Frederick’s friend, Mr. Jost, had become somewhat emboldened behind his mask and had put his name down on her card. His mask was a natural scene of rolling hills with fluffy clouds overhead. Kitty could not make heads or tails of it until Frederick reminded her that Jost was a painter and that he preferred pastoral scenes over portraits.
Lady Penderton had been right about Mr. Jost’s treatment—Lady Blakeley would not be so cruel as to tease a young man about his shyness.
The musicians began to tune and Kitty’s thoughts returned to Lord Grayson. He had taken the first.
She could enjoy herself if she wished it. She must only be careful. There would be plenty of wagging tongues at this ball. If what Lord Dalton told her was true, her name had been bandied about in the clubs as Lord Grayson’s latest flirtation…no, worse, her name had beenwageredupon, it would be wise not to call attention to it.
She was grateful that Lord Burke had taken supper. A dance was a small thing, and nobody could say much about it. But, had she been seen at supper with Lord Grayson again, it would only fuel whatever rumors there were.
To think! If there were gentlemen who wagered that Miss Dell was too clever to succumb to Lord Grayson’s charms, then there were also bets that shewould. It was humiliating!
It was also a shame. There was so much to like about Lord Grayson. He was not an intellectual by any means, at least, not in the way she thought of it. She supposed she could not discount how well he knew Shakespeare, though it would not be her particular interest. And then he had claimed he would join in the search for Veritas and that must be something. He was always engaging, particularly since he’d dropped his habit of launching compliments in every direction. He measured up well when one compared him to the grim Sir John. And Lord Grayson’s person was, well, it was wonderful. There was no point in denying that.
If only his standards were better. As it was, his moral compass would not exceed that of a tadpole. And that made him a dangerous tadpole.
It was quite the conundrum. How did she allow herself to enjoy dancing with the gentleman, but at the same time protect herself from him? How did she ensure that her feelings remained in check?
*
Giles had pulledBurke into a room just off the ballroom. It was blessedly empty.
“Nobody wants to talk to me about a horse, do they?” Burke said.
“Of course not,” Giles said. “I had to think of something to stop your wonderment over my mask.”
Burke folded his arms. “Why?”
“Well, because…it is not the sort of thing to discuss in front of an unmarried lady.”
Burke peered closer at Giles’ mask. “What is it, though? What does the Vreallystand for?”
Giles felt his face grow hot. He had hoped he would not be relaying the truth of the mask to anybody. Yet, Burke was taking Miss Dell into supper. He must be certain his friend did not entertain any more speculations over it in her presence.
“The V is for Valmont,” he said sullenly.
“Valmont? Comte de Valmont? From the book?” Burke said.
“Yes, that one,” Giles admitted. “Deuced unfair of Lady Blakeley is all I say.”
Burke sat down on a broad leather chair. “Isthat all you say?”
“What else is there to say? One moment Lady Blakeley thinks me amusing, the next she thinks me a scoundrel.”
“You have always been a scoundrel, whether Lady Blakeley has ever mentioned it or not.”
“I would not go so far as that…”
“I would,” Burke said resolutely. “Every year it is the same thing. Grayson runs after a lady, then abruptly disappears from view. Every year some lady is left red-faced for her foolishness. You have used your position as bait to dangle in front of ambitious females.”
“It was all in good fun. In any case, why should this year be any different?” Giles asked. “Lady Blakeley has always been perfectly aware of my infatuations.”
“Because you toy with Miss Dell. She is a good sort of girl, I think. Not quite as…hardened as some others you have run after.”
“She is not just a good sort of girl, she is the best sort of girl!” Giles said heatedly.
“Then why, for God’s sake, would you wish to damage her?” Lord Burke said. “Why would you wish to drag her into your stupid little games? Why would you choose her as one of your victims?”
“Victims!” Giles nearly shouted.
