This was exactly what he needed, a harmless flirtation with a lady. His guilt over Isabella and his annoyance with Miss Lowndes had him feeling out of sorts. He was usually charming with ladies. Charming and friendly, certainly welcomed. Miss Lowndes was the only woman who seemed to dislike his company and Isabella was the only beautiful woman he could remember whose company he rebuffed.

For all that Lady Blue didn’t speak, she was a proficient dancer, but the waltzing was making his dizziness worse. He needed to stop before he spun this divine young woman straight into the refreshment table. Bad form, that. “Would you care to go for a walk?”

“A walk?” Her voice was slightly breathless. The niggling feeling in the back of his mind remained. He’d heard that voice before.

“Yes. I find that dancing is a bit too … much for me at present,” he replied.

She hesitated. “Where shall we walk to?”

“The gallery?” he offered. A walk in the cool corridor outside the upper floor might be just what he needed. He could pretend to show her the portraits on the walls and hopefully shake off this stupor.

“Very well,” she agreed magnanimously.

Garrett pressed his lips together to keep from sighing his relief. She was gorgeous and agreeable. A delightful combination.

They stopped and moved off the dance floor. Garrett put his hand against the small of her back and ushered her in front of him out of the ballroom and into the quiet corridor. “This way.” He pointed toward the right where they rounded a corner and proceeded up the staircase to the gallery.

“Do you know the Monroe family quite well then?” the lady asked. She leaned on his arm a bit heavily and he could have sworn she tripped a little on the way up the stairs. Was she in her cups too?

“Yes, actually. I’ve known them for years. I was raised not far from here. How long have you known them?”

“I’ve only known Lady Cassandra since her come-out. She’s marvelous.”

Another familiar niggle, but he brushed it aside. He was certain he’d know this beauty if he’d met her before. The alcohol was doing funny things to his mind. Blast that Monroe.

When they came to the end of the corridor, Garrett stopped and gestured to the portraits. “Here we are.”

“There are so many of them. Though I must admit, I find them difficult to see. Who’s that?” She gestured to one in particular.

“It’s the second earl, I believe. There’s an even better rendering of him in this drawing room.” He pointed toward a door down the corridor. “Care to see it?”

* * *

Jane didn’t know what to think. First, the handsome stranger in the green mask had asked her to dance. Well, from what she could see of him, he was handsome. Then he had asked her to view the gallery with him. Now, if she didn’t know better—and she didn’t know better—she’d think he was asking her to go into a drawing room with him, alone. It was beyond scandalous and inappropriate.