Katherine’s blue eyes grew wide. “You are a bold one! Not likely you will get in.”
“I will manage. Anyway, it can’t hurt to try.”
“How embarrassing if you are turned away, though. Why go to all this trouble for that insult?”
“I’d rather see it for myself than rely on bits of gossip from those who did not. I’ll also have a night of music and good food if my plan succeeds. Maybe the king will be there. Won’t that be a joke—for Amanda Waverly to be in the presence of royalty?”
“Maybe some rich lord will ask you to dance. If that happens, you be careful. This dress will show a lot of bosom and we know what that does to men.”
“I may allow one kiss, just to see if they do it differently. You would never forgive me if I didn’t find out.”
Katherine laughed. “Oh, I want to know, but I’m thinking it will be the same slobber and thrust.”
“I will sneak a cake out for you in my reticule.”
“I suppose some lamb and a good bottle of wine won’t fit, huh?”
“Perhaps I can hide some in this skirt, it is so big.”
Katherine began snipping the thread on the seam. “You’ve more courage than sense, but good luck to you. I will expect to hear every detail if I sew this dress.”
A half hour later, they had taken the dress apart. Katherine hauled her buckets back to her bath but promised to return later and help before going to the tavern. She offered to finish whatever needed doing during the day tomorrow.
Amanda ticked off the chores to be accomplished before tomorrow night. Of course she would gain entry. She would attach herself to a large group and slip through without trouble. That was the easy part.
After she gained entry would be when she would need some luck. She was counting on Lord Harold to be in attendance, or this would be all for naught.
And then she was counting on being clever enough to seduce him—at least up to a point.
* * *
Gabriel kept surveying the crush at the ball, but in doing so he never let Harry out of his sight. If given the chance, his brother would bolt.
At least the mask obscured Harry’s unhappiness. He even chatted with some guests. He was braving it out as arranged, but Gabriel could tell that thoughts of Emilia distracted his brother. Harry kept sending longing gazes in her direction.
The two of them had danced early on. It must have taken all the courage Harry could muster to pretend that he did not mind too much that his dear friend would be no more than a friend in the future. He had acquitted himself well enough, to Gabriel’s mind.
Unfortunately, Harry’s preoccupation with his misery meant he did not take much notice of the woman making every effort to attract his attention.
Possibly a pretty woman. One could not tell with that mask that covered most of her face. The mask drew one’s gaze to her red lips. Painted, perhaps, but provocative. She had a nice form, too, emphasized by the gown’s long, fitted bodice and deep décolleté.
“You should stop watching him.” Eric Marshall, Duke of Brentworth, offered the advice after he sidled over and followed the direction of Gabriel’s gaze. “He is not a boy and you should not treat him like one.”
“With any other sort of brother, I would not care how he comported himself. However, you know how Harry is.”
“He is not a man about town, to be sure, but he is his own man all the same. He is not sophisticated in matters of the heart either, but that only comes from experience.”
“It does not appear he is going to learn much from this experience. There is a woman trying her best to offer the only kind of solace that will help and he hardly notices her. She may as well be invisible.”
Brentworth turned his attention on Harry too. Surely the tallest man in the ballroom, his advantage in height meant he probably saw even more than Gabriel himself.
Gabriel noted that Brentworth had done him one better in the costume he wore, meaning that he wore none at all. Not even a mask such as Gabriel himself had donned to be polite. Several men refused to dress as knights or Romans or some other fools and only wore masks, but Brentworth had gone a step further.
“Do you know her, Langford? Did you put her up to this? Taking your brother to a brothel when he was eighteen can be excused, but further interference—”
“I do not know who she is. Nor is there anything familiar about her.” Normally he knew all the women at balls. At ones like this, however, some people attended who were not invited.
“She is persistent. Wherever he turns, there she is.”
