Tides of deception ✺ Outlander/Stephen Bonnet Fanfic

♤41. The Masquerade 🕷

The masquerade had transformed Stephen's grand estate into a scene of ethereal decadence. Glistening chandeliers cast a warm, amber glow over the ballroom, illuminating the swirl of elegantly dressed guests, each donning elaborate masks that concealed identities yet amplified intrigue. Gowns in deep reds, royal blues, and striking golds danced across the polished floors, each embroidered, bejeweled, and feathered, telling silent stories of wealth and mystery. The room buzzed with the whispers of secrets, clinks of champagne flutes, and the rich notes of a string quartet playing from the corner.

Stephen observed the guests, his gaze sharp, every detail scrutinized even as he moved among them with a practiced charm. His mask, black with silver filigree, left his eyes starkly visible, intense as he surveyed the crowd. Maria, in a dress of soft champagne silk that shimmered with her every movement, wore a mask adorned with delicate pearls, enhancing her elegance and giving her an almost celestial aura. She was quieter than usual, an air of contemplation about her, though her poise remained striking. Declan and Justin, mingling confidently, kept an eye on her as Stephen had instructed, though she appeared preoccupied rather than troubled.

As Stephen worked the room, exchanging pleasantries and gathering whispers, Bernie kept to the periphery, his gaze astute as he subtly analyzed the interactions around him. At one point, he found himself in conversation with a woman dressed in a midnight-blue gown, her laugh quick and her gloved fingers tracing the rim of her glass. He flashed a rare, roguish grin, and she blushed in return, laughing a little too easily, clearly charmed by the usually reserved man. Stephen caught the exchange from the corner of his eye, amused by Bernie's brief lapse in his usual detachment.

Meanwhile, across the room, Lady Hawthorne found herself cornered by Blackbeard, his broad figure cutting an imposing silhouette even as he tried to engage her with an odd mix of charm and blunt humor. She held her glass tightly, her smile strained as her gaze flickered nervously, when Blackbeard spoke of Black Ceasar. The unspoken connections she has lied heavy between them. She knew any association, even indirect, with Blackbeard, or Ceasar could be dangerous, yet she stayed, clearly aware of how perilous it would be to show too much discomfort.

As Stephen returned to the sidelines, a familiar presence appeared beside him: Anita. She was dressed in a gown of deep burgundy, her blonde hair swept back beneath a lavish feathered mask. She offered him a sidelong glance, her lips curving in a coy smile as she took a sip from her glass.

"Quite the event, Stephen," she purred, her gaze sweeping across the guests with a mixture of envy and satisfaction. "You do know how to throw a gathering. But...one wonders if you've heard the latest rumor making its way through the channels."

"Oh?" Stephen replied, feigning casual interest. He kept his expression neutral, only raising a brow as he turned his gaze toward her. "What scandal are we indulging in tonight?"

Anita leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The Duchess of Montmorency has vanished." Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "Gone, without a trace, in the dead of night. They say it's caused quite the stir back in France."

Stephen allowed a flicker of surprise to cross his face, though internally, he was anything but. He knew precisely where the Duchess was, safely in London under the protection of his crew. Yet he chose to let Anita think her gossip was new to him, meeting her gaze with an innocent curiosity.

"Truly? How extraordinary," he murmured. "The poor woman."

Anita's smile wavered, just barely, though it quickly regained its edge. She took another sip, her eyes scanning the crowd. "I'm not surprised, truly. Some people can't help but make trouble wherever they go, bringing their little scandals across borders."