Chapter Text
Enola glided across the room in her character for the evening. Gracefully maneuvering through the seas of silk, lace, and jewels, her golden fox mask firmly covers the top half of her face and hiding her identity from the crowds. She makes her way over to a waiter and collects a tall champagne flute, she stands to the side, pretending to drink as she scans the room for her target. It had taken her 3 months of work to track her suspect here. A string of robberies, of small items, easily misplaced, which had been dismissed by Scotland Yard. They were cleverly done, It was only with the 3rd item that was reported to her as missing that she had recognized the pattern and linked the crimes. It had been 2 weeks since the last item had been stolen and the Chesterfield Ball was one of the largest to be held this season. Enola had good reason to expect that the thief would be out tonight, and the masquerade nature of the event had made her attendance almost too easy. She listened to the conversations going on around her and watched for any activity that was out of the ordinary.
It was hard to remain focused, the music was loud, the crowds oppressive and the surrounding gossip mundane and irritating. Enola edged her way around the hall, attempting to gain a better view of the assembly by distancing herself a little from the crowd around the drinks table. However, when she stopped to revaluate her vantage point, she realized that she had not entirely avoided notice, when a gentleman casually approached her, he bowed easily at her and she dipped a shallow curtsy in his direction before peering around him again and hoping he would lose interest and walk away. “a wonderful turn-out don’t you think” he spoke suddenly, and Enola turned away from the crowd briefly and gave a simple nod to the gentlemen, mildly avoiding being rude but hopefully discouraging any further conversation, before continuing her surveillance. “you know” he said in a serious tone “you really should thank me”. Enola turned towards him at this comment ‘excuse me?’ she stated in a sharp tone, sharper than a lady might use. “Well,” he continues “an unescorted Lady at a Ball attracts attention, and I assume you wish to avoid that. Therefore, I have come to prevent any such scrutiny” Enola was shocked and turned to stare at the gentleman making such a bold statement, declaring ‘whatever gives you that impression!’
He takes a casual sip of his drink and places a hand into his waistcoat pocket, turning to glance around the room, before stating quietly and simply “you did not greet the hostess and have avoided conversations with the women, you have not danced and despite pretending to you have not drank any of this surprisingly good champagne”. She turns to him, indignant and mildly impressed, and looks at him for the first time. He is tall, with broad shoulders, long dark hair tied loosely at the back of his neck. A fine suit of dark navy, with a silver waistcoat and cravat, a silver lion mask on his face, hiding everything except for brown eyes twinkling with his joke and a soft smile. He leans forward and says in a whisper ‘you told me to forget your name, but you never gave me another. What should I call you tonight?’