eriel was so busy for the next several days that she could have gladly given Stephen the week as a holiday. But she was too worried to give him time to think on his father's death, or the fact that people were shooting at him. So each morning they had lessons, and each afternoon he completed assignments with Nurse Weston while Meriel worked on the masquerade ball with Mrs. Theobald.

The ballroom at the far end of the conservatory was thrown open for the first time in a year, the chandeliers were lowered and restocked with candles, the walls were washed and decorated. They settled on an Oriental theme and had Chinese lanterns and painted screens sent by train from London. Potted ferns and palms from the conservatory were moved in, as well as chairs and chaises to give rest to weary dancers.

And each night, Meriel welcomed Richard to her bed, or came to his. She no longer questioned this impropriety, only accepted it as something she could never deny herself again. The future— along with its dangers— did not exist. She had only these precious hours with him, for during the day he was far too busy. She sensed him finishing his business as the duke, in preparation for relinquishing the role to Stephen. She wondered how the staff would feel when they knew the truth— or if it would even be necessary to tell them.

But of course when the duke's body was returned, it would be obvious that Richard was not Cecil.

The day of the masquerade finally arrived, and the household was like a hive of well-organized bees. Mrs. Theobald oversaw everything and sent Meriel off to bathe and don her costume. Meriel had had little time to prepare, and had settled on dressing as a bouquet of roses. A green gown was sewn with hundreds of artificial red roses across her bodice and shoulders. Her headpiece and mask were festooned with live roses, put together by Beatrice, who was proving surprisingly helpful since she now assumed that the duke was halfway through with his current mistress.

Meriel had earlier said good-bye to Stephen as Richard and several armed men led him out into the darkness to travel by stealth into the woods. Tonight she was no longer the governess. She was playing her part as mistress to the hilt, the better to lure the constable into doing her bidding. Because if the man refused to follow her, then the entire plan was for naught.

Boldly she met Richard in the corridor outside the ballroom. Servants lined the walls, ready to do any guests' bidding. Meriel knew that she and Richard were the center of attention, and she struck a pose as he stalked around her.

"Hold still so I can smell the roses," he said, his voice taut with the seriousness of the evening, yet still having to appear amused.

He was the duke after all, and the duke enjoyed the challenge of a chase, especially during the masquerade ball.

She tilted her head toward him, then slyly backed away, glancing at him sideways through her mask. In his usual evening wear, Richard was dressed all in black, but for his waistcoat, cravat, and gloves. He wore a plain black mask that hid the upper half of his face, and left his sensuous lips bare and emphasized.

"I thought you would come as yourself," she whispered. "What a disguise that would be."

He grinned without amusement, obviously focused on the night ahead. Putting his arm around her, he pulled her close as if against her will and whispered in her ear, "Are you ready?"

"I'm ready. I won't let you down."

He kissed her hard then, his tongue in her mouth. She gasped and spurned him, as if such a public display was yet too much for the governess.

He laughed and led her into the ballroom to begin greeting his guests.

As the evening progressed, never once did he introduce her as "the governess." Many people seemed to think that Miss Shelby was a friend come down from London, and Meriel let them believe what they wanted. She needed to remain mysterious to lure the constable.

When Richard finally introduced her to the policemen, she was glad to see that the three constables had arrived together, two with their wives, and the third, Constable Leighton, clearly available. She smiled at him mysteriously and swept into a deep curtsy that highlighted her cleavage, left bare amid the roses.

Constable Leighton choked a little bit, staring down at her, wide-eyed. His red hair was slicked back against his scalp, and he wore the mask and flowing cape of a highwayman.

"Pretending to be on the opposite side of the law for the evening, Constable?" she asked.

He reddened and glanced apologetically at his fellow officers.

Meriel leaned near him, saying far too softly for the others to hear, "Would you care to smell the roses? They're very real."

"And r-ripe for the picking?" Constable Leighton stuttered, then went as red as his hair as if shocked by his own boldness.

"Only for a highwayman daring enough," she said, then turned and threaded her way across the crowded floor.

She cruised the perimeter of the room, drinking, laughing, and never remaining with one group for long. Always she managed to meet Constable Leighton's wide eyes over her fluttering fan.

When Sir Charles Irving arrived, the evening grew serious. She watched as Richard greeted Charles at the high, wide double doors that opened into the ballroom. The two men looked at each other, both smiling, both about the same height and coloring, though Charles was several years older. Charles, too, wore a simple black mask.

There was a tension between them, even though Charles must wish he could pretend otherwise. The man was too excited for a mere masquerade ball, his grin too wide, his superior air far too apparent.

Meriel hoped it would be his downfall.

For a half hour, she flitted about the ballroom, occasionally catching the constable's eye. When Richard and Charles finally met up again and began to talk, Meriel's insides grew a little tighter. She turned to look for the constable and found him almost immediately, standing alone with a drink in his hand, watching her.

She gave him a slow, secretive smile, and he stiffened. She pantomimed drinking, and he lifted a wineglass from a tray and brought it to her.

"Miss Shelby," he said, bowing low. "I'd be honored if— after you drink, of course— if you'd do me the honor of dancing the— "

"Constable Leighton," she interrupted, sipping her wine and batting her lashes at him, "I would love to dance with you, but first I have a slight problem. Would you speak with me in private?"

His eyes widened within the mask and he followed her dutifully, only to look disappointed when she stepped behind another potted palm.

She lowered her voice to a throaty whisper. "Constable, when I saw you, I knew you were the answer to our problems."

"Our?" he repeated, sounding wary.

"The duke would be outraged if he knew I came to you. He's a very proud man. But he could use your help."

The constable's chest swelled with importance, and he stood a little taller. "Of course, Miss Shelby. What is the problem?"

"Do you see him with his cousin, Sir Charles Irving?" She pointed between two palm fronds. "Sir Charles is…threatening His Grace."

He frowned. "Threatening? Why?"

She smiled as if nervous— which really wasn't a lie. "Sir Charles is next in line for the dukedom after Lord Ramsgate. He insists on being named the child's guardian, should anything happen to the duke. His Grace insists that Sir Charles means nothing by it, but I disagree." She sighed melodramatically. "If you could just come with me to follow them, and see how Sir Charles talks to the duke, the threat in his voice. I am quite frightened of him."

When he looked unconvinced, she gritted her teeth and played the silly female. "Oh, Constable, I know you can help me put my mind at rest. Then I'll be able to relax and enjoy the evening with you."

Again his face went scarlet, and he kept sneaking a glance at her breasts. She took a deep breath to bring them into better view.

Constable Leighton held out his arm. "Shall we move a little closer to the duke, then?"

Relieved, she led him through the crowd. When they got close to Richard, Meriel turned her back and smiled up at Constable Leighton.

He looked over her shoulder briefly, then resumed his cleavage watch. "I can just hear them. They're talking about horses."

"Well, of course. They're right where everyone can hear them."

"And now they're moving off," the constable said.

Meriel grabbed his arm and followed. At the last moment, Charles waved to someone and left Richard.

Though Meriel was disappointed, the constable didn't seem to mind. He asked her to dance, and she had no choice but to agree. It was another dance before Richard and Charles were talking, and then Charles wandered away again.

Meriel stomped her foot, but Constable Leighton only shook his head.

"Miss Shelby, Sir Charles doesn't seem to have much to say to the duke. And I have a card game that's beginning right now in the library."

"But Constable Leighton, the duke really needs your help!"

No amount of eyelash batting, lip trembling, or bosom thrusting mattered. The constable bowed and left her.

"Meriel!"

She gave a little start as Renee, dressed as a medieval queen, called her name.

"I've been trying to get your attention," Renee said, pressing her cheek to Meriel's. "Ouch, thorns!"

"But there aren't any thorns in my— "

"Just teasing! I so love the roses. A bouquet is an excellent costume. But now the treasure hunt is beginning," Renee said excitedly. "What a wonderful idea Cecil had for this year's entertainment! Come with me! I saw the torches leading all through the gardens. It will be a magical night."

"Renee, you'll have to go without me. I promised Stephen I would visit and tell him about the ball. And he so wanted to see my costume."

"Well, then I'll come with you."

"But you'll miss the hunt! And to be honest, I helped organize it, so I already know where the prize is." The treasure hunt had been her idea to keep their guests distracted from the true purpose of the ball.

"I should have expected you would be the one behind the hunt," Renee said. "Oh well, I have my first clue. I'll tell you all about it when I get back!"

The ballroom crowd was slowly thinning out, and Meriel was able to catch sight of Richard again. He and Charles were at the far end of the ballroom, going out a door into the house. She picked up her skirts and practically ran, dodging servants and guests. She hoped that the men would walk past the library, where she could grab Constable Leighton.

But instead they went out into the night under the half moon, away from the torches lighting the treasure hunt. Charles picked up a torch from the path and lifted it ahead of them. It was still difficult for Meriel to see, and only because she knew the grounds so well was she able to follow them without turning an ankle.

They were headed for the old castle ruins, and she didn't have the constable with her. She was failing Richard, thwarting their plan. Her only hope was overhearing what they said, so she could testify on Richard's behalf herself.

"Enough of this!" she overheard Richard say. "We could have talked in the house."

Oh God, Charles was the one leading Richard out into the dark grounds. She remained behind a clump of trees and caught her breath when Charles finally stopped and faced Richard. The eerie sight of the ruins behind them made the scene look like something from a novel.

Charles smiled. "I'm so glad you gave me another opportunity to see you, Richard. Perchance did you think you could kill me? Though murder isn't your style— you don't have the courage for it— I did plan ahead just in case. I'm sure you believe that Stephen is safe out there in the hunting lodge."

Meriel covered her mouth with her hand. Oh God, how could he have known where Stephen was? She wanted to run straight to the lodge, but she remained frozen in horror. Was Stephen alive or dead?

Richard moved closer to Charles, his hands fisted.

Charles laughed. "I've always been one step ahead of you, Richard. Your brother's steward has been in my employ for many years."

Jasper Tearle? Meriel thought, even as Richard said the name aloud.

"Don't be so surprised," Charles continued. "Cecil treated him abominably— hardly paid him what he was worth. I rectified that, and since then, he's been loyal to me. Cecil was too foolish to figure out how all his money was slowly being siphoned away. Jasper tells me he's been quite worried since you arrived, because you seemed suspicious of the account books almost immediately. Yet you allowed yourself to be distracted— by the pretty governess, perhaps?"

"Have you killed Stephen?" Richard ground out.

"Good heavens, no," Charles said. "I wanted to assess the situation first. Maybe, if he's a good boy, I'll let him live. For a while."

Meriel thought of the threat to Stephen, and realized the little boy was now her only priority. She would trust Richard to deal with Charles. All that mattered was bringing the constable to rescue Stephen.