“Perfect,” he said, studying the effect. “Now I have taught you the dances I know. Let us hope they have not changed too much. You will need to dance with other partners, of course, but we will pretend to be a devoted married couple just for this evening.”

That somehow was all that was needed to fuel Alice’s already blazing happiness.

“Come!” he said, holding out his hand. “It is time to go.”

Timidly Alice put her hand on his arm. He led her straight toward the paneled wall.

“I can’t go that way,” giggled Alice. “I’m not a ghost!”

“If I can take plates of food through walls,” he said severely, “then I can most certainly take you.”

To Alice, all things were possible that evening and she trustingly allowed him to lead her.

She seemed to melt through the walls as if they were water and then found herself floating gently downward through the building.

“Now,” he said, coming to a stop in a small anteroom. On the other side of the door, Alice could hear the strains of a waltz.

He drew a black velvet mask from his pocket and handed her a blue silk one. When they were masked, he took her firmly by the hand. He opened the door.

Lights from hundreds of candles blazed down on them and on the jewels and silks and satins of the guests.

Alice, Comtesse de la Valle-Chenevix had arrived in society.

Chapter 3

It was as well the ghostly Duke did not immediately lead his partner into the dance. For Alice had begun to shake with fear. Her eyes darted from one liveried servant to the other, fearing recognition.

The Duke felt her hand trembling in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “We are masked, you know,” he said, reading her thoughts. “And were we not, no one would recognize my lady as Alice, the scullery maid. You are a beautiful woman. Come! Look at me and smile. Where are those stars that were in your eyes a bare moment ago?”

He gazed down into her wide eyes, his own warm and reassuring, and Alice felt all her elation and courage flooding back.

“Ah, we have a country dance. That we can do,” he said, leading her forward. Unreality took over. Nothing was alive to her but the pressure of this dead man’s hand in her own.

The Duke found that he was the one who was nervous as the opening chord struck up. But Alice danced lightly, performing her steps with grace. He was proud of her. Really proud. Through the slits of his mask, he took in the admiring glances cast in Alice’s direction. Tomorrow, he would take her to London. And soon he would be free to… To do what?