These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel

“Miss Wyndham,” she said before stiffly lowering herself into an uncomfortably close seat, only a low tea table separating us. She took a sip from her wineglass and twisted her mouth sourly. “Absent all day again.”

“I’m so terribly sorry,” I said with such remorse, one would have thought I burned down a schoolhouse full of sick children. “I did not mean to return so late. I was at the Cages’ in the afternoon, and they insisted I stay longer, and I was such a poor judge of time. Between listening to Eliza play the pianoforte and hearing John tell stories of his travels, I completely lost track of the evening! Oh heavens, I feel so very awful for not being here. Is Laura cross with me?”

“Did you say the Cages?” Lady Kent asked, leaning forward with a piercing look.

“Oh, they are lovely—dear old friends from Melchester,” I said, praying I wasn’t describing real people. “It’s a rare occurrence to find them in town, so I do hope to get the chance to introduce you if there is to be a party.”

“I don’t believe I know of them,” Lady Kent said, folding her hands on her lap. “Chiefly because I don’t believe they exist.”

I barely knew how to respond to that. “I . . . uh, I’m sorry, did—”

“This morning,” she continued, her words stampeding over mine, “I heard some distressing news about your recent . . . activities at the Argyll Rooms.”

Hang it. Sebastian and Mr. Kent had warned me. My mind cycled through hundreds of potential excuses: I had a twin; another Evelyn Wyndham was attempting to ruin my name; I had mistaken the place for a dressmaker’s shop; I had visited multiple rooms of a church on Argyll Road, which must be the source of all the confusion. Dear God, nothing would work.

“Perhaps their vision—”

“Spare me the excuses and pretenses,” Lady Kent replied with infuriating certainty. “I don’t have the time for a story about another delightful family. I knew it was a mistake to let my daughter near you, but still, I was persuaded to invite you for dinners, even let you stay as a guest, and this is how you repay a kindness? You stay in my home while you visit brothels, travel unaccompanied with unmarried ruffians, and even . . . attend to them privately at their home! I knew you had come for some man, but I hadn’t anticipated even your behavior could be so wanton and disgusting!”

A gust of wind noisily rattled the windows and whistled through the cracks. Bloody hell. How did she know all of it? I stared down at the ugly brown rug, urging my mind to think of something. There was nothing I could say on such short notice, except the truth. I prayed that Lady Kent could remain discreet for once.

“My sister has been kidnapped,” I confessed. “I came to London to try to find her. We’ve avoided telling—”

“After countless lies, you try to feed me another?”

“It’s the truth. Laura will tell you.”

“Laura can barely tell her life apart from a novel.” Lady Kent raised her head authoritatively. “Now, was this, as you say, ‘kidnapping’ before or after your sister started working at the brothel, as well?”

“That wasn’t her—”

“You admit it, then. You visited the vile place.”

“It was a dancing room, and I know it may look indecent, but I had no other choice. Everything I did was to find my sister,” I replied, wincing at how bad it really did sound.

A terrible silence fell upon the room. Lady Kent shifted her gaze to the window as she gathered her thoughts. The firelight flickered across her face, and it seemed to soften, relax.

But then she spoke: “You will pack up your belongings and leave immediately. We can no longer have you as our guest.”

I waited for the clacking laugh. It was a horrible, ill-spirited joke, surely. But no amusement broke through those cracked lips. She wanted to throw me out in the middle of the night because the truth was too unbelievable? I hadn’t even mentioned the powers.

“You—you must believe me,” I pleaded. “I need to find Rose.”

“That should be quite easy if you get your story straight. She’s with your aunt and uncle or at this brothel. A number of people have identified her without a doubt,” Lady Kent spat out.

“I wish that was my sister, but it was someone acting in her stead. I have no idea where she is! That is why I need your help,” I pleaded, rising to my feet in desperation before plopping back down in the chair in the same movement, so I wouldn’t seem threatening.

She grimaced and rubbed hard at her knees. “You’ve involved us in your disgusting scandal, and you have the nerve to ask for help? All of London is already talking about it—heaven knows how much damage you’ve caused to Laura’s marriage prospects by staying in this house. The sooner you leave, the sooner this can be undone.”

“It would be just as easy for you to explain the truth—”

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