Page 54 of The Art of Sinning
Thunderation, it was her. No doubt if he removed that cloak, he’d find a shepherdess lurking underneath. And beneath that fetching angelic costume he’d find...
No, he mustn’t think of what lay beneath. They had work to do.
He slid up next to Yvette and took her arm to guide her away from the few guests milling about. “The garden gate is back here.”
With a nod, she let him lead her to the exit into the mews. “We will need to return through there, as well. I stowed my crook behind a tree out here.”
“How did you smuggle in the domino?”
She shot him a winsome smile. “I didn’t. Clarissa wore the cloak over her own costume to help me. I merely retrieved it from the coatroom. I already had the mask.”
“Very clever.” Had Clarissa helped her because Yvette was helping Knightford? Or was Yvette telling the truth when she’d claimed that the marquess hadn’t had anything to do with her scheme?
Damber had said that if there was anything going on between Yvette and Knightford, the servants knew nothing about it. That was something, at least.
Still... “Does your friend know why you wanted her cloak?”
“Not entirely.” That was all she said on the matter.
Very well, let her keep quiet for now. He meant to learn the whole of it tonight. Damber had given him some ammunition to use in coaxing the truth out of her.
They slipped through the garden gate and out to the street, where they hailed the nearest hackney. Plenty of them were about, hoping to catch a fare from the lofty folk at the ball.
Once he and Yvette were inside and the carriage rumbled off, he turned to her. “All right, we’re about to enter a brothel where I’m well-known, so you have to tell mesomethingabout your plans. At the very least, I’ll have to explain who you are to me and why you’re there.”
“Tell them the truth.” She tipped up her chin. “That I’m there for the same reason I’ve given all along. I’m looking for a friend of mine.”
“Does this ‘friend’ have a name?”
“Peggy Moreton.”
He eyed her skeptically. “You just made that up.”
“I did not.” She drew her cloak more tightly about her. “Peggy used to be an actress, but she fell on hard times. I heard she landed in a bawdy house, so I’m trying to save her.”
He stared hard at her. “Youhave a friend who’s an actress.”
She glanced out the window. “Well, she didn’tstartas an actress. Women rarely do.”
That was certainly true, but... “You couldn’t tell me this before?”
“And risk your revealing her shame to someone? No, I could not.”
“Hmm.” He wasn’t quite sure he believed her, but at the moment he had no choice. “Your ‘friend’ isn’t sufficient reason for why a lady of your rank would come to a brothel with a known scoundrel like me, instead of relying on an investigator or a brother to find the woman. Not to mention that if word got out—”
“It would be bandied about town and spark a scandal.”
“So you’ll have to be someone other than yourself if you want to preserve your reputation. The costume will only take you so far. These women aren’t going to answer the questions of a masked female they don’t know, or even answer my questions in your presence. They’re a secretive lot.”
“You ought to know,” she said dryly.
He ignored the dig. “And they’ll be particularly wary of a woman who speaks as well as you. They need an identity they can trust.”
“Fine. Why don’t we tell them I’m another actress? We’re near the theater—we can say I just finished a performance, and I came with you to the bawdy house in search of my friend.”
He stared at her. “That might work. They’re comfortable with actresses and won’t be too surprised if I bring one along. The role will also make it easier for you to be yourself. They’ll just assume you’re putting on airs. Actresses often learn how to mimic their betters for the stage, so no one will regard your fine speech as odd.”
“I don’t have to use ‘fine speech,’” she pointed out. “I can speak street cant with the best of them.”
