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“While I was attempting to get into the house, a boy arrived with a package for his Grace.”

“And?”

“The package was a domino and mask that the master had ordered to be made.”

Understanding slowly bloomed in Brianna’s mind, her fading hope returning in a fierce wave.

“So he plans to attend a masquerade.”

“And soon. The servant snapped at the boy for his tardiness, saying that it had best meet with the master’s approval as it was too late to have it altered.”

“Then it must be tonight.” Picking up her heavy skirts, Brianna headed for the door of the grotto. “I need to speak with Mrs. Grant. She always knows what social events are occurring about town.”

IT WAS NEAR ELEVEN O’CLOCK that evening before the house was at last quiet enough for Brianna to slip from the back door and make her way through the dark streets until she stood in front of the pretentious town house where the Courtesan Masquerade Ball was to be held.

It didn’t look the sort of place where gentlemen of the highest society mixed with courtesans, harlots and ladies of easy virtue. Not with its handsome brickwork and Iconic columns that framed the main entrance with a muted elegance.

Mrs. Grant, however, had been quite firm in announcing that the only masquerade ball on this night was Lord Blackwell’s annual event.

Brianna gave a small shake of her head as she noted the long line of carriages stretching down the block and masked gentlemen walking through the front door. Obviously, any disapproval of tonight’s festivities was exclusively held by female members of society.

“I do not lik

e this, miss,” Janet hissed at her side. “I think I should stay with ye in case there’s trouble.”

Brianna tugged the domino closer about her body as she battled off the urge to shiver. When she had found the black velvet cloak lined with silver and the matching black feathered mask in her mother’s old truck in the attic, she had felt as if fate was urging her to take the daring risk. There was even a matching ball gown in a pale pink satin with black and silver ribbons dotted along the hem and threaded through the scooped bodice. It was precisely the sort of frivolous concoction that would be expected at a masquerade.

Now, however, her palms were sweating and her knees shaking as she contemplated the thought of entering the strange town house filled with randy gentlemen and willing whores. What if she were recognized? Or worse, what if she was accosted before she could locate Stefan, even assuming he was in there?

It took more courage than she knew she possessed to reach out and squeeze Janet’s cold hand.

“Nonsense, I need you at home to make sure that Thomas does not realize I am not in my chambers.”

“This is no place for a lady. Only harlots would be seen at such a ball.”

“But, I will not be seen,” Brianna said, her voice considerably more steady than her nerves. “Besides, I have heard any number of rumors that there are ladies of fashion who attend such events. Incognito, of course.”

Janet sucked in a sharp breath. Servants tended to have a rigid view of how a noble should behave. Far more rigid than the nobles themselves.

“Not proper young ladies.”

“I can no longer afford to be proper, Janet.” Her voice was bitter. “If I am unable to convince Stefan to take me in as his ward, then I shall be forced to flee and make my own way in the world. In that event, I doubt that a risqué ball will be my greatest concern.”

Janet chewed her bottom lip, knowing she could not argue the stark truth of Brianna’s words. They had three short days before she was to be hauled off to the wilds of Norfolk. Once there, no one would be able to halt her stepfather from forcing her to his bed.

“Jest promise ye’ll take care,” Janet demanded with a resigned sigh. “The gents are bound to be drunk and in the mood for trouble.”

“I will take the greatest care, I assure you.” Brianna squeezed her maid’s fingers in warning. “But, Janet, I am depending on you. No one can know that I am not in my bed sleeping.”

Janet squared her plump shoulders. “Not a soul will get past yer bedroom door, that I promise ye.”

“I will return as soon as I have spoken with Stefan,” she promised.

“Good luck to ye, miss.”

Loosening her clinging grip on her maid, Brianna squared her shoulders and turned her attention to the waiting town house.

“Let us hope I do not need it.”


Tags: Rosemary Rogers Russian Connection Historical