The only marginally good thing was that Sesily would be at the ball and had sent word that Wentworth wanted to meet. It was the one place where Bronwyn could facilitate a meeting without being followed by half a dozen people, and the disguises would offer another layer of secrecy. She was sure that between Ashvale and Thornbury, a number of the guests in attendance would be there for her protection…at least ones in possession of an invitation.

Not that any part of her scandalous dress allowed her to blend in.

She might as well be a red flag in the middle of a bullpen.

To Bronwyn’s shock, the ball gown her dour, unimaginative mother had chosen was practically indecent. Red, lacy, and much too provocative. She had to be truly desperate to barter her daughter off as quickly as possible to the peer of her choosing. And a boring one at that. The masquerade theme was unoriginal in the extreme—Roman gods and goddesses. No surprise there from an aristocrat named Herbert. Bronwyn could point out a dozen Venuses and Apollos.

Thought it was more than likely that Lady Borne had commissioned the bold red gown, long before Bronwyn’s disappearing act, with one thing in mind: A splendid—and altogether swift—engagement.

Bronwyn sighed with a discreet tug to her bodice while smoothing the voluminous skirts, and sipped on warm ratafia. Under other circumstances, such a luxurious gown would make her feel beautiful—the black Venetian lace over the red was truly a work of art—but while she was trying to avoid the attention of one persistent lord in particular, the dratted color was worse than a beacon! Luckily, a large column at the side of the ballroom served as a wonderful hiding spot.

It offered a lovely nook resting adjacent to an enormous statue of Jupiter, one of the many sculptures placed all around the massive room. Guests whirled and danced, most wearing masks, and all in grand costumes, but no one took notice of her. Thank God.

“The roses in my garden are inundated by weeds.”

She jumped at the low male voice, but excitement pooled in her chest. “Perhaps you should invest in a sharp pair of shears.”

“When the weather is good, I shall.”

With gladness, Bronwyn moved to turn toward Wentworth, but was stopped by a low hiss. “Don’t turn too quickly. I’m on the other side of this column. There are too many eyes and ears about.”

She lifted her glass and pretended to take another sip, hiding her lips. “Where have you been? I was nearly arrested and shot.”

“I heard. I am sorry I could not offer assistance. I was also in hiding, after an assignment gone wrong in Washington.”