Earl of Darby: (Once Upon a Widow #4) (Wicked Earls’ Club Round 2)

by Aubrey Wynne

  “Yes, Aunt Bertie,” Hannah said in a breathless tone. “Whatever you think is best.”

  “Good evening, Lord Darby,” Lady Roberta said with a sly smile. “I wondered where you’d got off to. I’m so glad my niece found someone to walk with.”

  “Happy to oblige, ma’am.” He bowed slightly and turned to his sister. “Would you like to depart as well?”

  “Oh, yes, I’m done to a thumb.” Mattie gave him an odd look. “Are you feeling well? You look flushed. I hope you aren’t coming down with whatever Mama has.”

  “It’s probably just the nips of brandy from my flask and the brisk air.” He avoided meeting Hannah’s eyes. “Shall I call for the coach, then?”

  They walked back, following Lady Roberta and his sister. “Would it be presumptuous to call you Hannah in private?” he asked in a whisper, head bent toward her. “And for you to call me Nicholas?”

  “I believe I have already,” she said, an impish light in her eyes. The moonlight cast golden highlights on her soft brown waves, and he wished they were alone again. “Will you attend the masquerade ball?”

  “Will you?”

  She nodded. “With the usual entourage, including your sister.”

  “Then I wouldn’t miss it.”

  * * *

  After escorting the ladies back to their townhouse, Nicholas eyed Mattie from across the carriage. He leaned back against the soft squab. “What’s on your mind? I can see the words ready to spew from your mouth.”

  She laughed. “I was right. You like her.”

  He closed his lids, enjoying the sway of the carriage, feeling sleep coming on without the aid of brandy. “Yes, sweet sister, I like her. Very much.” He opened his eyes to slits. “But do not read too much into it.”

  “Just knowing you may open your heart again is enough. I will not push. Fate has its own direction, you know.” But her smile held hope. So much hope. For a sister-in-law, he knew, and for her brother to find peace.

  For the first time in years, Nicholas fell asleep in the month of December without drinking himself into a stupor. And for the first time in years, he felt the hole in his chest begin to close. Miss Hannah Pendleton, it seemed, was the missing piece in the puzzle of his heart.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Sometimes the truth is found out too late to apply it to any effectual remedy.”

  William Lamb, Second Viscount Melbourne

  * * *

  Hannah could not wipe the smile from her face. Instead, she tried to appear interested in the slice of cold meat pie her aunt had plopped onto her plate. They were having a cold repast before retiring, and Aunt Bertie’s gaze held too many questions.

  “You can say what you want, child, but I know when a woman’s been kissed. And you my dear, have been thoroughly so.” She beamed. “I realize I was amiss, giving you the opportunity to be alone, but when I saw him follow you out…”

  “He followed me outside?” Hannah could feel the heat spreading across her cheeks. “I thought he’d come across me by accident.”

  Aunt Bertie chuckled. “I don’t believe there are accidents when it comes to love or fate. Are you in love with him?”

  “I barely know him,” she scoffed, trying to change the subject. “Did the costumes arrive for the masquerade?”

  “Don’t avoid the question. Time and love do not go hand in hand, child. One might be with a man for years and never find love with him, or it could happen in a day and one single look.” Aunt Bertie popped the last bite of Wiltshire cheese into her mouth. “It only took one glance with Chester.”

  Hannah concentrated on the meat pie again. Could she tell her aunt? What if Lord Dar—Nicholas never mentioned the kiss again? What if he decided he couldn’t give his heart again? He must have been deeply in love with his wife to continue holding a torch for five years. How could she compete with a dead woman?

  “I’m waiting, my dear.”

  With a sigh, she nodded. “Yes, he kissed me. And then I kissed him.” Her resolve fled, and Hannah launched into a full summary. “Oh, Aunt Bertie. It was just like Eliza said it would be. His touch, his smell, it was all so wonderful.”

  “You are in love with him.” Aunt Bertie chortled. “Lud, but this is all working out devilish well.”

  Hannah gave a snort and dug into her pie now with gusto. She was suddenly ravenous.

  “Are you ready?” called Aunt Bertie from the stairs. “The coach is waiting.”

  Eleanor of Aquitaine descended, her mask hanging from her wrist, bumping against her reticule. Hannah had chosen a festive, bottle-green velvet dress of medieval style with an underskirt of black silk. A string of holly and mistletoe was embroidered across the dark hem and along the black lace armbands, cuffs, and neckline. The bodice hugged her figure and exposed more of her breasts than she was accustomed. A black velvet rope twisted with diamonds adorned the drop waist. Her hair hung loose; the braided plaits encircling her head interspersed with more paste diamonds and emeralds. She took in Aunt Bertie’s costume.

  “Oh, Aunt, that color is lovely on you. I thought it was indigo until the light shone on it, and now it looks deep violet. And where did you get that scarf?”

  “It’s called a Mazurine blue, and I brought the sari back from India with me. I love the print and the colors.” She did a circle to show off the entire pattern of tiny birds of paradise, the silk dress changing from indigo to dark violet as the light played against it. The scarf lay over her head and draped down her shoulders and back. Gold bangles jingled at her wrists, and a thick gold braid wrapped around her throat. “It has such special memories.”

  “I do believe those walks are making you thinner. You look positively stunning!”

  “Oh, pish! It’s only the dress.” But she beamed at her niece, obviously pleased someone had noticed. “Now, the bachelors will be lining up to dance with you. Remember, no more than two dances with Lord Darby or the tongues will wag.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll remember.” Hannah sighed. “It’s our last event before returning home for Christmas. I can’t believe a month has passed so quickly.”

  “Will Lord Darby come, do you think?”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea. We’ll see what tonight brings.”

  * * *

  The masquerade was at a marquess’ townhouse on the Strand. Lights blazed as they pulled in front of the brick exterior, footmen waiting to open the doors for guests. It was a formal affair, except the guests were not announced since it was a masquerade. Three gaslit chandeliers dropped from the ceiling, turning gowns, jewels, masks, canes, and fobs into a dazzling array of glitter and pomp. It made Hannah’s head spin. They ascended the circular staircase to the ballroom, stopping at least twice as Aunt Bertie spoke with this person or that, introducing them as Eleanor and Aditi.

  “What is Mattie wearing?” Aunt Bertie asked.

  “She has a traditional Venetian costume, so look for a hooded black cape.”

  “Welcome, my ladies,” said a female in a terrible Italian accent, “I am a stranger here in England and in need of friends.”

  Hannah would know her friend’s smile anywhere. She was lovely in a coquelicot gown with white poppies embroidered in stripes down the full red skirt. The color brought out the pink of her cheeks, and the black hood covered her jonquil locks. Her mask was red with a border of black paste diamonds, and it made her light blue eyes stand out against the darker color.

  “Oh, Hannah, I’m so forlorn this is our last get-together before you go.” She clasped her friend’s hand. “You look stunning!”

  “Thank you,” Hannah said, adjusting her own black mask beaded with tiny green paste beads. “I’ll return in a month. Can you believe that’s how long we’ve known each other?”

  “You’d think you girls have been friends since childhood,” added Aunt Bertie. “How did you know it was us, my dear? Are we so apparent?”

  Mattie laughed. “Well, I’ve already seen Hannah’s costume, and you said you w
ould wear something from your travels. And as I got closer, I could hear your voice. It is quite distinct, Lady Roberta.”

  The older woman chuckled. “Well played! Now, let’s mingle and see who is who, shall we?”

  The masquerade was the most spectacular event Hannah had ever witnessed. Several guests were dressed as pirates, one with his shirt slightly open, causing stares and giggles from the ladies. Others were sultans, with huge turbans wrapped around their heads. She saw at least two wizards, several monks, bishops, peasants, and one Queen Elizabeth. Another woman dressed as a concubine, her flimsy turquoise pantaloons hugging her ankles and waist with an equally sheer material covering her arms. Her red hair hung loose with a riot of curls framing her face, and an opaque veil covered her features.

  “Why does that sailor look so…feminine, and that queen so…uncomely?” Hannah asked, her brows drawn together as she studied some of the costumes more closely.

  “Oh, my dear, I forgot this is your first masquerade. Women dress as men, men dress as women. All the more difficult to decipher who is behind the mask. It is monstrous funny, is it not?”

  “Nicholas is here somewhere. He said he had some business to attend to.” Mattie searched the room. “I pointed you both out to him when you entered. He said to give you his regards, and he’ll join us shortly.”

  Hannah’s stomach dropped. He’d seen them enter and not come forward to meet them. Mattie’s arm through hers proved Hannah’s dismal failure at hiding her disappointment. “If you could have seen his face when he saw you at the top of the stairs. His mouth fell open.”

  Aunt Bertie grinned. “Of course it did. And I’m sure you’ve dropped a few jaws yourself this evening, Lady Matilda. Shall we find some refreshments?”

  An hour later, a deep rich voice whispered in her ear. “You are the stuff of dreams, la mia bella signora. Shall I take the first dance or save the best for last?”

  She turned, her skirt brushing across black buckled shoes and satin azure knee breeches that hugged his muscular thighs. Hannah immediately recognized Nicholas’s piercing blue eyes. A white shirt with ruffles at the throat and sleeves was covered by a long gold satin coat. He wore a brown wig, pulled back and tied in a short tail by a gold leather thong.

  “May I introduce myself? I am Giacomo Casanova, newly cast out from my beloved Venice.” He bowed and kissed her hand.

  Hannah’s breath caught, the touch of his lips against her bare skin shocking. Aunt Bertie had insisted on no gloves since it was not part of the medieval costume. “I am Eleanor, Queen consort of England and duchess of Aquitaine. Your reputation precedes you, sir.”

  “As does yours, Your Highness.”

  Another bow, another kiss to her knuckles, another shiver through her body.

  A pirate approached and bowed to Mattie. “Madam, may I have the next dance?” He was handsome, with long deep brown hair and braids framing his face and twinkling hazel eyes. A worn leather tricorn hat crowned his head, a bandanna wrapped around his forehead, and a black patch over one eye. His costume fit across broad shoulders, and the snug pants disappeared into tall, cuffed leather boots.

  She glanced at Nicholas and Hannah and then smiled. “Why, good sir, I cannot dance with a stranger, let alone a treacherous pirate. My brother would never allow it.”

  “I am John Rackham at your service, ma’am.” He put his hand to the side of his mouth and whispered loudly, “Known to some as Calico Jack.”

  All three ladies gasped in mock horror, enjoying the theatrics.

  “I’ve always wanted to dance with a pirate,” Mattie answered. “But you must promise not to kidnap me, for I have to be home by dawn.”

  “I cannot vouch for my honesty, but chivalry is not dead, my lady.” He held out his arm as the first notes of a quadrille began.

  “If I am not back by the end of the set, send out the Royal Navy,” called Mattie over her shoulder.

  “My sister seems to have found her tongue along with the mask.” Darby scowled at the retreating Venetian and pirate joining three couples. “I’m not sure I like it.”

  Hannah laughed. “She feels brave behind the mask. It will give her confidence.”

  “You have given her confidence, Miss Pendleton, er, Your Highness, and I thank you for it.”

  “Mattie has become a cherished friend. Do not offer gratitude when I do it for selfish reasons.” Hannah was enjoying the banter, the conversation, the atmosphere until she looked at Nicholas.

  His face had hardened and the smile vanished. “And would you mind sharing those selfish reasons?”

  She cocked her head and studied him. A smile returned to her lips as she realized what he was about. “I always wanted a sister, my lord. Another girl close to my age to share secrets with, laugh and be silly with, be myself with. I feel Mattie and I are kindred souls. That is all I meant by it.” She longed to reach up and touch his cheek, reassure this fragile earl that she was trustworthy.

  “I am sorry. I… I do not trust easily.” Regret flashed in his eyes and he bowed, taking her hand and kissing it again. When he looked up again, the heart-stopping grin was back and he winked. “I will find an opportunity to steal you away for a brief time tonight and make a better apology. Be awake on all suits for my signal.”

  “I adore a bit of danger, Signor Casanova.” Her eyes shone with amusement. “I do hope you live up to your name.”

  * * *

  Two sets later, Hannah shared refreshments with her aunt and Mattie. A highwayman approached, bumped into Hannah, and slid a paper against her palm. He murmured apologies and walked away.

  “How rude,” exclaimed Aunt Bertie. “I swear he did that on purpose.”

  “Are you all right, Hannah?” asked Mattie. “That was quite a jostle.”

  She nodded. “I’m fine. However, I need to tend to necessities. If you’ll excuse me?”

  Hannah weaved through the crowd to the hallway and found a private alcove. She unfolded the parchment and read the note.

  * * *

  Meet me below at half past eleven. Back stairs, end of hall, door will be open. C~

  * * *

  Casanova. She pressed her lips together, pushing down the excitement from Nicholas’s note. A secret tryst. Was this why masquerade balls were all the crack? Making her way back to the ballroom, she checked the time. Half an hour. Not enough time to join the next dance set.

  While Hannah chatted with several guests, the time moved at a snail’s pace. With five minutes to spare, she slipped out of the party and found the back steps. The narrow staircase was dark, and she kept her hands on the wall as she moved carefully toward the shadowy hallway.

  Hannah neared the end of the passage and found a door slightly ajar. She poked her head in and called out, “Hello?” No answer. Pushing the door open wider, she stepped into the darkened room. Slam! The heavy wood reverberated in its frame. A hand gripped her arm and pushed her against a wall. It was pitch black, and she could see nothing. She hugged herself and rubbed her arms as goosebumps rose on her skin.

  “Nicholas,” she whispered in a shaky voice. “Please, you know I hate the dark.” Feeling along the wall, she moved back in the direction of the door.

  A soft chuckle behind had her spinning the opposite way. She clung to the wall, afraid to move into the empty abyss. Why was he doing this? Did he think this was a game she enjoyed?

  “Do you remember when we played Twirl the Trencher, and losers had to share a secret? Mine was that I am afraid of the dark. Please, don’t tease. It frightens me.”

  A whisper sent warm breath feathering her cheek. “Don’t excite me, my pet, I feed on fear.” Then the presence was gone. But the faint odor of leather and peppermint lingered. She’d smelled that combination before.

  Oh sweet Mary, he’s not Nicholas.

  “Who are you? Where is Lord Darby?” The growing panic, thick in her throat, made it difficult to get words out.

  A hand gripped her shoulder, pain shooting down her arm, an
d something trailed up her cheek. “You smell divine, my dear.” He breathed deeply and moaned. “You are untouched, I’m sure of it.”

  Hannah opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Oh God, oh dear God! She clutched her belly, shaking her head back and forth. Gulping air, she tried to calm herself. She straightened and, with both hands against the wall, tried to inch along rough stone. The friction against her skin brought some coherence to her thoughts, and she concentrated on the texture as she moved. This must be some sort of cellar, for storage of some kind. If she could find something to protect herself with.

  “Oh, let’s not be in a rush, eh? I doubt anyone will notice you missing until the unmasking at midnight,” he whispered. “Plenty of time for what I have in mind.”

  Hannah forced herself to breathe. What had her brother taught her to do if she were ever cornered by a frisky boy? Her mind was blank. Think!

  Fwoosh! A match cast an eerie yellow light about the room. A man in a cape and mask, his face shadowed but the dark hair and eyes glittered. Then he shook out the weak glow.

  A light touch against her hair, like something was crawling… Warm breath against her cheek. The cave came back to her, the blind terror, the spider in her hair. Hannah began flapping her arms around her head, slapping at whatever was in her hair. Someone was screaming hysterically, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized it was her.

  Fwoosh! The man again, his smile oddly grotesque in its brightness. “Now you see me.” He shook out the light. “Now you don’t.”

  The chuckle gave Hannah a clue to the direction he was coming from. She sucked in air, let it out slowly, as her mother had taught her when panic overtook her as a child. It helped, and she hugged her stomach as her long locks were lifted, warm breath now on the back of her neck. She whirled and pushed as hard as she could.