been frequenting the bawdy houses, but he missed the companionship a mistress provided. He desired an association with lasting benefits.
A widow would solve all of his problems. She wouldn’t be an innocent or fancy herself in love. She likely wouldn’t even entertain thoughts of marriage. And if that prig, Jake Hillary, could win the incomparable Lady Audley’s attentions, surely Jasper was capable of attracting a widow half as beautiful.
“You’re brilliant, Fi,” he said.
“And you are hopeless.” His sister yanked off her glove, licked her thumb, and reached for him.
Jasper slapped her hand away when her wet digit scrubbed his chin. “Egads! Have you gone batty, woman?”
“Chocolate,” she stated with a smug gleam to her masked eyes. “I require refreshment now.”
She didn’t wait to see if he agreed to accompany her. With a frustrated shrug, he followed in her wake. He glanced at the obscured faces as he and Fiona weaved toward the refreshment room.
Blast! How was he to know the widows from the married ladies when he couldn’t identify them? At least the innocents were easy to spot as they gathered in groups with their chaperones lurking in the background.
Lady Chickering boasted an extravagant spread. The white linen table was loaded with tempting sweets: strawberry tartlets, ratafia cakes, sugar cookies, marzipan. Jasper groaned and looked away before he drooled. Controlling his sweet tooth was difficult, but he wouldn’t overindulge for fear of regaining what he’d lost, becoming an even larger target for his sister’s insults.
“I’ll meet you in the ballroom,” he said.
Fiona loaded her plate with two of everything. He envied her ability to gorge herself like a man while retaining her scrawny figure.
She flicked her hand. “Off with you. I don’t require an escort.”
Now she didn’t need an escort. She could have told him that an hour ago.
***
Amelia danced the minuet with Jake. This was their second dance in a row, but with identities hidden, rules mattered less. Of course, in the light of day, she must be more cautious due to the foundling house renovation. She couldn’t allow anything to destroy the support she had thus far received from the reputable ladies of the ton.
Her fondness for Jake would set tongues to wagging, and everyone would think she had become his mistress. After all, that was the only role fit for widows.
When the quartet stopped playing, Jake seemed reluctant to release her hands. Perhaps they could chance one more dance. The crowd seemed absorbed by their own machinations this evening.
“I suppose I shouldn’t monopolize your time,” he said, showing no signs of leaving her despite his words.
A caped figure appeared beside them. “No, you shouldn’t, little brother.”
Captain Hillary’s crooked grin set her teeth on edge.
“Freya promised me a waltz, and I would be foolish not to hold her to her word.”
Amelia forced a tense smile for the odious man. Very well. She would take the opportunity to set him straight and end this silly flirtation.
“Of course, Captain Hillary. I would be honored.”
Jake’s jaw tightened when she took his brother’s hand. Her gaze followed Jake as he moved to the sidelines of the ballroom floor. She and Captain Hillary took position, waiting for the music to begin.
“Your costume is divine, Lady Audley.”
Amelia’s eyes flicked over him. He hadn’t bothered with a costume, omitting even a mask. His only concession was the black cape, buff trousers, and open collared shirt. The dark bruise at his jawline lent a touch of realism to his rakish attire.
“Do you come as a pillager, Captain?”
“I take nothing by force, my dear.” He winked, his cheek riling her temper.
When the music carried on the air, he led her into a turn.
She pressed her lips together in a thin line. “About that, Captain. I hope you will not take offense, but I’m afraid I have nothing to offer you.”
His eyes
A widow would solve all of his problems. She wouldn’t be an innocent or fancy herself in love. She likely wouldn’t even entertain thoughts of marriage. And if that prig, Jake Hillary, could win the incomparable Lady Audley’s attentions, surely Jasper was capable of attracting a widow half as beautiful.
“You’re brilliant, Fi,” he said.
“And you are hopeless.” His sister yanked off her glove, licked her thumb, and reached for him.
Jasper slapped her hand away when her wet digit scrubbed his chin. “Egads! Have you gone batty, woman?”
“Chocolate,” she stated with a smug gleam to her masked eyes. “I require refreshment now.”
She didn’t wait to see if he agreed to accompany her. With a frustrated shrug, he followed in her wake. He glanced at the obscured faces as he and Fiona weaved toward the refreshment room.
Blast! How was he to know the widows from the married ladies when he couldn’t identify them? At least the innocents were easy to spot as they gathered in groups with their chaperones lurking in the background.
Lady Chickering boasted an extravagant spread. The white linen table was loaded with tempting sweets: strawberry tartlets, ratafia cakes, sugar cookies, marzipan. Jasper groaned and looked away before he drooled. Controlling his sweet tooth was difficult, but he wouldn’t overindulge for fear of regaining what he’d lost, becoming an even larger target for his sister’s insults.
“I’ll meet you in the ballroom,” he said.
Fiona loaded her plate with two of everything. He envied her ability to gorge herself like a man while retaining her scrawny figure.
She flicked her hand. “Off with you. I don’t require an escort.”
Now she didn’t need an escort. She could have told him that an hour ago.
***
Amelia danced the minuet with Jake. This was their second dance in a row, but with identities hidden, rules mattered less. Of course, in the light of day, she must be more cautious due to the foundling house renovation. She couldn’t allow anything to destroy the support she had thus far received from the reputable ladies of the ton.
Her fondness for Jake would set tongues to wagging, and everyone would think she had become his mistress. After all, that was the only role fit for widows.
When the quartet stopped playing, Jake seemed reluctant to release her hands. Perhaps they could chance one more dance. The crowd seemed absorbed by their own machinations this evening.
“I suppose I shouldn’t monopolize your time,” he said, showing no signs of leaving her despite his words.
A caped figure appeared beside them. “No, you shouldn’t, little brother.”
Captain Hillary’s crooked grin set her teeth on edge.
“Freya promised me a waltz, and I would be foolish not to hold her to her word.”
Amelia forced a tense smile for the odious man. Very well. She would take the opportunity to set him straight and end this silly flirtation.
“Of course, Captain Hillary. I would be honored.”
Jake’s jaw tightened when she took his brother’s hand. Her gaze followed Jake as he moved to the sidelines of the ballroom floor. She and Captain Hillary took position, waiting for the music to begin.
“Your costume is divine, Lady Audley.”
Amelia’s eyes flicked over him. He hadn’t bothered with a costume, omitting even a mask. His only concession was the black cape, buff trousers, and open collared shirt. The dark bruise at his jawline lent a touch of realism to his rakish attire.
“Do you come as a pillager, Captain?”
“I take nothing by force, my dear.” He winked, his cheek riling her temper.
When the music carried on the air, he led her into a turn.
She pressed her lips together in a thin line. “About that, Captain. I hope you will not take offense, but I’m afraid I have nothing to offer you.”
His eyes
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