“Blame it on Lucy,” Jane replied. “She allowed me to borrow the gown and the mask. There’s perfume, too, but don’t ask about that.”

“I had a feeling Lucy was involved,” Daphne replied, with a knowing tone.

“Lucy’s always involved when there is trouble.”

Daphne stopped her. “Is there to be trouble?”

Jane sighed. “I cannot see a pace in front of me and I’m wearing an embarrassingly low-cut gown. I’m quite convinced trouble is imminent.” No need to admit to Daphne that she was looking for a scandal.

Daphne laughed and they resumed walking.

A tall blur approached them. “Lady Daphne,” a male voice said. “You look ravishing this evening. Who is your friend?”

Jane had heard the voice before but couldn’t quite place it. Oh, perfect. She was going to make a complete cake of herself tonight if she didn’t recognize anyone. Though, she supposed, that was the entire point of a masquerade, was it not? She took a deep breath. She might as well relax as best she could. Speaking of cake, she made a mental note to have Daphne point her in the direction of the teacake, later, as well.

“You’re not supposed to know it’s me, Lord Owen,” Daphne replied. “And I’m not about to reveal the identity of my beautiful friend.”

Ah, so it was Owen Monroe. Hmm. If she’d managed to fool the biggest rake in London, she just might be as ravishing as Daphne said she was.

Owen’s laughter followed. “You’re not supposed to know it’s me, either, Lady Daphne,” he replied. “Very well, keep your secret.”

He bowed, a blur in front of Jane, and pulled her hand to his mouth. Good heavens. His actual lips brushed against the tender skin on the back of her hand. Even through her glove it was hot. She jumped a little.

“Until we meet again, my mysterious lady,” he said, before drifting back into the crowd.

Daphne giggled. “My goodness, Jane, you just caught the attention of Owen Monroe. He had no idea who you were. Why, the only other person I know who is a bigger rake than Owen Monroe is Captain Cavendish.”

“Daphne! How do you know words like ‘rake’?”

“I know much worse words than that, Jane Lowndes,” Daphne replied, giggling.

Jane had to smile. Daphne Swift was a spitfire. Cass and Lucy had told her so, but she hadn’t quite seen it until now. Jane liked Daphne. She liked her a great deal.

“I daresay this evening is certain to be diverting, if you’re fooling the likes of Owen Monroe,” Daphne added.

Jane considered Daphne’s words. It was diverting, wasn’t it? This must have been how Cass felt last autumn when she was pretending to be Patience Bunbury. Cass had mentioned to Jane that it had actually been freeing to pretend to be someone she was not. As Patience, Cass said, she could act however she liked and the devil may care about the consequences.

The mask on her face and the loss of her spectacles made Jane feel a little lost, but also a little reckless, a bit free. As if tonight she was not Miss Jane Lowndes, wallflower extraordinaire, but Miss Ice Blue Domino-wearing Party Goer. And Miss Ice Blue might get up to absolutely anything. Especially while in the care of a nonexistent chaperone.