“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.