The Lord of the Highwaymen - Elizabeth Bramwell Page 0,3

his leather-clad hand.

“I hate all of you,” he sighed. “You’re a bunch of drunken wastrels, and I have no idea why we are friends.”

Dook put a comforting arm about his shoulder.

“You’re too good for us, William. You’re an angel who spends his time with the devils! Look, you be Abershawe, I’ll be Turpin, Conway can be Duval, and Killarney can be Flemming on the condition that he teaches us this song of his. Agreed?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Come on,” said Dook, tugging him gently on the arm, “let’s head inside and see if we can locate Amelia Fellowes. My sister wasn’t able to find out what her costume is, but it shouldn’t be too hard for us to work it out between us. She’s chaperoning Lydia Willow, so we should be able to spot them.”

Conway gave a contemptuous snort. “Amelia isn’t even three years older than Lydia. It’s ridiculous that she can play chaperone to such a high-spirited girl just because she married out of the schoolroom. Lydia needs a stronger hand.”

“This isn’t about you or Miss Willow,” Killarney said to the earl rather sharply.

Conway glanced down at his feet. He muttered something that may have been an apology but was just as likely to have been a curse.

Dook rolled his eyes before drawing William forward along the street at his side. “Ignore him, he’s still smarting over Lydia’s rejection.”

William felt his heart sinking again. “God help me, Dook. If Conway can’t charm a bluestocking like Lydia Willow off the shelf and down the aisle, then what chance does a prosy, old bore like me have with a diamond like Amy?”

“The situations are completely different,” the duke told him with an authoritative air. “Trust me, old friend, before the night is out, you will have finally told the pretty widow that you love her, and your marriage will be conducted before the Season is out!”

William doubted this very much, but he did not want to destroy the relative peace that had fallen between the group, and so said nothing.

That was the problem with childhood friends, he thought as they joined the long line of guests waiting to be admitted to the Melbourne House. As much as they had one’s best interests at heart, they were ruthless when it came to scheming. Ever since Lord Fellowes had died eighteen months earlier, William had been subjected to plan after idea after strategy on how he could win the girl he’d loved since his days at Eton.

Luckily, most of the plans were so impossible that his friends had given up on them before they’d even started. The one involving Miss Carter’s tiger had come the closest to fruition, only for Killarney to scotch it on account of not wanting to spend a moment longer with his betrothed than absolutely necessary. Still, they’d been enthusiastic about Smith’s idea for him to dress as Jerry Abershawe as a way for William to control his nerves. He’d just never expected they would all decide to wear the same costume.

As he’d predicted, the Melbournes’ ball was indeed a sad crush. It took far longer than usual to even reach the doors to the mansion, let alone make their way down the receiving line to the hostess.

“Four more gentlemen of the road!” Lady Melbourne exclaimed with evident delight as she greeted them. “I am sure I know who all four of you are, but I will not betray your identities before the unmasking, I promise! Your fifth has already arrived, although I have no idea how you will find him in these crowds of people.”

William glanced at his friends.

“Louis,” they said in unison and went on the hunt for their friend.

The Melbournes’ ballroom was a whirl of color and glittering jewels. Wax candles blazed in the chandeliers and candelabras, the light reflecting from the mirrors and from the exquisite detailing on the thousands of costumes before them. Harlequins, ladies’ maids, a sailor, three vestal virgins, a gentleman dressed in a half-beau-half-belle costume, several Turks, Indians, and even a Persian whose false beard looked to be made from cat hair, were among the hundreds of guests. The four of them, dressed as they were, caused a stir among the crowd—especially with the ladies, many of whom seemed intent on discovering whether it was true that the gentlemen of the road would steal kisses instead of payment. It took several painful minutes for them to extract Conway from the clutches of an over-painted but surprisingly strong shepherdess. In contrast, Killarney