Page 5 of An Unexpected Earl

“Business.”

And none of yours.The unspoken words lingered on the air.

She dropped into a curtsy, which seemed as out of place at Torrington’s masquerade as the formal waltz had been only moments before, and the curious stares she drew confirmed it. “I need to talk to him. Alone.” She held his hand lightly in her fingers, but urgency pulsed in her touch. “Have you seen him?”

The dance had ended. He’d saved her from Derby and any other man who wanted to prey on her tonight. She was no longer his concern.

Yet he couldn’t stop himself from attempting to rescue her again. What could she want with Varnham? If rumors were to be believed, Sir Charles was here only to keep watch on his younger brother, Arthur.

“Please, Pearce.”

The familiarity of that soft plea pierced him. Damn the world that he couldn’t place the distant memory it stirred in the dark corners of his mind, couldn’t put that voice into a context that would tell him who she was.

He also couldn’t refuse. Reluctantly, he told her, “Varnham was lingering in the stair hall a few minutes ago. He might still be there.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes shone with gratitude. “It was a pleasure seeing you, Brigadier.”

He suspected she’d wanted to say something more but thought better of it. Instead she slid her hand from his sleeve.

He reached for her arm, stopping her. “Who the devil are you? Your real name.”

“You said you wouldn’t ask if—”

“How do we know each other?” Her eyes flashed from behind the mask in an eruption of alarm and suspicion, yet he pressed. “Tell me.”

“I–I can’t… We don’t—” Unable to hide the immediate quickening of her breath and the pounding pulse at her wrist beneath his fingers, she forced out instead, “I have to go.”

Unexpected jealousy swirled up his spine. “Whatever you’re planning with Varnham, it isn’t a good idea. Going off alone with any man in a place like this—”

“Thank you,” she repeated and persisted in pulling away, yet something about her reminded him of a rabbit caught in a snare. “But as I said, I don’t need to be rescued.”

She turned to leave.

Oh no.She wasn’t getting away that easily. Pearce started after her—

“Sandhurst!” His name carried in a loud shout across the room. “Lord Sandhurst—Brandon Pearce!”

He ignored the calls and chased after her. Just as he was about to reach for her elbow to stop her, a man stepped into his path and blocked his way.

He slid to a halt to keep from slamming into the nodcock.

The woman glanced back at him as she fled. When she saw the man standing in front of him, she stumbled. Her hand went to her face, to check that the mask was still in place, still hiding her identity. But she never slowed in her flight.

Pearce tried to follow, but the man grabbed his hand to shake it, stopping him before he could take another step to pursue her.

“Frederick Howard.” The man pumped his hand hard in that irritating American fashion that had become popular in certain circles in London. “We’ve met before.”

Vague recollection flashed at the back of Pearce’s mind, but he was too preoccupied by the woman in red to immediately recognize the name. “Not now,” he growled and began to move around Howard, only for the man to step in front of him again.

“I was hoping for a word with you tonight.” The man forced a too-bright laugh. “How fortunate that I found you.”

Biting back a curse, Pearce leaned to the side to look past him—

The woman was gone. She’d vanished into the dimly lit town-house as mysteriously as she’d appeared. He’d lost her.

Damnation.He rolled his eyes. Tonight was proving to be frustrating in all kinds of ways.

Blowing out an irritated breath, he slid his narrowed gaze at the dandy in front of him, who didn’t seem to realize—or care—that he’d just interrupted something important. Although what it was, exactly, Pearce couldn’t have said, except that he’d wanted it to continue. He’d barely scratched the surface of Lady Scarlet’s mystery, her identity still unknown.