"Hmm. Something exotic and bold to match its owner." He gave her a considering look. "Juliette. Or Titania, perhaps."
She had to stifle a grin at his estimation of her. "You know The Bard," she said approvingly. With a hint of mischief, she added, "However, I think I'd rather go as Priscilla, thank you very much. And that will be Miss Farnham to you."
"Priscilla Farnham. It does have a ring to it." Opening the door, he sprung easily to the ground. "I'll leave you to your privacy then."
Bemused, she looked at the closed door. She had to admit—the man had a quicksilver wit.Not that it matters.You're only here to help Paul.
Worry gnawed at her as she wondered what her sibling was up to at the moment. Since Hunt had agreed to leave Paul alone, she'd gone to Spitalfields to find her brother, but without success. She'd left him a note, saying that she'd written Nicholas. She'd also stated that she'd negotiated with Hunt and that the latter had agreed to let Nick pay off the debt. 'Twas a half truth and Paul wouldn't like it, but he'd like her actual arrangement with Hunt far less. She couldn't risk him calling Hunt out and getting hurt.
In the meantime, she had to focus on winning the wager. She had a foolproof strategy worked out for the evening: avoid physical contact with the man and remain in full public view. If she stuck to those rules, he wouldn't have any chance of seducing her, would he? As additional reinforcement, she had the magic word at her disposal. Per theirsignedcontract, all she had to do was tell him to stop; at the haberdashery, he'd proved a man of his word.
So there was no harm in playing along until then, was there? Emptying the bag, she sorted through its contents and used them to complete her toilette. When she glimpsed her reflection in the hand-held mirror, a little thrill coursed through her. She couldn't help it: this business of disguises was so muchfun. She fluffed her new shockingly red coiffure and examined the gaudy gold hoops dangling from her ears. Removing her cloak, she donned the scarlet silk domino she'd found in the bag; its bold color made her feel dashing, like a heroine on the brink of adventure.
Really, what possible harm could it do to enjoy the sights a little? When would be the next time she found herself at Vauxhall at midnight, after all? Surely she could enjoy herselfandbest Hunt at his own game. She tied on the last part of her costume, a lacy black demi-mask, and opened the carriage door. "I am ready, Mr. Hunt."
"That was quick—" Turning from where he'd been contemplating the water, he froze. A strange expression came over his face.
"Is something the matter?" She patted the wig. "Is my hair showing?"
"No. But you look... different."
"That's the idea, isn't it? So I won't be recognized?"
"Right. Of course." He cleared his throat and held out his arm. "Shall we board the barge, Miss Farnham?"
* * *
As he watched Percy's rapt expression beneath the famed lights of Vauxhall, Gavin's insides heated with anticipation.Like taking candy from a babe.Just as he'd predicted, she couldn't resist the dark excitement of the bustling pleasure garden. Oh, she'd made a show of keeping a safe distance, scooting as far away from him as possible in the supper box for two. Yet beneath the half-mask, her eyes sparkled, her attention riveted upon the operatic duo currently on the stage. It gave him the opportunity to study her.
Christ Almighty, she tempted his self-control in that disguise. The paints emphasized her natural sensuality, bringing out the naughty pout of her lips and the saucy slant of her cheekbones. Her kohl-rimmed eyes appeared even larger, sultry in their frame of black lace. His only regret was that her shining tresses remained hidden beneath the false curls. How he wanted to tear off that offending wig, sink his fingers into her hair and hold her steady for his kiss—
Don't lose focus. Cast out the lures and let her take the bite.
When the opera singers came to an ear-splitting finale, Percy jumped to her feet, clapping wildly. He had to bite back a smile as she whistled with the rest of the audience for an encore. He found her exuberance charming. It also made him wonder if she'd bring that kind of unschooled energy to bed… and his groin flooded with heat.
"Did you enjoy that, Miss Farnham?" he said.
"That wasbrilliant.I have a subscription to the Opera, yet I've never heard anything so sublime." Cheeks flushed, she sat down again, reaching for her arrack punch (strong stuff, and he'd subtly re-filled her cup twice). "Why is it that music sounds so much better outdoors?"
"Because that's not where it's usually played. Things tend to capture our interest when they're unusual." His glance slid over her glowing, vivacious face. "Different from our ordinary experience."
"I can vouch for that. In my experience, ordinary is just another word for boring."
"Have a lot of experience with the ordinary, Miss, ahem, Farnham?"
She wrinkled her nose. "I'm a middling class miss, Mr. Hunt. My entirelifeis ordinary. Tonight excepted, nothing interesting ever happens."
That might explain her theatrical bent. If he had to guess, a spirited chit like Percy didn't do well with boredom and wouldinventexcitement if need be. Intrigued, he said, "And byinterestingyou would mean…"
"Something other than endless rounds of calls and visits to the dressmaker?" Shrugging with a blitheness that made him think the punch was beginning to take effect, she said, "Activities more stimulating than the correct serving of the tea?"
He could show her a stimulating activity or two. "I thought chits liked clothes."
"To adegree." Percy rolled her eyes.
Sauced or very close, he guessed.
"I'd like to think there's more to life than frocks and fripperies… oh, you wouldn't understand."
