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“Miss Fowley,” he started carefully. “I cannot presume the reason why you would put yourself and your reputation at risk by coming here. But I find it my duty to try and escort you out of this place. Safely.”

“My reputation will remain intact, I assure you,” the stubborn lady insisted. “And my betrothed does not care about such trifling things as reputations. I am already ruined, or have you forgotten?”

Adam stifled a grimace. “My brother is the reason for your ruination, and that is why I cannot leave you here in good conscience without trying to dissuade you from burying yourself even deeper in scandal.”

“Mr. Lewis,” she said through her teeth as if her patience was waning. “I am an adult. I am of age and betrothed. You have no obligation toward me.”

“It does not suit a lady to be so stubborn,” Adam seethed, but he almost choked on his own words.

It does not suit a lady to be so stubborn?

Adam had two sisters, and both of them would win a contest of stubbornness. Or it would be a tie between the two. And they would happily ridicule him if he ever said that to them.

But this was not the point of the discussion. He needed to persuade this particular stubborn lady to leave the masquerade.

“Stubborn? Or do you mean disobedient because I won’t heed your words right away?” she challenged, her eyes blazing with determination. “Am I not an adult with my own free agency? Why should I be denied access to the masquerade you yourself are attending? In less than two months, I am going to marry Lord Lansdowne, a man three times my age who is intent on siring an heir and as many spares as he can possibly manage. Soon, my life will be nothing but obedience. And I have read numerous volumes on biology, and some less academic texts about the art of siring heirs, and I have to tell you that it does not seem appealing to me. How it is appealing to anyone is beyond me, but that is not the point.”

“Was there a point?” Adam asked in a bored tone, attempting to remain aloof although a hint of amusement played at the corners of his lips.

“Yes, there is a point!” Her hands moved animatedly, emphasizing her words. “And my point is that soon my young life will be over, and I shall become an old lady with twelve children, sitting in the northernmost estate doing nothing but pouring tea for guests as old as my husband.”

A drunk, old man jostled Beatrice as he passed her by, forcing Adam to steady her with a hand on her elbow. Beatrice huffed in annoyance but continued her tirade. “Now, I have made peace with my fate. I am the one who chose it. But I have two months before I am shackled, and I am determined to live those two months to the fullest.”

“The situation is not as dire as you present it,” Adam dismissed with a wave of his hand.

“Oh, truly?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you the one who is about to marry Lord Lansdowne then?”

Adam stiffened. “Of course not.”

“Then how can you judge?” She jutted her chin, a self-satisfied glint in her eyes.

Adam took a deep breath and clamped his lips shut, vaguely aware of the debauchery happening around them. He was not about to be overheard explaining the depravities of high society to this naive young woman. He was not about to tell her that most women who married old lords practiced infidelity and spent most of their time in London attending masquerades just like these without much scrutiny.

However, Miss Fowley had a point. She would still have to live with an old man, endure his advances, and carry his children in her belly, which did not sound like something any young lady would enjoy.

He could understand her fiery determination and longing for freedom.

“Perhaps I can’t,” he said calmly. “But I am not leaving you here. Since you were betrothed to—and then abandoned by—my brother, it is my duty to look out for you.”

“Then we shall both remain here,” the stubborn creature said confidently.

Adam heaved a sigh. He took out his silver pocket watch and flicked open the lid. Without registering the time, he put it back into the pocket of his breeches. Then he glanced at his friends drinking wine and laughing merrily. One of them flirted with a poised lady in a tall wig and a beautiful mask.

All was as it should be. As Adam had hoped he would be spending this night. But yet again, he was stuck helping his brother, even if the bounder didn’t know that.

“Fine,” he huffed. “You win. What is it exactly that you want?”

“What do I want?” Her forehead crinkled with lines of confusion.

“Why are you here?” he asked irritably. The raucous shouts of drunken men carried over the discordant notes of the string orchestra. Adam had to lean in close just to catch her words.

“I am here to experience the masquerade.” She cleared her throat. “Obviously.”

Obviously. Adam raised his eyes heavenward. “And what exactly do you consider a proper masquerade experience?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And once I tell you what I want, you shall let me stay?”

“No,” he said sharply, narrowly avoiding being hit in the face by a wayward feather adorning a passing woman’s mask. “I shall help you get what you came for, and then I shall escort you out.”