Chapter 5: Beneath the Mask
The carriage rattled along the cobblestone streets as Celia sat in contemplative silence. Across from her, Adrian Blackwell studied her with quiet intensity, his sharp gray eyes missing nothing. It was infuriating, really, how his mere presence filled the space with an air of control she couldn't quite combat.
"You're unusually quiet, Lady Everhart," Adrian finally remarked, breaking the silence. His tone was calm, but there was a trace of amusement in his voice that made her bristle.
"Is that your way of saying you'd prefer me to prattle on endlessly, Lord Blackwell?" she replied coolly, arching an eyebrow.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Not at all. I simply find it curious when someone as outspoken as yourself chooses silence. It usually means you're plotting something."
Celia's lips twitched, but she refused to smile. "Perhaps I'm just enjoying the rare peace and quiet."
Adrian chuckled softly. "Peace and quiet, in the middle of a conspiracy? How quaint."
Her patience was wearing thin, but before she could retort, the carriage came to a stop. They had arrived at the Wexley estate.
---
The Wexley mansion loomed before them, an imposing structure of pale stone and elegant arches. Lanterns cast a golden glow over the manicured gardens, and the faint hum of music drifted from the grand ballroom.
"I hope you're prepared for a night of subtle interrogation," Adrian said as they stepped out of the carriage. "These people are masters of deceit."
Celia adjusted her gloves, her expression unreadable. "I grew up in circles like this, Lord Blackwell. I know how to play the game."
They entered the ballroom together, their arrival drawing curious glances. Celia was acutely aware of the whispers that followed her—remnants of the scandal that had once destroyed her reputation. But she held her head high, refusing to let the weight of their scrutiny crush her.
Adrian, on the other hand, moved through the crowd with ease, his presence commanding attention without effort. Celia couldn't decide whether to be impressed or irritated.
---
Lady Cassandra Wexley was waiting for them near the center of the room, her golden hair gleaming under the chandelier's light. She greeted them with a dazzling smile, though Celia noticed the tension in her eyes.
"Lady Everhart, Lord Blackwell," Cassandra said, her voice as sweet as honey. "What a pleasant surprise. I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight."
"We didn't want to miss such a lovely gathering," Celia replied, matching Cassandra's smile. "Your events are always so… memorable."
Cassandra's smile faltered for the briefest moment before she recovered. "How kind of you to say. I do hope you'll enjoy yourselves."
As Cassandra moved to greet another guest, Adrian leaned in closer to Celia, his voice low. "She's nervous."
Celia nodded. "And she's trying very hard to hide it."
"Let's see if we can give her something to worry about," Adrian said, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
---
Throughout the evening, Celia and Adrian subtly questioned the guests, weaving their inquiries into casual conversations. Most were reluctant to speak about the scandal, but a few offered tantalizing clues—a missing servant here, a whispered accusation there.
It wasn't until they approached Lord Vincent, an elderly noble with a penchant for gossip, that they struck gold.
"Ah, the Wexley banquet," Lord Vincent said, swirling his wine glass thoughtfully. "A dreadful affair. Poor Lady Cassandra—so many rumors, and none of them kind."
"What sort of rumors?" Adrian asked, his tone carefully neutral.
Lord Vincent leaned in conspiratorially. "They say she orchestrated the whole thing herself. A power play, you see. But then it backfired, and she's been scrambling to recover ever since."
Celia frowned. "Do you believe that?"
The old man shrugged. "Who knows? Nobility thrives on scandal, my dear. The truth is often less important than the story."
---
As the night wore on, Celia found herself drawn into a dance with Adrian, much to her annoyance.
"Was this truly necessary?" she asked, trying to maintain her composure as they moved across the floor.
"Completely," Adrian said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "It gives us the perfect opportunity to observe without suspicion."
Celia sighed, but she couldn't deny that he had a point. "Fine. But don't think I'm enjoying this."
"Of course not," he said smoothly, his hand resting lightly on her waist. "Though you hide it well."
Celia glared at him, but her retort was cut short as her gaze fell on Lady Cassandra. She was standing near the edge of the room, speaking in hushed tones with a man Celia didn't recognize. His dark hair and sharp features matched the description of the mysterious footman.
"Adrian," she whispered, her tone urgent.
"I see him," Adrian replied, his grip on her tightening slightly. "Shall we?"
Celia nodded, her heart racing as they left the dance floor and made their way toward Cassandra and the man. But before they could reach them, the man slipped away, disappearing into the crowd.
Cassandra turned, her expression shifting to one of feigned delight. "Lady Everhart, Lord Blackwell. What a lovely surprise. Were you enjoying the dance?"
"Immensely," Celia said, forcing a smile. "Though I couldn't help but notice your conversation with that gentleman. Is he a friend of yours?"
Cassandra's eyes narrowed slightly, but her smile didn't waver. "Oh, just an old acquaintance. Nothing of consequence."
"Really?" Adrian said, his tone deceptively casual. "He seemed rather… intriguing."
Cassandra laughed lightly. "You must forgive me, Lord Blackwell, but I hardly think my acquaintances are of interest to someone of your stature."
Adrian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "On the contrary, Lady Wexley. I find everything about this evening quite fascinating."
---
As they left the ballroom later that night, Celia couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the brink of something significant.
"That man—he's connected to the footman we're looking for, isn't he?" she asked Adrian as they climbed into the carriage.
"Most likely," Adrian said. "But until we know more, we'll have to tread carefully. Cassandra knows we're watching her now."
Celia nodded, determination hardening her resolve. "Then we'll just have to be one step ahead."
Adrian gave her a rare smile, one that was almost approving. "I like the way you think, Lady Everhart."
As the carriage rolled into the night, Celia couldn't help but feel that the game they were playing was only just beginning—and the stakes were higher than she had ever imagined.