1. Chapter One

Lady Katrina Harrington had a brilliant plan.

Her hand-painted gold and black mask would surely garner her the first-place prize in the much-anticipated Yardley Manor Vizard Contest. Once she stood in front of her brother's guests, accepting the red velvet ribbon, she'd capture the attention of her future husband.

Hundreds of flickering candles illuminated the vast ballroom, dappling over the gentleman she had designs on. Her heart pitter-pattered because he was so close she could almost reach out and touch him.

The earl cut a fine figure in his tan waistcoat. Not as superior as the masked man in green who posed and preened next to him. But Kat wasn't interested in an unknown, spectacularly built man with a beguiling smile. She had her sights on the influential Earl of Wellspring, Alexander Sparrow, considered the "catch of the season." And since Kat was the luckiest woman in England, and she always got who and what she wanted, she'd surely have both the ribbon and the earl by the end of the evening.

However, if the rumors were true, the Earl of Wellspring was much too shy to approach while a half-dozen chattering ladies surrounded her at her brother's masquerade ball. Therefore, Kat extricated herself from the other guests and waited at the edge of the ballroom.

As usual, good fortune smiled upon Kat, and the man in green strutted toward the balcony, leaving Lord Wellspring alone. How wonderful that the handsome earl had taken care to create his mask, endearing him to Kat even further. Peacock feathers adorned both corners, and his turquoise and purple jewels glittered beneath the chandelier's glow. She caught his gaze and fluttered her fan. Hopefully, he received her message and soon approached because as much as she enjoyed having her choice of suitors, fending them off this particular evening had become tiresome.

At last, the earl met her gaze. For a moment, his visage remained emotionless. Perchance because he was shy? Unless… nay? Could it be that he wasn't interested in her?

Wait. Were his lips turning upward? Yes, and oh my, his grin was charming. If she danced with him, she would surely witness those golden-brown eyes that had the eligible ladies of the ton clattering for his attention.

Since it was easier to be bold when hidden behind a mask and a fan, she shamelessly smiled.

The earl acknowledged her with a tilted chin, thereupon gliding toward her. He was so graceful that he could be an Italian ballet dancer. When he finally proposed to Kat, every woman in England would envy her.

Lord Wellspring—she would call him my darling Alex once they married—was almost to her when two men approached and guided him in the opposite direction.

Piffle. That wasn't supposed to happen. Kat fought to keep her bottom lip from sticking out. Pouting simply didn't suit her. Instead, she'd seek the company of her family. Forcing a smile, she searched the sea of guests for Aunt Justine and her sister-in-law, Anna.

Unfortunately, Lord Greyson, an ill-tempered blackguard who didn't even have the decency to wear a mask to a masquerade, seemed to appear out of nowhere, asking for her dance card. It wasn't that he was entirely unattractive, for he dressed fashionably. However, his eyes were soulless and beady, and his blond hair stuck out in odd tufts that resembled hay, and he and his mother, the Dowager Marchioness of Greyson, were notorious talebearers who had ruined many a member of the ton with salacious gossip.

Thank the heavens above, her cousin Beth charged toward her.

"Please excuse us, Lord Greyson. I must speak to Lady Katrina at once about an urgent situation." Beth grasped her arm.

"Call me Francis," he called after them.

Exceedingly grateful, Kat didn't fight Beth's tug. "Thank you for saving me," she whispered.

Beth yanked her into an empty alcove ensconced in shadow. She exhaled, then spoke quickly. "I need your help. Please do not say no."

"Elizabeth Fletcher, I dare say, if you drag me into one of your jumbles, so help me…"

Most of the time, Beth's tomfoolery involved a man—or two—and Kat had developed an immunity to Beth's wide-eyed, innocent look almost a decade ago.

"I need you to meet someone for me. Please tell him—"

Kat shoved her palm in her cousin's face. "Absolutely not."

Beth huffed. "Let me explain."

"Fine," Kat said, against her better judgment. "I am listening."

"I am to meet a man on the outskirts of the estate. Our rendezvous is at a quarter past the stroke of midnight. But I cannot be there at that time."

Good heavens, her flirtatious cousin enjoyed intrigue. Kat, however, could do without danger and scandal. Besides, she might still be reveling in adulation since the winner was to be announced at midnight.

Kat sighed. "You need me to meet him and explain that the liaison will not happen?"

Beth studied the ceiling as she murmured numbers. At long last, she cleared her throat. "Tell him to wait, and I will be there in fifteen minutes."

Perhaps Kat needed a new best friend who wasn't tied to her through blood. "Beth, I cannot be caught talking to a strange man in the gardens. I am attempting to court Alexander Sparrow. Even if I wasn't trying to court him…" She threw her hands in the air. "Nay. I will not undertake something so reckless."

"Don't be so dramatic," Beth said. "You pass by the gardener's hut and follow a tree-lined path until you come to a rose trellis. No one will be about. Besides, you do not need to talk to him for very long. If you are caught, which you won't be, you can say you required fresh air because you felt a fainting spell coming on." Beth waved a hand as if requesting something as benign as a cup of tea. "Simply say you accidentally ran into each other. After you relay the message, you can return to the ballroom and pursue Lord Wellspring."

"I assume you need me to do this because you are meeting another man at midnight," Kat said.

"Frederick Montague. I believe he means to ask for my hand at some point, and I plan to say yes."

Then why the Shakespearean farce?

"Who is this other man that I must delay for fifteen minutes?"

"I do not yet know his name, and he did not take off his mask." Wearing a dreamy expression, Beth stared at the ceiling. "He has the most beautiful green eyes, his smile is lovely, and his arse is oh-so-fine."

Kat balked. "Oh, Beth. Must you be so uncouth?"

"Must you be so uptight?"

Kat huffed. "No. I will not meet your mystery man with the nice arse." Huh! Proof she was not uptight. An uptight woman would never mumble the word arse.

"But we always look out for each other," Beth said. "And I am sharing my chamber with you. I share my chamber with you every summer so that you have a lovely holiday."

Whenever Kat visited Brighton, she stayed with Beth on the third floor of her family"s inn. The Crown Jewel Inn was exceedingly elegant, and Kat adored staying with her aunt and cousin. But still… "I won't do it," Kat said again.

"But I saved you from Greyson." Beth pinched her nostrils. "And he sweats so profusely that he smells like a sack of rotten onions."

Kat moaned. "This is the very last time, Beth. And I will not dally. I will tell him and be on my way."

Beth bounced on her toes as she hugged her. "Thank you. I do so adore you."

"And I adore you. However, I am of the opinion that once you are engaged, you should cease this nonsense." Probably even before she was engaged.

Beth brought a hand to her heart. "What nonsense?"

"I am quite serious, Beth. I cannot assist you in these devious schemes. How will you ever find true love?"

"True love?" Beth scoffed. "There is no such thing."

But Kat's brothers were wildly in love. They had both scandalized society with their choice of brides. Now, the ton adored their unlikely wives as much as the Harrington brothers did.

But did she love Lord Wellspring?

Nay. But she found him most agreeable, and she would learn to love him. After she met Beth's green-eyed stranger, she'd return to the ball, seek out the earl, and fall truly and deeply in love.

Why in the heavens had Kat agreed to meet Beth's mystery lover and relay a message? It had been almost impossible to escape into the gardens by herself. Every female she passed attempted to join her. And at least a half-dozen men had asked her to dance. By the time she exited the house, she'd feigned multiple headaches, trips to the water closet, and complete exhaustion.

"You are spineless, Katrina Harrington," she chided herself as she passed by the gardener's hut. "You'd let Beth talk you into selling your soul to Lucifer for a chocolate biscuit." And she didn't even like biscuits. Well maybe she enjoyed their sugary deliciousness, but not enough to spend eternity in Hell.

"Bah."

Considered one of the diamonds of the season, but instead of feeling like a princess, she was traipsing in the dark like an utter fool—and without the red ribbon. She didn't begrudge Alexander for taking first place. In fact, it made her fonder of him since she had not known he, too, was a gifted artist. He'd been so gracious when accepting her congratulations. Surely, a good wife found it pleasurable when her husband was more talented than her. Kat might even boast about it.

The gravel path wove behind the building and through a thicket of tall oaks. Her footsteps became lighter as she stomped along in search of the trellis. It was truly refreshing to breathe in the crisp night air.

"Ahh." She luxuriated in her deep inhale, then parted her lips to exhale.

Seconds later, voices startled her, and her breath caught in her throat. She tucked behind a tree, steadied herself, and eavesdropped.

Two men spoke in hushed voices. One was the odious Greyson.

"If the chit knows what is good for her, she will not ignore me this time," he said.

Probably dozens of women wanted nothing to do with Greyson, so surely, he was not referring to her. Was he?

Of course not. All the attention she'd received this season from her paternal aunt—who was none other than the queen—had her thinking she was the center of everyone's universe. She was simply the Duke of Astleyshire and Lord Ethan Harrington's younger sister, with a maternal aunt who owned a seaside inn and a cousin of dubious character. Oh, and the queen's niece.

Piffle. She'd have to sneak past Greyson and the other man to reach her destination. But her heart beat so hard she was certain they could hear the whoosh whoosh of her pumping blood. She rose on tiptoe and stepped carefully. Avoiding rocks, leaves, and the other crunching items littering Mother Nature's carpet in the moonlight proved quite challenging. To her surprise, it was an exceedingly exhilarating challenge.

Once she was safely past them, her giggles bubbled. She slapped her hand across her mouth and sprinted as fast as her slippers allowed. By the time she stood in front of the trellis, she was breathless from both exertion and euphoria. It was as if she'd become intoxicated from the sea air.

Who would have guessed that sneaking about Yardley Manor would be such fun?

Sitting on the grass as the breeze caressed her skin would also be quite enjoyable. She hadn't done something so freeing and childlike since she'd started to care about pristine gowns almost eleven years ago.

She dropped to her knees, rearranged her skirts, then waited.