Verity considered the tonged curls spilling from her pretty pink bonnet and dancing around her shoulders. Demure yet sensual did indeed describe the odd combination.
“And what of my disguise?” Verity asked. Having fastened silk ribbons and flowers to the crook, Scarlett’s maid was busy sewing red roses around the edges of the mask.
“Marta will be finished shortly, and Mr Trent will fasten the mask just before you arrive at Mrs Crandall’s.” Scarlett stepped closer. She placed a hand on Verity’s arm and said in a cautious tone, “No matter what occurs, you must not untie your mask. The demi-monde have no boundaries, and Mrs Crandall is a vicious gossip.”
Verity gulped as a flurry of nerves took hold.
Oh, she was out of her depth.
The thought of attending any function with Mr Trent was akin to diving into a cool sea in the height of summer. Invigorating. Stimulating. But would she flounder when the predators approached, when they circled ready to attack?
Sensing her disquiet, Scarlett said, “If you have reservations, it is not too late to change your mind. Mr Trent is more than capable of tackling a rogue like Mr Layton. You’re welcome to take a late supper with us and await his return.”
A sensible option.
A lifeline extended to save her from this foolhardy plan.
So why did every fibre of her being fight against the thought?
Her need to uncover the truth about the Brethren and the masked intruder stemmed from a desire for justice. But was it more a means for an incapable, lonely woman to find a sense of purpose?
“Perhaps if I knew what to expect, it might ease my anxiety.”
Scarlett caught Verity’s gaze in the looking glass and smiled, although her eyes flickered with a hint of panic. “Expect some nudity. Couples may openly engage in amorous activities. Men may approach you and make lewd suggestions.”
Verity’s heart skipped a beat.
“But rest assured,” Scarlett continued. “My husband is confident that Mr Trent will bring the devil’s wrath down upon anyone who so much as looks at you in the wrong way.”
The last comment brought more than an ounce of comfort.
Still, soon they would part ways and the time would come when she had to fight her battles without the aid of an errant knight.
“You must think me naive. A reckless fool.” And yet when a woman spent her days idle and alone, any excuse for an adventure seemed plausible.
“When one has been harmed so cruelly, no one else can judge.” The look in Scarlett’s bright blue eyes conveyed empathy and understanding. “You have a burning need inside that cannot be tempered.”
“A burning need?” Verity almost choked on the words when a vision of Mr Trent’s muscular body flashed into her mind. Heat flooded her cheeks. These confounded sensations were becoming a nuisance.
“A need to show the world that you’ll not allow a man to abuse you.”
“Indeed.”
Silence ensued.
Scarlett seemed lost in thought while Verity’s mind focused on one specific person. Mr Trent would remain by her side for the duration of the evening. So close she would feel the pow
erful essence of the man penetrate her clothing. No doubt he would touch her hand, press his fingers to that sensitive place on her lower back that made her knees tremble.
The maid entered the room. She curtsied to her mistress, handed her the mask and informed them that Mr Trent was waiting in the drawing room.
Verity’s heart raced.
What would the gentleman make of her costume?
A smile tugged at the corners of Scarlett’s mouth as she examined the delicate needlework. “Demure yet sensual. Perfect.” She gave Verity the mask. “We should not keep Mr Trent waiting. No doubt the curiosity is killing him, and my husband enjoys teasing his friends.”
“Mr Wycliff was most specific about the costume. Do you suppose Mr Trent advised him?” That said, Mr Trent would not have suggested a low-cut bodice.