He braced a hand against the wall and scanned the crowd. Bloody difficult to tell who was who with everyone wearing blasted masks. Thank Christ, Isabella had stopped him earlier and identified herself. She was wearing a ruby-red gown that was a bit too … distracting for his taste. He’d quickly excused himself without asking her to dance, which she was clearly hinting at, and made his way to the study where Monroe had got him in his drunken clutches. At least Garrett knew enough to stay away from the ruby-red gown he saw bobbing along the far side of the room, besieged by a contingent of hopeful male escorts.
“Garrett, there you are!” came Lucy’s bright voice. He pulled his hand from the wall and turned to face his cousin.
“You must meet my friend Miss … Blue.” Lucy turned in a wide circle, obviously looking for her friend. “Now where did she get off to? I swear she was just here.”
Garrett grinned at his cousin. “Are you certain she exists? She’s not like Miss Bunbury, is she? Or Mrs. Bunbury?”
Lucy plunked her hands on her hips and scowled at him. “Of course she exists. I’ll just go find her and be back. I’m greatly looking forward to you meeting her.”
Lucy had a smile on her face that indicated she was up to something, but at the moment, Garrett’s dizzy head was more pressing than whatever scheme Lucy had concocted. No doubt this was her inelegant attempt at matchmaking. “Fine. Go and fetch her. I’ll just be … over here.”
A large potted palm rested near the wall across the room, a tufted chair situated behind it. Garrett had spied the space earlier. He intended to seek it out and relax for a moment.
Lucy quickly blended into the crowd while Garrett headed for the palm. When he reached it, he realized, to his chagrin, it was already occupied by a woman. A woman wearing a stunning shade of light blue with a domino mask to match.
“Good evening,” he said, bowing to her.
“Good evening,” came the woman’s steady reply.
For a moment he wondered if she was Miss Blue. In his head, she was. Garrett bowed to Miss Blue again. Frankly, she’d looked like a blue blur to him at first. But when he lifted his head and took her hand, he was immediately intrigued. Miss Blue had dark-brown eyes, soft dark hair that framed her face, a pretty face from what he could see of it behind her mask, and was—ahem—well endowed. Quite well endowed. He forced himself to look away from her décolletage. But really, what red-blooded male could keep from looking at that?
“Do I know you, sir?” she asked.
There was something familiar about her voice, but with the ringing in his head, he couldn’t quite place her. “No, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. This is a masquerade, is it not? As it should be.” Where all that nonsense had come from he had no idea. He was being charming. On purpose. Quite a shock, especially to him.
“Then I suppose it’s nice to meet you, whoever you are,” she said with a musical laugh. It sparked a memory he couldn’t quite place in his hazy brain.
“The pleasure is entirely mine, my lady,” he replied with the most roguish grin he could muster, the one that made him popular with the ladies in London.
Miss Blue opened her mouth to speak. “Oh, I’m not a lady, I’m—”
“Shh,” he said in a husky voice, daring to put his finger to her lips. They were warm and soft and— He shook himself. Best not to think about that. “You’re a lady tonight. You’re Lady Blue.”
Her laughter followed again. “Very well, and you are? Lord Green?”
“I like that name. I like it very much.” He executed a sweeping bow, though how he managed to right himself afterward was anyone’s guess. “Would you care to dance?” Dancing probably wasn’t the best idea, but how could Garrett resist a pairing with a charming, lovely, well-endowed young woman?
He offered his arm and Lady Blue merely nodded and took it without saying a word. Garrett pulled her into his arms just as a waltz began to play. Thank God for his many drunken nights of revelry in London. He had experience dancing and appearing to be sober when he was anything but, though mostly in his much younger days.
Lady Blue, it turned out, was a young lady of few words. Pity that. Weren’t the loveliest ladies the ones who rarely spoke? The most annoying ladies, such as Miss Lowndes, were the ones who wouldn’t stop speaking. He shook his head. Why was he thinking about Miss Lowndes at a time like this? Where was that woman at any rate? No doubt she’d begged off, claiming a headache, and was ensconced in the library with a book. He searched the ballroom. At least Isabella was still far across the room.
This was exactly what he needed, a harmless flirtation with a lady. His guilt over Isabella and his annoyance with Miss Lowndes had him feeling out of sorts. He was usually charming with ladies. Charming and friendly, certainly welcomed. Miss Lowndes was the only woman who seemed to dislike his company and Isabella was the only beautiful woman he could remember whose company he rebuffed.
For all that Lady Blue didn’t speak, she was a proficient dancer, but the waltzing was making his dizziness worse. He needed to stop before he spun this divine young woman straight into the refreshment table. Bad form, that. “Would you care to go for a walk?”
“A walk?” Her voice was slightly breathless. The niggling feeling in the back of his mind remained. He’d heard that voice before.
“Yes. I find that dancing is a bit too … much for me at present,” he replied.
She hesitated. “Where shall we walk to?”
“The gallery?” he offered. A walk in the cool corridor outside the upper floor might be just what he needed. He could pretend to show her the portraits on the walls and hopefully shake off this stupor.
“Very well,” she agreed magnanimously.
Garrett pressed his lips together to keep from sighing his relief. She was gorgeous and agreeable. A delightful combination.
They stopped and moved off the dance floor. Garrett put his hand against the small of her back and ushered her in front of him out of the ballroom and into the quiet corridor. “This way.” He pointed toward the right where they rounded a corner and proceeded up the staircase to the gallery.
“Do you know the Monroe family quite well then?” the lady asked. She leaned on his arm a bit heavily and he could have sworn she tripped a little on the way up the stairs. Was she in her cups too?
“Yes, actually. I’ve known them for years. I was raised not far from here. How long have you known them?”
“I’ve only known Lady Cassandra since her come-out. She’s marvelous.”
Another familiar niggle, but he brushed it aside. He was certain he’d know this beauty if he’d met her before. The alcohol was doing funny things to his mind. Blast that Monroe.
When they came to the end of the corridor, Garrett stopped and gestured to the portraits. “Here we are.”
“There are so many of them. Though I must admit, I find them difficult to see. Who’s that?” She gestured to one in particular.
“It’s the second earl, I believe. There’s an even better rendering of him in this drawing room.” He pointed toward a door down the corridor. “Care to see it?”
* * *
Jane didn’t know what to think. First, the handsome stranger in the green mask had asked her to dance. Well, from what she could see of him, he was handsome. Then he had asked her to view the gallery with him. Now, if she didn’t know better—and she didn’t know better—she’d think he was asking her to go into a drawing room with him, alone. It was beyond scandalous and inappropriate.
And it was absolutely perfect. She’d wanted a scandal to present itself and present itself it had, in the form of Lord Green.
Jane shivered. What was it about taking off her spectacles that made her feel so … scandalous? Perhaps it was because a handsome gentleman had never shown the slightest interest in her before? Perhaps it was because she’d never had the slightest inclination to return that interest? But there was something about this tall, dark man that made her want to go into the drawing room with him alone
… even if they were only going to view an old painting. Not that she didn’t like paintings—she adored the British Museum and spent absolute days there getting lost among the displays, carefully studying the lines of the Rubenses and the strokes in the Gainsboroughs. She could examine a Botticelli for hours on end. But she seriously doubted a painting of Cass’s ancestor would keep her attention longer than a moment or two. Not to mention she couldn’t see a thing at present. No, it was Lord Green who was keeping her attention.
Who was he? Scandal or no, she should know his name before she took off into the drawing room with him. Shouldn’t she? “I should like that, Mr.…”
Instead of replying, he took her by the elbow and ushered her toward the drawing room. “As I said. One of the advantages of a masquerade is to be incognito.” He flashed a grin. She could only see a white streak in the blur that was his face but it didn’t matter. The man might look like an ogre for all she knew but he seemed handsome, indeed, and that was enough to pretend with tonight. And wasn’t he correct? One of the advantages of a masquerade was to be incognito. She didn’t want to give her name either, now that she thought on it. He might have heard the name Jane Lowndes linked to “wallflower” the way “indulgence” was linked to the Prince Regent. Inseparable, those two. If Lord Green pressed her, she would give the name Bunbury, or Wollstonecraft, perhaps. Yes, Miss Wollstonecraft. Perfect. That had been her pretend name at the infamous house party last autumn. For now, she was content remaining entirely anonymous.
Lord Green pushed open the door to the drawing room. The space was dark save for the faint glow coming from one small candle. He left her near the entryway and went to fetch the candle, bringing it back and shutting the door. Hmm. She’d been right about him. He was attempting to get her alone with him. She had no experience with such things. What happened next? Would she be forced to slap him? Should she use the words “Unhand me, sir?” or threaten to have her brother call him out? That would be scandalous, but perhaps a bit too scandalous. Of course, she didn’t have a brother, but he didn’t know that. An insignificant detail, really.
“The painting is over here,” Lord Green said, grasping her hand and pulling her gently behind him. Jane nearly gasped at the touch of his warm fingers. Even through her glove she could feel it. Perhaps she didn’t have to slap him. Perhaps she didn’t have to pretend she had a brother to call him out. Perhaps she could … kiss him. That would be scandalous too. Quite scandalous. The thought made a hot knot unravel in the pit of her belly and somewhere … lower. She took a deep breath and trailed along behind him.
They stopped in front of a large portrait of a man wearing a uniform. At least Jane thought it was a man wearing a uniform. Blobs that looked like epaulets rested on what appeared to be giant red shoulders. The painting was so large, even Jane could make out a bit of it, but she was standing far too close.
“You may have a better feel for it from this vantage point.” She turned at the sound of Lord Green’s voice, to see him standing next to a blob she decided must be the settee in the middle of the room. He was looking toward her and the huge portrait.
“If I didn’t know better, my lord, I’d say you were trying to lure me over to the settee.”
“You don’t know better,” he said in a voice that sounded entirely too charming.
She slowly crossed the wide carpet toward him, her mouth going dry. Would she really do this? Allow this stranger to kiss her if he tried? Was she that daring? That Lady Blue?
She sat, spreading her skirts on the settee, but he smoothed them aside and leaned close. His warm breath smelled of alcohol, but his own scent, a mixture of soap and something that smelled like autumn leaves, left her breathless.
“What if I admitted that I was?” he asked.
Jane’s brain was blurry. “Was what?”
“Luring you to the settee.”
“I’d say you succeeded.” She hated the sound of her shaking voice. Bluestocking spinsters never had occasion for their voices to shake. Bluestocking spinsters never had occasion to trade witty jibes with handsome gentlemen—unless her wordplay with Upton counted and that was entirely— Oh, God, there she went thinking of Upton again at a time like this.
She clasped her hands in her lap and concentrated on not breathing too heavily. Was her breath pleasant? Or did the lilacs override that? Oh, the lilacs. She’d forgotten all about the lilacs. The lilacs were working. For heaven’s sake. Of all amazing things, a handsome young gentleman was actually flirting with her. Flirting! With her! A thrill shot through her. She’d read about these sorts of things, of course. She took another deep breath and made her decision. This was it. If she handled this correctly, she just might experience her first kiss and get her scandal in one fell swoop. The kiss would be strictly for educational purposes, of course. Nothing more. First she must flirt with him. Flirt. Flirt! She couldn’t believe it, even as she had the thought.
She leaned closer. “I should warn you, I don’t kiss gentlemen whom I’ve just met and certainly not alone in drawing rooms.”
“I should warn you, I’m quite persuasive … and a very good kisser.”
“Really…?” Her voice was breathy, a mere whisper. “Persuade me, then.”
His lips met hers, dry but firm. What was next? Was this all there was?
Then his mouth opened and slanted across hers, and Jane forgot to breathe. For heaven’s sake, what was the man doing? His tongue plummeted between her lips and a shudder racked her body. He tasted like some sort of spicy alcohol. Her fingers went up to tangle in his dark hair. His mask and hers briefly rubbed against each other.
She’d never felt anything like it before. Lust, hot and powerful, shot through her. It must be lust. She’d read about it. Even thought about it if she was being honest, but she’d never experienced it. Never imagined she’d have the opportunity to experience it. His mouth shaped hers and his tongue plunged again. Again. She was mad for him. She wrapped her arms around his strong, warm neck. He pulled her tight against him. His body was all hard muscles and planes and perfectly male. His strong, warm hands came up to cup her cheeks, his fingers lightly caressing the sides of her face. He kissed her again and again, not letting go, not stopping. Her lips were swollen, hot, wet. So were other parts … lower parts of her body. His mouth moved off hers and trailed a damp path to her ear. His tongue skimmed over the edge. Her entire body quivered.
“Easy,” he whispered huskily into her ear. “I won’t hurt you.”
She didn’t reply, only found his mouth again blindly with her own and coaxed his tongue back into contact with hers. She rubbed herself against his thigh, lightly whimpering, wanting to feel more, more, more.
The kisses slowly wound down and became more languorous. His tongue replaced by the feel of his warm, strong lips against hers. He kissed the side of her mouth, once, twice, and pulled himself away. Was he shaking a little?
So was she.
“As much as I’d love to finish what we started,” he said in a voice that was definitely shaking, “we should probably get back, my lady.”
All she could do was nod unevenly.
He took a deep breath. “My cousin might be wondering where I’ve got off to. Lucy’s one to come looking.”
Jane’s stomach plummeted. She gasped and held her breath.
Oh, my God. I just kissed Upton!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jane gulped. Not only had she just kissed Upton, but she’d liked it! Worse, she was about to kiss him again. Because even though he’d said they should get back, Upton’s hands were pulling her back to him, and his mouth found hers again.
She was mindless, thoughtless, as if she were suspended in time, completely unable to stop the whirlwind of lust she’d been swept into.
This is madness. This is madness. This is madness.
She repeated the words to herself over and over, even as she met each of Upton’s thrusts with her tongue, and let her fingers tangle in his dark, curly hair again.
Oh, God. Upton was not only handsome and seductive, he was driving her wild with his mouth. How was this happening?
But it’s Upton. It’s Upton. It’s Upton.
Rational thought told her she should push him away immediately, but rational thought was long gone from this room. All she could concentrate on was the feel of his warm hand on her breast and how it intensified the ache between her thighs.
“Tell me to stop,” he demanded against her mouth.
“No,” she answered mindlessly, still cupping his slightly stubbled cheeks in her hands and kissing him back with a fervor that frightened her.
Upton seemed to have no idea who she was, and thank God for that. She’d never live it down in her own mind, regardless. Imagine how much worse it would be if he knew it was she and pushed her away.
Or did he know and was only pretending not to know, as she was? No. That couldn’t be true. But how could he not know? It made no sense. At least not until she reminded herself that until two moments ago, she hadn’t realized who he was. His voice was slurred, that was it. That’s why she hadn’t recognized it. It had been different from his normal clipped tones. Not to mention the man had obviously been drinking. God knew how much. What in heaven’s name was her excuse? At the moment she wished she’d had a swig too.
She’d wanted a scandal? She’d just scandalized herself!
He pulled her under him and lay atop her, his knee riding between her legs, and she was mindless again. His hips pressed against her most intimate spot and his mouth owned hers. The stark evidence of his arousal nudged against her thigh. When his hand came up to touch her breast, a shiver racked her body.
“Easy,” he whispered against her mouth. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”
“That’s the problem.” Her voice trembled.
He laughed a little against her mouth. It was arousing. Arousing? Upton? Oh, God, what was happening to her? She had turned into a mindless, lust-crazed beast.
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