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all yesterday, and you’ve still not told me why you’re here.”
    The mask muffled the sound of Percy’s voice. William heard the gist of the question. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to answer it. He peered out the two holes placed for vision. He could see, but not clearly. The world took a darker turn when wearing the mask: confining, hot, trapped. Yes, definitely the latter. As restrictive and uncomfortable as the headpiece felt on his shoulders, he didn’t remove the covering. He picked up the green gloves that had come with the costume.
    “You’re going to propose to her, aren’t you?”
    William raised his head but didn’t address Percival’s question. To speak of what he was about to do would make it too real, too embarrassing.
    “Miss Winthrop. She’s the reason you’re here, isn’t she?”
    He started to reply, but the sound amplified inside the mask, making the sound of his own voice painful to his ears. Placing hands on either side of the head, he lifted it off his shoulders. If only he could lift the responsibility of the family name as easily. The warm, humid air of Newport brought relief to his overheated face.
    “You shouldn’t be embarrassed,” Percy said after a glance. “Men have married women for their dowries for centuries. It’s a part of England’s tradition.”
    William looked away, discomfort souring his stomach. “It’s not part of my tradition. I had thought never to marry again after Catherine died. If there were any other way . . .”
    “You must have loved Catherine a great deal,” Percy said, sympathy evident in his voice.
    William frowned. Percy never knew of Catherine’s infi delities. Revisiting past injustices would serve no purpose now. He picked up the sword that had accompanied the prince costume and tested the point with his finger. “The engagement is to be announced tonight at the ball.”
    Percy’s eyes widened. “Tell me then, why are we switching costumes?”
    “I’d like a chance to view the chit without her knowing that I’m her intended.” William handed the sword to Percy, who placed it in its scabbard. “Women act differently once they discover I have a title. It was difficult enough as a marquess, but I’ve discovered the shorter the title, the more ridiculous the pursuit. They mask their true selves.”
    He tapped the giant frog head, reflecting on his choice of words. “This is my last ball as an unencumbered man,” he continued. “I’d like to experience how it feels to be an unknown.”
    He didn’t feel the need to mention his faint hope to locate the woman in the window. At this late juncture he wasn’t sure what could transpire even if he were to locate that particular miss. Once his engagement was made public he would be ethically bound to his new fiancée. However, donning the frog disguise would provide more opportunity to observe both the costumed guests and the servants.
    “But the Winthrops are expecting a duke.” Percy practiced a stern expression in the mirror.
    “Then be a duke,” William replied. “Just look disapproving and nod your head ever so slightly when introduced. There’s really nothing to it.”
    “There’s everything to it!” Percy insisted. “We’re talking about marriage. You said yourself that the Winthrops plan to announce your engagement tonight. I will not stand before the elite of Newport and pretend to be engaged to a woman I don’t know. It’s not honorable.”
    William sighed. “I won’t let it go that far. When the time comes, I’ll announce my presence to the Winthrops. I will not prevail upon you to do something less than honorable.” Although by Percy’s own words, William was again struck how his whole situation was little less than the public purchase of a mistress. Where was the honor in that?
    Percy appeared mollified, but still hesitant. “Are you sure they won’t know instantly that I am not you? Have they not seen your photograph?”
    “That young attorney assured me the