Chapter 1
Spring, 1877
Bowen, Queensland, Australia
Isobel Porter stepped inside the dancehall, her eyes widening as her gaze shifted to the brightly lit, golden chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling. She’d never seen anything so large or ornate before. Dragging her gaze to the rest of her surroundings, she notices two large, gilded statues standing in the corners of the room, and flowers of every colour sat perfectly in embellished vases purposefully placed against every wall. As she ventured further inside, laughter and chatter filling the room, her thoughts shifted to the costume she was wearing and her knees began to tremble, her hand tightening on her companion’s arm.
“Are you sure I can be dressed like this?”
“I thought we settled this before we left the house,” her aunt, Alice Wagstaff, laughed heartily, patting the back of Isobel’s hand. “Look around. There isn’t one person here who is in any position to criticise you for what you’re wearing.”
Isobel rested her hand on her stomach and let out a shaky sigh. She trusted her aunt, but she couldn’t ignore the nervous gnawing in her stomach. This was the first costume ball she’d ever been to, and she had no idea what to expect or what was required of her.
Being guided further into the hall by her aunt, Isobel looked around at the people she passed. Women were dressed as birds and butterflies; men donning soldier uniforms and king’s robes. Despite their vast differences, each guest shared one single similarity in their costume – they all wore masks. Some people’s whole face was covered. There were those whose eyes were the only feature disguised. No matter the choice of the mask though, the identity of each guest here tonight remained hidden...including herself. Lifting her hand, she pressed her mask against her face. She didn’t usually play such games of deception, but it was probably for the best given the outfit she’d chosen to wear tonight.
“Now do you believe me about your trousers?” her aunt asked. “You’re but one of many women wearing them tonight.”
Just then, a woman in knee-length britches passed her and her trepidation began to ease.
“Besides, it was you who wanted to come dressed as a Renaissance buccaneer,” Alice reminded her.
And she had. Isobel had barely been able to contain her excitement when her aunt helped her fasten the corset under her bosom, giving shape to the oversized cotton pirate shirt she was wearing this afternoon. She certainly enjoyed the freedom of wearing the black pants that went with the costume. Only when they arrived tonight and she bent to adjust the frilly bands hemming her trousers just below her knees, did Isobel fully comprehend the gossip she was inviting by wearing such an outfit in public.
“If my mother learns I’ve been here...learns how I’m dressed...”
“She won’t,” her aunt assured her.
Realising how revealing the off-the-shoulder drawstring neckline was, Isobel pulled at the fabric, trying to lift it closer to her shoulders.
“Will you stop fidgeting,” her aunt scolded her, slapping her hand away and allowing the fabric to fall back off her shoulder. “Your costume is fine.”
“What if someone recognizes me and tells Mother how I’m dressed?” Isobel asked. “You know what she’s like and the fuss she’ll make. I’ll be ordered back home and shackled to a husband as quick as I can blink.”
“Florence will never learn about the events of tonight,” her aunt assured her, patting Isobel’s hand affectionately. “But if any news should make it back to my brother and his darling wife, I’m happy to take the blame. I’ll tell them there was a business meeting that couldn’t be avoided and I took you with me so you might learn something useful about sales.”
Isobel giggled at her aunt’s explanation. “My mother won’t believe that.”
“Now, dear, I can be very convincing when I have to be,” the older woman teased. “After all, I convinced Florence I needed your help on the station so you could stay with me whenever you needed to.”
“For which I’m eternally grateful. I don’t enjoy town life. I do enjoy working on the station with you though, and learning about the business.” Isobel thought for a moment. “Though, I might enjoy spending this evening not caring about sales.”
“Then you’re in luck,” her aunt told her. “For you, tonight is all about meeting new friends and having some fun.”
“But how can I meet anyone properly when they won’t be able to see who I am behind this mask?” Isobel asked.
“Everyone will be acquainted with each other in a couple of hours when the clock strikes midnight,” her aunt explained. “Until then, it’s one of the few times we can be ourselves and forget about rules and restrictions. And with that mask covering half your face, you’ll be able to say what you want to whoever you wish whilst you dance the night away.”
Isobel’s brow furrowed. “What happens at midnight?”
“Everyone’s mask comes off and we go back to the restrictions we were all raised to abide by,” her aunt said.
Isobel looked out over the crowd of dancers. “There are so many beautiful women here, what if no one wants to dance with me.”
“Nonsense,” her aunt scolded her. “I’ll walk you around the dancefloor and it won’t take long before you’ll be fighting off the offers from every gent here.”
Isobel doubted that would be the case. Besides, despite her love of dancing, the idea of being forced to tolerate the practised flattery of a man didn’t appeal. Just for once, she wanted something more than rehearsed words and the same affable gestures being bestowed on every other woman in the hall tonight. She wanted something more personal, and honest, and akin to the interaction one would find with a dear friend.
Suddenly, Isobel stopped. “I hope you haven’t brought me here with the prospect of finding me a suitor?”
“Heaven’s no,” her aunt assured her. “Some chap who was interested in buying our cattle asked me to come here and I thought you might enjoy the experience.”
“I thought you said tonight was about having fun.”
“And for you, it shall be.” Alice patted her hand. “Now, don’t look so disappointed. I’m not going to be haggling over prices or signing contracts. I’m just using some good old-fashioned female enticement to try and secure a buyer.”
Isobel raised a questioning brow, studying her aunt as she adjusted her gown slightly, the low neckline emphasizing her ample bosom. “You’re going to flirt your way into a business deal?”
Her aunt laughed. “Yes, I am. Degrading though it might be, sometimes a pretty dress and a few sweet words around a dancefloor is the most effective strategy to ensure a profit. And while I’m busy, you, my dear, are free to sample a slice of freedom and revelry every young woman should experience at least once.”
Isobel allowed herself to be pulled along by her aunt, her eyes scanning the crowd of masks and costumes. Would anyone here want to talk to her about something other than cattle sales and arranged marriages? If there was such a man here, would he be content with her companionship and conversation, or would he expect more than she was willing to give him? Her brow furrowed. Isobel wasn’t ignorant of the physical relationships that existed between men and women, but she was yet to meet a man who could stir any such desires in her.
Studying the men moving past her, drinks in their hands, Isobel began to wonder if any of them would be capable of igniting a fire deep inside her like the ones she’d read about. Few gave her a second glance. Those who did, eyed her up and down before returning to their business. The slight sinking feeling growing inside her was a reminder of how foolish it was to expect any more of a reaction. After all, she was a virtual stranger in this town, even more so tonight in this sea of masks. No one was going to look at her with any form of kindness – would they?
Recalling the freedoms her aunt mentioned could be found at such functions, a slight hope filled her. The myriad of people gathered here tonight could never know just who was hiding behind all these masks. For all anyone knew, the poor could be dancing with the rich, enemies could be held in each other’s arms, and lovers still searching for each other. A smile crept across her lips as she finally understood the liberty such a night allowed. No one would be familiar with the lives forced upon each other. Everyone had to judge those they met at face value, hoping whatever stories were shared tonight held at least an ounce of truth.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Isobel heard her aunt say. Curious who she was talking to, her gaze turned toward the masculine figure taking a step back from the older woman, straightening his simple black mask.
“It’s me who must apologise, madam,” the man said, his hands brushing over his tattered, black vest to straighten the fabric. “I was so intent on trying to find a way out of here that I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“You’re leaving so soon?” Isobel glanced at his simple costume so like a chimney sweep from a Dickens novel. “Surely something, or someone, can keep you here to enjoy this revelry until midnight when the masks are lifted.”
He eyed her intently. “Sadly, no and I’ve been here over an hour. However, I’ve encountered several women dressed as Marie Antoinette who desperately tried to coerce me into agreeing to an engagement. There were also a couple of men dressed as Julius Caesar who tried to convince me I’ll make a profit from a product I’ve never heard of.”
Isobel giggled at his exasperated expression. “Even if the business propositions didn’t interest you, I would have assumed the attentions of the women here would convince you to stay a little longer.”
“Regretfully, the prospect of being trapped in a no-win situation doesn’t inspire me to linger any longer than I already have.”
“I didn’t think business would be the concern of anyone this evening,” Isobel remarked, noticing his hypnotically green eyes. “After all, what with these masks we’re all wearing, how would anyone be aware of who they’re trying to snare?”
His gaze narrowed. “I doubted the women I spoke to cared as much about my identity as they did about what benefits they thought I could give them.”
“Yet they cared enough to want to try?” Isobel asked, her gaze shifting up and over his short, light brown hair. “I thought these costumes and face coverings allowed us to...um...what did you say, aunt?”
“A certain amount of freedom,” the older woman mentioned.
“That’s it,” Isobel said. “For tonight we’re allowed to be anyone we want, abandoning the usual rules and restrictions forced upon us. I would have assumed everyone here would embrace this slice of freedom and forgo any care for arranging business contracts.”
“Some men use every opportunity to make a profit though,” the man remarked.
“I was also talking about the women who propositioned you.”
His hands went to his hips. “Are you claiming the engagements I was being offered are akin to the business propositions being presented to me by the men?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she exclaimed, having thought she’d been perfectly clear. “Surely you can appreciate the resemblance between how both matters are handled? They are both contracts made for profit.”
He raised a curious brow. “You sound as if you don’t approve.”
“I don’t,” Isobel replied. “Of all the things that can be bought with money, one’s heart and passion shouldn’t be one of them, especially on a night such as this. I mean, look around us. People are mingling without condemnation or prejudice. Princes have a chance to fall in love with paupers, and enemies have a chance to be friends.”
Her aunt giggled. “You will have to excuse my niece, sir. She’s never been to a masquerade party before so she’s in awe of the antics I mentioned can happen at such gatherings.”
“I can’t believe you’ve never been to one of these balls before,” he uttered.
“My parents don’t usually attend functions such as these,” Isobel explained.
“Then it is fortunate your aunt does.” A slight smile spread across his lips as he held his hand out to her. “Would you dance with me?”
“What?”
“You should get to experience some of the fun allowed at such a ball. I’m not claiming to be the best dancer, but I’d be more than happy to be your partner until someone better comes along.” He turned to her aunt, somewhat unsure of himself. “With your permission, of course.”
“I thought you said there was nothing worth staying here for,” Isobel said.
He turned back to her and smiled. “It seems I was wrong.”
Her aunt patted her hand. “Go and enjoy yourself, my dear. I’ll meet up with you a little later on.”
As the older woman pulled away from her, her short, plump figure walking away through the crowd, Isobel’s stomach quivered. Wasn’t her aunt supposed to watch her like a hawk – as her mother did – ensuring nothing untoward happened whilst she was in the company of this man? Losing complete sight of her aunt, her knees trembled and she realised she’d been left to her own devices for the first time in her adult life. Isobel had been given the freedom to entertain this man if she wanted and for as long as she wished.
Her gaze drifted back to the man standing barely a foot away from her, his hand held out to her, his green gaze studying her. What if he was a complete bore? Or perhaps he thought her risqué costume meant she welcomed any attention a man was willing to lavish on her? Studying his tall, thin build, Isobel wondered what would happen if she enjoyed his company so much she wanted to share more than a single dance with him?
“Of course, I’ll understand if you’d rather spend the rest of your night with another,” he uttered, doubt filling his face, his hand slowly lowering.
