Page 69 of Three Weeks with a Princess
“Wait, don’t go,” he said in a sharp tone.
Lia dodged away from him and onto the dance floor. She heard him curse but didn’t look back. Instead, she wove between the groups of dancers, ducking low as she made her way across the wide room to the other side. When she finally cleared the floor, she glanced back and breathed a sigh of relief. Sinclair was lost in the mass of bodies that crowded the room. With any luck, he would respect her wishes and leave her alone for the rest of the evening.
She made her way into a long corridor that appeared to stretch to the back of the mansion. It was dimly lit and much cooler than the ballroom or saloons and she longed to take off her mask and breathe in the fresher air. But that would be a mistake. Despite her almost careless manner with Sinclair, she intended to be very careful. She had no desire to be pitched into the middle of another scandal before she had a plan and the resources to control the outcome.
The occasional servant scurried by, but Lia had the corridor mostly to herself. She did pass a shadowed alcove that contained a couple behaving a bit too amorously for her taste, but Barbara and her new friend were nowhere to be seen.
She found a comfortable bench and was settling in to wait when three gentlemen came out of the ballroom and turned in her direction. Clearly in their cups, they burst into raucous laughter and began to weave down the hall.
As they came closer, Lia’s heart lurched. She recognized one of the men from the Levertons’ ball. In fact, she’d not only chatted with the man—a middle-aged, widowed viscount—she’d even stood up with him for a set of country dances.
Fighting panic, she debated her best course of action. Dressed as she was, it was unlikely he would recognize her, especially in the dimmer lighting of the hall. She curled up on the corner of the bench, hoping they were too inebriated to pay her notice.
As usual, she wasn’t that lucky. The viscount changed direction and weaved to a stop in front of her, a gently puzzled expression marking his pleasant features.
“I say, don’t I know you?” he asked, hiccupping a bit.
Lia shot to her feet, dropping a quick curtsy while she glanced past them and calculated a path of escape. “No, milord,” she said, affecting a nasal tone. “Never seen you before in my life.”
He frowned. “Voice ain’t familiar, but your nose and mouth . . . I swear I’ve seen you before.”
One of his companions dug him in the ribs. “Who cares where you saw her? She’s here now and a tasty little piece she is.” He gave Lia a sloppy leer that made her hand itch with the desire to slap him.
“That she is,” said the third man. He was tall and thin and, bizarrely, wore a jester’s belled cap with his sober evening attire. When he held up a quizzing glass to inspect her, he was so jug-bitten he almost poked himself in the eye. “Would you like to share a beverage with us, miss?” he asked in a polite tone.
“And then we can take turns sharingyouafterward,” the leering one added.
They erupted into more laughter, the rude one slapping his knee as if he’d just made the cleverest joke.
While they were doubled over, Lia scampered around them and started backing away. “No thank you, sirs. I . . . I’ve got an assignation with another gent. You’ll have to excuse me.”
The viscount snapped his fingers. “Ah, I definitely know you. Just give me a minute and I’ll figure it out.”
Confound it.She’d allowed her accent to waver. Mama was right; she was an utter failure as an actress.
The leering man started after her. “Now, don’t run off, my pretty one. I’m sure we can give you much better romps than your mysterious beau.”
“And I want to see who’s under that mask,” said the viscount. He began stumbling after her with stubborn determination.
Lia threw dignity to the winds and bolted down the hall. With her tormenters in hot, if clumsy pursuit, she rounded a corner into another hallway. Flinging open the door to the first room she came to, she looked inside. The small sitting room was thankfully empty.
And it had a key in the lock.
She quickly closed the door and twisted the key. Then she slumped against the wooden panels, struggling to catch her breath. Outside, the viscount and his friends loudly called for her and crashed about like a herd of wild boar. When one of them thumped on the door and rattled the knob, she slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a startled yelp.
She crept back a few feet, holding her breath. It was highly unlikely they could break in, but they could hunt down a footman to open it for them. Or else they could simply try to wait her out. Lia couldn’t help castigating herself for allowing Sinclair to separate her from her friends.
Trying to keep her panic in check, she stole over to the room’s only window and hissed out a small sigh of relief. There was a large balustrade that fronted a wall separating the house and a lane. If necessary, she could climb out the window and across the balustrade and then shimmy down the wall. It was a rather high drop to the lane, but she had climbed any number of trees in her youth and fallen off limbs that were higher than the top of that wall. While she’d probably ruin the costume and receive a scolding from her mother that was infinitely preferable to fending off three drunks who’d taken her for a light-skirt.
Of course they did, you ninny.
After all, she’d done everything she could to advertise that very fact. Still, it was infuriating that they hadn’t accepted her very polite refusal. No man had the right to force himself on any woman, even if she were a light-skirt.
With a sigh, she dropped into a leather reading chair by the empty fireplace grate, rubbing the corded muscles in the back of her neck. So far, her incipient career as a courtesan had proven as ill-favored and hapless as her acting career.
Her biggest problem at the moment remained the viscount, and the chance that he might identify her. Lia could only hope her drunken admirers would grow bored and wander off, allowing her to slip out and find Barbara. With any luck, she could be home and in bed long before Chloe and Dominic returned from the opera.
Within a few minutes, the ruckus in the hall began to lessen. One man proclaimed his boredom with the search, and soon their voices receded. A blessed silence once more reigned in that part of the house.
