TheCharmer (39 page)

Now to get it out of the house. She stuffed the packet of betraying documents under her skirts and made for the hall. She tugged her mobcap low and adopted a busy shuffle back to the main wing. If she could get back without being seen—

"Oy there! You!" She'd been seen. A burly footman strode toward her, suspicion on his face.

Rose didn't hesitate. She ran.

Somewhere down the third twisting corridor the man fell behind. Rose ducked into a dark room and quickly made her change. Off with the dull maid's uniform. Underneath she wore shimmering beaded silk. Off with the floppy mob-cap. Beneath it, her hair was wound with crystals and ribbon.

Rose wadded her useless uniform into her apron and tossed it from the room's window into the shrubbery below. She'd best have Feebles fetch it later. Then she pulled her evening gloves from her bodice and tugged them on while she listened at the door. When she was sure all pursuit had passed her by, she sucked in a deep breath.

Then, with a pat to her hair, she flung open the door and strode confidently out.

The burly footman passed her once as she made her way back to the ballroom, but his gaze was focused on housemaids, not guests. He merely bowed perfunctorily as he went by. Rose didn't acknowledge him at all, but only continued down the hall, her expression serene, her heart pounding.

The ball was in full crush. It was a mad rout, a frantic display—one of the last balls of the season. Rose made her way around the outskirts of the dancers to the gentlemen's card room off to one side. She could have found it by the smell of smoke alone, even had she not known the house so well. She dawdled in the doorway until she caught Collis's eye.

With a tiny lift of one brow, he asked. With a smug pursing of her lips, she answered. Impressed pride flashed across his features, then he turned his attention back to the game he played with Lord Maywell. "I fear I must fold, my lord."

Lord Maywell, a bushy-browed man of middle years and impressive girth, grunted in disapproval. "You're not going to let a few bad hands stop you? You young lot—no fortitude!"

Collis stood anyway and bowed. "Ah, but my lady awaits, my lord," he said with a smile.

Lord Maywell cast an incurious glance toward Rose, who tried to appear highly decorative and useless. "Didn't know you'd married, Tremayne," he grunted. "Someone forgot to tell Lady Maywell, I'll wager. I'm fairly sure you were only invited so she could try to pawn one of my daughters off on you."

"Oh, yes, I'm wed." Collis smiled dangerously at Rose. She felt her toes curl.

Lord Maywell turned to one of the other players at the table. "I suppose you're leaving as well, since you came with Tremayne," he said sourly.

Ethan Damont, who could scarcely see over the immense pile of winnings before him, sighed regretfully. "I fear I must, my lord." Then he blinked hopefully. "Unless you care to extend an invitation—"

At Lord Maywell's growl, Ethan nodded and swept his plunder into a precarious two-handed pile. He stood and bowed, amazingly without dropping a single coin. "Until we meet again, my lord."

Collis and Ethan joined Rose in the ballroom. She grinned at Ethan. "You were only supposed to occupy him, not beggar him!"

Ethan blinked innocently. "Is it my heartache if his lordship is the worst player I've ever seen?"

Collis clapped his friend on the shoulder. "It's good to see you taking an interest in a bit of good, honest cheating again."

"Oh, I'm quite recovered," Ethan claimed roguishly, but Rose wasn't convinced. The gambler hadn't wanted any part of the plan until they'd told him that Lord Maywell was a very unsavory member of Society. These days, it seemed to her as if Ethan Damont was less interested in gambling for gambling's sake and more interested in somewhat higher motivations.

Ethan excused himself. "I'm off. I can't very well dance with my hands full," he said with a wink. He sauntered away.

Collis pulled Rose close to whisper in her ear. "You did it!" Pride swelled within him. His magnificent, talented bride!

"
We
did it," she whispered back, then bit his earlobe lightly. "But you had better dance me to the door. I can't keep carrying the evidence strapped to my thigh!"

"Lucky evidence," he replied with a chuckle, then swept her into his arms. They waltzed gracefully through the crowd with nary a trampled toe, then arrived at the terrace doors with a last breathless spin.

She was so bright tonight, her hair a gleaming crown, her supple body elegant in moonlight-colored silk. The Unicorn, they'd dubbed her at the club. It suited her. Bright and clever and his.

The mission was accomplished. Now there was only the remains of the evening and his lovely, charming spy.

"Mrs. Tremayne," he murmured to her, "would you care for a turn in the garden?"

"Why, Mr. Tremayne! In the dark? Alone?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I cannot, for I doubt your intentions entirely, sir!"

Collis leaned closer until the tips of her breasts brushed his chest. Her sea-green eyes flashed at him as she cast him a saucy look. With his left hand, the one out of sight of the crowd, he slid his grip from her waist up to the side of her breast.

He put his lips to her ear. "I double-damn dare you."

^