Not to mention the fact that someone—God knew who—may well have seen them. After they’d righted their clothing and Jane had done what she could to secure the loose pins in her chignon, they’d left the drawing room. The corridor had been empty but Jane had had the feeling someone had been there. Hopefully, it had merely been a servant. A discreet servant. Likely that’s exactly who it had been, but Jane couldn’t shake the feeling that the scandal she’d been courting may have found her before she’d had the opportunity to properly plan it. The only thought that kept her from a fit of apoplexy was the knowledge that a servant, even a nosy, indiscreet one, wouldn’t have known who she was in the demimask. If it had been another party guest, that same possibility existed. Perhaps she’d picked a good night to be scandalous. A good night indeed.

She took a deep breath, pressing the pillow closer to her chest. The more concerning issue of the two that confronted her at present wasn’t whether a servant had recognized her. It was keeping Upton from finding out it had been her last night. To that end, she must treat Upton with the same barely concealed distaste she always did. Upton was no fool. He might be a profligate rake who seduced young unknown ladies in drawing rooms, but a fool, no. She had no idea how she would manage it but she had to. She just had to. Upton must never, ever guess that it was she. The embarrassment, the mockery. She couldn’t live with that.

* * *

Garrett groaned and rolled over in his bed. The sunlight pouring through the window told him it was morning, the pounding in his skull reminded him that he’d had far too much to drink last night. Far, far too much. The only good thing about it was that he’d passed out and apparently managed to sleep through the night. No nightmares for once.

The previous night’s events came rushing back at him. Drinking with Monroe, dancing with the lady in blue, taking her to the upstairs drawing room and … Blast it. He hadn’t acted gentlemanly last night. Something about her scent and her gown and her … assets had combined to make him more than a bit … libidinous. But who was she? Who? There weren’t many possibilities. He knew most of the members of the house party. At least he had until last night. Had someone else arrived for the ball? The lady last night had seemed like a dream woman. This morning he realized it was only a matter of narrowing down the list of guests.

At least he could be sure she was not Isabella. The mystery lady’s hair had been dark, but definitely brown, not black. The mystery woman’s eyes had been dark too, which ruled out Isabella. Not to mention Isabella had been wearing red. Thank Christ. He did not need that sort of guilt adding to the heaping pile already on his conscience.