Page 57 of The Wallflower Ruse

“I doubt if that’s truly the case, Alfreda. I’m sure men’s tastes in women vary, just as do women’s taste in men. In any event, you should save this sort of, ah, display for your husband.”

“He shall be my husband. You’ll see!” She donned an elaborate mask threaded with gold and bedecked with feathers, and flitted out the door.

“She’s going to ruin herself,” Lucinda said.

“Aye, miss, but I doubt anyone can stop her.”

“And quite possibly the man she plans to seduce.” Oh, no...

The maid gave a snort of laughter. “Poor chap, stuck with her for a wife.” She sucked in a breath. “Begging your pardon, miss. It’s not my place to criticize a guest.”

“You may say what you like to me,” Lucinda said absently. She had to do something about Alfreda, but what?

She certainly couldn’t do it dithering in here. She eyed the gown with disfavor. “Surely there are other costumes I could wear, rather than that one.”

“Only the clothes you’re wearing now,” the maid said. “I’m sorry, miss, but that’s what I was told to dress you in.”

“Told? By whom?”

“Lady Tollister, miss.”

“Lady Tollister?” The risqué costume made sense, given her reputation. “She’s not the least bit proper, in fact, she’s—” Practically a panderer. “I shouldn’t say it, so I shan’t. Why does Lady Delworth allow it?”

“She’s doesn’t know,” the maid said. “Lady Tollister offered to help with costumes, and Lady Delworth is incapable of saying no—if she even thought of doing so, which I doubt. She’s a dear, kind lady, but far too trusting.” She sighed, shaking her head.

What did Lady Tollister and her improper costumes have to do with the seditious plot? She had chosen a particular gown for Lucinda, and Lucinda had been brought here for a particular purpose, whatever that might be. Was Lady Tollister the traitor?

It was all too easy to believe, given her lax moral standards, but one shouldn’t jump to conclusions. If not a traitor or seditionist, she might be an innocent foil, as Lady Delworth appeared to be, following directions from someone else. In the meantime, the only way to find out was to wear the costume and see what happened next.

Meanwhile, stupid Alfreda was on the prowl...after Lord Restive?

Was he likely to allow himself to be seduced? His reputation said yes. It was all very well for Dorothea to say he was putting on an act, but he’d definitely had mistresses. At a masquerade, some laxity was expected. If Alfreda wore her mask, and he didn’t realize who she was until it was too late...

“Miss?”

Lucinda shook herself. “Sorry, I was woolgathering. Let’s try the costume on.”

Mr. Pearce was waiting for her in the corridor, drat the man. She needed to find Restive the instant he arrived, which would be frightfully unpleasant, but she was obliged to warn him about Alfreda. Whatever vengeance she might want to wreak on him, it wasn’t marriage to that widgeon.

Not only that, he should be told about Lady Tollister’s possible part in the plot. Or perhaps she might find Davis.

“How festive you look,” Mr. Pearce said. “Your gown, such a shiny silver, with all those sparkling beads. They will reflect the light from the chandelier, enhancing your already stunning beauty.”

His gaze seemed focused more on her decolletage than on the gown itself. Lucinda pulled the domino firmly shut, and he blinked several times.

“The cerulean blue domino emphasizes the color of your eyes, and as for the crimson feathers on your mask...” He sighed. “I am most fond of beautiful colors. That is why my mother embroiders such delightful waistcoats for me.” His brows drew together. “I can’t tell whom you’re supposed to represent.”

“Nor can I.” She pulled the mask down to cover the top half of her face. “This gown they gave me to wear is Restoration-era and a little improper—not at all what I like.” Even worse, the maid had tacked it together with large stitches here and there to make it fit properly. It wouldn’t fall down on its own, but it certainly didn’t feel secure.

At the last moment, when the maid wasn’t looking, she had slipped the penknife into the pocket of her domino. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but better than nothing.

“Ah,” he said, and no more.

“Ah, what?”

“Nothing, only that I beg your pardon for abducting you, because you were then obliged to take whatever costume was available here. They have nothing for me, but I don’t mind doing without. Come, let’s join the fun.” The sounds of a minuet reached them from below.

“Very well,” she said, “but I’m rather uneasy, if you must know.”