Fragile Mask by Elizabeth Bailey Read Free Book Online Page B

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fell across her white breast. A fairy princess, truly.
    Staring in wonder, Denzell became aware of a sense of
hushed expectancy pervading the room. It held a moment, and then
broke, as every male in the place seemed to converge upon Miss
Verena Chaceley.
    Denzell did not move. With difficulty, he brought his gaze
to bear upon the woman standing by Verena’s side. The resemblance
was plain, although the mother—there could be no doubt of her
identity—was but a pale echo of the daughter, a waif-like creature
in violet silk. She was of slighter stature, seeming so frail that
she might break.
    Before the various gentlemen could reach her, he watched
Verena turn to her mother, solicitously drawing her towards a chair
by the fire. Then she was engulfed and he could no longer see her
plainly.
    ‘ Well?’ came Osmond’s probing voice at his side. ‘What are
you doing standing there? You will never make any headway if you do
not thrust your way into the melée.’
    ‘ What, and make one of a crowd?’ said Denzell with scorn,
turning his head. ‘You know me better than that.’
    Both gentlemen were suitably attired for the occasion,
Osmond in his favourite purple, while Denzell once again sported
the claret suit with its black-silk accoutrements.
    Osmond had his attention on the area by the fire where the
portly Mr Cumberland and the wheezing Mr Yorke were vying with a
number of other gentlemen who tried, regardless of the proprieties
of rank or station, to be first with Miss Chaceley. It was Sir
John, Denzell saw, who succeeded in procuring her smile, however,
for he was so adroit as to set the chosen chair for Mrs Peverill,
thus evidently earning the beauty’s gratitude. The little circle
widened as Miss Chaceley herself took a seat, enabling Denzell to
watch her as she turned, from one to another gentleman in turn, to
answer whatever sallies they might be making.
    ‘ I cannot see that she favours any one above another,’ he
observed in a pleased tone.
    ‘ Told you so. She always metes out exactly the same
treatment to all—just as she did to you.’
    ‘ For pity’s sake, what is she made of, ice? Or is she just
soulless?’
    Osmond grinned at him. ‘Love dying already, eh?’
    Denzell shook his head. ‘Growing, Ossie. I tell
you, I am intrigued past any bearing. I swear to you, she was so
vital, so alive . This is—well, I don’t know what this
is, but I can see that it is apt to drive me
insane.’
    ‘ You’re piqued, Hawk, that’s all. Too used to having your
own way in these matters, and you can’t abide to lose.’
    Denzell looked round at him. ‘Is it that? Did I imagine it
then?’
    Osmond raised his brows. ‘Taking this a mite seriously,
ain’t you, Hawk?’
    ‘ Am I?’
    ‘ Come on, man. What is it to you, barring a trifle of fun
and gig? You’re as bad as Unice, laying some fanciful notion of
your own on the girl’s head. Face it. She’s a handsome piece, but
cold. That’s all there is to it.’
    ‘ No, it isn’t,’ said Denzell with decision. ‘I know what I
saw. She’s acting—wearing some kind of public mask. Only look at
her. How could any female remain indifferent, being so feted and
fawned over? It’s unheard of.’
    ‘ It don’t sit well, I must admit,’ mused Osmond. ‘What do
you mean to do, then, if you won’t join the throng?’
    Denzell grinned. ‘Draw her attention, of
course.’
    ‘ Ha! Playing that game, eh? A bow and a smile, and not a
word said, in the hopes you’ll pique her vanity. It won’t
work.’
    ‘ You’ve tried it, of course,’ returned Denzell on a
sarcastic note.
    ‘ No, but I’ve seen you at it. I know you, Hawk. But I’m
telling you. This time it won’t work.’
    Denzell remained unconvinced. If he was right, if Verena
Chaceley was presenting a façade to the world, then it was
incumbent upon him to find a chink in her armour.
    He bided his time, waiting until the crowd about her
thinned a little, giving meanwhile his attention to