Author: Anne Stuart

She'd known she'd never find a man with a face that pleased her as much as Rohan's. And no one had that lithe, agile body, that almost feline grace.

But she'd hoped she'd find comparable hands.

There weren't any. The men of the ton had hands that were pale, well kept. But either their fingers were too short or their palms too squat, their fingers stubby.

She sighed. It was impossible, and she knew it.

The more time passed, the easier things would be, she promised herself. For the first week she did nothing but weep, something that alarmed poor Lina, who'd seldom seen her stalwart best friend shed a tear, much less become a total watering pot. It hadn't taken Meggie long to ferret out the truth of how she'd spent the time in Sussex— Charlotte was unused to lying, unused to secrets and feeling too miserable to resist Meggie's efforts, and from then on Lina knew everything. It had taken all Charlotte's limited energy and threats to keep Lina from her declared revenge, with only common sense finally tempering Lina's desire to defend Charlotte. "If you make a fuss then everyone will know." Charlotte had said. "It was my choice—I wasn't forced. And the last thing I want to do is end up married to a libertine. I think he was an excellent choice to deflower me, once I decided that was an interesting idea, but anything more than that would be disastrous."

Lina had been distracted. "Just how excellent was he?"

"I'm not about to tell you. Besides, I have nothing to compare him with," Charlotte had said primly, trying not to gag on the herbal tisane Lina insisted upon her drinking.

"But you enjoyed it? He made it pleasurable? You achieved. ..rapture?”

Charlotte had felt her face flush. "Yes."

"Damn," said Lina.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, I'm certainly not going anywhere near him now. I consider him your property, and I would never trespass."

"He's hardly my property. Have at him," she'd said with an airy wave of her hand, almost managing to convince herself she meant it. "After all, you wanted him first."

"Now, I know that isn't true. You've been pining for him these last three years, God knows why. Admittedly he's gorgeous, but you're hardly the type to be overset by simple beauty. Why?"

Because he has sad eyes, she could have said. Because he tries so very hard to be bad. to be mean.

to be cruel, and all you have to do is look past the studied ennui to see a hurt little boy trying to emerge. And, yes, because he's bloody gorgeous.

But she said none of this. To say it out loud would burn it into her heart.

"I have no idea. But I'm done with him. Feel free to try your luck."

"No," Lina had said firmly. "Drink your tea."

Which she'd done, quite dutifully. And been rewarded, a week ago, with a few betraying drops of blood signaling the onset of her menses. Nothing had happened since then, but it was enough to ensure nothing had come of the two illicit days with him. After all, he'd.. .he'd pulled out of her, hadn't he? To ensure that nothing untoward had happened.

She'd tried to explain that to Lina but gotten hopelessly tongue-tied. "Never mind, darling," Lina had said. “I know what you mean, and I thank God he had at least that much sense. You'll still drink the tea. Accidents can happen, and nothing is ever foolproof."

And so it went. The doctor had declared her right as rain from the aftermath of her fall, and Charlotte refused to let him examine her more intimately. Nothing had happened to her that hadn't happened to most women in the world—it was hardly worthy of medical interest.

In the end it had been an all-around disastrous idea on her part, dressing up to play with the Mad Monks. She knew why she did it. Not for scientific inquiry.

it had been for Rohan—she'd been drawn to him in all his self-destructive glory. Seeing him in flagrante delicto was supposed to cure her, wasn't it?

Instead she was even more tethered. If she'd stayed a virgin she would never have known what she was missing, and this was a rare case where ignorance was bliss. Not as much bliss as carnal knowledge... but a different sort of bliss. A nice, solid, serene sort of bliss that was much lacking in Charlotte's life for the last few weeks.

The one thing that both Meggie and Lina didn't know was that she hadn't just fallen down that embankment, she'd been pushed. By one of the Mad Monks.

And she had the unbearable suspicion that it might have been Adrian himself.

Lina swept into the solarium, her full skirts dancing on their hoops. "Darling, you're not wearing that hideous old dress, are you? This is your first night out since Sussex. Surely you can look a little more lively.”

Charlotte set down her tea. "I was thinking we might wait another few days. I'm not sure that my ankle is completely healed, and I don't seem to have regained my usual energy. We can start with a walk in the park, perhaps tomorrow, instead of a ridotto at Ranelagh Gardens."

"A walk?" Lina demanded, horrified. "Sweetings, I don't walk. Besides, Ranelagh will be just the thing.

Apart from the masquerade, there will be music in the rotunda, dancing and all sorts of amusement."

"I hate masquerades. Besides, if I'm to have a domino to cover me from head to foot then why does it matter what I wear?"

"In case you wish to wander down one of the private paths with a gentleman and unmask."

"I may have lost my virtue, but I haven't become a trollop," Charlotte said sharply, and then clapped her hand over her mouth. Wandering alone down private pathways was the main reason Lina went to Ranelagh.

"Don't worry, Charlotte," Lina said, totally unperturbed. "It will take a great deal more than that for you to reach my exalted realms. Besides, I've given it up."

"Given what up?"

“Dalliance. You see before you a new woman, above such tawdry stuff as assignations and lovers. I intend to be sober and devote myself to good works.”

Charlotte looked at her in amazement. "You're joking."

Lina smiled. "A bit. But I've grown weary of bed sport. It won't harm me to give it up for the time being. So, don't worry, I won't leave your side tonight. We'll have darling old Sir Percy Wainbridge as our escort, and no importunate gentlemen will be allowed to steal either of us away."

"I still don't—"

"And I assure you that Viscount Rohan has never been seen inside the confines of Ranelagh Gardens. He much prefers the tawdrier pleasures of Vaux-hall, and even that's too tame for him. He prefers gaming hells and brothels. You don't need to worry about running into him. Does that set your mind at ease?”

“I wasn't worried about that in the slightest," Charlotte lied.

“Of course you weren't. And you'll wear that pretty green dress that you always leave hanging in your closet, and just to make you feel entirely secure we'll both powder our hair. It's out of style except for old ladies, and the tax on hair powder is ruinous, but it's just the thing for a masquerade. Do it for me, love. We need to celebrate! Your recovery and my celibacy! Cheers!"

"Cheers," Charlotte said with a singular lack of enthusiasm, and went upstairs to change.

15

It was a beautiful spring night. After a week of rain the skies had finally cleared, the moon was bright overhead and the air was soft and warm. It was a night made for lovers, Charlotte thought grimly, glad of the mask and domino. Her scowl should scare anyone away, and if Lina forgot her vow of celibacy and decided to seduce their elderly escort she could always manage an early escape.

Unfortunately, Lina showed no sign of abjuring her recent commitment. Her thick black hair was powdered but arranged neatly, with only the most demure of sapphire and diamond-studded hairpins scattered here and there. While she hadn't avoided the rouge pot completely, she'd used a far less lavish hand, and she'd abandoned beauty patches altogether. If her intent was to play down her spectacular beauty it was a failed effort. Amazingly, without the artifice she was practically incandescent.

Her gown beneath the somber black domino was even more demure than Charlotte's. For some reason, Lina had ordered a whole raft of dresses with more sedate decolletage, in softer shades than her usual bright crimson and royal blue. Instead the new perfectly matched her eyes. She was more exquisite than ever.

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how Charlotte wanted to look at it, all that beauty was hidden by the mask and domino. With the powdered hair, she could have been mistaken for anyone, even Charlotte.

"It's a bad night," Charlotte said darkly, looking around her.

"Don't be ridiculous," Lina said. "It's glorious out—it would be a crime to spend such a night indoors."

"It's a full moon. Meggie warned me before I left. She said there's trouble afoot. Men behave badly when the moon is full."

"You need to tell that wretched girl to keep her tongue in her mouth. Besides, men behave badly no matter what.”

"Maybe we ought to go home," Charlotte said stubbornly. "There's no need to court trouble."

"You're being absurd," Lina said firmly. "We're here and we're going to enjoy ourselves. Sir Percy's going (o bespeak us an excellent supper, there's a concert in the rotunda and dancing in the pavilions. We needn't dance if you dislike it, Charlotte, but remember that no one can tell who we are. This way you can enjoy yourself without any fear of being recognized. You can flirt madly, with no consequences, and who knows, you might find you enjoy it."

Charlotte didn't even bother answering such absurdity. She was tired, her appetite was off and the last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself on the dance floor. All she wanted to do was go home and go to bed. And clearly Lina wasn't about to take pity on her and release her.

Sir Percy, seventy if he was a day, bowed, his own bewigged head bobbing a little low. Of all Lina's safe escorts. Sir Percy was her favorite, a consummate gentleman of the old school who found all women delightful and flirted so well that even Charlotte lost her reserve and flirted back a bit.