Page 52 of The Art of Sinning

“Ah. I wasn’t sure. She could as easily be a dairymaid, a laundress, a linen draper—”

“Don’t be ridiculous—women can’t be linen drapers.” Her anxiety over the coming evening lent sharpness to her tone. “And you would have recognized my costume at once if you hadn’t been so tardy. You missed me handing my enormous shepherd’s crook up to the groom.”

“Once again,” he drawled, “I apologize for my lateness. Damber had a bit of trouble with this hat.” He blew at a feather that dipped down in front of his face. “The lad has never dealt with plumes before. Neither have I, for that matter.”

Jeremy was dressed as a Cavalier, a costume he said he’d brought with him from London. She had to admit he looked quite dashing in his doublet and his coat trimmed in gold braid. Every lady at the ball would salivate at the sight of him.

Shecertainly was.

“It doesn’t matter how late we arrive anyway,” Edwin said with a dismissive gesture.

Edwin was dressed as himself. She had yet to see her brother don a costume for a masquerade. He always said there was no reason to do so when he intended to spend the entire evening in the card room anyway.

“I doubt anyone will even notice our entrance,” Edwin went on. “Especially with Yvette dressed as she is.”

“Why, thank you for the compliment,” she said dryly.

“I only mean, dear girl, that for once you look like all the other young ladies.” Edwin cocked his head at Jeremy. “She usually wears something more dramatic.”

“Does she?” Jeremy’s eyes gleamed at her in the darkness. “Like what?”

Curse him for that. Jeremy knew perfectly well why she wanted to blend in tonight—it would make it easier for her absence to go unnoticed. But if her brother started to wonder at her tepid choice of costume, his suspicions might be roused.

“Once,” Edwin told Jeremy, “she went as Queen Elizabeth, complete with ruff and white painted face. She cowed every man she saw. But a shepherdess?” He grimaced. “There will be scores of them. Most young ladies aren’t creative in their costume choices.”

“Except for Clarissa,” Yvette said quickly, hoping to change the subject. “She’s going as a man.”

Edwin scowled. “That’s not creative. It’s foolish. She couldn’t pass for a man if she tried.”

“I can’t wait to meet this indomitable female,” Jeremy said. “Between your description of her last night, and Yvette’s clear admiration of the chit, I’m expecting nothing less than an Amazon.”

“Edwin!” Yvette cried. “Surely you didn’t describe delicate little Clarissa as an Amazon.”

“I honestly have no idea,” Edwin admitted. “Some of last night is a bit fuzzy.” He glanced at Jeremy. “Though I do remember our talk of starting a club.”

“A club?” Yvette sniffed. “What sort of club could the two of you possibly belong to? You’re as different as chalk and cheese.”

“Not as different as you think, eh, Keane?” Edwin said, elbowing Jeremy.

“Not when it comes to boiling pots and hot springs,” Jeremy responded.

“And exploding champagne bottles,” Edwin added.

They laughed heartily, bewildering her. What on earth was wrong with them? They’d been making enigmatic comments all day, punctuated by sly winks and nudges. She couldn’t imagine what they’d done last night to turn them into such bosom companions.

Or perhaps she could. Jeremy had clearly been drunk in the schoolroom, and Edwin had dragged himself to the breakfast table at midday, looking like a piece of chewed-up gristle. If not for the fact that she’d never seen her brother overindulge, she would swear he’d been cropsick.

Bad enough that Jeremy was having a terrible influence on her. If he started turning Edwin into a mirror image of himself, the earth would fall off its axis.

“Well,” she said, “I’m glad Clarissa is being daring, no matter how much stodgy old Warren complains.”

“Knightford is stodgy?” Jeremy said incredulously.

“With her he is,” Yvette said.

“I told you he’d make a good club member,” Edwin told Jeremy. “We should add him to the list.”

“We’re making a list?” Jeremy said.