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“ Bless thee, Bottoms, bless thee,” Puck cried. “ Thou art translated .”

The two asses heehawed and ran back out into the darkness.

“That’s enough, Puck,” Fitz called. “Gather your minions and take them back to the nursery.”

Some of the guests shouted objections.

With an extravagant bow, Puck proclaimed, “ Lord, what fools these mortals be .” Straightening, he directed his gaze at Simon.

Blue eyes, as blue as the eyes of the lady in panniers next to him.

Not cold, bored, and amused, like hers, but blazing, almost fevered.

The wand lifted, twirled enigmatically, and pointed straight at him, and a moment of battlefield panic flared.

He’d stared down a French chasseur’s barrel this closely.

And he’d picked himself up, fought on, and lived.

“ Jack shall have Jill, nought shall go ill . But,” the wand moved to Nancy. “ This is the woman ,” then back to Simon, “ but not this the man .”

Simon’s arm swung back and his glass shot through the air quick as a bullet.

Shock registered in Puck’s blue eyes, and he ducked just in time, then stood tall, hand on his hips, and scoffed. “ I go, I go, look how I go. Swift as an arrow from the Tartar’s bow .”

Then he bounded off to the other side and disappeared into the darkness.

Simon swiped at his neck again. That shot with the glass had been instinctive. He was glad James had dodged it, hoped the lad didn’t break his neck on the long drop on the other side.

The guests clapped and cheered, and Fitz grinned and sent him a mock salute.

A waiter offered him another glass of punch, but he waved it away, and the servant moved on. No need to engender more attention with a Swilling Duke episode tonight.

“That was quite the Shakespeare performance,” Percy said, smiling slyly. He leaned in close. “We know where Puck stands on the matchmaking,” he whispered and then asked, “Shall I fetch you a drink, Miss Nancy?”

Dipping her eyes demurely a moment, she murmured a low thank you, and Percy strode off.

Something was amiss here.

A line of ants scurried along Simon’s neck and down his back and arms. He wriggled his shoulders in the tight waistcoat trying to ease his skin, and saw Nancy’s lips quirk.

And then he knew.

The dowager had warned him. The shirt wasn’t infested with lice; he was the victim of a prank.

“That was gentlemanly of Sir Percy,” Miss Hazelton said. “Except that he forgot me. I’m feeling parched myself.” She rubbed against Simon again.

He turned on her. “Are you cold, Miss Hazelton? You must be cold in that thin gown. How the devil did the Greeks do it, running around in bedsheets. Excuse me, I’ll tell one of the maids to fetch a shawl for you.”

He stalked off into the house, unbuttoning the waistcoat as he went. This damned shirt had to come off.

U pstairs in his bedchamber, he stripped down to his waist, turned up the oil lamp and held the shirt close, shaking it. A powdery substance floated down to the floor.

Itching powder. He’d seen this trick before, more than once at school and again in the barracks. How…

Rose hips. She’d been carrying a basket of shriveled roses. Steamed and dried, the innards of the rose hips could be crushed into a devilish powder.

He covered his face and gave in to laughter. What a minx she was. He’d never have given her credit for something so devious. Though she’d probably had a good deal of help from her prancing, Shakespeare-quoting brother, James.

At the washstand, he lathered himself everywhere the shirt had touched, dripping all over the wooden flooring. There would be other schoolboy tricks tonight, for certain. Ridiculous, uncomfortable hijinks but probably not dangerous. As long as he was on alert, he’d be one step ahead.

He must temper his drinking and, well, his temper. He’d skated close to more scandal throwing the glass at James. What he’d really wanted to do was pull the lad down off the railing and give him a good schoolboy thumping.

This is the woman, but not this the man. There’d been fury in Puck’s eyes, if not in his saucy tone.

Why? Why would James be angry over his sister’s failed season?

As much trouble as the lad had had at school, he’d be more likely to laugh at the Swilling Duke’s jingle-brained blundering.

He didn’t seem the type to be passionate about his sister’s honor, and he’d been nothing but cordial to Simon before dinner last night.

In fact, when they’d chatted, James had seemed bored, amused even.

One set of eyes tonight had been bored and amused, the other blazing, almost fevered.

Hermia’s small bosom was flatter than it had been in the music room but that could be an illusion created by the fichu.

The voices—they could be altered. Both in school and in the army, friends had donned gowns to play roles in theatricals.

Without costumes, wigs, and masks, there was no way to mistake a man—or a boy James’s age—for a grown woman.

But with costumes, wigs, and masks… Might they have switched?

He toweled himself dry, chuckling. One step ahead—that’s where he’d stay.

N ancy gathered her fairy, her goblin, and her two asses at the garden storage shed and had Arthur turn up the light on the lantern. Or was it Edward carrying the light? Both boys had shot up in the last year.

She shook off the thought and hugged Mary in one arm and Benjamin in the other.

“You did wonderfully tonight,” she said.

“So did you.” Edward laughed. “You could run away and go on the stage, Nancy.”

Her breath froze. Had anyone seen her carry her valise to the folly?

“You fooled them, Nancy,” Benjamin said, “but I don’t think we did.”

Mary nodded. “Papa knew it was me.”

“All the grownups knew who you were, though I’m not sure they could tell Arthur and Edward apart.

” Nancy took a basket down from a shelf and smiled.

Cook would have a fit tomorrow morning when there weren’t enough eggs for breakfast, but this would be well worth it.

“I don’t think they truly minded you joining the fun, as long as you don’t stay up all night, and as long as you don’t do anything truly naughty. ”

“Like dropping eggs on his grace’s head?” Edward asked, all innocence.

She’d seen Simon scratching his arms and chafing his neck. She’d also seen Miss Hazelton in an elegant toga rubbing against him.

Jealousy had struck then, and it flared again in her now.

She swallowed it down. Let the half-naked hussy have him.

“Whatever happens, the blame is on me,” Nancy said. “What’s the worst they can do to me?”

Especially if she was gone.

“They could send you to a convent,” Edward said, “like the king threatened to do to Hermia in the play. We had to read A Midsummer Night’s Dream last year.”

“They could lock you up in your room,” Arthur said.

Benjamin piped up. “And make you eat cold gruel for every meal.”

Mary nudged her. “Or they could make you marry the Swilling Duke. I heard Papa talking to Mama about it.”

Her stomach clenched and her mouth went dry, and she looked down into Mary’s big blue eyes; eyes that were often deceptively innocent.

Never mind. The duke would have to catch her first.

Nancy touched the fair head. “Well, we shall make sure the duke doesn’t want to marry me .

” She handed the basket to Benjamin. “We need to lure him to the old oak tree.” It was their best climbing tree on the edge of the garden.

“You and Mary need to get up top. Arthur and Edward will give you a boost to get started.”

“And what are our orders after that, Puck?” Arthur asked, grinning.

“I know.” Edward picked up his donkey head. “In the play, the fairy queen is besotted with Bottom. We’ll go and bedevil Cass.”

“Both of us?”

“Saulsfield is bound to grab one of us,” Edward said. “It had better be you, Arthur. He won’t birch an earl.”

“No one will be birched.” Nancy hoped. “Why not… why not chase the lady wearing the toga?”

“The see-through toga?” Arthur and Edward exchanged leering looks.

Heavens, they were only twelve and ogling women already. Were all males the same?

“Just don’t distract the duke. We need James to?—”

“Change of plans, sister.” James hurried in, turning sideways through the narrow door. “The itching powder worked beautifully, and your performance was magnificent. I couldn’t have done better. That is, until your last parting quip. The Swilling Duke is on to us, Nancy. We must switch costumes.”