by Amy Corwin
As she studied his face, she had the distinct impression that he was holding something back, some terrible secret he did not want to admit. The earl sat hunched forward, his elbows propped upon his thighs and lost in thought. He stared at his hands, clasped tightly between his knees.
She leaned forward and lightly touched his whitening knuckles. “I know you have little reason to trust me, in fact you hardly know me, but please, tell me the truth. Or at least as much of it as you can. I know you were not responsible for your brother's misfortune.”
“No.” For a moment, she thought he would stop there and keep his secrets to himself. Then he flicked his eyes toward her. “My brother lost his faith in me, I suppose. He gambled. And lost.”
Silence descended again. Helen remained still, aware of a sense of loss filling the air between them. Her body felt stiff and heavy, reflecting his mood like a mirror reflecting the oppressive, yellow-black clouds building into a storm.
“He — he's the one who sank the Twilight,” Hugh said.
“But you ….”
“He tried to convince me to stay ashore, before he gave up completely. His behavior was … odd. Desperate one minute, calm – almost resigned – the next. Perhaps he thought nothing would happen and that he would fail at sabotage as well. Maybe he thought he could end his own misery and that I would survive. He knew I could swim.”
“Or perhaps it really was just a tragic accident,” she suggested gently. She remembered the blue coat and cap and the importance he placed upon them. “He may have gone to the dock to see if the boat would be ready to take out. There may have been flaws in the construction that everyone had overlooked. You don’t know, you have no way of knowing now. Don’t assume the worst when your brother is not here to explain.
“You say he gave up trying to convince you to stay ashore. Perhaps he initially wanted to go out alone, work up the nerve to tell you about his loss of the boat. But when you insisted, he might have given up, hoping he might use the opportunity when you were happy and at sea to tell you the truth. You’d be assured of privacy. He may have thought the boat would be safe. I cannot believe he would have endangered you. He could have thought of some reason for you to stay behind, if he had truly sabotaged the Twilight.”
By the end of her speech, Hugh had straightened in his seat. He stared at her before shaking his head.
He picked up her hand and held it between his warm palms. “You amaze me. I believe you are, without a doubt, the kindest woman I have ever met.”
“You mean silliest, I suppose.”
“No, I meant what I said. Perhaps you are correct, after all. In my grief, I made assumptions. And the facts seemed to support them. You have pointed out that there are, after all, any number of interpretations. Lionel could have hoped nothing would happen, despite his efforts. I am grateful to you, more than I can say.”
She blushed and tried to pull her hand away. Her heart pounded as she caught his blue gaze. His eyes gleamed. Once again she was conscious of how attractive he was with his wide mouth, square chin and the thatch of blonde hair tumbling over his forehead. She longed to push his hair back and press a kiss against his cheek. Or lips.
“And I have something that belongs to you,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a necklace. The strands sparkled with green fire in the sunshine streaming in from the garden windows. “Is this not the Peckham necklace?”
“Yes.” Unaccountably, her sense of excitement faded abruptly. She held out her hand and accepted the necklace. The stones felt cold and hard against her palm. “Thank you.”
“You need not be so glad to get them back,” he said in a gently mocking tone. “You make me believe you are anxious to leave.”
“No, I ….” She stopped, but when he chuckled, she smiled in response. “I'm sorry. I suppose I don’t sound properly grateful. But I am almost disappointed to get it back.”
“That hardly seems reasonable, considering the lengths to which you have gone to find it.”
“Then you are seeing me as I truly am. May I introduce you to the silly and terribly impractical Miss Helen Archer?”
His eyebrows rose. “Appearances do seem to be our banes, don’t they? I am considered too dull to be marriageable, despite my more notable assets.” He waved his hand indicating Ormsby and the wealth it represented. “And I came to a series of conclusions, also based upon appearances. One would think one would learn.” His gaze grew serious as he searched her face. “And yet you, despite your efforts to present the face of fashionable beauty, are the one most able to see past the surface. You knew my aunt was innocent. And in fact, you were apparently able to see beyond her scathing tongue and uncertain temper to understand the sadness beneath.”
She blushed and shook her head, “No, you grant me too much wisdom.”
“And,” he continued relentlessly as if she had never spoken. “You recognized that Edward needed love and guidance, not a berth on a naval vessel — at least not at this stage.”
“Anyone could see that. He is far too young.”
“And I am curious to know what you see beneath this bland, boring exterior? Just more blandness?”
“I happen to admire blandness,” she replied hurriedly, blood rushing from her heart to her cheeks.
He groaned and shook his head. “That is not the response I desired. It appears Miss Peyton was correct. Society can forgive anyone except a bore.”
“How can you possibly say such a thing? You are not boring. Look at what you have done over the past few weeks! You have survived a shipwreck, impersonated an inquiry agent and resolved a mystery. You are kind and brilliant.” She smiled and gestured at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. “And you obviously love to read. Such a man cannot be considered a bore, unless one does not have the mind to appreciate brilliance in others.” She laughed at the sheepish grin on his face. “If one is quite ignorant, it is always difficult to admire those who are not.”
“Bravo, Helen. You have managed to find the positive again.”
Helen cast a brief glance at his face, aware that their conversation was rapidly coming to a close. Her heart sank. Within a few minutes, matters would turn to her inevitable departure.
“So,” she said, the necklace heavy in her hands. “We now all have what we sought.”
“Do we?”
“Do we not?”
“I cannot say that I have what I want.”
“And I am truly sorry about your brother. I wish he would come walking through the front door.”
“We all do, most especially my aunt. But that is not what I want now.”
“I — I don't understand.”
“I need someone who can help me see beyond mere appearances, see into the heart of the matter. And into my heart, in particular.” With that, he reached forward and eased a large hand behind her neck. He cradled her head and drew her forward until his lips were mere inches from hers.
Helen held her breath. Then with a sudden, fierce emotion, she grasped his lapel and pressed her lips against his. He felt warm against her, the scent of his skin, laced with soap, surrounding her.
When he finally pulled back, she did not release her grip on his coat. She stared into his eyes, overwhelmed by a sense of loss.
“Don’t let me go.” The words burst from her. Her hand covered her mouth.
For one moment, he looked as startled as she felt. She pulled further back in her seat, searching for any tattered, wispy shreds of dignity she could find.
“Let you go?” he repeated. “As in terminate your employment here?”
“Idiot!” His aunt exclaimed quite audibly from a few yards away.
When Helen and Hugh turned to eye her, she opened the volume in her hands and pretended to be engrossed in the contents.
“No,” Helen said. If he could kiss her and yet remain so oblivious to her feelings, then she was not going to enlighten him further. “Never mind. I spoke wit
hout thinking.”
His eyes twinkled. “Very well. May I ask you something before you leave?”
“For Heaven's sake, just ask her, will you?” Miss Leigh interjected, slamming her book shut. “You are an earl! There is no reason for you to ask permission to say anything you wish!”
Helen blushed and shrank further back into her chair, wishing she were elsewhere. “Perhaps I should go. I'm sure Edward must be awake. I should go and see how he is feeling.”
“Of course.” Hugh stood and held his hand out to her. “Allow me to escort you.”
“Coward.” Miss Leigh eyed both of them with grim disapproval.
Helen cringed with embarrassment.
Pulling her hand through the crook of his arm, Hugh gave his aunt a smile and firmly guided Helen toward the doorway. Once outside the library, he chuckled.
“Now, Miss Helen Archer, will you marry me?”
“I ….” She could not catch her breath. “I —” She stopped a second time as they reached the stairway. She laughed. “You are too late. Someone else has already asked me to marry him.”
Hugh tripped and caught hold of the railing. His face turned red and then ashen, before his mouth thinned to a grim line.
Before he could comment, Helen continued, “Of course it will be a few years, at least until Edward is fourteen. Or perhaps fifteen. He was not precisely sure when he would gain his captaincy.” She gazed up at Hugh and batted her eyelashes. “You don’t think it will be much longer than that, do you? I am not sure I could wait if it is longer.”
“I believe it will be much longer,” he replied gravely. “In fact, I don’t recommend waiting, not at your advanced age. If I were you, I would marry immediately.”
“Edward is too young.”
“Then you will have to make do with me.”
“I don’t know if I can. He will be so disappointed. I could not bear the thought of doing permanent damage to his spirit.”
They arrived at the door to Edward's room, and Hugh gave a sharp rap.
“Come in,” a weak voice called.
Pressing Hugh's arm, Helen caught his gaze. He smiled encouragingly before throwing open the door.
“Well, lad, you've a lot to answer for. Miss Helen said you are trying to cut me out by stealing her affections, you cad.”
Edward stared at him, face pale. “I — is that you Mr. Caswell?”
“Mr. Caswell has much to answer for, too,” Helen said, moving to the bed and placing a hand on Edward's thin shoulder. “He has fooled both of us, so he can hardly complain if I chose to give my affection to another who has been much more honest with me.”
“I — I,” Edward stuttered, eyeing Helen.
“He has been pretending to be an inquiry agent.” She paused for dramatic emphasis. “But he is actually the earl, the Earl of Monnow!”
“The earl?” Edward stammered.
“And he wants me to marry him! Can you imagine?”
“You — maybe you'd better!” He gulped. His huge, round eyes were fixed on Hugh's face.
“But Edward, do you not love me anymore?”
“He's cruel!” Edward exclaimed. “The aunts said so! He'll lock you in your room and beat you until you do what he says!”
Helen almost laughed, until she saw he was perfectly serious and scared to death. He had believed his aunts, who had clearly used the earl as a sort of evil troll to scare the boy into obedience.
If there had ever been any charity in her heart for Miss Elvira and Miss Esther Leigh, it vanished like a gold piece dropped in the street.
“I can assure you —” Hugh began before Helen stopped him.
“Edward, after all the time you have spent with Mr. Caswell, the earl, you cannot honestly believe that! Why, he saved your life.”
“He was pretending,” Edward replied sullenly.
“I am not that good an actor,” Hugh said. “And I cannot remember the last time I had to lock someone in his room.”
“So I suppose you're going to send me back to the aunts and marry Miss Helen,” Edward said. His chin trembled. His fingers plucked at the heavy bandages covering his broken arm. He looked lost and hopeless in the vast, icy-white expanse of the large bed.
“I will make a deal with you, Edward,” Hugh said. “I will let you stay here on one condition: you let me marry Miss Helen.”
The boy blinked and eyed first Hugh and then Helen with evident uncertainty. “You — you promise not to lock me in my room?”
Hugh sighed. “You drive a very hard bargain, lad.”
With the amazing resiliency of youth, Edward sat up straighter, his eyes brightening. “And I want a boat!”
“A boat?” Hugh asked, startled.
“If you're going to marry Miss Helen, I want suitable ….” His tongue peeped out of the corner of his mouth as he clearly searched for the appropriate word. “Recompense.”
“I have already agreed to allow you to stay here. And not lock you in your room.”
Edward nodded. “And a boat.”
“If your intention is to join the navy, I don’t see why you need a boat —”
“I'm releasing Miss Helen from our agreement,” Edward reminded him. “And you must let me have a frog.”
“A frog?”
Holding Hugh's hand, Helen leaned against him and whispered into his ear. “Do let him have the boat. And frog, although I should think a puppy, well …. It is the least you can do. After all, he is graciously giving me my freedom. And you did, after all, make him polish all those shoes.”
Shaking his head, Hugh straightened and threw a heavy arm around Helen's shoulders. “I can see I have been outmaneuvered.”
Then he held out a hand and gravely shook Edward's hand.
“Agreed,” Edward said. “And I would like a puppy. And a frog.”
The two men looked at Helen.
She smiled, content for the first time in weeks.
As usual, her uncle’s terrible schemes had come to a better conclusion than anyone could expect and the Peckham necklace seemed far less cursed than expected.
“Agreed,” Helen said. “Although I am beginning to realize I should not have let either of you off quite so lightly. If Edward is to get a boat, then I want —”
The earl, obviously unwilling to entertain more demands, pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Edward laughed and unable to clap, snapped his fingers. “Bravo, my lord! Bravo!”
THE END
The Archer Family Regency Romance Series
The Archer Family series are traditional Regency romances spiced with a mystery, and The Earl’s Masquerade is the latest in the series. The books all offer at least a glimpse of John Archer, the instigator of many a fateful adventure. He can’t seem to keep from dragging his nieces, nephews, and other unfortunate relatives, with him on escapades that invariably uncover a murder or two. Thankfully, Mr. Knighton Gaunt, of the Second Sons Inquiry Agency is often on hand to help the Archers out of the worst of their troubles, when he’s allowed to do so.
While these books do not need to be read in order, the list below presents them in the most felicitous, chronological order to gain a true understanding of the mischief John Archer can create amongst his young, unattached family members.
The Necklace ~ A young woman, a scoundrel, and a family heirloom that might possibly be cursed.
The Necklace introduces John Archer and his exasperated niece, Oriana Archer, who is fed up trying to keep her uncle out of trouble. When Uncle John drags home yet another disreputable, wounded associate for her to nurse, she’s at her wit’s end. But there’s no rest for the weary, and Oriana soon discovers another of her uncle’s acquaintances, murdered in a way that points suspicion directly at her!
The Unwanted Heiress ~ An American heiress nobody wants; a duke every woman desires; and a murder no one expects.
In The Unwanted Heiress, Nathaniel Archer, Oriana’s brother, no sooner inherits a dukedom than he’s accused of murder.
And his Uncle John’s schemes don’t help. Uncle John is the guardian to an American heiress he’s anxious to unload on the first, unwary, English peer, and Nathaniel looks as good as any, despite the shadow of a noose hanging above his head.
But Nathaniel is made of sterner stuff, or so he thinks, and he’s got more to worry about than romancing a singularly unromantic heiress when a dead debutante is found in his carriage.
The Bricklayer’s Helper ~ A masquerade turns deadly when a murderer discovers one of his victims survived.
The Bricklayer’s Helper features Sarah Sanderson, an orphaned girl disguised as a man and working as a bricklayer. She’s the sole surviving member of her family, murdered thirteen years ago in a terrible fire. She may, or may not, be the niece of John Archer, and John is determined to bring her back into the family by hiring one of the newest agents at the Second Sons Inquiry Agency. Unfortunately, when the killer realizes Sarah escaped, her life is threatened despite the efforts of the attractive inquiry agent and her matchmaking uncle.
Second Sons Inquiry Agency Series
The Second Sons Inquiry Agency series are traditional historical mysteries spiced with a romance. The books all feature Second Sons, but do not necessarily focus on the found of the agency, Mr. Knighton Gaunt. Many of the stories feature other inquiry agents, or investigators, as the agency grows and flourishes. Mr. Gaunt is often called to the aid of the Archers, who seem to be inordinately fond of trouble.
While these books do not need to be read in order, the list below presents them in chronological order.
The Vital Principle ~ Gaunt is called to a séance to uncover a fraud, only to stumble upon a murder.
The Vital Principle is the first in the Second Sons Inquiry Agency historical mystery series and features coolly intellectual Mr. Knighton Gaunt, the agency’s founder. Once accused of murder, himself, Knighton is driven to uncover the truth behind the complex, often mysterious murders that cross his path.
