Mastered by the sea marq.., p.1
Mastered by the Sea Marquis, page 1
part #1 of The Monsters Ball Series
MASTERED BY THE SEA MARQUIS
THE MONSTERS BALL
SJ SANDERS
CONTENTS
The High Tea
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
The High Tea
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
The High Tea
Chapter 29
The High Tea
Epilogue
The High Tea
Author’s Note
Also by SJ Sanders
About the Author
©2023 by Samantha Sanders
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without explicit permission granted in writing from the author.
Editor: LY Publishing
Cover Art: Dee J Holmes via Bad Unicorn Designs
This book is a work of fiction intended for adult audiences only.
Created with Vellum
THE HIGH TEA
Dear Reader,
The July Ball has come around, and what a beautiful midsummer it is. The weather has been cooperative and fair, opportunities promising romance abound for those among the bete monde attending by invitation to Broadstone Manor. In celebration of the midsummer nights, this author has received word that the season shall be celebrated in theme with A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The ladies shall be the veritable blooms of the forests, or perhaps the coveted nymphs and fairies themselves, as they dance the night away upon the arm of the lords in attendance.
Word has it that Lord Bishop’s American niece has been confirmed to attend. Sent abroad to escape some scandal, and with poor prospects ahead of her due to this, Lord Bishop presented his case and was granted permission for Miss Margaret Phillips to attend. I, for one, await to see what the indominable Miss Phillips shall make of Countess Stalbridge’s ball and if she will be able to win the devotion of a peer of the realm. The comely heiress is a fine match, but will it be enough to outweigh the stain on her reputation and attract a noble match?
I have it on good authority that Lord Thrane Vaskanth of Sheradeen Depths has also sent word of his attendance. The Merselians have established important trade deals with the crown and so the imminent appearance of one at court is causing quite the stir. Though not truly part of the bête monde proper, Lord Vaskanth is, as are many of the nonhuman guests invited, a powerful lord and Marquis in his own right hailing from the warm water south of France. Word has it that he is intending to leave the ball with a bride to take back to his watery home. The hunt is afoot! What miss shall capture the Merselian’s eye?
It shall all be a thrilling conquest to watch, and I shall eagerly report it back to you, my dear readers.
Until next time, sip slowly and savor society’s foibles.
Lady Grey
CHAPTER 1
Dear Miss Margaret Phillips,
At the bequest of your uncle sir Robert Bishop, the Baron of Westlap, your attendance is requested for the season. However, on account of your undisciplined rearing, fascination with the otherworldly, and ruined status for matrimonial union, Her Majesty is in agreement with your uncle but has deemed you of unsuitable prospects. With no offered dowry, and no reputation of worth, your attendance is hereby directed to The Monsters Ball.
Cordially,
Countess Violet Stalbridge
“Well? It is too exciting, is it not, cousin?” Cecilia Bishop asked as she leaned in close with an eager smile.
Wearing a simple linen morning gown in a pale lavender hue that was becoming of her pale coloring and a gleeful grin, the girl could have been mistaken as an elven miss straight from a fae court at that moment. Even the whimsical curtain of curls hanging from her updo framed a heart-shaped face of a sort of elvish character to it.
Maggie’s eyebrows rose as she folded the paper and set the missive aside as she had done a dozen times since it arrived. She smoothed out the skirt of her yellow gown across her lap and frowned at the paper stretched out in front of her cousin with the latest gossip from the bête monde. “I cannot imagine what you mean. It seems like any other gossip paper, filled with the same nonsense except it’s all surrounding people I’ve never even heard of and a confusing mess of titles that make no sense to me. Am I to find it riveting?”
At sixteen, Cecilia was growing into her beauty and yet still managed to make the most childish exaggerations as she puffed out her cheeks in exasperation. “You would think you have been living under a rock since you arrived. The bête monde is all everyone has been talking about for months now. And you have an invitation!”
Maggie’s eyes cut to the missive still lying on the tea table where she’d abandoned it two days ago. It was another reminder of her family’s determination to marry her off and save their reputation. Unfortunately, she didn’t see how marrying a monster would do that. The illness that had transformed so many of the populace had not yet reached America last she heard, but everyone knew it was just a matter of time. Those areas infected also drew contact from various hidden species that could only be conjured by the most depraved and wicked of imagination.
She was sure there were some particularly delightful monstrosities that could be found among them and admitted herself to be quite curious about how certain anatomies might fit together. The only hiccup in the plan was that she had no intention of marrying anyone! She wouldn’t be played a fool by any man again—monster or not! Experience had taught her a hard lesson that men were not to be trusted.
But now she was here and there was little she could do to help the fact. This presented an out that she hadn’t considered. All she needed to do was follow her natural fascination and keep away from any of the marriageable attendees. She only had to be just terrible enough at the ball to convince her uncle, the estimable Sir Robert Bishop, to wash his hands of her. It should only take a small push to convince him to pack her up and send her back home in due course before she tarnished the family’s reputation any further.
Cecilia sighed. “I wanted to accompany you, but father will not hear of it. He insists that I have a proper coming out at the Mack, as befitting a woman of my station. Truth be told, I have been looking forward to it for years, but now that everything has changed it is perfectly dreadful. Do you not think?”
“I wouldn’t know anything of the sort,” Maggie muttered distractedly. “It is quite different back home.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I sometimes forget. I have not a clue how,” she added with a giggle, drawing a reluctant smile from Maggie as she lifted her teacup to her lips. A mischievous smile crossed Cecilia’s face. “Perhaps I shall take a cue from you, my dear Margaret, and behave so outrageously that he will have little choice but to make arrangements for me for the next season. I think I would prefer a beau of a more preternatural sort. I am quite taken with the idea of a centaur.”
Maggie choked and sputtered on her tea. “A centaur of all things? You would be mounted in such a way? Their entire nether region is entirely beast! You would gain no tender lover in a husband from that quarter.”
Cecilia’s smile widened. “It seems a fair exchange, doesn’t it? He may ride me all night if he will but serve as my mount during the day. I do believe we would be quite the sight taking a round through the park.” She tipped her head curiously. “What sort of monster do you hope to attract?”
Lifting her cup to take another sip, Maggie leveled her cousin with a sharp look. “None whatsoever. I have no interest in aligning my fate to the will of any man again, and certainly none of the monstrous variety.”
Her cousin’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “I do not understand. Did you not say to father just yesterday that you would attend?”
“And I shall,” she drawled, setting her cup in front of her. A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. “I shall be quite outrageous as you say and have a grand adventure to break me out of this tiring routine since my arrival. But I have no intention of anything coming of it except a fine time and being sent home in utter disgrace. Certainly not a fiancée.”
Cecilia blinked at her, her mouth moving soundlessly like a fish gasping for air until she finally lifted her own teacup and took a hurried sip from it.
“But… but why? Father will surely send you back if you ruin this opportunity to make a good match.”
Maggie arched an eyebrow at her cousin. “And if I want to go back?”
A look of horror crossed Cecilia’s face. “Whatever for? It is so much lovelier when you can have all the comforts of English civilization. Why go back to… that? Father often says that he dreads the day he receives word that his sister had been eaten by a bear.”
Maggie chuckled. “We’re from Philadelphia, Cici. Hardly in the middle of the wilderness.”
“Oh. Well, th
“I don’t need luck, dearest. All I must do is act perfectly wicked. I will not need to expend even a drop more energy for it. Everything else will fall in line as it will confirm all the terrible things everyone will already be thinking of me.”
Her cousin gave her a doubtful look and sipped slowly. “I do not think it will be that easy, Margaret.”
“Please, Cici, call me Maggie or Mags. I cannot abide being called Margaret,” she groaned.
“I will if you stop calling me Cici,” her cousin countered. “It makes me sound as if I’m still in leading strings rather than a grown woman.”
Maggie gave her cousin a sympathetic smile as she poured herself another cup. “That’s fair. Now, tell me, why do you think it won’t be so easy?” she asked as she lifted an eyebrow at her cousin. “Surely such a thing cannot be all too difficult. I merely must avoid the marriage-minded men and attach myself to the worst of the scoundrels in attendance. It certainly can’t be too difficult.”
Cecilia shifted in place, her nose wrinkling a little. “If you can get away from Aunt Emily. I heard Daddy saying just this morning that he’s already written to her. She’s to be your chaperone.”
Maggie slowly set the teapot down, the clink of china as it tapped against the side of her saucer sounding especially loud at that moment. “Who is Aunt Emily, and why is she going as my chaperone? I’m hardly a green girl at her first ball.”
Her cousin grimaced and stirred a liberal amount of sugar and cream into her tea. “Aunt Emily is daddy’s aunt. She’s a terribly strict busybody. I swear that she must have been gifted with the eyes of a hawk to spy upon you and the nose of a hound to scent out any secret. I wager you won’t be able to carry out any sort of plan that involves an illicit dalliance if she’s present.”
“Splendid,” Maggie muttered. That wasn’t one of the obstacles that she’d considered. She sipped her tea as she considered the problem. “Surely she must have some sort of weakness that can be exploited. No one can keep their eyes on someone every hour of the day.”
Cecilia shrugged. “If she has, I don’t know it. I have attended many outings with her over the years and have never managed to discover a single opening.”
“And Uncle Robert is set on her, is he?”
Cecilia’s lips tipped in an apologetic smile. “Quite. If you think of changing his mind, it won’t do any good,” she warned. “He is determined to see you respectably married before the season is out.”
“Well, we will just have to see about that,” Maggie replied serenely as she picked up a cucumber sandwich and nibbled at the end, her mind already working.
CHAPTER 2
“For heaven’s sake, don’t slouch, Margaret,” Emily Bathright scolded her for what had to be the third time. She peered down at her as a vulture might in her charcoal high-buttoned carriage dress. The cream lace barely visible at its edges was the only brightness to her gloomy visage. It could barely compete with the black shawl that hung around her shoulders as if it were wings folded around her. She certainly wore no smile to brighten her countenance. “I would have thought your mother would have taught you the proper comportment necessary for a young woman of your position.”
“Must have slipped her mind,” Maggie muttered under her breath as she gave Aunt Emily an apologetic smile and adjusted the way she was perched on the carriage seat.
The older woman’s eyes narrowed with disapproval, and she sniffed delicately. “Speaking beneath one’s breath is unseemly and doesn’t fool anyone. I know Lillian would have taught you how to conduct yourself among your peers. You are simply willful. That much is clear, or else you never would never have arrived at your deplorable social state in Philadelphia. But you did, and now this is the price you must pay. You should be grateful that we are going through all this trouble for you.”
“Of course, Aunt Emily,” Maggie replied dutifully, heat rising in her cheeks at being chastened like a child.
She folded her gloved hands in her lap, only just barely refraining from fisting the muslin fabric of her pink pinstriped carriage dress in her frustration. She settled instead for fidgeting with the length of her pink shawl as she adjusted it. Cecilia had been right about one thing at least. Aunt Emily wasn’t going to make this easy on her.
“As I was saying, given your reputation—which I assure you has already begun to make its rounds amongst the politer circles—you are going to require a match with a gentleman of good repute and high social standing. You cannot afford further social scandals. Don’t you agree?” Aunt Emily asked, giving her an arched look.
“Yes, Aunt Emily. I assure you that is my goal as well,” she lied demurely.
Apparently that was at least convincing enough because the elder woman nodded with a satisfied smile. Leaning forward on her cane, she patted Maggie’s hand, the light brush of their gloves touching briefly with the gesture.
“There now, I’m sure you have quite the case of nerves, but do not worry. I shall be here to guide you every step of the way.”
Exactly what I’m afraid of.
“And I dearly appreciate it.” Maggie replied, giving her aunt a thankful smile before discreetly redirecting her attention to the view outside the carriage before her tongue got the better of her.
As much as she disliked holding her tongue—and had never been particularly good at it, as her mother had often pointed out—she recognized the need for caution when dealing with Emily Bathright. She didn’t wish to do or say anything to make her chaperone even more committed to her cause of helping Maggie find a good match. That future had abandoned her the moment she woke up alone in the boarding room overlooking the Delaware, her lover missing—along with all of her jewels and what little money she’d been able to get together. Thank the gods that she hadn’t yet managed to get her inheritance released, but that moment had both devastated her and driven home the fact that she couldn’t trust the honeyed words that flowed from men.
She blinked and the vision of the sparse room disappeared when the carriage jostled and began to slow with the heavy clops of the horses’ hooves as they passed through the massive arched gate and began circling into the long drive. Dipping her head, she peered out the carriage window and up at Broadstone Hall.
The manor was incredible, and for a moment she was lost in a sense of awe as she stared at it looming over her. With graceful tower rooms, their peaks jutting into the sky, and gargoyles looming like sinister shadows along the dark weathered stone of the building, Maggie was instantly besotted with the place. There was something deeply mysterious about the place.
Aunt Emily leaned forward and sniffed again. “So this is Broadstone Hall. How appropriate,” she commented dryly.
Maggie smiled to herself. It truly was quite appropriate. This was a place that promised all manner of potential for the forbidden if she only could shake Aunt Emily. Perched on the cliff as it was, its broody silhouette inspired the imagination in the most frightful fashion, even as the little ornamental lake amid the manicured lawn promised civilized comfort. How could Aunt Emily not be impressed?
“I think it is marvelous,” she breathed in awe. “It is like something straight out of Shelley’s Frankenstein.”
Aunt Emily clucked her tongue. “To think that a woman of your breeding would read such things. There are more rarified ways of passing the time that will do you far better than reading drivel. I can’t imagine who let you read such a thing. Your American father, no doubt.”
