Alright, lets see if I could keep this for more then three chapters.
It is terribly hard to be pleasant in a corset. It is terribly hard to do anything in a corset, damned things, with pinching laces, and restricting breath. I would rather not wear one, rather not have to dance with society’s favorite bachelors, rather not have to marry before I turn nineteen. No. There are much better things I could be doing with my time, but, instead, I simply must attend our family’s yearly masquerade.
My gown is red and black, falling to my feet. My mask is wicked and black, catlike and accented with feathers. Bangle bracelets encase my wrists, and it’s obvious, next to the girls who have come as smaller, prettier versions of themselves, I’ve dressed up as a gypsy. I’m dancing with Noah Taylor, who is too charming to distract from his looks. I’m eye level with his moist lips and bulging chin, which is covered by a horrific red and white mask. He’s only wearing a black suit with white shirtsleeves. Not much of a costume.
“Miss?” he lisps when he talks, and that simple word has my nose covered in spit. I want the waltz we are dancing to finish, so I can return to my friend Sophia, who is dressed as an angel to dispel any unpleasant rumors.
“Yes, sir?” I ask, letting my voice grow dark and husky, implying something I’d never do with him. I almost never talk to my partner as I dance, it ruins the air of rebellion I work so hard to achieve. I dance because I have to. Noah doesn’t say anything else, and as the waltz ends, his sweaty hands drop mine, and I turn on my heel and head off to where Sophia is sitting, on a leather couch just on the edge of the dance floor. She clutches to champagne flutes, and I take one, taking a ladylike sip. Her dark hair is pulled so only wisps touch her oval face, her gray eyes staring up at me.
“That was terrible.” I say. Sophia covers her mouth with a hand, hiding a laugh. I eye her, making sure she knows I’m not happy with her pleasure in my torture.
“What do you plan to do now?” Sophia asks, sipping from her flute. Her little mouth twists into a small smile.
“I plan to sit down for the rest of the night. I have danced one dance, I believe that is enough.” I say, crossing my ankles under my skirt. I know that won’t happen. Within five minutes, my mother will be back with a new suitor, and I’ll dance another dance.
Beside me, Sophia sits forward eagerly. Her gray eyes lock forward to a couple on the dance floor.
“Look at Jane.” She whispered, “did she want to come as a harlot, or a slut?” Jane Westmore is only wearing a corset and petticoat, her sandy blonde hair tickling her shoulders. She’s dancing with Tomas Jones, of the Jones family. He possesses the looks, the charm, and the thing that makes girls nuts.
“Maybe just a slut.” I say, “but she seems to get the attention every other girl wants.” Sophia exhales and sits back.
“Of course.” She says, “she gets it in other ways too.” Sophia winks at me and I giggle, knowing exactly what she means.
“Miss Catherine Tucker?” he asks, coming up to our chaise. I look up, widening my eyes underneath my mask.
He’s tall, just taller than my unladylike height. His dark hair is pushed back from his face, half of which is covered by a plain white mask. He’s a pretty boy with a self-assured smirk.
I’m intrigued.
“Yes?” I ask, extending a hand so he could help me up, “I’m not sure we’ve had the plesure of meeting, Mr?”
“Nathan Keller, Miss.” He said, “come, why don’t we talk?” I smiled, a flirtatious smile and allowed him to lead me away from the ballroom, with Sophia staring at us. I know she’d cover for me if my mother wants to find me.
He leads me outside, to the cool, October air. I cross my arms, trying to hide the fact that I will be shivering in five minutes. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it.
“Miss Tucker, have you heard of Smoke and Mirror?” he asks slowly. I raise my mask over my forehead, and stare at him.
“Of course not.” Nathan Keller continues, “you are a lady, and a lady doesn’t dabble in such things.”
“You never know.” I say. “Just because I’m a young lady of society doesn’t mean I close off all my options.” Nathan removes his mask, and takes a step toward me.
“Smoke and Mirror is a highly elite group of trained…artists.” Nathan said, “We’ve been watching you, Miss Tucker.”
“Call me Cat.” I say, “what type artists?” Nathan laughed, raising his dark eyebrows.
“Assassins.” He whispers, letting his voice drop. I take a step back, not sure I’m liking this conversation, “scared, Cat?”
I shake my head.
“No.” I say, “no, I’m not.” Nathan raises his eyebrows.
“Smoke and Mirror needs a female to complete a task. After watching six young women in London’s circles, we have decided that girl is you.” I smile, tilting my head to the side.
“I’m flattered.” I said dryly.
“This is serious.” Nathan said, “there is a certain prince that needs to be taken care of.” I raised my eyebrows.
“You don’t want me too…?” I ask. Nathan pulls out a dagger. I’m not sure where he hid that, or if he had any more on him.
“With this knife.” Nathan says, “if you do this, you’ll be paid handsomely, though you don’t need it.” Kill a prince. Kill a prince. The thought turns over in my head. I can’t believe it. This must be a dream.
“If I don’t?” I ask, my voice dropping to a whisper. My heart is racing. I hope he wouldn’t say that I’d have to die, or that there ‘will be serious consequences’.
“We’ll have a magician erase your memory, and you’ll never have heard of Smoke and Mirror. You’ll never see me again.” Nathan said, “which you don’t want.”
“Cocky.” I say, putting a hand on a hip. I raised my eyebrows, trying to make it seem like I wasn’t scared, though my heart was fluttering, and my hands were shaking. I was very scared.
“Do you accept?” Nathan asks.
“I do.” I say, my heart racing. My sweaty fingers clutch the cold, foreign knife. With that, Nathan, reenters my house. I try to follow him, but he moves fast, disappearing before my eyes.
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