Ashwood chuckled. “Newberry has a fountain. It might be safer to start there.”
“It’s not as rank or as murky.” Eva Ashwood laughed as she gripped her husband’s arm and led him towards Newberry’s mansion house.
Evan threw Miss Hart’s cloak into the carriage before escorting his nymph to join the queue of flamboyant revellers.
Being a man with a reputation for hosting extravagant events, Newberry sought novel ways to amuse his guests. Tonight was no exception. Amid the vast array of glowing candelabra and champagne fountains were the most bizarre group of entertainers the ton had ever seen.
Miss Hart tugged Evan’s arm as he led her past the nun with a monkey perched on her shoulder. “That monkey can do card tricks. He picked the ace of spades from the pack.”
“I imagine the card is marked,” Evan said cynically.
“And he made a shilling disappear.”
“The creature is skilled at stealing snuff boxes and pocket watches, too. By the end of the evening, his mistress will have more than a decent bounty.”
Miss Hart touched the pearl earrings dangling from her lobes and gave a relieved sigh. “I heard someone say there are fire eaters and snake charmers outside.”
Evan snorted. “The air chokes with the stench of perfume. One accident with a lit torch and the entire room would be ablaze. Can you imagine the chaos if a snake suddenly darted from its basket and took to the dance floor?”
She glanced at him and lowered her mask. “I must sound like a naive debutante, one easily impressed by freakish exhibitions.”
He touched her hand. “I have a rather jaded view of these events. Years of overindulgence leaves me weary.” Strange that he had been unaware of the fact until now. The only thing holding his interest was the captivating woman beside him.
They pushed past a group trying to knock a jester off a hobby horse and followed Ashwood to the grand marble fireplace.
Ashwood glanced up at the large portrait of the pompous Lord Newberry. “No one wants to stand here for fear the painting is too heavy for the rail.”
Eva laughed. “The painting has to be huge, for it reflects the depth of the man’s conceit.” She looked at Evan. “Mr Sloane, you’re not wearing your mask.”
“Charles Sloane never misses a masquerade, though I’ll have a devil of a time finding him in the crush. Someone keen to fuel our mutual hostility will alert me to his presence.”
Miss Hart lowered her mask again, drawing his gaze to the soft swell of her breasts. “Perhaps we should separate and search the mansion house. I shall look for those dressed as Cleopatra, and you can search for your cousin.”
“Second cousin,” Evan reminded her, for he wished to distance himself from the peer. “But based on the assumption someone wants to steal our inheritance, I would prefer to keep you in my sights.”
Masquerades were hunting grounds for debauched devils. He’d not have his sea nymph sneaking about the corridors, drawing the attention of every licentious rogue.
Miss Hart glanced enviously at the ladies twirling about the dance floor. “While everyone is here for pleasure, we’re here to conduct an investigation.”
With his growing need to make this woman happy, Evan wished he could forget about the case, too. “Once we accomplish our task, there might be time for a waltz.”
The sudden hitch in her breath, and the vibrant sparkle of her eyes, proved oddly satisfying. “Then we should start our search in the refreshment room where we can at least partake in a glass of champagne.”
“Unmarried ladies take lemonade,” he teased. If they made love later this evening, he would have her dizzy with desire, not sparkling wine.
“Tonight I’m a mermaid, and mythical creatures do as they please.”
“Oh, I intend to discover exactly what you find pleasing.” The sooner they found the countess and made their announcement, the sooner he could take his nymph home.
Cleopatra proved a popular choice of costume. Lady Farringdon had squashed her large frame into a gold silk dress. Mrs Finsbury had discarded her black wig and wore her cobra crown perched on top of golden locks. While in the refreshment room, Ashwood noticed another Cleopatra saunter past the door. This time, the woman’s slim frame and elegant bearing suggested it could be the countess.
Evan handed Ashwood his champagne flute. “Wait here. I’ll follow the Egyptian queen and see where she’s heading.”
“I’m coming with you.” Miss Hart swallowed the last sip of champagne and placed her flute on a passing footman’s tray. “We should make the announcement together.”
“We will note your direction and linger in the background, in case we’re needed.” Ashwood grinned at his wife. “Let’s find a discreet alcove so we may keep watch.”
When in his wife’s company, Ashwood would struggle to notice a herd of elephants stampeding. The more time Evan spent with Vivienne Hart, the more he understood his friend’s obsession.