The next morning Odetta was certain that she had dreamt the whole evening.
Yet, when she awoke, there was the little black mask on her dressing table and the blue gown hanging in her wardrobe needed pressing.
She lay for a long while thinking what an enchantment the whole evening had been and how fantastic it was that the Earl was someone she knew about and who had been unkind and unnecessarily crushing to her beloved mother.
‘I always meant to pay him out somehow for his behaviour,’ she told herself, ‘and now is my opportunity.’
At the same time she could not help remembering the strange feeling she had when he held her hand and how exciting it had been to duel with him in words and to feel that she was really playing a part in one of her dreams.
When she went downstairs to breakfast
