feigned nonchalance and took a bite of cake.

"And what are you going to the ball as, my lord? You have asked most persistently about my costume but seem unwilling to discuss your own."

The Viscount smiled wickedly, "That, my dear Miss Clympton, would be telling."

Violet merely shrugged in response, but her mind was wild with possibilities.

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In the end, Violet was grateful for the costume choice. The Grecian gowns that the modiste had designed for her and Cordelia were made of a flowing organza that was very comfortable to wear, especially without the restricting force of the corset. Instead, the gowns were gathered under the bust and flowed naturally to the floor. The arms were left daringly bare. Only being gathered at two points at the shoulder and above the elbow.

Cordelia spun delightedly in her blue gown, enjoying the flow of the style immensely.

"It is so freeing to be out of the confines of a corset!" she exclaimed. Her beautiful hair was elaborately braided into a crown atop her head, with golden ribbon being stylishly drawn through the blond curls. When combined with her blue mask, she looked positively stunning and Violet told her so.

By way of a deflection, Cordelia praised her cousin's own dark beauty and marvelled at how beautifully the black curls of the wig contrasted against her pale skin. Sarah's clever fingers had woven a similar pattern of braids atop her head, though half the hair was left to fall naturally down her back, as pictured in a painting Violet had once seen at the National Gallery. Her gown was also simpler, being merely white, though cut in the exact same style and with golden detailing along the flowing sleeves and hem. When the golden mask was firmly attached to her face, even Violet did not recognise herself. Cordelia was especially impressed by the disguise,

"It's the hair," she remarked, "It's so realistic and unlike your own."

"Do you think I will fool the Viscount?" Violet asked, it was her only hope for the evening.

Her cousin smiled, "If I am struggling to place you, I am sure he will."

Violet smiled and thanked her cousin. They descended the staircase of the Clympton home together meeting their mothers at the bottom (Lady Clympton dressed as Mary Queen of Scots and Mrs Wethering as Lady Macbeth). Both were effusive over their daughter's choice in costumes and assured Violet that she would probably go unrecognised.

"You must all promise to avoid me," she stated, "I wish to maintain my wallflower ways and hopefully I will fly under the Viscount's notice." They all readily agreed and left for the ball in the highest of spirits.

They got to the mansion a little late but were pleased to have done so as many others had already arrived, causing a general chaos in the entry hall which enabled them to enter far more subtly. Violet gave her cousin's hand a squeeze before slipping behind a crowd of guests doffing their cloaks and flung hers at a waiting footman. She had just managed to enter the ballroom in the squeeze of the crowd when she saw the Duke and Duchess standing at the end of the welcoming line, he as Anthony and she as an (obviously pregnant) Cleopatra.

Many had heard of the Duke and Duchess' pain over the loss of several still-born babies. It was rumoured that the Duchess had been told not to keep trying, but she had ignored the advice and was now trying again. Only feeling pity at the sight of her, Violet decided to avoid the receiving line and entered the brilliantly lit room.

Hundreds of candles flooded every corner with light and gauzy curtains in green and gold hung from the walls. It was a dreamy and aethereal atmosphere that quite took her breath away.

"Oh, goddess divine, might I steal a dance tonight?" Looking up, Violet saw a young man who she did not recognise, dressed as a knight of the crusades, smiling down upon her; a young man who obviously thought she was someone else.

She curtseyed low and nodded. With a carefully modulated voice, she replied that she would be delighted.

The young man beamed, "Dulcie, I knew that was you!", obviously thrilled with his apparent detective skills. Violet merely smiled enigmatically and repeated that she was Diana, goddess of the hunt. Her companion smiled in a somewhat gormless manner, tapped his nose, and wandered off.

Delighted with her success, Violet managed to skirt the ballroom in the same inscrutable manner. She deliberately avoided the obvious people, (Cordelia had already been found by Lord Paisley and Katherine made a very pretty Titania, but her mask was so slight that her appearance was obvious). She also managed to deceive three other men (The Duke of Andover among them) who asked for dances without having a clue who she was. She was just considering whether she might be able to catch Katherine's eye when the crusader descended upon her and demanded his dance.

He spent most of their colonnade trying to get her to admit that she was the infamous "Dulcie" (whom she had since realised was the Honourable Miss Dulcie Lincoln, a silly, frivolous girl with long curly black hair and something of a flirt). However, she maintained her mysterious façade throughout their dance and thanked him politely at the end. She had just poured herself a glass of lemonade when Robin Hood approached her, carrying a bow, with a quiver of arrows and a matching green mask.

"Do goddesses get thirsty, oh goddess of the hunt?" Mr Briggs asked with amusement.

"Even immortals require libations, Mr Hood," she replied in her carefully modulated tones.

He grinned at her, "Then as you are well lubricated, might I request a dance, oh goddess?" She offered him her dance card and refused to give into his knowing look. "You're doing an excellent job of remaining anonymous, Miss Clympton," he added quietly.

She merely raised a darkened brow at him, "Who is this Miss Clympton, oh outlaw?" He merely smiled and swept away until their dance.

Violet found a seat and had decided to spend the next dance identifying people. She easily saw Miss Kendall as a medieval queen under her blue mask and it seemed that Miss Braydon had copied her idea, having come in a similar gown, but in pink. She was particularly intrigued by a pair of men in Elizabethan hose and tunics who she thought might be Timothy and the Viscount, when a medieval knight approached her and asked for her dance card. The eyes behind the mask were definitely blue, but he was also masking his voice and it made it difficult for her to be sure.

"I have heard that the goddess of the hunt is shy, my lady, but surely you have many suitors vying to entertain a deity?" the knight added. His voice held the same lilting quality as the Viscount, and she was almost sure it was him.

"A goddess must be careful upon whom she bestows her favours, young mortal," she replied, before the Duke of Andover (dressed as Julius Casear) came over to lead her in a reel. It was not until she was halfway through her dance with Mr Briggs that she found herself doubting. There was something not quite right about the knight, he did not seem to be quite tall enough for the Viscount.

When he approached to take her hand, his grip did not feel quite right, and he was definitely moving differently. He had more vigour but less grace than he had seemed to have during their dances on previous nights.

"Tell me, good sir knight," she began, "Who's court do you serve in?"

The knight smirked, but it was not the Viscount's, "King Arthur's of course, my lady," he replied.

"And what use can a knight have for the Goddess of the Hunt?" she pressed, "Are you not already a skilled huntsman?"

"Ah, but you have made an assumption, my goddess," he replied, "You assume that all men hunt deer. Some of us have other prey."

She felt herself flushing and knew that she was about to betray herself. Her partner was not the Viscount, but he had such a similarity to him that a thought suddenly struck her … could he be ..?

The dance finished suddenly, and she had just curtseyed when she felt eyes upon her and looked up to see a darkly handsome pirate smiling at her. His blue eyes shone through the eye holes of his mask and she knew that this was the Viscount.

"I must reserve the waltz before it is taken, oh goddess," he stated, "Might I see your card?"

Wordlessly, she held out her card and he wrote "Captain Black Beard" upon it. She could not help laughing at his character and knew that she had given herself away. The smirk beneath her mask told her so and he led her safely away from the dance floor to where they might talk.

"Does a pirate whose name is Black Beard not require the beard after which he is named?" she asked quietly, still keeping her voice modulated.

"Only if the bead does not itch his chin, oh goddess divine," he replied, now in hie real voice. "I must congratulate you, Miss Clympton, we are nearly at supper and it has taken me nearly half the night to work out who you were."

"What gave it away?" she asked, abandoning her façade.

"I saw you dancing with the Duke of Andover and you have this little dip of your head that you do to the music," he replied, "It comes from being a pianist, but your costume does an admirable job of concealing you."

"One gentleman thought I was the Honourable Miss Dulcie Lincoln," she replied somewhat smugly.

He nodded, "It's the wig, it's very real. You must give your modiste an excellent tip."

"I think I will. I have spotted most people; Timothy makes an excellent Elizabethan lord and I think Katherine is a wonderful Titania."

"They start to appear through their mannerisms and words, don't they?" he agreed. "This was an excellent idea of the Duchess' quite unique and diverting." Violet nodded her agreement and rose for her final dance before supper with the third gentleman.

It was only during this dance that she became aware of that same medieval knight watching her from the side of the floor. He was standing next to Lord Paisley and suddenly it all fell into place – it was Mr Lewis! Feeling relief, she enjoyed the rest of the gavotte, curtseyed to her partner, and allowed him to lead her back to where she had previously been standing. The Viscount was still there and bowed low over her hand before leading her into supper.

They returned to her mother and aunt's company (now that her identity had been revealed) and the Viscount was congratulated upon his powers of deduction. Lord Paisley also joined them with Cordelia and they had a merry supper party discussing the various costumes and identities of the characters. It seemed that Lady Clympton had been struggling with the ladies' hood that went with her Mary Queen of Scots' outfit.

"It keeps rubbing against my forehead very uncomfortably," she complained.

"Why not just remove it, Mama?" Violet suggested, "You can still keep on the head dress and your mask." It was agreed that she would aid her mother with this before the waltzing started. "I think I'll also take the opportunity to leave my bow to the side," she added, "It's very cumbersome and I'm sure other people will value losing various props."

The Viscount smiled, "I rather like having a sword," he commented. "It's nice to be allowed to carry a weapon outside of fencing."

"I believe that correct term is "swash-buckling" Lord Bridgerton, Mrs Wethering added with a smile.

Violet was so amused to hear her staid and respectable aunt use the phrase "swash-buckle" that she had to hide her smile in her hand. As she looked up, she saw that the Viscount had caught her and was smiling at her in that way he had. She had never known blue eyes that became so warm when someone smiled, but his always struck her. They were so lost in each other's gaze for a time that they were oblivious to the comments and growing scrutiny of all their companions.

Eventually, Lady Clympton cleared her throat and Violet was pulled from her trance. She felt a deep blush staining her cheeks and took shelter behind her teacup as she often did. It was only once the conversation had moved on that she dared to look up and noticed the Viscount still gazing at her with amusement.

"If I hadn't identified you by anything else this evening, that pretty blush would eventually have given you away," he muttered under the pretence of refilling her water glass.

"It is a habit that I am trying to stop," she replied as quietly.

"That would be a shame," he murmured, "I'm personally very partial to it."

Thankfully, Violet was able to maintain a dignified silence for the remains of the meal and was soon being led out by the Viscount for the waltz after supper. As they took their place amongst the other dancers, she did not know what it was, but she seemed unable to look away from Lord Bridgerton that night. His gaze was so direct, his eyes so warm, his touch so deft that she felt as though she were floating rather than actually dancing the waltz. He too was unable to take his eyes from hers and seemed to relish every touch, every dip, and every turn of the dance.

It was only once the music has ceased and Violet found herself still unable to look away from the Viscount's gaze that she became aware of the scrutiny around them. With a great effort she tore herself away and walked quickly towards the mansion's well-lit courtyard. She did not know how, but by some miracle she managed to escape from him and found a small, shadowy arbour in which to cool her flushed cheeks and ponder her feelings.

She sat there for a long time, her heart beating and her mind awhirl. Before making the Viscount's acquaintance, she had been perfectly content with her lot. She had enjoyed dancing with friends and loved the outings of the Season. She had laughed at desperate debutantes in their first season and been happily anonymous to the scrutiny of the Ton. But now …

Why could she not stop looking into his blasted eyes when he looked at her like that? Why did she currently feel as though her heart were thumping at a million beats a minute? Why were her cheeks pink yet again?

Violet shook herself and pondered.

She knew that she and the Viscount got on very well, they had from the beginning. But why was it that she could not stop thinking about him? Why could she not remember where she was or her surroundings when she was dancing with him?

She sighed.

There was only one conclusion that she could draw … and it terrified her.

"I'm absolutely certain it was that Clympton girl and the Viscount." Violet froze in place as a horribly familiar voice floated through her hiding place.

"But why is he so fascinated by her? A dark haired, dark-eyed Miss like a hundred others in the Ton," came the peevish reply.

"It's because she's an awful flirt. Did you not see her the first night they met at the Danburys' ball? She positively threw herself at him. That is why she ran away just now; she's playing the long game."

"But why run away from a man who is so obviously interested?"

"Because my dear, she has such artifice that she wants to make poor Viscount Bridgerton pursue her. I imagine it's a vanity thing, but I personally abhor such artifice."

"Poor Lord Bridgerton, to have his feelings played upon in such a manner."

"It's the favourite game of what my mother calls the "hangers on". They linger at the sides of the dancing and enjoy disparaging the rest of us who simply enjoy a real conversation and don't flirt in such a deceptive manner."

Violet felt her cheeks reddening once again, but for a very different reason this time.

"Come, my friend, we must return. The Duke has asked me for the next dance, and I don't want to disappoint him."

"Oh, my dear Felicity, as if you could ever disappoint a man who asked you to dance," Miss Braydon responded with expected sycophantism.

As she heard them leave, Violet felt her mortification rising. Had she led the Viscount on? Was it all for her vanity? She was still sitting in this muddle of emotions when she heard the voice that she least wanted to hear.

"Miss Clympton?" Her heart lurching, she drew as far back into the arbour as she could. If he were to find her, here of all places and unchaperoned!

"Miss Clympton?" The voice was nearer and horrified her. She shrank back the final few centimetres into the corner and held her breath.

"Miss Clympton? Violet? Please do not heed their spiteful words. Please don't be upset by their jealousy for what we share." She felt as though her heart had stopped this time. What they shared ..?

Her frazzled nerves were pushed to their brink as the Viscount poked his head in and spotted her in her shadowy corner. It was too dark to see his face, but his stance was tense.

"Lord Bridgerton, you cannot be here! Please leave …"

"Why did you leave so suddenly?" he demanded. She did not reply and he took a step closer. "Why did you leave, Violet?"

"How dare you address me so informally, sir?" she asked, horrified.

"Because we are courting and if one's lady is upset then one seeks to know what is concerning her."

"I am not your lady as far as I am aware, your lordship," she replied, rising quickly. "Now I would appreciate it if you would kindly allow me to leave." She made to walk around him, but he put up an arm to block her exit.

"Not until you explain your sudden departure to me."

"I do not need to explain anything to you!" Violet was becoming frantic in her efforts to leave. The confused state of her emotions did nothing to calm her.

The Viscount did not move, however. "I insist upon an explanation, Miss Clympton," his voice was passionate. "Why did you leave?"

"I was hot …"

"Then why not get some lemonade?"

"I wanted fresh air …"

"Then why leave the safety of the terrace?"

"I … I needed to think, all right?" She stopped trying to get past him and sat back down. "I was embarrassed by the scrutiny and was trying to work out what I felt. I … I don't like being the centre of attention, I never have."

The Viscount stopped blocking the way and leant against a nearby wall. "I am sorry to have embarrassed you, Miss Clympton, but I can't understand why you fled."

"It wasn't just you, my lord. Don't you see? I returned your look. I'm the one who opened myself up to the gossip and comments of Miss Kendall and Miss Braydon."

"I didn't think you cared for their opinion."

"I don't! But I've never laid myself open to their ridicule … and who's to say that they weren't right?"

"What?" The Viscount seated himself abruptly and took her hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You are guilty of nothing Miss Clympton. You are not capable of artifice or deception of any sort …"

"Then how do you explain my actions, my lord? Maybe I do enjoy stringing you along because it flatters my vanity …"

"You listen to me," his voice was angry now. "We agreed to take our time. You and I both agreed. I do not care if the whole Ton call us slow or that they say my intentions are not serious because I refuse to rush this. If I were not so serious about our courtship, I would not be taking my time. Please do not tell me that you are going to allow the whispers of two spiteful harpies to make you doubt what you feel. Please … Violet …"

He tentatively raised a hand to her face, and when she made no protest, he reached around to untie her mask. Wordlessly, he traced a feather-light touch across her cheek and cupped her chin in his palm.

"Please, do not let them make you doubt what you feel, or the connection we have." His touch left a trail of tingles across her cheek. His hands were so warm … "I give you my word, I have never felt like this before. That first night, I could not take my eyes from you as soon as I saw you …" Without waiting for a response, he reached up to take off his own mask and she saw his face properly for the first time.

Unable to help herself, she felt her own hand lifting to cradle his face. Then, she forced herself to speak.

"I lied to you." She looked down, overcome. But he would not have it and raised her face again with a pressure that would not be resisted.

"How did you lie?" his voice was barely a whisper as he raised a hand to catch an errant strand of hair that had escaped from beneath her wig.

"I said that I came here to think … but it wasn't about my embarrassment, it's because I was feeling overwhelmed." She caught his nod and thought she could see the ghost of a smile, though the light was very dim.

"It's good to know that I'm not alone then."

She felt herself smile and would have looked away, but he would not let her. He caught her chin and before she could think, his mouth was upon hers. It was not a soft kiss, but it was also not hard. His lips were steady more than anything and so, so warm.

When he pulled away, she was speechless. She had often wondered what her first kiss would be like, but nothing had prepared her for the intensity and intimacy of such a moment. Gently, the Viscount drew a finger down her cheek and tucked his other arm firmly about her waist, drawing her in.

"Violet, dearest Violet … I do not think I can wait a month to make you mine."

She was feeling so many emotions that she did not know how to form a coherent sentence. In the end, the statement that came out was utterly nonsensical.

"But I don't even know your name, Viscount!"

He burst out laughing. His eyes were very warm as he replied, "Edmund. Viscount Edmund Anthony Henry Bridgerton of Aubrey Hall at your service, Miss Clympton."

Suddenly light-hearted, Violet joined in his laughter and threw her arms around him. "Then I accept Viscount Edmund Anthony Henry Bridgerton of Aubrey Hall!" He in turn bodily picked her up and swung her round, kissing her firmly and very warmly upon the mouth.

It would have no doubt gone on for a long time had they then not been brought very quickly back to earth by a clearing throat and broken off laugh,

"Well, not quite how I expected to meet your lady love but let me be the first to congratulate you upon your engagement, brother."

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Dun Dun DUN!

Sorry, couldn't resist! Thank you SO much for all the kind comments and follows of the story. Thank you for the review Laria262, I am so glad you're enjoying it. I am also really enjoying writing these characters.

Sadly, I have to return to work full time tomorrow (sob) but I will be aiming for bi-weekly updates (if not at least weekly).

For now, thank you to everyone who reads! I can't tell you what they mean to me!

Breeze.