Page 12 of Kiss the Scoundrel Farewell
“I could have eloped to Gretna Green.”
Both girls giggled. “But he’s a blacksmith. Really, Lydia, as if you could live like that.”
“But that face. Those shoulders. When he…” she began to whisper.
“That’s what you said about the stable master until your parents sent him away.” They giggled again.
Simon frowned. That was the way of things, eh? So much for thinking the gel unassuming. He was glad he’d heard the conversation. He could never marry a woman he couldn’t trust. Lady Lydia hadn’t been seduced. She was the seducer. Good riddance.
His mind made up, he returned to watch the next guests arrive. An older Queen Elizabeth with the classic ruff about her neck, accompanied by a pirate. Behind them were more Romans in togas and golden circlets of gold twigs and leaves on their heads. One man was a Midas, with his face painted gold, not caring if someone guessed his identity.
He grinned, remembering this was a civilized event, yet he longed for his lush Kitten in her black and jade mask.
As he meandered through the crowd, Simon felt his cape pocket for the flask he’d brought. He’d need it tonight. In deference to his father, he never drank in front of him, knowing how hard it must be to crave something yet knowing you can never have it again.
The image of his mystery lady flashed across his mind. Would he ever see her again? Not here, of course, for there would be no courtesans mingling with the ton. Perhaps he’d enlist his new friend Paddy to find her. He ran the imaginary conversation through in his head.
“I need you to find a woman.”
“What’s her name, boyo?”
“Desiree, but it’s not her real name.”
“What’s she look like?”
“Average height for a lady and slender but curves in the right places, seafoam eyes, kissable mouth, but her hair and the rest of her face were always covered.”
O’Brien would snort and toss him out on his arse. Simon laughed at himself and stepped out onto another balcony for a sip of whisky. He watched the guests move past the opening as they made their way through the crowded ballroom.
Queen Elizabeth and her pirate were moving past, when the pirate looked up and their gazes locked. His heart pounded. He knew those green eyes, knew those plump lips.
His mind raced. How could she be here? Was Queen Elizabeth actually a man? Had she come as his escort? Too daring. He joined the guests again, moving swiftly to catch up with the pair. They were joined by a wine goddess (he assumed by the large golden cup), a lion, and a manservant. Strolling slowly around the group, he stopped opposite the pirate. She looked up, her eyes growing wide. She whispered something to the queen and hurried away.
Simon pursued her, only to be stopped by Lord Grestan, dressed as Louis XIV. “Good to see you here, Hayward. My daughter was quite pleased after meeting you.”
“Yes, my lord. She’s a fine woman,” he said, his eyes darting over the marquess’s shoulder at the fleeing pirate. “We shall dance later.”
“Yes, yes,” he agreed, folding his hands over his large belly. “I’ll make sure Lord Tarlton, and yourself of course, are welcome in the club. We’ll have a drink soon.”
“My father will be glad to hear it, my lord,” Simon said, barely listening. Demmed woman!
The marquess saw someone else and moved on, but it was too late. She was gone. He cursed softly, then decided to find Queen Elizabeth. Common sense told him Desiree was no courtesan.
“No, I’m not ready to reveal myself yet.”
He found the queen still talking with the manservant, who he guessed to also be a young woman. “Your Majesty,” Simon said with a bow, “I must speak to you on urgent business.”
She looked down her nose at him. Quite a feat, he thought, since her head barely came to his shoulder. “What sort of urgent business?” she asked.
Cupping his hand on one side of his mouth, he whispered loudly, “Treason.”
“Oh my, that does require attention. Who do you suspect?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief behind her silver mask.
“The pirate who just left your side is no privateer working for the Crown. We must find him and confront him.” The idea had come to him as he walked across the room. Would she go along with the ruse?
“And who are you to come by this information?” The queen bent forward and whispered, “Truly.”
Simon blinked. Should he reveal his name? He almost rolled his eyes at himself. It was an innocent masquerade. He wasn’t hiding. “Lord Hayward, ma’am,” he told her quietly.
