These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel

“Nick!” Laura exclaimed, darting across the room to tackle him with a hug. Miss Verinder began smoothing her dress excessively.

“Hello, Kit!” Mr. Kent said with a laugh. He returned the hug and glanced about the room. “Good afternoon, everyone. Ah! Miss Wyndham, you seem to have beaten me here. What is your secret?”

“Taking the earlier train, sir.”

“A radical choice,” he said, nodding profoundly, “yet elegant in its simplicity.”

“That sounds like a code to live by.”

“Yes, though I find the best codes are the ones you die by.”

“Seeing as I am the only one unaware of Miss Wyndham’s visit,” Lady Kent interrupted, “we’ve unfortunately had our tea already. Miss Wyndham, you are hungry, no doubt. Laura, take her to the kitchen and see what they can prepare. Nicholas, please sit.”

She rang a bell, and Tuffins promptly appeared at the door to escort us. As Laura and I left the room, Miss Verinder beamed brightly, as if she’d won some pivotal battle. She turned to her spoils. “Welcome back, Mr. Kent. Did you miss London already? I understand Bramhurst can be a bit . . . slow.”

“Yes, but that makes it the perfect place to settle down,” I heard him say. “Speaking of which, I don’t think I’ve eaten since leaving, myself . . .”

Moments later, he was catching up to us in the dining room.

“Thank you for getting us out,” I whispered to him. “I feared that would never end.”

“The old bat detests being left out of a conversation. Sometimes when she’s summoned me, I’ve resorted to talking to myself so I might be dismissed.”

“Well, if she didn’t dislike me already, she absolutely detests me now.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied. “I could not conceive of a better recommendation of your character.”

In between bites of the blissful chicken and potatoes, we took the risk of explaining the crisis to Laura: the shocking events of Rose’s disappearance, the precursor of the past day, and my plans for the search with Mr. Kent. She behaved as theatrically as I expected, gasping at each revelation, no matter how minor.

When I finished, she gripped my hand and nearly fell to her knees pledging her help to me. “Evelyn, I promise you, I will stand by you both through this. Tomorrow we will all search together, and then there is the Pickfords’ dinner party in the evening! This is far too exciting! I’ve missed having a confidante to whisper to behind fans.”

“Kit, Miss Wyndham is having a difficult time of it, with her sister missing,” Mr. Kent said. “She is not here to have fun.”

“And I cannot afford the time to attend,” I added. “I have to refuse.”

“Nonsense! You mustn’t! Please, Evelyn? Say you will! I beg of you. And besides, you must at least make an appearance. If not, people will start wondering where you and your sister are, and then someone might question your stories. Oooh! This is ever so tricky and secretive!”

Mr. Kent gave me a sympathetic look. “She does have a point.”

I couldn’t help but sigh in defeat. Somewhere in her gaspings, Laura had hit upon the hard truth. I had to keep up the pretense as long as possible. Prove to Lady Kent, to society, that the Wyndham family was still intact and its girls still irreproachable.

Miss Verinder’s nettling comments made it a struggle to be polite, but Mother’s unwelcome voice resounded louder in my head. Our good name was all we had left. Not only did I have to protect Rose but her pristine reputation, as well.

She would need a life to return to when we found her.





“WHAT EXACTLY MIGHT you mean by no?” I asked.

“I mean, miss, that my customers value their privacy and wouldn’t appreciate me sharing it willy-nilly with anyone who comes in off the street.”

“Then you don’t have to share the whole list with me. I’d just like to know if you’ve had any customers since yesterday purchase crushed linseed or linseed oil.”

The druggist shook his head. “No.”

“No? You have not?” I asked.

“No, I can’t tell you,” he replied.

“Please, sir, believe me when I tell you it’s a matter of grave importance.”

“I’m sorry, can’t oblige you, miss.” He crossed his arms to make the decision final.

I stared at the druggist. He stared back. This was his shop. He had nowhere to go. I couldn’t waste the rest of the day trying to wear him down. I looked to the druggist’s two apron-clad assistants. They immediately spun around and pretended to busy themselves with rearranging some shelves.

Hang it all, this wasn’t supposed to be the difficult part! First the doctors from the Medical Society and the Harveian Society barely answered our questions. They all told us that there were too many hopeless cases in London, and they did not have the time to help narrow our search. And now these druggists were guarding valuable Crown secrets? Could no one in this damn city provide a simple piece of information?

With a sigh, I turned to the exit when the bell jangled, and in walked Mr. Kent with Laura behind him.

“Nothing from mine,” he said. “Any exciting information here?”

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