An endless array of men and women, dressed in elegant form, with masks ranging from simple dominoes to elaborate feathered pieces, passed her location as they made their way to the front doors of the club. It appeared a never-ending stream of guests, and Emma wondered just how everyone would fit in the place.
How on earth would she fit in?
As the panic she had been experiencing off and on all day gripped her again, she forced herself to relax. Not an easy task. But she would not make it far if she allowed her apprehension to show. Tonight was about playing a part. She was not Miss Emma Chadwick or even Mrs. Adams. She was a sophisticated lady of the night, intent upon indulging in the pleasures of high risk and selfish decadence—which she couldn’t rightly do if she remained on the front walk all night.
Not allowing for any more hesitation, Emma joined with the flow of people entering the building.
Bentley’s entrance hall was a study in unassuming luxury. Simple, yet elegant and comfortable. There was nothing superfluous in the decorations. No extra gilding or fuss. A dark mahogany wainscoting covered the lower half of the walls, with Chinese paper above, depicting various birds of paradise in hues of lapis lazuli, rich gold, orange, red, and a vivid emerald green.
Even in its simple elegance, the hall set an exotic tone that lured guests in. Sounds of merriment filtered through from the rooms beyond, and the guests around her all seemed to hum with excitement for the evening ahead. The atmosphere was filled with anticipation.
She was so distracted by the details around her, she had to be asked twice for her cloak.
The footman standing at her side was one she had seen only a few times from a distance. Thank goodness he did not seem to recognize her. The majority of the staff employed in the evenings would be different from those she saw during the day. But she knew there would be a few people, such as Mr. Metcalf, Snipes, and Bishop, whom she would have to take extra care to steer clear of if she hoped to remain anonymous.
Not to mention Mr. Bentley himself.
If luck was with her, Roderick would have far too much to keep him occupied than to notice one woman mingling within the crowd. She had to trust her appearance tonight was enough of a disguise that even if he saw her in passing, he would not recognize her. Surely, he would never suspect his oh-so-proper bookkeeper—or the eldest Miss Chadwick—of attending such an event.
Removing her cloak, Emma handed it to the footman, trying to give the impression of being a confident and sophisticated lady of the evening.
The gown Jillian had procured for her was of vibrant turquoise satin with gold trimming at the sleeves and a gold sash cinched tight beneath her breasts. Her mask was a bronze-colored leather and formed perfectly to her face, with long silk ribbons to secure it.
Though the borrowed gown fit quite well everywhere else, Jillian had been right about the meager bodice. It was cut low to begin with, but on Emma, the few inches of material barely managed to cover her breasts.
It had been a bit of a trick initially to ensure the edge of her shift, which was designed to cover far more than her gown, remained tucked beneath her neckline. The short stays helped to keep everything in place.
At least for now.
Emma was not overly endowed, but her bosom was full enough that she could not completely dispel the fear that at some point she may spill from the gown completely.
She would have to be careful how she moved, or she would be revealing far more than her anxiety.
The entrance hall was filling quickly. To make room for others to enter, guests flowed steadily toward the drawing room. Regulating herself to a sedate pace and forming her painted lips into an easy smile, Emma made her way through the wide archway to the larger common room beyond.
She had been in the grand drawing room only once before, on that day she had tended to Roderick’s bullet graze. She hadn’t paid much attention to the room itself that day, but she studied it now in an effort to settle more fully into her surroundings.
The walls of the drawing room were covered in pale blue silk. Intricately carved tables, in ebony inlaid with opal, repeated the Chinese design, as did the large porcelain vases set in the corners of the room. Crimson and emerald accents deepened the drama of the space. Large swaths of India silk in a stunning array of colors and exotic patterns hung from the ceiling to create areas of privacy where guests lounged about on plush velvet armchairs and chaise couches set in various conversational arrangements.
The subtle scent of roses lingered in the air, courtesy of the fresh blooms placed unobtrusively about the room.
Clarice had been quite right. It was indeed a sight to behold.
It was beautiful. Lush with colors and textures. Emma would have lingered, but the velvet purse hanging from a cord around her wrist bumped gently against her thigh, reminding her of her purpose tonight. She had only this one chance, this one night to call upon everything she had learned while playing with her father. This was not a time to step lightly. In order to gain the winnings she needed, she would have to be bold.