Chapter One

Maribeth dressed with care. Her invitation to the Halloween Gnash said: Formal dress with mask or appropriate formal costume required. Sounded a bit ostentatious to her, but she needed to attend, and she dare not appear out of place. She looked in the mirror to add the finishing touches to her artfully arranged blonde curls then she applied a shiny layer of lip gloss to her pursed mouth. Perfect.

The low neckline of the pale cream, formal gown flattered her heart-shaped face and showed off her new tan just as she hoped. She refused to go anywhere looking like a desperate woman. Maribeth slipped into her navy blue, velvet cape and made sure she carried her evening bag. Time to go have myself a ball. She laughed at her own wit. She planned to have his before the night ended.

* * * * *

Lights blazed from the grounds of the old mansion, cutting through the growing fog. Clouds obscured the moon and the heavy, still air felt like a storm might be brewing. How appropriate. Tree limbs shrouded with Spanish moss waved eerily in the breeze.

Her car followed several others up the hill onto the sweeping, circular drive. Orange crepe-paper bows, along with glowing pumpkins, lined the walkway. A parking valet in an orange waist-coat, wearing a simple black mask, assisted her from the car then slid in to take care of the vehicle.

Maribeth felt a shiver run up her spine at the luxury of it. She could easily become accustomed to this type of wealth. With a shrug she lifted the long skirt of her gown, followed the stone walk, and climbed the steps.

Music drifted through the double doors as she heard the sounds of people chatting and laughing from inside. She stopped long enough to put on her gold and cream Mardi-Gras style mask and adjust its band beneath her hair. Maribeth held out her invitation to be checked by the doorman then continued inside.

The foyer chandelier, hung with polished crystals, danced and swayed from the slight breeze created as the door opened and closed. Colored lights sparkled over the beautiful dresses, dark suits, and costumes of the guests as they moved about. Maribeth caught her breath at the lovely sight, wishing she dared to relax and enjoy herself. She wanted to celebrate Halloween with her love—but that wasn't to be—not tonight.

A young woman in a skimpy, French maid's uniform rushed forward to take Maribeth's cloak. "I'm Ally, Miss. Would you like to freshen up before joining the party?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Maribeth smiled as she relinquished her velvet wrap to the long-legged, well-endowed young woman. It seemed all the servers in sight wore simple black masks and uniforms, but none quite as revealing as this one.

Maribeth gazed appreciatively about as she entered the main ballroom. The Weeping Willow, an old plantation house named for the ancient trees found scattered over the property, wore her finest tonight. The majority of the decorations reflected a time when damask linens, Belgian lace, polished silver, and overdone floral arrangements were all the rage. Pumpkins, a scarecrow, and stalks of Indian corn graced one corner as a testament to the holiday. Orange-colored punch flowed through a champagne fountain near a buffet table. Musicians, dressed as symphonic monsters, played classical music from a small dais in the far corner.

Her first course of action should be to locate Gregory, she decided. As she looked over the large area filled with people, many she wouldn't know even without their masks, she wanted to stop and scream his name. Smiling as she thought of his horrified reaction, Maribeth began to work her way through the crowd. She searched for him in a more acceptable manner.

"Ahhh, Aphrodite? Or perhaps Helen of Troy?" He whispered in her ear when he slipped up behind her. "Happy Halloween." Gregory placed a light kiss on the side of her neck before inviting, "Come meet my father, darling."

Maribeth stiffened against him, but fought off her anger to accompany him across the crowded floor. She could wait a while longer for this farce to end.