“Don’t worry,” he said in the soft, seductive voice. “They didn’t recognize you. They’re talking about me and what poor victim I’d lured up here.”

She took a deep breath. “Did you lure me up here?”

“Not at all. I asked you to accompany me while I helped a friend. Nothing secretive about it.” He nodded toward a pair of chairs tucked into the embrasure. “Do you mind if we sit while I continue to abase myself? I find it difficult to stand for too long.”

The last bit of offense vanished as concern flooded her. “Of course,” she said. “I should have thought of that. I’m sorry—when I’m with you I forget about …”

“Forget that I’m a monster?” He sounded amused but also faintly surprised. “If so, then you’re the only one.” He waited until she sat down, and took the chair opposite her. “While I, on the other hand, have to stare at that loo mask and wonder exactly what you’re thinking.”

She glanced at the empty hallway, then reached up and untied it, letting it drop into her lap before she raised her chin to meet his gaze.

“Ah, that’s much better. You’re quite lovely, you know.”

“I hadn’t realized your vision was impaired, as well,” she replied quite fearlessly. “I’m perfectly ordinary and you know it. Ordinary brown hair, ordinary shape and height, ordinary brown eyes.”

She startled him for a moment, and then he laughed. “I like it that you’re almost impossible to intimidate, Lady Miranda. My vision is perfect, and even stronger in the shadows. Are you that needy for compliments that you want to drag them out of me? Surely you’ve had more than your share?”

“Surely I haven’t,” she replied. “I’m considered quite ordinary. The only thing remarkable about me is my fall from grace, and I hardly think that’s an advantage.”

He looked at her for a long moment, and she felt his gaze like a touch, running from her dark hair, down her face and slender neck, over her breasts and her waist, down her legs to her feet and then back up again. It was a thorough examination, and if she’d been missish she would have blushed, but she withstood it calmly. And then he smiled.

“Someday,” he murmured, “I’ll tell you about yourself. But this is neither the time nor place.”

She opened her mouth to speak, when she heard a sudden thump against the wall of the bedroom opposite them, and a frown crossed her companion’s face.

“What was that?”

“A very clumsy mouse,” he grumbled. Another inebriated couple appeared at the end of the hallway, and he glared at them, so swiftly that they practically ran the other way. It happened too quickly for her to replace her mask. She could only hope it was too quickly for them to get a good look at her.

“A mouse?” she said dryly. He must be keeping guard for one of those illicit dalliances he’d talked about, making sure no one walked in on a friend who was in bed with someone else’s wife. But he had no friends, he’d said, no true friends. And he was hardly the type of man to do a favor for an acquaintance.

“A slow, clumsy mouse,” he said, leaning back. “Who needs to hurry up. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me about your family. You have brothers, do you not? Any sisters?”

She shook her head. “Just the three brothers. Benedick, the oldest, is the heir. He and his wife are expecting their second child. Charles is the middle brother, just returned from Italy with his new wife. And there’s my younger brother Brandon, whom I adore. He’s in Yorkshire right now with the rest of my family, but when he returns I’ll introduce you. I think he would love to meet you. I think my entire family would.”

A faint, cold smile crossed his face. “I imagine they would.”

She heard a muffled sigh from beyond the thin walls, the low murmur of voices, and she smiled. “Someone is clearly enjoying themselves. Is that why we’re standing guard?”

He blinked. “What makes you think we’re standing guard?”

“A favor for a friend, you said. I imagine you’re making sure no one interferes with his tryst. I’m guessing one party or the other is someone so well-placed that the shock of exposure would topple the government, and therefore for the sake of the kingdom we’re here to make certain no one walks in on them.”

He was clearly amused. “You think I care about the safety of the kingdom? Not likely, but I suppose that’s as good an explanation as any. If people come in search of an empty bedroom they’ll see us sitting here and head in another direction, making life a great deal simpler. But don’t we have more interesting things to discuss? For instance, why you greeted me with icy reproach? Have I done something to offend you?”

For a long moment she said nothing. And then she met his gaze fearlessly. “You’re playing the game … and I’m well out of it. I can simper and smile and say ‘of course not’ and you’d pursue it and I’d laugh and hide my face behind my fan. But I don’t have to do that anymore. I spent four hours alone in your company ten days ago, having a wonderful time, the best I’ve had since I can remember. We talked about everything, and I thought we became friends. Good friends. And then I heard nothing from you for ten days. I was left to assume that the feelings of friendship were one-sided and I’d been foolishly optimistic, and then you stroll into my life again as if nothing had happened.”

“I assure you, I don’t stroll,” he said, his voice cool. “So you’re angry that I haven’t paid enough attention to you?”

It sounded so petty. She should have simply lied, as everyone else did. “Yes.”

He surveyed her for a long moment. “Honesty is a very unsettling trait. It’s not something I’m used to.”

“I’m sorry. You have many friends, I only have one. I put too much importance on a simple conversation and …”

“Stop it!” he said sharply, his silken voice becoming harsh. He took a deep breath. “I didn’t pursue our acquaintance because I was afraid your family would get wind of it and interfere. And I didn’t want to embark on a friendship that would be terminated abruptly.”

“But why should my family object to our friendship?”

“My reputation precedes me. I’m afraid I’m quite notorious, and I’m known to have some most unsavory acquaintances. Most families bar me from the door.”

“My family doesn’t tell me what to do. I live my own life, independently. If we choose to be friends, then they have nothing to say in the matter.”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course I am.”

“Then ride with me tomorrow. In full view of everyone. At four in the afternoon, we’ll ride down Rotten Row and give the old biddies something to talk about.”

“Absolutely.”

There was an odd look in his pale eyes, one almost of triumph, but at that moment there was a muffled double knock on the wall, and the earl rose, leaning heavily on his cane. “Then that’s settled. May I drive you home?”

Miranda shook her head. “I came with my friend, and I need to find her.”

“Ah, yes. Miss Pagett with the miserable fiancé.” He was leading her away from the mysterious room, chatting amiably. “I’m afraid you’re having a very deleterious effect on your friends, Lady Miranda. You’re leading Miss Pagett astray.”

Miranda flushed. “I tried to stop her.”

“And yet, here you are, and for that I’m indescribably grateful. Shall we go in search of her?”

“No need,” she said as they turned the corner. Jane was sitting in a corner, her loo mask gone, an odd expression on her face. And then she saw Miranda and her relief was plain as she rose on unsteady feet.

“You go to her,” Lucien said, releasing her arm. “I doubt Mr. Bothwell would appreciate his future wife being introduced to the Scorpion. I’ll pick you up at four tomorrow. Be ready.”

“But …” He’d already walked away, disappearing into the crowds, and Miranda moved ahead, catching Jane’s trembling arms in hers.

“Jane, dearest, did something happen? You look upset.”

Jane’s laugh was a little shaky. “You won’t believe it when I tell you, but you’ll have to wait until we get back to the house. Let’s get out of here.”

Miranda cast one last look behind her, but Lucien de Malheur had disappeared. She turned back to her friend with deep foreboding. Jane was looking just as she ought to look—happy and excited and in love.

And Miranda knew that something was very wrong.

7

“You did what?” Miranda demanded, staring at her friend in astonishment.

They were back in Miranda’s cozy little house, the dominos discarded, the dancing slippers gone as well, sitting by a fire in the small salon where Cousin Louisa usually held court. That stout lady had retired to bed, and they were entirely alone.

“I didn’t do it! He’s the one who kissed me.” She blushed. “And I have to say it was quite delightful. You never told me men use their tongues when they kiss.”

“They do?” Miranda said doubtfully. “I don’t remember St. John doing anything like that, but he was fairly abrupt and practical about the whole horrid business. So you’re telling me you were thoroughly kissed by a jewel thief and you didn’t scream for help?”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” she said with a weak smile. “He definitely wasn’t a gentleman—I could tell that by his voice. But he was very tall, and very strong, and yet quite gentle when he kissed me.” She had a faraway look in her eyes, and Miranda’s heart sank.

“Love, I don’t want you to marry a stiff, prosing bore like Bothwell, but you simply can’t fall in love with a member of the criminal class. You know that, don’t you?”

For a moment Jane looked deflated, and she nodded. “But you managed to change your life by running away.”