by Tamara Gill
“Your final words dripped with sarcasm, Lizzie. Perhaps you should be less cutting when we’re in company,” Sally suggested. “Are you looking forward to Lady Remmnick’s house party? We’re leaving early tomorrow morning–father wishes to arrive well before the afternoon. With everyone who’s invited, I doubt there will be many left in town.”
Lizzie couldn’t wait to return to the country, the fresh air, and the horse riding she would be able to do more often. “I am looking forward to it, and I cannot thank your mama enough for allowing me to go under her chaperonage. Although I will arrive the day after tomorrow with my maid. Mama is going home to Bellview Manor and I’ll travel onto the Remmnicks’ from there.”
Sally clasped her arm, walking them about the fringes of the lawn. “I’m so excited to attend. Arthur will be there. Do you think he’ll finally ask me to marry him if he can manage to drag me away from Mama for one moment?”
Marquess Mongrove–or Arthur to Sally and Lizzie, since they’d known him since childhood–was the newly appointed Marquess and finally able to decide for himself what his future would be. Not his mother, which Lizzie could sympathize with since she too had an overbearing parent. He’d been a pleasant child and had grown into a lovely gentleman that suited Sally and her honest and obliging temperament. A perfect match for her friend in all ways.
“I’m sure he will. In fact, look at him now pining for you over there under the elm tree. How sad he looks that he hasn’t got his love beside him, hanging off his every word and worshipping the ground he stands upon.”
Sally slapped her arm. “Stop your teasing.” She smiled. “He is lovely though, I must agree, and should he ask me to be his wife, I will say yes immediately and request a very hasty marriage. I’m ready for my life as a wife and mother to start. I see no point in waiting before we say our vows, if you understand my meaning.”
Lizzie smiled at the light blush that stole across her friend’s cheeks. “You’ll make a beautiful bride and a perfect, loving wife. Lord Mongrove will be lucky to have you.”
“Thank you, dearest.” Sally threw his lordship a small wave, delighting when he waved back in return. “I simply cannot wait another day, and so I suppose this house party has come at a perfect time. We each need a little diversion from life’s trials.”
Lizzie couldn’t agree more.
“Not to mention,” Sally continued, turning her attention back to her, “we’ll be away from town and staying under one roof. What fun we will have. And even though my head is already turned, it does not mean you cannot find someone to love.”
“There is only one gentleman I want, and he doesn’t even know that I exist. I’m simply the cousin of one of his closest friends, unremarkable and forgettable at best. And as I’ve stated before, I’ll not marry anyone simply to procure children and do my duty. Whomever I marry, it will be for love. Such a deep, heart-wrenching, all-consuming love that it will simply drive away all my dreams of my own home, vacant of parents and filled with cats.”
“I like this plan. It suits you well, and you know I want nothing but the very best for you,” Sally declared, her tone serious.
“Do you know if Lord Wakely is attending the Remmnicks’ house party?” Lizzie asked, trying but failing desperately to hide the hope that was in her tone. Oh dear, she really was desperate and pining for the man. If only she could curb her enthusiasm toward him and see other gentlemen for their worth. When there were some, of course.
Sally grimaced and Lizzie had her answer before her friend uttered a word. “Unfortunately, he’s not attending, although I was told he will be in the county attending another event. Not far from the Remmnicks’ estate, in fact.”
Lizzie bit her lip and wondered what this other event was, and who was attending. The social set his lordship was part of were the elite of society. Only gentlemen of extreme wealth and with very few cares in the world were allowed entry. Gentlemen who loved the frivolities of societal living, and the luxurious lifestyle and loose women that their status afforded them. No rules and no wives allowed.
It was not for the faint of heart, and certainly nothing like Lizzie could ever imagine for herself had she been a man and able to join such an association. Not that she was supposed to know any of these things, but some gossip was too juicy to ignore. “I will not deny that I’m somewhat disappointed by that news, but then he doesn’t even know that I exist, so what does it matter which event he attends?”
Sally clasped her arm and cuddled her a little to her side. “Do not be downcast, dearest. There is a gentleman out there with your name written on him. And you shall marry him and love him wildly when you find him.”
Lizzie laughed, not even able to imagine such a possibility, but wishing it nonetheless. If only to get away from her mama, who could at times be terribly stifling, sooner than her twenty-fifth birthday. “Only time will tell, I suppose.”
Not that she would tell Sally, but Lizzie was content waiting for her endowment from Hamish, because it was far more likely than being noticed by the viscount. If he had any interest in her at all, he would have made his intentions clear years ago.
“It will tell, my dear, and when it does, it’ll be a great story to hear.”
Chapter 2
Kent – two days later
The carriage rocked alarmingly, and Lizzie clasped a strap beside the window with two hands to stop herself from tumbling to the floor. Her maid let out a squeak when once more the carriage slipped on the muddy track, sending them to sway about like leaves in the wind.
“Oh, Miss Lizzie, this is terrible. If we do not arrive soon I fear we’ll never make it.”
It was a fear Lizzie herself had had multiple times already since they set off from her family’s estate early that morning. The weather from the south had come in so fast that by the time they’d left the last inn where they’d changed horses it was too late to go back.
A howling sound whirred through the door and Lizzie shivered. “I’m sure the storm will pass soon. Do not worry, Mary. We’ll be there shortly, I promise.”
Tears sprang in her maid’s eyes and Lizzie looked outside. Night was falling fast and still no sign of lights could be seen, no beacon of safety in this terrible storm.
The carriage rocked to a halt, then dipped as the driver jumped down. Lizzie opened the door and it was wrenched open by the howling wind, hitting the side of the carriage with such force the window smashed onto the carriage seat. Her maid screamed, and she cursed.
“Miss Lizzie, we’re at a crossroads, and the storm’s blown over the sign showing the direction of Lady Remmnick’s estate,” her driver yelled, the sheeting rain making it hard to hear what anyone was saying.
She shivered, squinting as the rain pelted against her face. “Go left and we’ll hope for the best.”
“Right ye are,” he said, shutting the door and leaving them alone once more.
Lizzie reached under the carriage seat and pulled out a blanket, handing it to her maid. “Push the glass away with this and we’ll try to block the window a little.”
Her maid did as she bade, and with a little trouble they managed to keep some of the weather from intruding into the vehicle. Not very successfully though, and by the time the carriage did arrive at the estate, both Lizzie and Mary were drenched and shivering with cold.
A footman ran from inside the well-lit home, a most welcome haven after their ordeal.
Lizzie stepped down and ran indoors along with her maid. Inside, a woman she’d never met before strode toward them, with a calm assurance and grace that was the opposite of how Lizzie looked and felt at that exact moment. In fact, she was pretty sure she was leaving a terrible wet puddle on the mosaic tiled floor.
“Welcome, you’ve arrived just in time.”
Lizzie dipped into a curtsy, wondering where Lady Remmnick was as this woman certainly wasn’t her ladyship. A servant walked past with a tray of champagne, and through an ajar door Lizzie spotted guests with masks, even though the la
dy before her didn’t have one herself. “Thank you so much for inviting me, but I must apologize for my tardy arrival. The weather outside is atrocious and we almost lost our way.”
“You’re right on time. If you follow me upstairs, I’ll show you to your room where you can change.”
“Thank you,” Lizzie said, looking about and taking in the home. The silence was deafening, and she frowned. Normally house parties were lively, with people milling about all over the place. The guests in the adjacent room were oddly quiet. “I’m Miss Lizzie Doherty by the way, and you are? I suspect Lady Remmnick is busy with the guests who are already here.”
The woman stopped, placing a finger against her lips and shaking her head in silence. “No one has names here. Not for the next three days at least, my dear.”
Lizzie stopped on the staircase’s top step, her maid’s furrowed brow reflecting her own thoughts. “May I enquire as to whose estate this is?”
The lady laughed, a sultry sound that caused unease to coil through her blood. “That’s a secret too, although I’m sure you’re only teasing. You received an invite after all. You must have, to be here. The location is secret.” The woman paused, turning to face her. Lizzie met her inspection and wondered if she looked as pathetic as she felt standing before this golden goddess. “You did receive an invite, yes?”
“I did, yes, but—”
“Well then, you may follow me and join the party once you’ve cleaned yourself up. We have recently had running water installed upstairs in every room, so you may have a bath if you wish. The gowns that are suitable for wear are in your amore, and tonight’s color requirement is green, so please use a gown that’s appropriate. Your maid will find an appropriate mask in the tallboy.”
Lizzie followed without saying a word, her mind a whirr of thoughts. Was this a new event Lady Remmnick had introduced at her house party? The approach was indeed intriguing. Lizzie would go along for now, but when she found Sally she would enquire about the details.
A familiar laugh sounded, and she looked over the balustrade and spotted Lord Wakely coming out of one of the rooms downstairs. His stride and voice were as familiar as Lizzie’s own, so she would’ve known him anywhere, even if right now he had a black mask covering half his face. He was not supposed to be at Lady Remmnick’s house party.
Clarity bloomed into Lizzie’s mind as it dawned upon her that it was she and not he who was at the wrong house party.
She bit her lip, butterflies fluttering in her belly at the thought of him being here. This must be the house party that her friend Sally had been talking about. The one that was coveted by anyone who was anyone within the ton. And invite only.
What was it that everyone got up to here that was so secretive?
“This is your room, my dear.”
With a flourish, the woman showed Lizzie into her bedchamber situated at the end of a long corridor. A frisson of excitement ran through her that she was actually here. Even if she wasn’t supposed to be. How fortuitous that the current evening’s activity was a masquerade.
Lizzie walked into the room and marvelled at the beautiful furniture and decorations throughout. A large bed with a canopy rested before the windows. She’d never seen such a layout before, but didn’t mind it in the least. It looked delightful, in fact. There was a large tub for bathing, along with a wash basin and bowl. Two high-backed chairs sat before the fire, with deep green covering that suited the dark wooden floor and the green coverlet on the bed. It wasn’t the least feminine, nor overly masculine either. In fact, it was just a perfectly lovely, welcoming room.
“This is quite acceptable. Thank you,” Lizzie said, setting down her bonnet on the ladies writing desk.
“I’ll have one of my own maids sent up to show your girl what you should wear and when. I will see you in an hour downstairs for dinner.”
Lizzie nodded, trying dreadfully hard not to show her nerves at what she was about to embark on. At any time she could be caught and sent home, ruined beyond repair because she had no chaperone present.
As soon as the door closed behind the mysterious woman, Mary turned toward her, her eyes as round as the moon. “Miss Lizzie, ye can’t stay here. This house, these guests…well, did ye see the gentleman that was about downstairs? He had a mask on, covering himself for some reason. I have a feeling this party is not like the ones you are used to.”
Lizzie looked out the window and a black, stormy night greeted her. Should this party be what she assumed it to be, one of ill repute and debauchery, there was little she could do about it now. She was here whether she wanted to be or not, and there was no way they could leave for the Remmnicks’ house party in this weather.
The gale rattled the window as if in agreement and Lizzie pulled the heavy velvet drapes closed to keep it at bay. But she also couldn’t help but thank providence that she had arrived on this doorstep instead of Lady Remmnick’s. For years there had been rumors–tales of debauchery regarding the parties Lord Wakely attended. Now she had a chance to see for herself what was fiction and what was truth.
“I will bathe and change into what they wish me to wear, put on my mask, and at the first opportunity tomorrow we shall leave. No one will guess who we are if you stay here in the adjacent room, and I’ll keep my identity secret. Something I’m guessing they wish us to do, since we’re not to use any names at all or show our faces.”
“Well, ye can’t go about the house as no one. What name shall you use if you’re asked?”
Good question. Lizzie frowned. She had always liked Eve as a name, and it would do should she have to come up with something. “If anyone asks, call me Mrs. Eve Jacobs, a widow from Cumbria. That’s far enough away that no one would’ve ever heard of me.”
“And your husband died how?”
A light knock sounded on the door and her maid bid another young woman welcome. The young lady showed Mary how to pour the bath and where the linen was kept before laying out Lizzie’s dress for the evening and showing Mary where the masks were kept.
Once they were alone again, and Lizzie was undressing for the bath, she said, “A tumor in his belly is what killed my husband. Not that I expect anyone to ask, or that servants would be enquiring about me, but just in case. I’m sure they’ve seen these sorts of events before, where questions are frowned upon.”
“I will do as ye ask, Miss Lizzie. I promise,” Mary said, turning off the tap.
The hot water of the hipbath was a welcoming delight after the cold journey they had endured. She sent Mary away and shut her eyes. Images of Lord Wakely filled her mind. His mask made him look forbidden, dangerous, and her nipples puckered in response. She ran the soap over her body, imagining his lordship’s hands instead, and a heavy longing ached between her legs. For so long she’d wanted to throw herself at his head and see if he’d have any response to her, such as the visceral response she’d always had with him.
His satin knee breeches and gleaming hessians had accentuated his athletic form. He was certainly not a man who lay about. Much too perfectly shaped for that. As for his coat and perfectly tied cravat, and the pieces of his hair hanging about his mask, she could only agree that what Sally said about him resembling a pirate really did ring true. Maybe he’d plunder her.
She chuckled at her own unladylike imaginings and washed away the soap. In all seriousness, she really ought to take into account what her being here could mean for her future. Her cousin may have gifted her an endowment, but it didn’t come without certain obligations that had to be met. Hamish had stipulated that he would speak to whomever Lizzie wished for as a husband, and if he found him genuine, and in love with Lizzie, he would give his blessing on the marriage, and thus pave the way for her to receive her fortune. Should Hamish not come to this conclusion upon meeting her intended, he would not allow the marriage to proceed.
To maintain her reputation, it was essential that no one found out she was here. And if she did approach Lord Wakely, would he have any interest in her? Or w
ould he send her away? Lizzie sighed, touching her lips and wondering if his kiss would be as sweet and all-consuming as she imagined it to be. He was a renowned rake, so he would certainly know what to do…
She threw the soap away, her mind made up. She would go downstairs disguised, and see how the night progressed. The storm made it impossible to leave, but that did not mean she had to spend the night enclosed within her chambers. If Lord Wakely happened to take a liking to her masked self, she would enjoy a stolen kiss or two but nothing else. Never would she put her future in jeopardy. Not when she was so close to having her hands upon her fortune, all for herself and without anyone else lording it over her for the rest of her life.
If she could not find a husband who loved her, she would love all that her fortune could give her instead.
Chapter 3
Hugo stood at the piano, listening as their hostess Lady X, as she liked to be known, even though all those in attendance knew she was really Lady Xenia Campbell, a widow whose husband had died during a carriage race. She had chosen a lovely sedate piece of music from Mozart to the gathered throng that did not impinge on or distract from what the guests were discussing. A lover of music, Hugo leaned over the pianoforte and surveyed the room and all the guests who had arrived over the last day.
All of them were up to mischief and wanting to escape the confines of London Society and what was expected of them. All of them wanted to be here to partake in the pleasures of the flesh without censure or guilt. He had attended quite a few of these events over the years, and sometimes even partook in the games that were afoot, but alas this would be his last. After his father’s last decree in his will, Hugo had only until July twenty-third to procure a wife, or he’d be without funds to continue the life to which he was accustomed.
