As a general rule,Harrison disliked masquerades. He hated costumes, he hated masks, he hated feeling so unlike himself. But tonight, he did not mind the masquerade.

He had never been able to say that before. Ever.

He had not danced much, more out of respect for his wife’s condition than any real aversion to it, though he had danced with Emblyn, Julia, and Honora. He did not think Adelaide would mind that. It was probably something that she would demand he do, as the host for her splendid masquerade. She was, after all, very particular about impressions and appearances, so all he needed to do was adore her and be polite to everyone else.

He’d managed the politeness fairly enough, given his usual nature and gentlemanly ways. But as for adoring her… well, there were a number of details he had to keep in mind, including not being effusive.

He did have trouble looking anywhere but at her for most of the night, wondering what she would be doing, with whom she would be speaking, if she would risk comment by dancing…

The dinner had been spectacular, both in menu and in conversation, and all the guests he had been around had expressed their delight with every aspect of it. They had provided the Twelfth Night cake, per tradition, and the guests who had found the bean and the pea were thrilled to be named king and queen for the night. Adelaide had produced crowns for each, and there was much applause and celebration over it.

And now, as the evening had faded into morning and many of the guests had left, he began to feel the fatigue of the night, if not the entire holiday season itself.

Gage was just leaving, defying Adelaide’s particular rules and coming as Apollo rather than a creature of myth. But his costume had seemed to delight Adelaide, given the sheer elaborateness of his toga and tunic, complete with laurels about his head. And he had been very attentive to Emblyn and Honora both, each looking lovely as their token impression of nymphs.

More than that, Harrison could not say, as it had not been Gage who had commanded his attention that evening.

Wherever Adelaide went, others followed, either in looks or in motion, and it was astonishing. People, it seemed, simply wanted to be near her or to emulate her, and given her loveliness and warm nature, who could blame them? Harrison wanted to be near her himself and had concocted the most ludicrous excuses to come within her path.

He had only spoken with her a handful of times, once to ask after her welfare, once to inform her that dinner would be ready shortly, once to ask if she felt the child, once to ask her if his cravat was straight, and once to tell her that someone else had dressed as charity, though he could not tell what lady it was.