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Joshua lifted his boot, and Clod ponderously got himself to his feet.

“Who are you?” Clod asked the lady peevishly.

“I shan’t tell you,” she replied, tossing her head. “You’re not a nice man at all, In fact, I suspect that you are a libertine.”

Which was apparently worse than being Beelzebub.

“I shall escort you home,” Joshua stated.

The lady came up on her toes, looking around as best she could. “I must find my friend first. We were separated in the crush.”

“Two young ladies here?” Clod groaned. “What’s the world coming to?” His cravat hung open, and his white shirt bore the distinct impression of a small shoe across the chest. He shook himself like a hunting dog emerging from a stream and shuffled off without another word.

Joshua concluded that he had no need to break off the acquaintance with Trywhitt. They had come to a natural parting of ways.

“There she is,” the lady cried. She was still clutching Joshua’s sleeve, which he rather liked. There was no ring on her finger, which he also liked.

“Do you know whether she is dancing with a bad man, like your friend?” Her hand tightened. “If so, we’ll need to rescue her.”

“Trywhitt is not my friend.” Joshua turned and surveyed the ballroom. “What is she wearing?”

“A scarlet domino cloak just like this one, and a masquerade hat, but hers is ringed with violets.”

He saw the lady instantly. Thankfully, she was circling the dancefloor in the arms of a man he recognized; moreover, he appeared to be in the middle of delivering a stern lecture.

“She’s dancing with Lord Devin,” Joshua said. “Can’t be anyone else, not with his height and shoulders.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” the lady cried. “I like him. He’s quite decent, isn’t he?”

Further evidence that this lady moved in the highest of circles. “Absolutely,” Joshua confirmed.

“Too old and too gentlemanly to be as horrid as that fellow.”

“Age is not a predictor of behavior,” Joshua noted.

“You’re not very old, are you?” She stared up at him. “Have we met? Actually, I can’t tell you who I am, so ignore that question.”

“We have not met. May I introduce myself? I am Major Joshua Charles FitzRoy.”

She dropped a graceful curtsy but added, “I’m sorry not to share my name, but we made an error coming here.”

“I agree,” Joshua said, taking her arm to lead her to the side of the room, hopefully before she caught sight of the couple leaning against the wall to their right.

His head was swirling with questions: Who was she? How did she come to be here? Was she spoken for?

Surely not. Hopefully not.

“You came here,” she remarked.

“I didn’t know the quality of the event. I ran into Trywhitt at our club, and he brought me with him, which is why I don’t have a domino cloak or mask.”

She scrunched up her little nose, just visible through the light veil. “You, sir, should make better friends.”

“I plan to.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CONQUERING THE CLODPOLE