Mary grabbed John's arm a little tighter as they walked down the stairs towards the ballroom. What could they expect to find? She didn't like the feeling of not knowing what to expect, and it made her skin crawl. When her grip must have become uncomfortable, John put his hand over hers. It warmed her cold fingers even through the thin layer of her silk gloves. Glancing up, she caught him giving her an encouraging smile, but there was an uneasiness to him she could relate to all too well.

A few moments later, they entered the ballroom and she could only hope that no one saw her slack-jawed staring before she closed her mouth and schooled her features into some semblance of a lady experienced in these things. The lighting was sparse, leaving the room in an intimate semi-darkness with just enough light to see the main areas, but leaving plenty of dark corners for whatever deeds one might consider. There were the usual trappings characteristic of a ball; a quartet playing music, a refreshment table, flowers and decorations, but that was the extent of items she was used to.

The guests milling around the room were not the polished people of the ton who would politely ask her about her family. Giggles and raucous laughter filled the space. Instead of a quadrille or country dance, a few couples were dancing the waltz, but much closer to each other than even the most accepting of hostesses would have allowed.

Compared to the other ladies present, her dress looked almost demure. Many looked to be wearing nothing but their shifts and stays, or stays and petticoats. A handful had dresses similar to her own, so at least she wouldn't stand out too much. The men's garb varied from nearly fully dressed, like John, to a couple of men wearing no shirts. As much as she'd been interested in seeing shirtless men, she had to admit that the two older gentlemen with their hairy backs and extended bellies did nothing for her.

"What do we do?" she asked under her breath while plastering a pleasant smile on her face.

"I don't know." John sounded as lost as she felt.

They took a few steps into the room, and she tried to see if she could recognise her sister behind any of the colourful masks of the other guests, but couldn't see anyone that looked like Jane.

"You must be new!"

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the loud exclamation. A tall man with fiery red hair approached them. He was not wearing a waistcoat or jacket, and the top buttons of his shirt remained undone, revealing a light dusting of hair.

"Yes," John said as the man stopped in front of them. "It's our first time. Are we that obvious?"

The man—who Mary assumed was the infamous Mr Hayes since his hair was his most distinguishing feature—grinned. "Ha! In the spirit of honesty... Yes. But fear not. Everyone looks equally lost and shocked on their first visit." His grin widened as he swept an arm out over the room. "Welcome to the house party. Make yourselves at home. Do what pleases you. We do not judge here. All we ask is that you treat everyone the way you would want to be treated. If someone doesn't want to play with you, respect their wishes and move on."

Mary nodded. That was a rule she could appreciate. She wasn't sure she was up to playing with anyone.

"And, naturally, if you recognise someone here, pretend you didn't and never mention their name. Most importantly, never tell anyone about what goes on here." Hayes put his hand on John's shoulder and turned around to look out over the room with them. "The rules are that simple, really. If you prefer to spend your first night only watching, that is not uncommon."

"I..." John cleared his throat as their gazes fastened on a man and woman on a nearby upholstered bench.

They were kissing, and the woman sat astride on the man's lap as if riding a horse. Mary couldn't stop watching them as the man slid his hands over the woman's back and down to grab her bottom. Was this what married couples did in bed? She had never seen anyone kiss like that. Her parents never shared more than chaste kisses on the cheek, and other than walking in on her married friends sharing a kiss with their husbands occasionally—honestly, could they not even wait until they were alone?—she had seen nothing else.

"I think we might only observe tonight," John finally said.

"Anything you wish," Hayes said with a little chuckle, probably amused by their apparent shock. "Have a look around. And if you have any questions, come find me. I am nothing if not your gracious host."

After a quick bow and a wink, the tall man returned to the other party-goers, joining a group of men and women on the dance floor. Mary watched him bend down to kiss the cheek of a blond lady. There was still no sign of Jane. Were her assumptions of where her sister was wrong? Or did Jane know better than to take part in these events?

"We should mingle," John said but made no attempt to move.

A giggling couple snuck out through the open doors to the terrace outside, and Mary wasn't sure she wanted to know what they planned to do alone in the darkness. Everywhere she looked, people seemed to be kissing or touching in ways that would not be permitted at a respectable establishment. Excitement mingled with horrified fascination as she noted that the man and woman on the bench were now bare-chested, their hands and lips exploring each other's bodies.

That this was not her typical house party might have been the understatement of the century. This was what she imagined the brothels and gambling dens in London's underbelly were like. To see this behaviour in a familiar setting like this seemed so odd to her. And yet she couldn't stop staring.

Would she ever experience a man touching her like that? It seemed unlikely. Did husbands and wives even touch each other in such a way or was this considered immoral even for the marriage bed? She wished she knew. A tingling sensation spread through her as the man on the bench captured the woman's nipple between his teeth.

Next to her, John cleared his throat, breaking her from her trance, and her cheeks heated as she glanced up at him. Was she imagining it, or was his neck a little more red than usual? Saying nothing, he offered her his arm again, and she took it, following him through the ballroom with a lingering look at the couple on the upholstered bench. They appeared lost to the world as if they had forgotten anyone else was present. It was difficult to imagine being so caught up in another person that you'd forget yourself completely.

They drifted through the ballroom, trying not to stop too long or stare too hard at anyone present. Finally, they stopped at the refreshment table. John poured them two glasses of punch, handing her one, before turning to look out over the gathered guests.

"This is quite something," he said conversationally, but there was a quality to his voice she couldn't quite place.

"That is quite an understatement." She took a sip of her drink only to nearly spit it back out, as it was more liquor than anything else. Forcing herself to swallow, her eyes watered and her throat burned from the heavy drink.

John chuckled. Whether it was because of her quip or her choking on the punch, she did not know. Putting the glass back down on the table, she readjusted the mask covering the upper half of her face. It wasn't as uncomfortable as she had feared, but kept drooping on one side.

"Is it coming off?" John asked.

"No, only sliding a little. I'm not sure I managed to tie it tight enough."

Without a word, he nudged her forward to stand behind her. A little flustered from feeling the heat of his body behind her, she stared at a lit candle across the room, focusing on the flickering flame.

"Hold it for a moment," he said, his voice closer than she had expected as his hot breath tickled her bare neck, sending goosebumps across her flesh.

Lifting her hands to secure the mask, she swallowed, trying to ignore the dull thud of her heart when his fingers brushed across the hair above her ears to pull the ribbons closer. A moment later, she felt the bands tighten as he tied them at the back of her head. His hands lingered a moment longer than necessary before falling back to his sides.

"There," he muttered. "That should do, but it might be worthwhile to use hairpins to secure it better tomorrow."

"Th... Thank you." Why did her voice waver? She shouldn't react like this to John. Refusing to look at him, she continued to stare out over the ballroom. He was dull John Osborne. The man in love with her best friend. If she was ever to find herself attracted to a man, it definitely should not be to this one.

Without meaning to, her eyes searched for the couple on the upholstered bench, but they had disappeared to be replaced by two men chatting animatedly. Had they snuck away to a more private location to finish what they started? Whatever that might entail. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she pondered what the next steps could be. It was so unfair how women were kept in the dark about what happened behind closed doors.

"Any sign of your sister?" John asked.

"No. If she's here tonight, I have not seen her." She hoped that was a good thing, but she had her doubts.

John swept his gaze over the room. "Everyone seems suitably foxed and preoccupied. Now might be a good time to do some exploring."

Her cheeks heated as she immediately thought of the man and woman who had been exploring each other's bodies. Focus, Mary. Focus. That is not the type of exploring he's referring to.

When he extended his hand towards her, she frowned.

"If anyone sees us leave, they will think we're sneaking away for a tryst," he clarified when she didn't immediately take it.

"Right." Of course. That made sense. She took his hand, and he linked his fingers with hers and pulled her with him out of the room. His grip was tight, but not painful, and his hand warmed hers through the thin gloves.

"Let's see if we can find Hayes' study," he said. "Maybe there are some clues about your sister or the activities the War Office wants me to look into."

She nodded. Jane must have corresponded with Hayes to facilitate her escape from their home. If they found the letters, maybe they would shine a light on where her sister was and what she was thinking. They walked down a long hallway, and John released her hand to open doors and peer inside. Stretching her fingers out, she wondered why she missed his hand on hers. Maybe the strangeness of the evening was affecting her more than she had realised.

~~~~~~