were unable to speak with the Duke?” she demanded.
Janet made a rude noise. “Not only wasn’t I allowed to speak with the Duke, but I couldn’t so much as leave yer note for him.”
“Why ever not?”
“There was a great, hulking servant what answered the door. Eyed me like a piece of rubbish that had been dropped on his stoop and told me to be on me way without so much as a good day.” Janet gave a disgusted shake of her head. Despite the fact she was the same age as Brianna, two and twenty, she possessed a will of iron and was rarely routed by even the most fearsome opponent. Brianna had seen her beat a drunken sailor to near death with her umbrella for no more an insult than a pinch on her backside. “Sodding man wouldn’t even accept the letter ye had written for His Grace. Said as his master was in town for business reasons and wasn’t accepting visitors. Then he shut the door right in me face. Bastard.”
Brianna was frankly bewildered. She knew all of the Huntley staff, since most of them had been with the ducal family since well before Brianna’s father had died. Certainly she could not recall such an intimidating man.
“Describe this servant.”
Janet gave a lift of her shoulder. “As I said, he was big and burly with a hard face and thick golden hair. I suppose he be handsome enough if ye like ’em big as an ox.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “Oh, and he had a funny accent. He was no Englishman, that much I can tell ye.”
“How peculiar.” With short, determined steps, Brianna paced the confined space of the grotto, her nerves stretched to the point of screaming. “That does not sound at all like Goodson.”
“Who?”
“The Duke’s long-time butler,” Brianna said absently. “In fact, to my knowledge the Dukes have never employed foreigners. Their staff has been with them for years.”
“Looks more like a criminal than a servant, if ye ask me.”
“I do not understand, Janet.” The swish of her black crape dress over the sarsnet slip echoed through the musty air as Brianna continued her pacing, her fingers absently toying with the fichu she had tucked into the modest line of her bodice. “Stefan would never turn away a request from me, not unless he has changed dramatically in the past few years. My father named him as one of my guardians, for God’s sake.”
“What will ye do? If ye can’t speak with the Duke…”
Brianna came to a sharp halt, her hands clenched into fists. “Oh, I will speak with him. Even if I have to storm the gates of his town house myself.”
“Ye can’t do that, Miss. Not without causing a fearful scandal.”
“You think I would not rather endure scandal than be hauled off to a secluded hunting lodge with my stepfather?” Brianna hissed, her entire body revolting at the mere thought of what would happen once Thomas had her isolated and helpless at the lodge.
“Still…ach.” Janet caught her breath. “I jest remembered something.”
“What?”
“While I was attempting to get into the house, a boy arrived with a package for his Grace.”
“And?”
“The package was a domino and mask that the master had ordered to be made.”
Understanding slowly bloomed in Brianna’s mind, her fading hope returning in a fierce wave.
“So he plans to attend a masquerade.”
“And soon. The servant snapped at the boy for his tardiness, saying that it had best meet with the master’s approval as it was too late to have it altered.”
“Then it must be tonight.” Picking up her heavy skirts, Brianna headed for the door of the grotto. “I need to speak with Mrs. Grant. She always knows what social events are occurring about town.”
IT WAS NEAR ELEVEN O’CLOCK that evening before the house was at last quiet enough for Brianna to slip from the back door and make her way through the dark streets until she stood in front of the pretentious town house where the Courtesan Masquerade Ball was to be held.
It didn’t look the sort of place where gentlemen of the highest society mixed with courtesans, harlots and ladies of easy virtue. Not with its handsome brickwork and Iconic columns that framed the main entrance with a muted elegance.
Mrs. Grant, however, had been quite firm in announcing that the only masquerade ball on this night was Lord Blackwell’s annual event.
Brianna gave a small shake of her head as she noted the long line of carriages stretching down the block and masked gentlemen walking through the front door. Obviously, any disapproval of tonight’s festivities was exclusively held by female members of society.
“I do not like this, miss,” Janet hissed at her side. “I think I should stay with ye in case there’s trouble.”
Brianna tugged the domino closer about her body as she battled off the urge to shiver. When she had found the black velvet cloak lined with silver and the matching black feathered mask in her mother’s old truck in the attic, she had felt as if fate was urging her to take the daring risk. There was even a matching ball gown in a pale pink satin with black and silver ribbons dotted along the hem and threaded through the scooped bodice. It was precisely the sort of frivolous concoction that would be expected at a masquerade.
Now, however, her palms were sweating and her knees shaking as she contemplated the thought of entering the strange town house filled with randy gentlemen and willing whores. What if she were recognized? Or worse, what if she was accosted before she could locate Stefan, even assuming he was in there?
It took more courage than she knew she possessed to reach out and squeeze Janet’s cold hand.
“Nonsense, I need you at home to make sure that Thomas does not realize I am not in my chambers.”
“This is no place for a lady. Only harlots would be seen at such a ball.”
“But, I will not be seen,” Brianna said, her voice considerably more steady than her nerves. “Besides, I have heard any number of rumors that there are ladies of fashion who attend such events. Incognito, of course.”
Janet sucked in a sharp breath. Servants tended to have a rigid view of how a noble should behave. Far more rigid than the nobles themselves.
“Not proper young ladies.”
“I can no longer afford to be proper, Janet.” Her voice was bitter. “If I am unable to convince Stefan to take me in as his ward, then I shall be forced to flee and make my own way in the world. In that event, I doubt that a risqué ball will be my greatest concern.”
Janet chewed her bottom lip, knowing she could not argue the stark truth of Brianna’s words. They had three short days before she was to be hauled off to the wilds of Norfolk. Once there, no one would be able to halt her stepfather from forcing her to his bed.
“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.”
