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“I promise you that we shall.” He kept his eye on the closest members of the crowd. He didn’t see anyone he knew, but one could never be too careful.
“I’ll find you a mask, if that’s your worry.”
“No, Elizabeth, I just can’t. You must accept that.”
&n
bsp; She frowned. “I don’t see why you must—”
“It’s simply the way it must be. I—Ooof!” Something very large and padded crashed into James’s back. Clearly they were not quite as far from the crowds as he’d thought. He turned around to dress down the clumsy partygoer—
And found himself staring straight into the aquamarine eyes of Caroline Ravenscroft.
Elizabeth watched the scene that unfolded with an increasing sense of disbelief and horror.
“James?” Caroline asked, her eyes growing round with delight. “Oh, James! It’s so lovely to see you!”
Elizabeth’s eyes flew from James to Caroline, trying to figure out how these two people knew each other. If Caroline knew James, surely she would have known he was the estate manager Elizabeth had mentioned earlier that evening.
“Caroline,” James responded, his voice impossibly tight.
Caroline tried to throw her arms around him, but her pumpkin costume rendered hugs difficult. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “Blake and I are most displeased. He has been trying to reach you for—Elizabeth?”
James froze. “How do you know Elizabeth?” he asked, his words slow and careful.
“We met this evening,” Caroline replied, giving him a dismissive wave before turning to her new best friend. “Elizabeth, I have been looking for you all night. Where did you disappear to? And how do you know James?”
“I—I—” Elizabeth couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t possibly verbalize what was becoming increasingly obvious.
“When did you meet Elizabeth?” Caroline flipped around to face James, her light brown braid clipping him in the shoulder. “I told her about you this afternoon and she said she didn’t know you.”
“You told me about him?” Elizabeth whispered. “No, you didn’t. You didn’t mention James. The only person you told me about was—”
“James,” Caroline cut in. “The Marquis of Riverdale.”
“No,” Elizabeth said in a shaky voice, her mind suddenly filled with images of a little red book and endless edicts. HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS. No, it was impossible. “This isn’t—”
Caroline turned to James. “James?” Her eyes grew wide as she realized that she had unwittingly destroyed a secret. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I never dreamed you would be working in disguise here at Danbury House. You told me you were through with all that.”
“With all what?” Elizabeth asked, her voice slightly shrill.
“This isn’t about the War Office,” James bit off.
“What, then?” Caroline asked.
“The Marquis of Riverdale?” Elizabeth echoed. “You’re a marquis?”
“Elizabeth,” James said, all but ignoring Caroline. “Give me a moment to explain.”
A marquis. James was a marquis. And he must have been laughing at her for weeks. “You bastard,” she hissed. And then, using every boxing lesson he’d ever given her, plus quite a bit of sheer instinct, she drew back her right arm and swung.
James stumbled. Caroline shrieked. Elizabeth stalked away.
“Elizabeth!” James boomed, striding after her. “Get back here this instant. You will listen to me.”
His hand closed around her elbow. “Let go of me!” she cried out.
“Not until you listen to me.”
