He looked once more in the looking glass, content with what he saw. He would go quickly to Ackley’s ball and find Katherine, and then ask her that fateful question. The question that could change the course of his life.
He highly doubted that the child was his. But one could not be certain of such matters. The thought of having a child didn’t frighten him. The thought of having a child with Katherine did.
Finn shrugged into his coat, took his walking stick and hat from Wilkins, and started for the front door. He’d called for a carriage before he came downstairs, and the staff at the Hall was nothing if not efficient. Wilkins opened the door, and Finn stepped out into the night. He turned back to look at the upstairs window. He very nearly turned around and went back inside when he saw a figure standing in the window upstairs, watching him leave. He couldn’t see her face, but he had no doubt it was Claire. He tipped his hat at her, and she raised her hand and waved.
The footman opened the carriage door and Finn stepped inside. He leaned back heavily against the squabs. He didn’t relish this night, not in the least. He wasn’t looking forward to the confrontation with Katherine. He wasn’t even looking forward to the debauchery. He had only one woman on his mind, and she’d been on his mind for months. And now she was in his house. And he was gone. He sighed heavily.
From the darkness on the other side of the coach, a throaty laugh erupted. Finn jumped and reached for the lamp. As he did, the person on the darkened side of the carriage came to sit beside him. He looked her up and down.
“Who the devil are you?” he asked.
“I can be whoever you want me to be,” she purred. She wore a black silk mask that tied behind her head. Her hair was a riot of black curls atop her head, held back by shimmering diamond hair clips.
The scent of her reached up to tickle his nose. It was the soft smell of lemons and summer. He would know that smell anywhere. In fact, it invaded his dreams most nights, wrapping around his manhood and squeezing. Much like it was doing now. “Claire?” he asked.
She laughed and tugged the mask from her face. “I thought it would take you longer.” Her lips formed a pout. And he immediately wanted to kiss her.
Finn moved to tap the roof so he could call the coachman to turn around and take her back. But she reached over and covered his hand with hers, drawing it down into her lap. “Claire,” he warned. “You have to go back to the Hall.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
***
Claire didn’t like the idea of him going to a den of iniquity. Not at all. And she was bound and determined that he would not go without her. She’d spent the entire day preparing for the ball. She’d even paid a visit to the apothecary to get tint for her hair. Her normal blond locks were now a sooty black. Her face was painted and her eyes lined lightly with kohl. She even had a tiny beauty mark on her left cheek.
She looked up at Finn, prepared to explain her actions. But his eyes were riveted to her breasts. She looked down and tugged at the bodice of her gown, trying to bring it a little higher, but it was no use. Instead, she straightened her spine and stared back at him.
“That dress is positively indecent. Where did you obtain it?”
“I paid a visit to your Colette and told her what I needed.”
Finn groaned. “What possessed you to do such a thing? Are you mad? She’ll tell everyone!”
“She had no idea who I was. I went after I’d tinted my hair and painted my face. She thinks I am a newcomer to town and that my name is Mrs. Abercrombie.”
“And she’s not my Colette,” he grumbled.
“She would like to be.” It was amazing the things women would say when they didn’t assume you were an innocent. “She was rather envious that I had been invited to this particular ball.” But that was neither here nor there. She took a deep breath and pushed on. “Tell me what tonight’s mission is. So I can prepare myself.”
“You will wait in the carriage, Claire. I will not take you into Ackley’s ball. There are things there that someone of your sort should never see. You’d be scarred for life.”
“Public beheading?” Claire gasped, teasing him.
“More like public intercourse,” he said, raising a brow at h
er.
Claire’s heart stuttered. “You mean… two people…” She let her words trail off.
“Or three or four,” he corrected. “This is not your typical soiree.”
“I can overlook the public intercourse.” She tapped his leg, and he scooted it away from her. “What’s wrong?”
“I will not take you to this party. I’d take you home if I didn’t think this would take no more than a moment.” He sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead in frustration. “I just need to find someone and ask some questions.” He looked down at her dress again. Then back up to her hair. “What did you put on your hair?” He pulled one of her curls until the curl straightened, and then let it slip from his fingers to curl back up at the base of her neck. Claire shivered lightly.
“Don’t worry. I used a little faerie dust in my hair, so it will wash out tonight.”
“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice suddenly raspier than usual. “But I like your real hair color more. I miss it.”