Masqueraders by Georgette Heyer Read Free Book Online Page B

unmoved. ‘Ay, that’s the old gentleman in you. It’s a fine gesture.’
    The chin came down; the mouth tightened a moment, then relaxed into a laugh. ‘You’d enrage a saint, Prue. Well, let us have it.’
    Memories of the night’s reflections chased one another across Prudence’s mind. ‘It’s trickery. You become an impostor.’
    ‘I became one when I entered first into these damned uncomfortable clothes, child. Are you answered?’
    Impossible to put those hazy ideas into verbal form. ‘I suppose so,’ said Prudence slowly. ‘Do you know, I begin to dislike myself?’
    Robin looked at her, then put an arm about her waist. ‘Well, say the word. I’ll take you to France, and we’ll ha’ done with all this.’
    ‘You’re a dear, Robin. No, I chose this road, and we’ll stay.’
    ‘I’ve a notion it may lead to some end. Play it out, my dear. Trickery it is, but we harm none.’ Prudence looked sceptical. ‘Oh, you are thinking of the Grayson child! Never doubt me.’
    ‘I don’t doubt you. But she thinks you are a woman, and there are things she may say you should not be hearing.’
    ‘Do you think I cannot stop her? ’Tis I shall lead the talk. Be at rest, Prue.’
    ‘And if she discovers the truth?’
    ‘I don’t fear that.’
    There seemed no more to be said. ‘We brave it to the end, then. Well, I’m content.’
    CHAPTER VI
    The Polite World Receives Mr and Miss Merriot
    My Lady Lowestoft made no idle boast when she declared that all the world might be seen at her rout that evening. The world, as she knew it, was the Polite Society of the day; and Polite Society chose to venerate her ladyship. She had the felicity of seeing her salons filled to overflowing. Downstairs there were refreshments laid out in the dining-room; angel cakes, and ratafie; strange French concoctions and some of the late Sir Roger’s best Burgundy; sweetmeats of every known variety and French champagne, sparkling in the glasses, to go with them. There was a card room also, spacious enough to hold some few tables with comfort. Those who wished might escape from the chatter and the scraping of the fiddles in the saloons above, to seek a little quiet diversion here with a dice-box. My lady was fond of all games of chance herself, but her duties as hostess kept her to-night in the main rooms, where people came and went, gathered into knots for conversation, separated again to greet a new arrival, or lent an indulgent ear to the fiddlers scraping away at the back of the room.
    Robin, in his character of Miss Merriot, was kept near my lady. He had chosen to array himself in shades of rose pink. A necklace lay on the white skin of his chest, and a bracelet enclasped one rather sinewy arm. If there could be found aught whereat to cavil in his appearance it must be those arms. They lacked the dimpled roundness necessary for beauty. Elsewhere no fault could be detected. The fair hair was piled up on top of his head, lavishly powdered, and decorated with a jewelled ornament; the face below was pink and white as any girl’s, with blue eyes dreamy under delicately pencilled brows, and a nose many a reigning toast mighty envy. A black riband round the throat served to emphasise the creamy whiteness of the skin; the waist, thanks to John’s lacing, was trim enough, and the foot peeping from beneath the hem of a flowered petticoat sufficiently small to escape notice. Maybe it was fashioned on the large size for so dainty a lady, but a high heel disguised a possible fault.
    There could be no fault found either in his deportment. Standing a little back from the crowd, Prudence watched him with a critical eye. He had several times before donned this woman’s garb, but never for so long a stretch. She had coached him to the best of her ability, but well as she knew him could still fear some slip. She had to admit knowledge of him was deficient yet. Sure, he might have been born to it. His curtseys were masterpieces of grace; the air