Barbara vigorously flapped a large fan at her face, causing the curls around her temples to blow straight back. “At least you’re not dressed as the bloody Virgin Queen. This blasted Elizabethan choker is all but choking me.”
The enormous ruffled collar appeared both heavy and scratchy, but it did little to cover Barbara’s breasts, which were almost popping out of the low-cut, square bodice of the period. All one had to do was lean in a bit to see the tops of the girl’s nipples.
“Perhaps if you fan your, er, chest you’ll feel a bit cooler,” Lia suggested.
“God knows there’s enough of it on display,” Amy said with a grin. “Maybe you could find a nice gent to put some ice down there and cool you off. Then you could ask him to go looking for it—if it doesn’t melt first.”
When the girls burst into laughter, Lia could only manage a weak smile. By the evening’s ribald standards, it was certainly a mild jest. Still, it was enough to embarrass her, which was not an encouraging sign given her mission tonight.
“Are you all right, Lia?” Amy asked, peering at her. “You’ve gone red as a radish. Hang on, because Sir Nathan will be back soon with our drinks.”
“I’m just hot,” she said. “But you made a very good choice, Amy. You look very fetching and quite cool.”
Ventilated would be a better description. Amy preened, smoothing down the wispy and revealing skirts of her nymph’s costume. It was the perfect selection for this masked ball. There were no sedate black dominoes or respectable ball gowns at this gathering. No, this was a riotously scandalous affair, frequented by demireps, light-skirts, and, it seemed, every young buck and rake in London. It was the sort of masquerade that no decent woman would ever set foot in, even if escorted by her husband.
And it also was the perfect opportunity for Lia to make her first tentative foray into the world of the demi-monde, beginning a discreet search for a potential protector.
Discretion was essential; her family would go into collective fits if they found out what she was doing. As far as they knew, she was home in bed with a headache, excused from a night at the opera with the Hunters and the Levertons. A worried Chloe had tucked her into bed with a cold cloth and a tepid cup of chamomile tea. Lia had waited in the dark for half an hour before making her escape. She’d had to steal out through the French doors in Chloe’s sitting room, then climb over the terrace railing and down into the back garden. She’d then hailed a hackney to take her to the Pan, where she met up with Amy and Barbara. The theater was dark that night, so they were able to raid the costume closet. After they dressed, Sir Nathan Prudhoe, Amy’s lover, had picked them up in his carriage.
“And you look very pretty, too, love,” Amy said with an encouraging smile. “Although I wish you’d let me dress you as something more exotic than a simple old milkmaid. I swear I’ve seen at least ten other milkmaids already.”
Lia absently tugged up her bodice. Amy had laced her in very tightly, causing her breasts to all but pop up over the top. A sartorial disaster was only one deep breath away, although with all the breasts on display tonight, hers would hardly stand out.
Still, she breathed a silent prayer that her elaborate lace mask would serve as an effective disguise. Her bosom might be exposed for the world to see, but none of the guests would know her identity.
She had no intention of removing her mask or making an effort to speak to anyone but her friends. She was here to shop the goods, so to speak, not make a purchase. That would come at some time still vaguely in the future, when she’d had a chance to review appropriate candidates for the role of protector—and, more importantly, to figure out how to make a final selection. She had yet to come up with a list of qualifications for the position except for the obvious two—he must be rich and he must not entirely disgust her.
As for the logistics of putting her plan into action . . . that mostly eluded her right now, too.
If only Granny were here to advise her. Lia had tried broaching the subject with her mother a few days earlier, but it hadn’t gone well. Mama now seemed convinced that Lia’s new and wealthy relations could take care of her, and that trying to find a protector risked offending both the Hunters and the Levertons.
Her mother’s newfound squeamishness would be laughable if it weren’t so annoying and unhelpful.
Mentally glowering at all the obstacles in the way of her plan, Lia tugged again on her bodice. Amy reached over and slapped her hands away.
“Now, stop that, Miss Lia,” she said. “You’re covering up your best assets.”
“Aside from your face, that is,” Barbara added. “But nobody can see that.”
Lia grimaced. “I’m not very good at this, am I?”
“It just takes a little getting used to,” Amy said. “You’ll be fine.”
“Especially once you’ve had your first lover. Then you’ll start to have some fun with it,” Barbara added.
Lia managed to dredge up a weak smile. There wasn’t one thing about any of this that struck her as fun.
Amy studied her with a thoughtful expression. “How about asking that lovely bloke who came to see you at the theater? Lord Lendale, was it?”
“He’d be the last person I could ask to be my protector,” she said in a gloomy tone.
“Turn you down, would he?” Amy asked sympathetically.
“He doesn’t approve of this sort of thing. He’s very respectable and he’d kill me if he knew what I was doing tonight.”
Lia hadn’t seen Jack for some days, not since that dreadful night at Leverton House. Dominic had all but forbidden contact between them on the grounds that it would only exacerbate gossip. Jack had objected but had eventually—if reluctantly—agreed that it was necessary to safeguard what little reputation she had left. Though it was an eminently sensible decision, Lia couldn’t help missing him with an ache now permanently lodged in her heart.
Still, if it helped usher Jack from her life, so much the better for him.
“You don’t seem very enthusiastic about finding a lover,” Barbara said. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
Lia winced. “I was hoping it wasn’t so obvious. But, yes, I do want to go through with this. And I’m ever so grateful that you two agreed to help me.”
Approaching Amy for help had been the only idea Lia was able to come up with. Dubious at first, the young woman had eventually come around.
“I just hope Mrs. Lester doesn’t throw my arse out onto the street for bringing you here,” Amy said. “I don’t understand why your own ma won’t help you. After all, it’s how she got her start.”
“Her reasons don’t matter,” Lia said firmly. “And I promise she’ll never find out you helped me.”
“And the rest of your family? What about them?” Barbara asked.
“My grandmother will be fine. As for the others, it’s not up to them.”
Lia simply refused to become a poor relation dependent on someone else for every morsel of bread she put in her mouth. Besides, it was far too late to change course. In the eyes of polite society, she was already a whore, just like her mother and grandmother. Perception was very little different from reality for a woman like her, no matter how many times Dominic or Chloe tried to persuade her differently.
That perception—cemented by that scene with Jack’s mother—had sealed Lia’s fate. All that was left was to exert as much control over the future as she could.
“You’re a lovely, sweet girl, so you’ll find yourself a rich one,” Amy said. “If you stop trying to pull up your damn bodice.”
Sir Nathan finally strolled up, but without a footman bearing drinks.
“I apologize for abandoning you for so long, my dears,” he drawled. “I was detained.”
“Not by the line at the refreshment table, apparently,” Amy said in a teasing voice. “La, sir, we’re positively parched by the heat.”
Sir Nathan’s unmasked gaze flickered with irritation. “Perhaps you can fetch the drinks next time
, my sweet. I’m sure you could find any number of admirers happy to assist you.”
Amy clearly heard the implied threat. She waved an airy hand and laughed, saying she’d merely been bored without him because he was the only interesting man in the room.
Sir Nathan Prudhoe was both wealthy and handsome, and securing him as her protector had been a coup for Amy. Lia, however, found him cold, with a brusque and dismissive manner. She’d instantly disliked him, despite Amy’s assurances that he was the perfect person to give her entry into the world of the demi-monde. Sir Nathan knew all the wealthiest men in the Ton, including those who might be interested in finding a new mistress.
The notion of being indebted to a man like him, however, made her skin crawl. Nor did she appreciate the way his gaze had flickered over her body with an avid, impersonal lust. Thank God she’d thought to don her mask and had insisted that Amy introduce her to him and to every other man they met tonight as Miss Smith.
For now, and until she was ready to make that final step, she would keep her identity a closely guarded secret. The last thing she needed was word filtering back to Dominic or, even worse, Jack. They would do everything they could to squash her plans.
“I don’t know about you, but I need something to drink,” Barbara grumbled. “If Sir Nathan won’t fetch us refreshments, I suppose we’ll have to go do it ourselves.”
“I’m sure a footman will pass by any minute,” Lia said hastily when she saw temper stamp an ugly scowl on Sir Nathan’s arrogant features. She remembered the bruise on Amy’s shoulder and her uneasiness grew. “After all, our host is obviously most generous and attentive to his guests, and this is such a wonderful party. I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to join you and Amy tonight, Sir Nathan. So very kind of you.”
She sounded like a prattling twit, but Prudhoe seemed like a man who would take fawning as his just due.
He leveled a suspicious stare for a few moments, but then smiled and gave Lia a mocking little bow. “It was my pleasure, Miss Smith. Welby is always happy to invite unattached ladies to his events, as I’m sure you’ve been able to deduce.” He punctuated his remark with a leer that made Lia feel nauseated.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Welby,” Amy said brightly, obviously happy for the change in subject. “Will we meet our host at some point this evening?”
Prudhoe shrugged. “Perhaps. He frequently throws this sort of affair but only rarely attends them. The man’s as odd as the devil, but what can you expect from a cit?”
“Still, it would be nice to meet him,” Lia said.
“Because he’s so rich, my avaricious little dove?” he asked with a cynical smile.
“No, I’d simply like to thank him for his hospitality,” she said, swallowing the impulse to snap at him. It would be a miracle if she didn’t smash a vase over Prudhoe’s head before the night was out.
“He wouldn’t care. Besides, you and Miss Carson should have ample opportunity to meet admirers tonight. I would suggest, however, that you begin circulating. No one will be able to sample your many charms if you continue to hide yourself away in a corner.”
When his gaze dropped to her chest and stayed there, Lia’s gaze strayed to a large crystal vase with lilies and purple irises on a nearby sideboard.
“Come on, love,” Barbara said, taking her arm. “Why don’t we fetch something to drink, and then we can stroll about the room.” She gave Amy a nod. “We’ll find you later, shall we?”
“Yes, be sure to find us at midnight for the unmasking,” Prudhoe drawled. “I’m most eager to see Amy’s little friend without her disguise.”
That would never happen. And from the look on Amy’s face, she wasn’t too keen on the idea either. She already seemed to be having trouble affixing her lover’s interest, which wasn’t a bad thing as far as Lia was concerned. The man was a complete lout.
“What a right bastard that fellow is,” Barbara said as they skirted the dance floor. “Even if he is a rich nob.”
“He’s certainly not very kind,” Lia said. She thought that kindness in a protector was the first thing she should look for. All the money in the world couldn’t make up for a brutish man.
Perhaps the best thing to do tonight was compile a list of attributes she would wish for in a protector. Given the number of men at the ball—men who engaged in all sorts of bad behavior, she couldn’t help noticing—she would have plenty of material to work with.
As they squeezed past a crowd of young bucks, Barbara let out a squawk. When she spun around and glared at one of the men, he flashed her a leering grin.
“You keep your hands to yourself, you jackass,” she said. “Or I’ll show you what for, I will.”
“I’d like to see that,” the man said with a drunken laugh. “Why don’t you and your pretty friend join us? Then you can show us whatever you want, starting with your pretty boobies.”
“Not bloody likely,” Barbara snapped. “You’re nothing but a—”
“Thank you, sir, but no,” Lia interrupted. “Don’t get in an argument with them,” she hissed at Barbara as she dragged her in the direction of the refreshment saloon. “We don’t have anyone to protect us if things get ugly.”
“But he groped me right on the arse. My Anthony would take him apart if he saw me being treated like that.”
“Good Lord, Barbara, what are you doing here?” Lia asked, exasperated. “You already have a beau who sounds devoted to you.”
Her companion started to reply, but a heavily rouged vestal virgin and her male escort, garbed as one of the more flamboyant Stuart kings, separated them. Barbara ruthlessly elbowed them out of the way, ignoring the protests from the offended monarch.
“He is very devoted,” she said. “But his pa owns a cartage business and they’ve got a job transporting goods up to Glasgow. He knows I like to go to parties and entertainments and he don’t have a problem with that.” She winked at Lia, her generous mouth curving into a smile beneath her pretty feathered mask. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a girl making a little extra on the side, is there? This is just the sort of place to do it, what with all the gents around. My Anthony will be happy with the extra blunt when we set up housekeeping for ourselves.”
It was hard to believe that any man could be so tolerant and forgiving. Then again, Barbara did seem the practical sort, and perhaps her beau was as well. Lia had to admit that money and status trumped love more frequently than not. Given what had happened to her grandmother, who had allowed herself to be seduced by affection rather than commerce, perhaps it was better to be practical.
“The man who squeezed your backside was eager to spend time with you and he looked very well-heeled. Why not spend time with him?”
“I choose who I spend time with, love. Not the other way around. That’s Amy’s problem. She’s not choosy enough, if you ask me.”
Lia added that bit of wisdom to her list of things to remember when choosing a protector.
They eventually made their way forward with the colorfully garbed crowd to the refreshment tables at the end of the spacious ballroom. Beyond the tables, a wide set of doors led into another drawing room, one set up for supper. But rather than tables and chairs, the space was filled with chaises and settees, with low tables scattered among them. That arrangement was obviously intended to allow the guests to recline at their leisure, eating and drinking and engaging in . . . certain other activities.
From what Lia could tell, those activities seemed more prevalent than enjoying a light repast. She saw one man nestle a plump strawberry in the even plumper décolletage of his companion. The effect was rendered more licentious by the fact that the pair had dressed as a bishop and a nun, although the lady’s religious habit featured an extremely low-cut bodice and skirts that fell open to reveal her garters and stockings. When the bishop leaned over to gobble the strawberry up from between his companion’s breasts, Lia had to swallow a dismayed squeak.
That display, however, was tame compared to the activities
of a couple on an adjoining chaise. The gentleman—and she used the term loosely—had a giggling and quite buxom lady who was dressed in the manner of a young schoolgirl perched on his lap. He tugged on her bodice until one of her breasts popped out like a pastry freshly baked from the oven. After pouring his champagne over her chest, he bent to suck her nipple into his mouth with what could only be described as a marked display of enthusiasm.
Mortified, Lia yanked her attention away to stare desperately at the back of the tall gentleman in front of her. Heat flushed through her body and perspiration began to trickle down her spine. Sucking in several deep breaths, she tried to calm herself even as she cursed her naïveté. She’d stumbled into the middle of an orgy and she had only herself to blame.
Barbara had begun a lively chat with a dandyish fellow dressed as a cavalier, so Lia had plenty of time to stew about her decision to attend the masquerade. Although she was well aware that a Cyprians’ ball was likely to involve inappropriate behavior, she hadn’t expected to stumble across outright nudity in the supper room. Surely there must be ways to find a protector that didn’t involve dipping one’s nipples in champagne or getting one’s backside groped by strangers.
When fingers brushed against her backside a moment later, she jumped and let out a squawk. She stumbled into the man in front of her, slapping her palms on his broad back to regain her balance. He whipped around and peered down at her, a scowl on his unmasked features. His gaze seemed to snag on her mouth, then slowly traveled down over her figure as horrified recognition dawned in his eyes.
Damn, damn, damn.
Lia’s heart began thudding like a hammer against an anvil and for a dreadful moment she was afraid she might swoon. The blasted man had seen through her disguise.
“Good God,” exclaimed Sebastian Sinclair. “What in hell’s name are you doing here, Miss—”
She slapped a gloved hand to his lips. “Miss Smith. My name is Miss Smith.”
Looking stupefied, he slowly removed her hand from his mouth. Lia briefly thought about dropping to her knees and crawling away into the crowd.
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