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She opened the door, shielded by Ashe’s broad back, and slipped through, to find herself in a narrow passageway. There was light ahead and the sound of voices so she ran along it to where it opened out on to an inner service lobby. She paused, just before the opening. The voices, it became immediately clear, belonged to Sara and the chestnut-haired Cavalier.
‘Kindly escort me back to the ballroom, sir. This is not the way to the refreshments and well you know it!’
‘Don’t pretend you believed that. A little minx like you doesn’t parade about, covered in paste jewellery and with her tits hanging out and not expect a man to take an interest.’
‘They are yellow diamonds of the finest water, you ignorant oaf. And as for my costume, I would have you know, this is the court dress of Kalatwah!’ Sara sounded furious, but not at all alarmed.
‘Then let me have a feel—ow!’
Phyllida whipped around the corner to find the Cavalier doubled up, clutching his groin, and Sara pulling the stiletto out of her plait. She tossed the man’s elaborate wig aside and tugged off his mask. ‘No, put the pin back,’ she cautioned Sara. ‘I know who he is. It is Lord Prewitt and he is a toad, but we don’t want to kill him…’
‘Don’t we?’ Ashe, mask discarded, stalked past Phyllida and seized the gasping Cavalier by his cravat. ‘Name your friends, Prewitt.’
‘Ashe.’ Phyllida tugged at his arm. ‘If you call him out, there will be a scandal you won’t be able to control.’
He dropped the gasping baron, who fell with a thud and stayed sprawled at his feet. ‘You suggest I simply kill him here and now?’
‘I suggest you make him very sorry, here and now. Perhaps he would like to apologise first and promise not to say a word of this?’
‘Got carried away,’ Prewitt gasped. ‘Wouldn’t dream of mentioning it. Sorry.’
‘You will be.’ Ashe hoisted him to his feet, waited until the man was standing upright by himself, then hit him square in the mouth. He raised an eyebrow at Sara. ‘Enough?’
‘Enough,’ she agreed. They turned and walked away, back to the ballroom.
In the good light Phyllida saw the girl’s face, the unshed tears and the way she bit her lip to stop it trembling. ‘Ashe, find your mother, ask her to come to the ladies’ retiring room. I think Lady Sara should go home.’
‘Of course.’
He vanished into the throng and Phyllida guided Sara down the room, chatting brightly. ‘Such a noise, I am not at all surprised you have a migraine. Let us go and sit down quietly.’
‘I didn’t realise,’ Sara whispered miserably. ‘I honestly believed he was taking me to the refreshment room.’
‘You dealt with him very effectively,’ Phyllida consoled her. ‘Look, there is your mama.’ And Lord Eldonstone, looking like the wrath of God at Ashe’s side.
‘No harm was done, except to shock her,’ she explained as Lady Eldonstone put her arm around Sara’s shoulders. ‘I do not think anyone has noticed anything amiss and Ashe dealt with the man—he will not dare speak of it.’
‘Miss Hurst feels that tearing him limb from limb would be counter-productive,’ Ashe said, his voice hard.
‘And she is probably correct,’ his father agreed. ‘Unfortunately. Ashe, will you see Miss Hurst home? I will take your mother and sister now. If some of the party remain, it may quash any speculation.’
Ashe watched them walk away, then took Phyllida’s arm and steered her into exactly the kind of alcove that his sister had been warned about finding herself in with a man. ‘Are you all right? You were marvellous back there. You dealt with Prewitt, you made Sara feel better, but it must have been a shock.’
‘No.’ No, discovering that I am in love with you, that was a shock. This had all happened so fast that she’d had no time to reflect on just what that realisation would mean, other than that it was certain to be painful. Love him or not, she was not going to marry Ashe Herriard. In fact, loving him made her even more determined. She produced a smile because he was still watching her, his unmasked face serious. ‘I am fine, truly, just worried that this might shake Sara’s lovely trusting nature.’
‘I would have said she was perfectly awake to all the tricks rakes play,’ he said ruefully. ‘But she is obviously not up to snuff for London society.’
‘The unmasking dance!’ someone called and the orchestra struck up a waltz.
‘Well, Phyllida, shall we be unmasked waltzing in front of everyone? One more step in our public courtship?’
If not here and now, then soon he would move the progress of their wooing further along, push her closer to the moment where she must break her word for his own sake. Break her heart for both of them. And this would give her another perfect waltz in his arms.
‘Why not?’ she said with a lightness she did not feel. ‘It is probably my duty to help you perfect your steps.’
‘It was not me treading on my partner’s toes,’ Ashe said as he resumed his mask and led her onto the floor.
‘I never did! What a fib,’ Phyllida protested as they passed a small group of matrons, masked and with dominos over their gowns, but otherwise in ordinary evening dress. She saw the quick glances, the exchange of looks, the arched brows and knew she had been recognised, the ineligible Miss Hurst dancing an unsanctioned waltz with the highly eligible Lord Clere. The word had spread that he was courting her, she could tell from the way they were being watched.
