Her eyes narrowed with amused suspicion. “Are you certain you are not a rogue?”
“I am not,” he said, drawing himself up. “Now, about the library.”
She looked around the ballroom. “I should tell my mother where I am going.”
“Do you see her?”
She sighed. “No. There are far too many people here.”
He softened his tone. “The rules are far more relaxed during a masquerade. And besides, you are safe with me.”
She froze. Then slowly, she asked, “What did you say?”
“You are safe with me,” he repeated, more earnestly this time.
Something shifted between them—subtle, but powerful.
“I am,” she whispered.
They left the ballroom, walking down the corridor to the library. A few couples lingered near the hearth, speaking in hushed tones. Josephine slipped her hand from his arm and drifted towards the shelves, running her fingertips along the spines as though greeting old friends.
“Does anything spark your interest?” he asked.
Her hand dropped. She turned and approached him slowly, with purpose. “Yes. Something does,” she said.
She stopped directly in front of him. Her eyes—visible above the oversized mask—searched his face intently.
“How are you here?” she asked.
He blinked. “Well, I took a coach and came through the main door—”
She cut him off. “How are you here? Why are you not back at the Duke of Ashmoore’s estate?”
His pulse stumbled.
She knew.
Botheration.
“How did you know?” he asked quietly.
“I recognized it when you said, ‘You are safe.’ It took me back to the cottage.”
He lifted a finger towards his lips. “Shh. You mustn’t speak of that here.”
“It’s true, is it not?” she pressed. “How, pray tell, does a gamekeeper attend a masquerade ball in Town?”
He could have told her the truth.
He should have.
But the words lodged painfully in his throat.
Instead, he managed, “I wanted to ensure you were safe.”
Josephine stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. “By dressing up as a gentleman and sneaking into a ball? What if you had been caught?”
“It was a chance I was willing to take.”