Scandalous Deception (Russian Connection 1)

Brianna waited until her maid had slipped away before forcing herself to cross the crowded street.

Feeling as exposed as if she were stark naked, she neared the throng of gentlemen and began to press her way up the sweep of steps. Her logic told her that no one could possibly recognize her in the concealing domino and feathered mask, especially since she had never been able to move among the more fashionable society, but in her mind, she felt as if every eye was staring at her.

And in truth, they were.

Even though she had tightly braided her conspicuous hair and knotted it at the nape of her neck, the color still managed to shimmer with vibrant beauty in the torchlight. And no mask could entirely disguise the exotic slant of her green eyes and the full curve of her inviting mouth.

Keeping her head lowered as she moved forward, she actually made it through the door before a hand clamped on her arm and forced her to a halt.

“And where the devil do you think you’re going?” a male voice rasped.

Glancing up, she met the annoyed glare from a uniformed footman. Her mouth went dry and her heart lodged in her throat.

“I…I am going to the ball.”

The servant curled his lips in distaste. “Oh, aye, and you think you can prance in as if you’re royalty? Maybe you think to be announced by the butler?”

“I…”

The footman did not bother to listen to her embarrassed apology, instead simply pushing her back down the stairs to make room for the crowd of gentlemen.

“Round to the back with you, wench. Only the gents come through the front door.”

Brianna briefly stumbled before regaining her balance and hurrying to the back entrance. Ignoring the dampness that soaked into her embroidered slippers, she found the narrow entrance where she was shown up the servants’ staircase by a dour-faced housekeeper into the long parlors that were richly decorated with gilded ceilings, crimson satin wall paneling and gold-veined marble fireplaces. The floor was a polished parquet that glowed with a rich luster beneath the flickering light of the crystal chandeliers. Along one wall, long tables had been arranged to display the lavish buffet and numerous bottles of chilled champagne.

She had reached her objective, but she discovered that finding Stefan was not to be so simple as she had assumed.

There had to be a hundred guests crammed into the gilt and crimson rooms, all of them disguised in cloaks and masks as they threaded their way through the glittering crowd or lounged on the small couches and chairs that were set in shallow alcoves. Somewhere among the melee a string quartet played, but it was nearly impossible to hear what Brianna assumed was Mozart over the laughter and shouts and shrill giggles.

Under normal circumstances, she might have been shocked by the sight of the women who had tossed open their cloaks to reveal they were wearing nothing more than lacy corsets beneath, and the men who openly reached to grope the wares offered. It was hardly what an innocent maiden was accustomed to seeing.

She was far too concerned with locating the Duke of Huntley to be as shocked as she should be. Or to even question why such a sweet, kind-hearted man such as Stefan would choose to attend such a vulgar event.

Sheer determination allowed her to make her way to the center of the room before she was halted by a large woman with all the full curves that Brianna lacked.

“Hey there, no shoving, there be plenty of gents to go around,” she said, her pox-scarred face heavily rouged.

“I am looking for the Duke of Huntley,” Brianna said bluntly.

The woman gave a lift of her darkened brows. “Oh, aye, I bet yer are. Think yer fancy speech will impress such a fine toff?”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

The woman gave a lift of her shoulder. “I heard tell he was in the card rooms. Seems he prefers gambling to the ladies.”

“Thank God,” Brianna breathed.

“What did ye say?” the woman demanded, suspicious.

“I asked where the card rooms are to found.”

There was a pause before the woman jerked her head back toward the hall.

“Down the hall. Last door on the left.”

“Thank you.”

Brianna turned and began the battle back to the door, a choked scream leaving her lips as a large masculine arm wrapped around her waist from behind.