She checked the clock and decided to give Sophia another minute before she followed her back to the ballroom. Lord Aston had a carved marble chess set on a round table before the window. Jane moved the Queen idly.
‘All alone at the unmasking, Cinderella?’
She had not heard anyone come in. Whirling around, her heart pounding, Jane caught her breath on a gasp.
‘Oh, sir, you startled me! I was about to go back to the ballroom…’
The green domino’s gaze fell on the chessmen.
‘It is a fine set. Do you play?’
‘Yes,’ Jane said, ‘my father taught me.’ She put the Queen back in her appointed place.
‘A game of cunning and strategy.’
‘If played well…’ Jane saw the glimmer in his eyes and smiled back in spite of herself. ‘I make no claims to be a good player…’
‘I am sure you are not doing yourself justice, ma’am! What other games do you play?’
‘I do not gamble, sir, if that is what you mean…’ Jane’s breath caught a little. She knew exactly what he meant. Any moment now he would identify himself and upbraid her for her latest trick. He must know now that she had exchanged dominoes with Sophia and that it was Sophia, not she, who had spent the evening with Lord Philip.
‘Excuse me, sir.’ She was glad that her voice did not betray her. ‘I think I should rejoin my party. They will be missing me…’
The long-case clock in the corner chimed the hour, making her jump.
‘It is time for the unmasking,’ the green domino said, his eyes intent on her face. ‘Am I to be denied knowledge of the identity of so fascinating a companion? I assure you, it is the only reason I have lingered so long at the ball…’
He put out a hand to pull back the hood of Jane’s domino, reaching for the ties to her mask.
She could feel his fingers amongst her tumbled black curls and her whole body started to tremble. The mask came away and Jane felt as though she were naked. There was no chance of escape now. To play the innocent could be her only defence.
‘You have the advantage of me, sir…’ Her voice was husky. His hand brushed her cheek for a moment, sending more quivers of sensation along her nerve-endings. He pulled his own mask away with a quick, impatient gesture.
‘Not so, Miss Verey. You have known my identity all evening, have you not?’
Jane cleared her throat. ‘All evening, sir?’
Alex’s dark eyes pinned her to the spot. ‘Come now, Miss Verey, where is your much-vaunted honesty? Are you denying that you spent some time in my company earlier?’
Jane’s wide green eyes met his virtuously. ‘How could I know, sir? All the guests have been masked…’
She could see from his expression that he did not believe her and he looked to be torn between laughter and exasperation. He took a step forward and Jane’s heart leaped into her throat. Her instinctive movement away caused the pale candlelight to shimmer for a moment on the rose pink domino; the shadows shifted and then Alex stood back suddenly, his voice changing abruptly.
‘A pink domino, Miss Verey?’
‘As you see, sir.’
‘No doubt Miss Marchment is in blue?’
‘Indeed she is.’
‘But you were wearing the blue domino earlier this evening?’
‘You might well have believed that, your Grace.’
Alex looked as though he was uncertain whether to shake her or kiss her. For a moment Jane was held captive by the expression in his eyes, then he said,
‘Oh, Miss Verey, I believe that it is not safe to let you from my sight!’
He sketched a slight bow and watched her positively run from the room. The oak door latched with a firm click behind her.
Alexander Delahaye slumped into an armchair, running a hand through his rumpled black hair. It was only with the greatest effort of will that he had made himself let Jane Verey go. His instinct, more powerful than anything he had felt in a very long time, had prompted him to crush her to him and kiss her until she could no longer stand.
As soon as he had met her in the supper room he had recognised her, blue domino or not. He remembered her references to wearing a pink domino and suspected that she had tricked him again. When he saw Philip paying court to the lady in pink, he had been certain.
Nevertheless, some impulse had led him to flirt with her, a whim that he barely understood but was forced to admit he had found deeply enjoyable. Jane’s quick wit and willingness to cross swords with him were most stimulating. She was an intriguing conundrum, at once so daring and yet so innocent, risking a little then drawing back! Alex sighed. These were not the feelings he should be having for his brother’s future bride! He stretched out his long legs and looked covetously at the decanter of brandy standing on Lord Aston’s bureau. Suddenly he needed a drink.
Simon Verey was having a bad evening. He had lost the angelic beauty who had granted him one dance earlier in the evening and now his sister had disappeared as well. Belatedly remembering that he had promised his mother that he would look after Jane and Sophia, he started to search the ballroom for them.
A blue domino was visible in one of the alcoves, talking to a gentleman in black who looked completely besotted. Simon frowned. Had Jane been wearing pink or blue? Was that Sophia? Her face was turned away from him but the fair hair curling from beneath the hood certainly suggested that it could not be Jane.
Scowling, Simon ventured into the empty supper room and out into the conservatory. There were plenty of people strolling there, but none of them were Jane. Finally Simon stepped out into the garden, where the cool night air was refreshing after the humid atmosphere in the house. Giggles and rustling from behind the bushes suggested that the most amorous of the party-goers had decided to further their acquaintance in the relative privacy of the darkness. Simon did not for one moment believe that his sister would be amongst them, but he was almost ready to strangle her anyway. He retraced his steps to the terrace.
‘I beg you, sir, to let me go! Your suggestions disgust me!’
Simon swung round abruptly. He knew that it was not Jane, but he recognised the voice. The shifting shadows of the terrace moved a little to show the slender shape of a girl struggling violently in the grip of a burly individual almost twice her size. There was a ripping sound and an exclamation from the man, who appeared to be bending her back against the parapet until it seemed she must break in half. Simon hurried forward and took him by the collar.
‘You heard the lady, sirrah! Be off with you!’
The man was very drunk. He let go of the girl abruptly and swung his fist at Simon, making contact instead with the stone coping. With a howl of mingled rage and pain, he stormed off into the night. There was a silence. The girl smoothed down her torn domino, which was showing a dress of silvery gauze beneath.
‘You’re very kind, sir.’ Her voice shook a little with agitation and Simon put out an instinctive hand.
‘You must let me take you back to your chaperon,’ he said gruffly. ‘However appealing a breath of fresh air may be, it is not safe to be alone out here.’
He thought he saw her smile a little in the darkness. ‘Oh, I have no chaperon to take care of me,’ she said, with bitter amusement, ‘but I thank you for your concern, sir.’
Simon stared at her through the darkness. Her words suggested that she was married or worse-better?-that she was a Cyprian who had attended the masquerade in the hope of attracting a rich protector. It was scarcely unknown, but Simon’s whole being rejected the idea. She neither spoke nor acted like a courtesan and she had had every opportunity to try to engage his interest earlier, yet she had made no push to do so. Nor, indeed, had she encouraged the drunken overtures of Lord Hewetson, whom he had just seen off…