Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 150 - Hundred And Fifty

Ines stood on the landing, her hand resting lightly on the banister.

She was wearing a gown of deep, shimmering silver. The fabric was heavy silk that flowed around her like liquid metal. The bodice was cut low, showing off her creamy skin, and the sleeves were sheer lace.

Her hair was piled high in an intricate arrangement of curls, woven with silver ribbons and small diamonds that caught the candlelight.

But it was her face that held Rowan’s attention.

She looked calm. She looked regal. She looked like a woman who was confident about winning.

"I’m sorry, brother," Ines said. Her voice was calm and musical, drifting down the stairs. "My hair wasn’t responsive. It decided to have a mind of its own tonight."

She began to descend. Step. Step. Step.

"But Edith has taken care of it," she added, reaching the bottom.

She held her mask in her hand. It was silver, matching her dress, adorned with white feathers that fanned out like the wings of a dove.

Rowan stared at her. He felt a sudden lump in his throat. His little sister had grown up. She wasn’t just pretty; she was formidable.

"You look..." Rowan started, then cleared his throat. "You look like you are going to conquer London, Ines."

Ines smiled. It was a small, secret smile. "Perhaps just a small part of it."

She reached the foot of the stairs. She didn’t wait for him to offer his arm. She took his hand, her gloved fingers squeezing his rough palm.

"Let us go," Ines said. "We cannot keep the Queen waiting."

Rowan nodded. He placed his mask over his eyes, tying the ribbons behind his head.

They walked out into the cool night air. The carriage was waiting. Rowan helped Ines inside, arranging her silver skirts carefully before climbing in opposite her.

The carriage ride was quiet. Rowan drummed his fingers on his knee, his energy nervous and buzzing.

"The Queen will be there," Rowan said, breaking the silence. "Uncle Silas said she is in a foul mood because the King is unwell. We must be careful, Ines. Bow low. Don’t speak unless spoken to."

Ines looked out the window at the passing gas lamps. "I know the rules, Rowan."

"And Priscilla," Rowan added, frowning. "I heard she has been saying odd things. If she bothers you tonight..."

"She won’t bother me," Ines said. She turned to look at him, her eyes flashing behind the silver mask she had just put on. "Tonight, Priscilla and I are going to finish our conversation."

Rowan looked confused, but before he could ask what she meant, the carriage slowed to a halt.

They had arrived.

The Masquerade Ball was being held at the Royal Opera House, transformed for the night into a glittering palace of secrets. The sound of music—a full orchestra—spilled out into the street.

Ines and Rowan stepped down. They joined the stream of masked guests flowing up the grand staircase. It was a sea of colors—reds, blues, golds, and blacks. Everyone was hiding, yet everyone was watching.

They entered the ballroom.

It was breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers hung from the painted ceiling like frozen waterfalls. The floor was packed with dancers spinning in time to a waltz. The air smelled of expensive perfume, champagne, and anticipation.

And there, at the far end of the room, on a raised dais, sat the Queen.

The Queen was seated on a velvet chair that looked like a throne. She was wearing a gown of gold brocade that was so wide it took up half the dais. Her wig was enormous, towering over her head, filled with pearls and ostrich feathers.

She held a fan in her hand. She was looking over the guests on the dance floor with a critical eye. Her fan fluttered—snap, snap, snap—like the heartbeat of the room. She was smiling, but it was the smile of a predator watching a herd of deer. She was bored, and she was waiting for entertainment.

"She looks terrifying," Rowan whispered out of the side of his mouth.

"She looks powerful," Ines corrected.

They stepped onto the main floor.

Immediately, a group of loud, boisterous men descended on them.

"Hamilton!" one of them shouted. "You finally made it!"

It was Viscount Weston and a few of Rowan’s hunting companions. They were all wearing masks, but their voices were unmistakable.

"We need you to settle a bet," another man said, grabbing Rowan’s arm. "Westin says his horse can beat yours in a sprint. We are putting money on it."

"My horse?" Rowan’s ears perked up. His distraction was instant. "My horse is the fastest in Surrey!"

"Rowan," Ines said softly, trying to hold onto his arm.

But the crowd of men was like a tide. They surged around him, clapping him on the back, hoisting him away toward the card room where the wine was flowing.

"I will be right back, Ines!" Rowan called over his shoulder as he was dragged away. "Stay here! Don’t move!"

Ines stood alone in the middle of the ballroom.

She took a deep breath. Find Carcel. She told herself.

She scanned the room. She looked for the tall, dark figure of the Duke. She looked for his midnight blue coat. She looked for the man who had promised to be her partner in this game.

She turned in a slow circle.

She saw a man in a red mask flirting with a shepherdess. She saw a woman in green laughing too loudly.

Then, the crowd parted. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Ines stopped.

She didn’t find Carcel.

She found someone who looked like Priscilla.

Priscilla was standing near a marble pillar, just below the Queen’s dais. She was not dancing. She was waiting.

She was wearing a gown of deep violet silk that clashed violently with the gold of the Queen’s chair behind her. Her mask was black, covered in glittering sequins that looked like sharp teeth.

In her hands, she held something.

It wasn’t a fan. It wasn’t a glass of champagne.

It was a black, leather-bound book.

Priscilla was stroking the cover of the book with a gloved finger. She was looking out at the crowd, her eyes scanning the faces.

When her eyes landed on Ines, she stopped.

Even behind the mask, Ines could see the smile spread across Priscilla’s face. It was a wicked, triumphant smile. Priscilla raised the book slightly, a silent toast to Ines across the room.

I have it, the gesture said. I have your secret. And I am about to destroy you.

Ines felt a cold chill run down her spine. The trap was set. The bait had been taken. Priscilla was holding the decoy, convinced it was the weapon that would ruin Ines.

But as Ines looked at the black book, and then up at the Queen sitting just a few feet above Priscilla, she realized just how dangerous this game had become.

Priscilla began to move. She stepped away from the pillar. She began to walk toward the center of the room, toward the space directly in front of the Queen.

She was going to do it. She was going to do it now.

Ines looked around frantically. Where was Carcel? He needed to be here. They needed to spring the trap together.

Priscilla stopped in the center of the floor. She raised her hand.

"Your Majesty!" Priscilla’s voice rang out, shrill and piercing, cutting through the music.

The orchestra stopped playing. The dancers froze. The Queen’s fan stopped fluttering.

Ines stood alone in the silence, watching her enemy prepare to speak, and prayed that Carcel was watching from the shadows.