25

Sebastian's plan worked like a charm. Marcus was engaged to dine with friends and was not in the house to see his wife leave, a cream domino and loo mask over one arm. Awaiting her in a hired chaise at the corner of the square was Gracemere.

Judith greeted him with a brilliant smile. "Such an adventure, my lord," she gushed with all the enthusiasm of a child being given a treat. "I've never been to a public ridotto before."

The earl bowed over her hand. "Then I'm honored to be the first to introduce you to its pleasures." He handed her into the chaise and climbed in after her. "I trust you'll be pleased with Ranelagh. It's said by some to be prettier than Vauxhall."

It was a relatively mild evening and Judith would have been enchanted by her first sight of the gardens, brilliantly lit by myriad golden lanterns, if she hadn't had other things on her mind. She had to ensure that she and her companion met up with Sebastian's party before they all became lost in the anonymous throng parading along the gravel walks in dominoes and masks.

"I'd like to dance," she said. "May we go to the pavilion?"

"By all means." The earl bowed and took the loo mask from her. "Allow me."

She endured the feel of his fingers deftly tying the strings of the mask, struggling to hold herself away from him without giving him any indication of the depths of her revulsion. She left the cream domino hanging open from her shoulders, revealing her ball gown of sapphire taffeta. It was a startling color that set her hair on fire, and Sebastian would have little difficulty recognizing his sister in the crowd, despite the mask.

They had circled the ballroom only once, before Sebastian saw them. He was in a group of friends, lounging against the wall, ogling the dancers with the appearance of those who've escaped from the restraints of convention and are determined to enjoy themselves in whatever outrageous fashion presented itself. They held tankards of porter and blue ruin, and were imbibing freely as they exchanged indelicate observations on the company.

"Good God, it's m'sister," Sebastian declared, his voice slightly slurred, as Judith and Gracemere came within earshot.

Judith felt her partner's sudden rigidity. "Sebastian," she called, breaking free from the earl. "What are you doing here? Isn't it a famous adventure? I've never seen such people. Do you know, there were people chasing each other around the lily pond just now. They'd taken their masks off… Oh, my lord, I beg your pardon."

She turned with a radiant smile to the earl, whose expression was well hidden by his mask. "What a coincidence. My brother's here, too."

"So I see." Gracemere bowed. "Your sister had a great desire to sample the delights of a public ridotto, Davenport. I offered my services as escort."

"Why, Ju, you know I would have escorted you m'self," Sebastian said reproachfully. "But let me make you known to my friends."

A woman in a green domino moved out of the window embrasure as Judith took her brother's arm. There was no mischief to be wrought here, no tale of tarnished virtue to bear to the Most Honorable Marquis of Carrington. Agnes Barret went home.

From then on, the earl's carefully constructed scheme of seduction disintegrated. Sebastian, in the merry fuzziness engendered by gin and porter, remained convinced that Gracemere could only be as delighted as they all were at this serendipitous meeting, and nothing would satisfy him but that they should join together and have supper in one of the rotundas, where they could observe the cits and the ladies of the demimonde to their hearts' content. Several jesting references were made to the Marquis of Carrington's possible reactions to his wife's indulging herself in such vulgar fashion, and Judith seemed to become as tipsy as her brother and his companions as the evening wore on.

Gracemere could do nothing but sit amid the rowdy group, waiting impatiently for the evening to end. He felt like an elderly uncle who'd strayed into a party of exuberant youth. Judith's behavior was certainly inappropriate for the Marchioness of Carrington, but her identity was well concealed behind her mask, should any other members of the ton have also decided to pass such an unconventional evening. But in any event, she could be accused only of an excess of high spirits. There was nothing of which to make a public scandal, and no capital that the earl could make out of his escort. Instead of a private, intimate supper in a dimly lit box, they were supping very publicly under the full glare of a dozen candelabra in the company of Judith's brother. If it ever became known, Society's censure would be slight, tempered with indulgence. Instead of moving flirtation down the paths of overt seduction, he was obliged to watch his prey's disintegration into a giggling ingenue, leaning against her brother for the physical support she needed so vitally. He assumed Agnes had returned home.

At the end of the evening, he was forced to endure Sebastian's rollicking company in the chaise. He couldn't refuse his request for a ride home without it seeming most peculiar, so he sat in the corner of the chaise bale-fully listening to the brother and sister's drunken giggles and infelicitous observations.

When the chaise drew up in Berkeley Square, Sebastian lurched down the step. "I'll walk m'sister to her door," he said, hiccupping through the window at Gracemere. "My thanks for the ride. Famous evening… famous sport." He grinned crookedly, and put a finger to his lip. "Mustn't let it get about, though, must we?

The earl sighed and agreed faintly, before taking Judith's hand and raising it to his lips. "You'll understand, I'm sure, my dear Judith, when I say that I don't consider your debt paid. The terms of the agreement have not been met by tonight's little entertainment."

Judith blinked at him, squinting as she tried to focus. She seemed to be struggling with an errant memory. "Debt, sir? How did it come about that we… Oh, yes." She smiled triumphantly. "I remember now. We must play piquet again, you know. Next time /'//win the wager and I'll drive your blacks in Richmond Park."

"Maybe so," he said with a dry smile. "But first we must settle the original debt. You'll not renege, I know."

"Oh, no… no… course not." Judith hiccupped, smiled fuzzily, and tripped down the step to the pavement, where she turned and waved merrily at him through the window. He knocked on the panel and the coachman set the horses in motion. Gracemere looked back through the window as they turned the corner of the square. Brother and sister were still giggling as they stumbled up the steps to the house.

Of all the wretched pieces of ill luck… and the gullible simpleton couldn't even hold her drink. He would contrive better next time.

"I think we pulled that one off rather neatly," Sebastian observed, reaching for the door knocker.

Judith shook her head. "So neatly that I fear he's going to call the payment null and void and demand a rerun."

"We'll find a way around it," her brother assured her.

Judith chuckled. "Yes, of course we will. But I'm sure he thinks you're even more of a nincompoop than ever." They were still laughing when the night porter opened the door. "Good evening, my lady."

"Good evening, Norris. Is his lordship returned?" "Yes, my lady. He's in the library, I believe." A wicked idea occurred to Judith, borne on the ebullience of a successful masquerade. It was one of her more asinine ideas, she would subsequently admit. Wishing her brother a swift good night, she went into the house, making her way directly to the library as she retied her loo mask.

Marcus, ensconced beside the fire, awaiting his wife's return, looked up from his Tacitus as the door opened. "I give you good night, my lord," Judith said, leaning against the door, smiling rather vaguely at him. "Did you pass a pleasant evening?" The question was punctuated with a discreet hiccup.