Picking his way through the celebrating throng, he acknowledged the hearty greetings of several people he did not recognize but who clearly knew him. At last he found a less crowded room, drawn there by the whisper of a breeze wafting through a pair of glass doors that opened onto the countess’s magnificent gardens. Rupert collected a cup of punch from the refreshment table and retired to a spot near the open doors.
An hour later, as he was debating whether it was too early to head home, he became aware of a disturbance nearby. A man in the garb of an Oriental sultan was making a nuisance of himself with a fair-haired beauty. Something about the lady seemed familiar to Rupert, though he could not guess who she might be. She wore a Stuart-era gown of coral pink with a full skirt and enormous puffed sleeves trimmed with lace. Her golden curls were pulled into two bunches of ringlets, framing her delicate features. She looked soft, feminine and vulnerable to the unwanted attentions of the scoundrel who pursued her so relentlessly.
“Please, sir, let me be.” Rupert overheard her beg the sultan, “I have told you I do not wish to dance. I am trying to find my friends.”
“They are poor friends if they let you wander off, my beauty. Make me your new friend and I assure you I will be more constant.” With that the scoundrel seized her hand and pressed it to his lips again and again as if he meant to devour it.
The lady shrank from his attentions. “Please, sir, keep your distance! The last thing I want from you is constancy!”
Rupert’s pulse thundered with outrage that he was hard-pressed to contain. Slamming his punch cup down on the refreshment table, he strode toward the pair and slid between the sultan and his victim. “The lady asked you to leave her alone, sir. I suggest you behave like a gentleman and withdraw.”
The sultan’s thick lips bowed in a sinister scowl. “And what if I ignore your suggestion?”
“Then I shall phrase it as a demand.” Rupert lowered his voice to a menacing rumble. “One you would ignore at your peril.”
His adversary’s gaze wavered. “Want her for yourself, do you? See how far you get with the icy little prude!”
With that he stormed off, deliberately bumping into a footman and sending a tray of refreshments crashing to the floor.
Rupert spun around, expecting to glimpse nothing more than the lady’s pink skirts as she disappeared into the crowd. To his considerable surprise he found her still standing there.
“Thank you for your assistance, sir.” She dropped a rather wobbly curtsy. “It was most gallant of you to intervene on my behalf.”
Her voice was breathless and high-pitched, yet Rupert fancied he had heard it somewhere before. Could this be one of the debutantes he had met at Almacks? Surely he would not have been so quick to dismiss her. “Pay no heed to that scoundrel’s malicious claim that I only chased him away to acquire your company for myself. Nothing could be further from the truth. However, if you would care to linger in my vicinity, it might discourage any other such rogues who would try to force their attentions upon you.”
“That is kind of you to offer, sir.” She regarded him with a wary air, as if trying to decide whether he was any better than the predator he had frightened off. “But would it not interfere with your enjoyment of the evening to have a strange woman following you about?”
The fierce emotions that had possessed him a few moments earlier now melted away under the influence of the lady’s quiet charm. His lips relaxed into a smile. “Quite the contrary. In the first place my enjoyment of such proceedings is not that great. And in the second, being shadowed by a mysterious beauty strikes me as a rather pleasant novelty.”
The visible portion of her face took on a cast only a few shades lighter than her gown. “Pardon my curiosity, but what are you doing here if you do not enjoy such events?”
Without mentioning Mrs. Cadmore’s name or his intentions, Rupert explained that the person he had planned to accompany had been prevented from attending at the last moment.
“I still believe our victory is an event worth celebrating,” he concluded. Suddenly he was glad he had decided to attend the masquerade after all.
Yet something about his explanation seemed to alarm the lady. She drew a sharp breath and her slender frame grew tense. Or perhaps it was something else altogether.
“Forgive me,” he made an apologetic bow. “I should have asked if you are quite recovered from the fright that wretched bounder gave you. Would a cup of punch revive you? Or perhaps you would prefer to find a seat in the garden and let the fresh air calm you. I would be happy to stand guard at a distance and make certain you are not disturbed.”
She cast a longing glance toward the open doors. “That does sound pleasant. But I really must locate my friends.”
So that had not been an excuse to fend off the sultan’s advances. Rupert tried to quell an unaccountable sting of disappointment. “If you would like me to accompany you on your search, I am at your service. At least it would provide me with a useful occupation.”
After taking a moment to consider his offer, the lady nodded, making her golden curls bounce in the most winsome manner. “I would be most grateful for your assistance, though I fear it may be difficult to locate my friends in this crowd.”
Rupert found himself curiously untroubled by the prospect of a long, fruitless search in the lady’s company. In fact, their quest proved even more enjoyable than he’d hoped. From room to room he followed, always hovering close enough to discourage any other men from approaching her. At the same time, he tried to keep a respectful distance between them so she would not feel threatened by his presence. Each time they exchanged a few words, he wracked his memory to recall where he had heard her voice before.
After they had peered into a number of rooms to no avail, Rupert asked, “Can you describe how your friends are dressed? Two pair of eyes may work better to spot them.”
“An excellent suggestion.” She leaned closer and raised her voice to carry over the loud conversations around them. “The gentleman is dressed as King Arthur and the lady as Helen of Troy.”
The most ridiculous quiver of satisfaction ran through Rupert when she failed to mention a third gentleman who might have been her escort. He told himself not to be so daft. It should not matter to him whether the lady was spoken for. He was about to ask Barbara Cadmore to be his wife. Yet he could not suppress a rush of relief that his plans for the evening had gone awry.
Though he kept diligent watch for the lady’s friends, Rupert’s spirits rose as more and more time passed without a glimpse of them. At last he and his mysterious companion found themselves back in the refreshment room where they’d first met.
“I am sorry to have taken up so much of your time, sir,” she let him help her to a cup of punch, “with nothing gained for your efforts but a thirst.”
Rupert took a sip of the cool, tart compound of orange and lemon juices sweetened with sugar syrup and spiced with a hint of cinnamon and cloves. The punch was almost as welcome refreshment as her company.