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L ucinda escaped Mr. Pearce with the excuse of needing to change into her costume.

Alfreda sat at the dressing table, enveloped in a robe, while a maid brushed her dark curls. “There you are!” she cried gaily. “That was quick. What did Mr. Pearce want to say to you, all alone?”

“Something private ,” Lucinda retorted, “which is why we were alone.”

“Spoilsport,” Alfreda said. “Not that I’d want to be alone with him, for I prefer the dark, dangerous sort—but there’s no accounting for tastes.”

Lucinda wandered over to the window, which gave onto a terrace at the back of the house, from which steps descended.

The sun was setting. The Thames glistened gold, and the lawn and garden were bathed in shadows.

At the far end of the lawn, several yards from the water’s edge, was a mound of brush and wood.

“They’re preparing for a bonfire,” she said.

“Yes, miss,” the maid said. “Fireworks, too.”

Lucinda stared out the window. Workmen were adding more fuel to the mound, and others put groupings of chairs here and there. A pavilion had been erected to one side, under which servants, some costumed as Roman soldiers, were setting up a table for refreshments.

What part might all this play in the plot, if anything? She hoped Restive and his men were aware of the plans for outdoor entertainment. Perhaps some of his men were out there helping… If only she’d been told more about what was going on!

“There’s a costume for you on the bed,” Alfreda said, breaking into her uneasy thoughts. “The maid will help you with it once she has finished my hair.”

A silver satin gown, bedecked with hundreds of glass beads, lay across the bed. The skirts were voluminous, the bodice…far too low! “I can’t wear this!”

“Why not? You’ll be masked.”

“A mask won’t cover up my breasts,” she retorted. “Not only that, there’s practically no shoulder. It’ll probably fall down.”

“No, it won’t, silly!” Alfreda said. “It’s made to stay up until your lover peels it over your shoulders, as he kisses his way down to your nipples.”

The maid tutted, shaking her head.

“Alfreda, can you hear yourself? You’re talking like a—a trollop!” Lucinda said.

Alfreda reddened. “I’m a free woman, a woman who knows what she wants.” She pouted. “I thought you were free, too.”

“Not that sort of free,” Lucinda said.

“There is also a domino for you, miss,” the maid said softly. “With that, you will be respectably covered.”

“That’s good, thank you,” Lucinda muttered. Who, she wondered, had chosen this costume for her? And why?

The maid finished with Alfreda’s hair. Alfreda stood and threw off her robe. Underneath, she was wearing nothing at all!

Lucinda felt herself flush. Such flagrant nudity was unheard of, in ladies at least. Granted, Lucinda took her baths naked, but covered herself immediately before stepping into the water and again after stepping out.

Mama and Susannah both wore their shifts to bathe. “Where are your shift and stays?”

“They’re over there on the chair, miss,” the maid said. “I tried to tell her what she’s doing is wrong, but she refuses to wear them. If you can persuade her…”

“She can’t. No one can! I have every right to dress as I please.” Alfreda raised her arms, and reluctantly, the maid lowered the gown of pale blue gauze to cover her.

Except that it didn’t. Lucinda groaned. “Alfreda, it’s transparent! You cannot go to the masquerade like that.”

“I’ll wear a domino over it, silly. This—” she indicated her female charms “—is for the man of my dreams to see.”

“Alfreda, this isn’t wise. In fact, it’s downright stupid.”

“It’s perfect. I have a very womanly body. In fact, a voluptuous one. Don’t I?”

What a mortifying topic. “I suppose so, but?—”

“The kind no man can resist!” Alfreda took a purple domino from the maid and fastened it around herself. It did cover her, but only if she was careful to keep it closed. Which, in this wild mood, she probably wouldn’t.

“I doubt if that’s truly the case, Alfreda. I’m sure men’s tastes in women vary, just as do women’s taste in men. In any event, you should save this sort of, ah, display for your husband.”

“He shall be my husband. You’ll see!” She donned an elaborate mask threaded with gold and bedecked with feathers, and flitted out the door.

“She’s going to ruin herself,” Lucinda said.

“Aye, miss, but I doubt anyone can stop her.”

“And quite possibly the man she plans to seduce.” Oh, no…

The maid gave a snort of laughter. “Poor chap, stuck with her for a wife.” She sucked in a breath. “Begging your pardon, miss. It’s not my place to criticize a guest.”

“You may say what you like to me,” Lucinda said absently. She had to do something about Alfreda, but what?

She certainly couldn’t do it dithering in here. She eyed the gown with disfavor. “Surely there are other costumes I could wear, rather than that one.”

“Only the clothes you’re wearing now,” the maid said. “I’m sorry, miss, but that’s what I was told to dress you in.”

“Told? By whom?”

“Lady Tollister, miss.”

“Lady Tollister?” The risqué costume made sense, given her reputation. “She’s not the least bit proper, in fact, she’s—” Practically a panderer . “I shouldn’t say it, so I shan’t. Why does Lady Delworth allow it?”

“She’s doesn’t know,” the maid said. “Lady Tollister offered to help with costumes, and Lady Delworth is incapable of saying no —if she even thought of doing so, which I doubt. She’s a dear, kind lady, but far too trusting.” She sighed, shaking her head.

What did Lady Tollister and her improper costumes have to do with the seditious plot? She had chosen a particular gown for Lucinda, and Lucinda had been brought here for a particular purpose, whatever that might be. Was Lady Tollister the traitor?

It was all too easy to believe, given her lax moral standards, but one shouldn’t jump to conclusions.

If not a traitor or seditionist, she might be an innocent foil, as Lady Delworth appeared to be, following directions from someone else.

In the meantime, the only way to find out was to wear the costume and see what happened next.

Meanwhile, stupid Alfreda was on the prowl…after Lord Restive?

Was he likely to allow himself to be seduced? His reputation said yes. It was all very well for Dorothea to say he was putting on an act, but he’d definitely had mistresses. At a masquerade, some laxity was expected. If Alfreda wore her mask, and he didn’t realize who she was until it was too late…

“Miss?”

Lucinda shook herself. “Sorry, I was woolgathering. Let’s try the costume on.”

M r. Pearce was waiting for her in the corridor, drat the man. She needed to find Restive the instant he arrived, which would be frightfully unpleasant, but she was obliged to warn him about Alfreda. Whatever vengeance she might want to wreak on him, it wasn’t marriage to that widgeon.

Not only that, he should be told about Lady Tollister’s possible part in the plot. Or perhaps she might find Davis.

“How festive you look,” Mr. Pearce said. “Your gown, such a shiny silver, with all those sparkling beads. They will reflect the light from the chandelier, enhancing your already stunning beauty.”

His gaze seemed focused more on her decolletage than on the gown itself. Lucinda pulled the domino firmly shut, and he blinked several times.

“The cerulean blue domino emphasizes the color of your eyes, and as for the crimson feathers on your mask…” He sighed. “I am most fond of beautiful colors. That is why my mother embroiders such delightful waistcoats for me.” His brows drew together. “I can’t tell whom you’re supposed to represent.”

“Nor can I.” She pulled the mask down to cover the top half of her face.

“This gown they gave me to wear is Restoration-era and a little improper—not at all what I like.” Even worse, the maid had tacked it together with large stitches here and there to make it fit properly.

It wouldn’t fall down on its own, but it certainly didn’t feel secure.

At the last moment, when the maid wasn’t looking, she had slipped the penknife into the pocket of her domino. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but better than nothing.

“Ah,” he said, and no more.

“Ah, what?”

“Nothing, only that I beg your pardon for abducting you, because you were then obliged to take whatever costume was available here. They have nothing for me, but I don’t mind doing without. Come, let’s join the fun.” The sounds of a minuet reached them from below.

“Very well,” she said, “but I’m rather uneasy, if you must know.”

“But—but why, my dear Miss Belair?”

“I have never attended anything without a chaperone,” she said. “I feel vulnerable to improper advances. I cannot hang on your arm for protection the entire evening.”

“I would be delighted if you did,” he said, “but never fear, my aunt shall be your chaperone. Let us find her.”

The ballroom was like many Lucinda had seen before—a dais at one end for the musicians, chairs around the perimeter, and potted plants for the wallflowers to hide behind for a few moments away from the pity or indifference of others.

The mingled aromas of sweat, perfumes, and candle wax permeated the warm, damp air.

Alcoves were dotted here and there; a table with refreshments stood in one corner, and two sets of double doors led, she assumed, to the terrace and stairs to the garden and riverbank.

They circled the ballroom, but Lady Delworth was nowhere to be found. “She must be in the drawing room,” he said. “How about Lady Tollister?”

“Do you know her reputation?” Lucinda hissed. She should probably try to talk to the woman, find out what role she played, but feared she would be unable to hide her revulsion. Restive, on the other hand, could manage such a person with aplomb. Where was he when he might be useful, drat the man?

“Ah, there’s Mrs. Haraldson! I’ll sit with her.” She tugged him toward where the cheerful lady sat fanning herself, not in costume at all, with a mask dangling from one ear.