“Don’t get up to too much trouble,” Daphne called.

“Yes, and you may want to avoid Owen,” Cass added, with a laugh. “He can be quite charming when he sets his mind to it, or so I’m told.”

Lucy dragged Jane toward the refreshment table before stopping short. “Ooh, there’s Garrett. I wonder if he’ll recognize you.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Garrett should not have allowed Owen Monroe to talk him into a stiff bit of straight liquor. “To toast the happy couple,” Owen had said, and of course, one small drink had turned into two and two into three, and that in addition to the brandy he’d drunk earlier. Garrett was feeling very little pain. He detested small stiff drinks. Owen Monroe, however, never met a drink he didn’t like. Nor was there a bottle of liquor he wasn’t intimately acquainted with.

That’s what Garrett got for spending time in Owen’s company. He’d wanted to clear the air with Monroe after that hand of cards last autumn and forcing him to pretend his sister was not masquerading as a woman named Patience Bunbury at Lucy’s house party. Owen had insisted he was no longer angry with him. Garrett had won fair and square, after all, but Garrett suspected Owen was getting a bit of his own back by ensuring Garrett awoke tomorrow morning with a devil of a head.

Drinking was Owen’s forte. Garrett should have refused that last drink. Or three. He had to get away from the study and the drinking to clear his head a bit. Now here he was wearing a bloody emerald-green demimask along with his black evening attire and staggering into the Morelands’ ballroom.

He braced a hand against the wall and scanned the crowd. Bloody difficult to tell who was who with everyone wearing blasted masks. Thank Christ, Isabella had stopped him earlier and identified herself. She was wearing a ruby-red gown that was a bit too … distracting for his taste. He’d quickly excused himself without asking her to dance, which she was clearly hinting at, and made his way to the study where Monroe had got him in his drunken clutches. At least Garrett knew enough to stay away from the ruby-red gown he saw bobbing along the far side of the room, besieged by a contingent of hopeful male escorts.

“Garrett, there you are!” came Lucy’s bright voice. He pulled his hand from the wall and turned to face his cousin.

“You must meet my friend Miss … Blue.” Lucy turned in a wide circle, obviously looking for her friend. “Now where did she get off to? I swear she was just here.”

Garrett grinned at his cousin. “Are you certain she exists? She’s not like Miss Bunbury, is she? Or Mrs. Bunbury?”

Lucy plunked her hands on her hips and scowled at him. “Of course she exists. I’ll just go find her and be back. I’m greatly looking forward to you meeting her.”

Lucy had a smile on her face that indicated she was up to something, but at the moment, Garrett’s dizzy head was more pressing than whatever scheme Lucy had concocted. No doubt this was her inelegant attempt at matchmaking. “Fine. Go and fetch her. I’ll just be … over here.”