Rosemary Rogers - Scandalous Deception

“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.”

Brianna waited until her maid had slipped away before forcing herself to cross the crowded street.

Feeling as exposed as if she were stark naked, she neared the throng of gentlemen and began to press her way up the sweep of steps. Her logic told her that no one could possibly recognize her in the concealing domino and feathered mask, especially since she had never been able to move among the more fashionable society, but in her mind, she felt as if every eye was staring at her.

And in truth, they were.

Even though she had tightly braided her conspicuous hair and knotted it at the nape of her neck, the color still managed to shimmer with vibrant beauty in the torchlight. And no mask could entirely disguise the exotic slant of her green eyes and the full curve of her inviting mouth.

Keeping her head lowered as she moved forward, she actually made it through the door before a hand clamped on her arm and forced her to a halt.

“And where the devil do you think you’re going?” a male voice rasped.

Glancing up, she met the annoyed glare from a uniformed footman. Her mouth went dry and her heart lodged in her throat.

“I…I am going to the ball.”

The servant curled his lips in distaste. “Oh, aye, and you think you can prance in as if you’re royalty? Maybe you think to be announced by the butler?”

“I…”

The footman did not bother to listen to her embarrassed apology, instead simply pushing her back down the stairs to make room for the crowd of gentlemen.

“Round to the back with you, wench. Only the gents come through the front door.”

Brianna briefly stumbled before regaining her balance and hurrying to the back entrance. Ignoring the dampness that soaked into her embroidered slippers, she found the narrow entrance where she was shown up the servants’ staircase by a dour-faced housekeeper into the long parlors that were richly decorated with gilded ceilings, crimson satin wall paneling and gold-veined marble fireplaces. The floor was a polished parquet that glowed with a rich luster beneath the flickering light of the crystal chandeliers. Along one wall, long tables had been arranged to display the lavish buffet and numerous bottles of chilled champagne.

She had reached her objective, but she discovered that finding Stefan was not to be so simple as she had assumed.

There had to be a hundred guests crammed into the gilt and crimson rooms, all of them disguised in cloaks and masks as they threaded their way through the glittering crowd or lounged on the small couches and chairs that were set in shallow alcoves. Somewhere among the melee a string quartet played, but it was nearly impossible to hear what Brianna assumed was Mozart over the laughter and shouts and shrill giggles.

Under normal circumstances, she might have been shocked by the sight of the women who had tossed open their cloaks to reveal they were wearing nothing more than lacy corsets beneath, and the men who openly reached to grope the wares offered. It was hardly what an innocent maiden was accustomed to seeing.

She was far too concerned with locating the Duke of Huntley to be as shocked as she should be. Or to even question why such a sweet, kind-hearted man such as Stefan would choose to attend such a vulgar event.

Sheer determination allowed her to make her way to the center of the room before she was halted by a large woman with all the full curves that Brianna lacked.

“Hey there, no shoving, there be plenty of gents to go around,” she said, her pox-scarred face heavily rouged.

“I am looking for the Duke of Huntley,” Brianna said bluntly.

The woman gave a lift of her darkened brows. “Oh, aye, I bet yer are. Think yer fancy speech will impress such a fine toff?”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

The woman gave a lift of her shoulder. “I heard tell he was in the card rooms. Seems he prefers gambling to the ladies.”

“Thank God,” Brianna breathed.

“What did ye say?” the woman demanded, suspicious.

“I asked where the card rooms are to found.”

There was a pause before the woman jerked her head back toward the hall.

“Down the hall. Last door on the left.”

“Thank you.”

Brianna turned and began the battle back to the door, a choked scream leaving her lips as a large masculine arm wrapped around her waist from behind.

“Here now, where are you going in such a hurry?” a thick, drunken voice demanded next to her ear.

Brianna struggled against the repulsive grasp. “I be meeting another, let go,” she said, mimicking the other doxies in the room.

“You can meet him later. I have a desire for a saucy minx, and something tells me you could be very saucy.”

A flare of terrified fury raced through Brianna and with as much force as she could muster, she lifted her foot to kick the man directly on his shin.

“I said I have a meeting,” she gritted, managing to wriggle loose as he gave a groan of pain and loosened his grip.

“Why, you bitch…”

An opening appeared and Brianna darted toward the doorway, the crowd filling in behind her to prevent her assailant from following.

Giving a silent prayer at her escape, Brianna did not allow her pace to slow as she entered the carpeted hallway and hurried toward the card room.

CHAPTER THREE

STANDING IN THE SMOKY CARD room, Edmond struggled to contain his impatience.

Predictably, it had not been an easy task to convince his stubborn brother that he truly was in danger. For all Stefan’s intelligence, he was remarkably reluctant to accept that anyone could possibly seek his demise, especially not his own cousin.

Then, of course, there had been the battle over Edmond assuming Stefan’s identity so he could lure the danger to London and away from Meadowland, hopefully flushing the villain into the open. It did not matter how many times Edmond explained that he was far more skilled to discover the truth behind the attacks and that he alone could turn the hunter into the hunted.

Finally, Edmond had been forced to point out that Stefan’s stubbornness might very well be endangering the staff and tenants of Meadowland, explaining that a man willing to murder a duke would not hesitate to kill a mere commoner standing in his way. It was only then that Stefan had given in to the inevitable.

Still, it was a full fortnight before Edmond was at last able to leave Meadowland in the disguise of his brother and arrive at Stefan’s town house in London. And another week before he could replace Stefan’s loyal staff with his own servants. If he were to be bait for a determined killer, he intended to surround himself with those trained to protect him.

It had not taken much effort to track Howard Summerville. All he needed was to discover the most lewd, offensive event on the calendar, Lord Blackwell’s Courtesan Ball.

He had not been disappointed. Within moments he had located Howard in the back card rooms. Now all he needed was his cousin to notice his looming form standing directly in his path.

Over the past twenty minutes, he had walked past the stupid man’s seat at the table on a dozen occasions, expecting to be recognized. After all, there were few in society that could claim the height of Edmond and his brother, and none other who wore the crest of Huntley stamped on a gold signet ring.