Oh, dear.
“If I truly have to form some ingenious diversion to stop him from acting like a libertine, then I most certainly will not be kissing or doing anything else with that bacon-brained fool. I am worth being loved by someone who wants to kiss only me, and…” her voice broke, and she bit the inside of her lip, feeling very mortified.
Freddie hated that she felt on the verge of tears and could not imagine why the very idea of the marquess taking a lover hurt so much.
“We must put you in disguise,” said Agatha. “The Marquess cannot know it is you. We still have all the wigs and dresses from the play. Thank heavens they were not packed away.”
Almost thirty minutes later, Fredricka admitted she looked like a different lady altogether. A bright red wig was fitted to her hair, a blue and golden facemask was on, and her dress was changed into something far more scandalous than she had anticipated.
“You have to fit the part or you might be suspected,” Agatha said when she caught Frederica staring at the lowered décolletage.
It was indeed far more risqué than anything she had ever worn.
Should she secure the marquess’s attention as a strange lady appearing before him like this, Frederica might very well slap him. Their plans afoot, they bundled into Lucinda’s carriage and made their way to Aphrodite.
* * *
The hostessof Aphrodite was a widowed countess who found sensual masquerades to be scintillating fun. Percy had been attending for the last six years, and always ended up with a lover for the night. Sometimes he retained a connection with that lady for several months before they amicably parted ways. He’d ventured out tonight, determined to break the spell his ward seemed to have over him. Except, Percy had been at the party for over two hours and had made little effort to meet anyone.
Instead, he was lazily taking in the countess’s décor this year. The lower rooms were mirrored but the mirrors and details of the room were veiled with diaphanous drapes, which one had to part to move on. It was an intriguing conceit, allowing some measure of privacy for the couples who had formed and an air of erotic mystery to entice the guests to abandon their respectability and indulge in debauchery. Percy once again found himself mindlessly bored. Taking a long swallow of his fourth glass of champagne, he admitted ruefully that coming here tonight had been a mistake. It was beyond him to take a lover to rid himself of the thoughts of Frederica. Tupping another woman would not purge her from his thoughts but would make him feel like a disloyal fool. He did not even believe another woman had the power to rouse him, not anymore.
When had Frederica become so important to him?
Percy finally admitted to himself that nothing under the sun could ever induce him to forget Freddie. She was too lovely. She was too unexpected. How she had disrupted his carefully planned out existence and filled him with emotions and longings, he hardly knew what to do with. He was also aware he might be the only gentleman to think of her in such a light.
Lavender perfume invaded his senses, and he braced himself as another passing female leant against him. He was not in the mood, nor did he want to be rude. He gently extricated himself from her clutches before she could make him an offer.
“Forgive me,” he said, “I am not in the mood.”
“Then you are in the wrong place, my darling,” she said, lifting a gloveless hand to stroke her finger over his chin.
Percy gently caught her hand and lowered it to his side before placing the appropriate space between them. She noted his actions and raised a brow. It was laughable, really. This masquerade ball was all about being sinful and debauched, but here he was placing a respectable distance between himself and the lady who likely wanted him to tup her for the long night.
With a sigh, Percy went out into the gardens. There he sat on the stone bench; grateful the area was empty. At this party, there was no need for anyone to sneak outside for private moments. All the fun and the debauchery were taking place inside.
For the first time, he considered Frederica in his life permanently. If he would marry and nothing was preventing him from marrying, it would be to her. Percy wondered what she would think if he made such a suggestion. Would she laugh and mockingly call him papa, or would she remember their kiss and the wicked way he had pleasured her and realize they were eminently suitable for each other?
Would she think of the way they laughed together and how perfect they were when they danced? Or how lovely and peaceful it was when they sat before the fire in the library and read or played chess, basking in each other’s company. Would she step forward with him, or would she refuse him based on her feelings which had apparently been engaged by the Honorable Thomas Humphrey?
I am a damn selfish fool.
Percy sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. The soft crunch of footfall on the plush grass alerted him that someone had invaded his peace. Looking about, he noted a red-haired female tiptoeing about surreptitiously. She wore a blue gown of sheer material, and her lush curves had something stirring inside.
That surprised him.
He arched a brow when she tested the latch of one of the Terrace windows. It was locked. She went to the other window and tested it. This one was open. Looking around, clearly, to see if she was watched, the lady then attempted to climb through the window. Percy almost laughed at the piece of outrageousness before him. Evidently, she had not been invited and did not belong here.
Immediately he sobered as an even more outrageous thought occurred to him. He shot to his feet and stepped out of the shadows of the garden.
“Frederica,” he said sharply.
She released a little shriek and whirled around to face him.
“How did you know it was me?” she had the brazen temerity to demand.
“Is that what you truly have to say for yourself?” he hissed in a furious undertone?
He felt an almost overwhelming urge to take her into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless or with a second thought to turn her over on his knees—