certainly been her intention when she had left her chambers that morning.
Unfortunately, nothing could manage to dim the finely molded features that were dominated by a pair of slanted, thickly lashed green eyes and a wide, lush mouth. And certainly nothing could dim the vibrant beauty of her auburn hair that held hints of red, gold and a shimmering bronze.
Her nose was dainty and her eyebrows an elegant sweep of color that emphasized the ivory perfection of her skin. Even her cheekbones were carved with exquisite care.
To men, she appeared to capture the very essence and allure of the first Eve, a woman who could tempt a man to barter his very soul to own her.
But in this moment, she would give her sizable dowry to be invisible to men.
At least to one man in particular.
The familiar squeak of the back gate brought a swift end to her dark thoughts, and leaning forward, she gave a low whistle to capture the maid’s notice.
“Janet,” she called softly. The plump female, attired in a gray servant’s gown and white cap covering her dark curls, cast a glance about the seemingly empty garden. “I am in the grotto.”
With hurried steps, the maid entered the grotto and pressed a hand to her ample bosom.
“Lord, Miss, ye bout scared the wits outta me.”
“Mr. Wade has returned from his club early, I could not risk having him overhear us,” Brianna Quinn whispered.
Janet grimaced, her pretty features hardening with distaste. It was an expression most women displayed when speaking of Mr. Thomas Wade.
“Aye, he is always sneaking about, watching you like a hungry cat watching a mouse.”
A shiver inched down Brianna’s spine before she was sternly lifting her chin and sucking in a deep breath. No, she could not give in to her looming panic. The only means of saving herself was to keep her wits clear and focused on escape.
“He will discover that I am no mouse,” she said, fiercely. “I do not care what it takes, I will be rid of my vile stepfather before the week is out.”
“As to that—” Janet ducked her head in apology as she reached her hand into the pocket of her apron and removed the vellum envelope that Brianna had given her earlier that morning.
Brianna frowned in disbelief. She had devoted the past week to sending letter after letter to Stefan’s town house. She had been certain when she learned the reclusive Duke was in town that he would be her savior.
But, as day after day passed with no word from her childhood friend, she had at last sent her maid to confront him directly. It had to be that her letters had gone astray or Stefan had not yet had the opportunity to read them. She could not believe he would be deliberately avoiding her pleas for assistance.
“You were unable to speak with the Duke?” she demanded.
Janet made a rude noise. “Not only wasn’t I allowed to speak with the Duke, but I couldn’t so much as leave yer note for him.”
“Why ever not?”
“There was a great, hulking servant what answered the door. Eyed me like a piece of rubbish that had been dropped on his stoop and told me to be on me way without so much as a good day.” Janet gave a disgusted shake of her head. Despite the fact she was the same age as Brianna, two and twenty, she possessed a will of iron and was rarely routed by even the most fearsome opponent. Brianna had seen her beat a drunken sailor to near death with her umbrella for no more an insult than a pinch on her backside. “Sodding man wouldn’t even accept the letter ye had written for His Grace. Said as his master was in town for business reasons and wasn’t accepting visitors. Then he shut the door right in me face. Bastard.”
Brianna was frankly bewildered. She knew all of the Huntley staff, since most of them had been with the ducal family since well before Brianna’s father had died. Certainly she could not recall such an intimidating man.
“Describe this servant.”
Janet gave a lift of her shoulder. “As I said, he was big and burly with a hard face and thick golden hair. I suppose he be handsome enough if ye like ’em big as an ox.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “Oh, and he had a funny accent. He was no Englishman, that much I can tell ye.”
“How peculiar.” With short, determined steps, Brianna paced the confined space of the grotto, her nerves stretched to the point of screaming. “That does not sound at all like Goodson.”
“Who?”
“The Duke’s long-time butler,” Brianna said absently. “In fact, to my knowledge the Dukes have never employed foreigners. Their staff has been with them for years.”
“Looks more like a criminal than a servant, if ye ask me.”
“I do not understand, Janet.” The swish of her black crape dress over the sarsnet slip echoed through the musty air as Brianna continued her pacing, her fingers absently toying with the fichu she had tucked into the modest line of her bodice. “Stefan would never turn away a request from me, not unless he has changed dramatically in the past few years. My father named him as one of my guardians, for God’s sake.”
“What will ye do? If ye can’t speak with the Duke…”
Brianna came to a sharp halt, her hands clenched into fists. “Oh, I will speak with him. Even if I have to storm the gates of his town house myself.”
“Ye can’t do that, Miss. Not without causing a fearful scandal.”
“You think I would not rather endure scandal than be hauled off to a secluded hunting lodge with my stepfather?” Brianna hissed, her entire body revolting at the mere thought of what would happen once Thomas had her isolated and helpless at the lodge.
“Still…ach.” Janet caught her breath. “I jest remembered something.”
“What?”
“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 like 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