Magical Masquerade: A Regency Masquerade

by Hilary Gilman

  He looked at the chair, and then at the bed. A shiver went through her. She thought it was of apprehension yet, when he took the chair, she was conscious of a faint pang of disappointment.

  ‘No. I have been thinking of the list I gave you. Of our guests for Christmas.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Have you, in fact, sent out the invitations yet?’

  ‘No, I am sorry I—’

  ‘There is nothing to apologise for. I just wish to make a change. Could you cross Lord and Lady Ashbury from the list? I believe they are otherwise engaged.’

  ‘Oh!’ She cast her mind back to the meeting in the shop. His words explained Lady Ashbury’s tears. He must have broken with her! She wondered why her heart should sing at this news. How could it affect her?’ Her eyes, when she raised them to his face, were shining. ‘If that is your wish.’

  ‘It is.’ He reached out his hand, and she thought for a moment that he would take hers in his clasp. But, instead, he picked up the book she had laid aside and flicked through the pages. ‘Still reading this dreary drivel?’

  ‘As you see.’

  ‘Last night—did you notice—? Did it seem to you that Bella seemed very taken with—?’

  ‘With your cousin Franklyn? Yes, it did.’

  ‘She always adored him, even as a baby, but I do not trust him.’

  ‘You told me she is an heiress. Is he in need of money?’

  ‘He is always in need of money.’

  ‘Enough to tempt him into marriage with a schoolgirl?’

  ‘More than enough. When Arabella comes of age, she will be in possession of over one hundred thousand pounds.’

  ‘Good Heavens! I had no idea. No wonder you wish to keep her safe.’

  ‘Safe from Franklyn, yes certainly, I will go to any lengths to stop him.’

  ‘Because,’ she faltered a little and then said, ‘because of what he did to you? Your face?’

  He turned to her, an arrested expression upon his countenance. ‘No. It was near twenty years ago when we were both hot-headed boys. That I can forgive. But since then, Franklyn has proved over and over that he is cut from the same cloth as my late, revered father, and I will not let Bella’s life be made a burden to her as my mother’s was.’

  ‘That afternoon, when the tree was struck, I spent some time in the Long Gallery. I saw a portrait of your Mama, and I wondered—she looked so sad. Was her life very bad?’

  ‘She married a man she adored and discovered that she meant less to him than the woman who starched her laces.’ His voice was light, but he could not disguise the bitterness beneath. ‘He was a man who took his gratification where and when he fancied, flaunting his women in her face, bringing them into the Castle, or bedding those already there.’

  ‘Poor lady.’ She glanced at him, and her voice was very soft as she said, ‘It must have been hard for you to witness her pain.’

  ‘I swore I would never give a woman cause to curse me as he did. I do not know if I have succeeded, but at least I have tried.’

  She smiled. ‘Most gentlemen do not even do that, as I understand their nature. But how are we to thwart your cousin?’

  ‘I do not see my way clear at all. If she goes into Society, I cannot stop her from meeting him at every ton party she attends. If I do not let her go into Society, I may well force her into the arms of some even less eligible suitor. Should I, do you think, exclude him from Camer Castle this Christmas?’

  She gave it her consideration, wrinkling her smooth brow and twisting one of her dark ringlets around her finger. ‘No, I think not,’ she said eventually. ‘She cannot come to harm with you and me watching over her and a house full of guests. You must not turn him into forbidden fruit, you know.’

  His gaze lingered on her face and then moved slowly over her form, temptingly revealed by the gauzy robe. ‘Forbidden fruit is the sweetest,’ he agreed with a wry smile.

  She felt suddenly breathless and, almost without knowing what she said, she spoke. ‘The good God does not forbid a wife to her husband.’

  His one eye narrowed. ‘I wish I knew why you are so changed.’

  Recollection suddenly flooded over her. This was Eugénie’s husband. She could not, must not, allow herself to feel, to care. The misery it would cause her was nothing, but for him—the difference when Eugénie returned would be too cruel. ‘I am not changed, Sir,’ she said carefully. ‘I have always been prepared to do my duty.’

  ‘Your duty! To the devil with duty.’ He reached for her, half-dragging her across the bed, and she found herself a helpless captive in his arms as he claimed her lips in a kiss that bruised her soft mouth and set her senses aflame with an aching hunger that came to her for the first time in a life of maiden innocence. His hands were skilful, masterful, caressing the smooth ivory of her bare arms, the swell of her breasts beneath the flimsy gauze of her robe, the graceful curve of her neck, bringing every inch of her flesh singing to triumphant life. Yet she lay quiescent in his arms, too unschooled in passion to let him feel her response to the new and frightening sensations he had aroused in her—until the moment when he lifted his mouth from hers and pressed his lips into the enticing hollow at the base of her throat. When she felt his warm breath upon her skin and the touch of his lips in a place where no man had ever touched her before, she felt as though her heart and nerves were melting into one another, a flood of desire overwhelmed her, and she trembled in his arms.

  He misunderstood that involuntary shiver and abruptly released her. He stood looking down at her as he fought to control his breathing. The robe had slipped open to reveal her flawless breasts, pink tipped and now delicately flushed. There were dark marks on her tender flesh where his fingers had gripped her. ‘Beg pardon, my love. Your charms are very nearly irresistible, but I hope I shall find the strength to withstand them in the future.’

  ‘But—why?’

  ‘Because your dutiful compliance can no longer satisfy me. I tell you plainly I want more than duty from you. You have nothing to fear. I shall not come to you again until you want me.’

  He leaned over her and pressed a kiss upon the smooth, ivory breast that he had blemished. ‘Forgive me.’

  She watched him leave the room, and then she huddled the robe around her as though she were suddenly cold. ‘But I want you now,’ she whispered, and burst into tears.

  The thought of facing Rochford over the dinner table was daunting yet, when a message was brought to her that the Duke would dine that night at his club, it cannot have been said to cheer her. As she bathed her swollen lids in Hungary Water, she apostrophised herself as a fool. ‘This man is my sister’s husband. I cannot allow myself to think of him as mine, even for a moment, or I shall be lost. Indeed, I will not think of him at all.’

  Having made this sensible decision, she went down to dinner, where she proceeded to dwell on every detail of that rapturous embrace to the extent that Bella had to request her three times to pass the salt.

  Ten

  Minette breakfasted in her room the following morning, anxious to avoid another meeting with Rochford. She had barely slept, and even Becky, not the most observant of females, was shocked by her appearance and moved to exclaim, ‘Why, Ma’am, whatever is the matter? You look fagged to death. Did you not sleep well?’

  ‘No, I must have eaten something that disagreed, I believe.’ She sipped her morning chocolate and said in a would-be casual tone, ‘Has the Duke breakfasted?’

  ‘Oh yes, Ma’am, hours ago. Oh, he left this for you.’ She picked up a flat velvet box, which she had deposited on the bedside table. Minette took it but, instead of opening it, she turned it thoughtfully in her hands. Becky watched her, hopping from one leg to the other in an ecstasy of suspense. ‘Oh, aren’t you going to open it, Ma’am?’ she blurted out.

  Minette laughed. ‘Certainly.’ She undid the little gold clasp and carefully lifted the lid. Her eyes widened, and her lips formed a soft “O” of surprise. Nestled against a bed of oyster sat
in lay a brooch designed to resemble a spray of pale pink blossoms against a background of silver foil leaves. Tiny crystals formed dewdrops on the foliage, and the blossoms were fashioned from rare and costly, rose-cut, pink diamonds. The whole jewel was but the length of her little finger, but the workmanship was so exquisite that she could even make out minute veins on the silver leaves. She lifted it and found a tiny, folded screw of paper under it. She smoothed it open upon the coverlet and sat staring at it for a long time. There was nothing sentimental about the message; he had merely scrawled: Do not, I beg, give this offering to Bella. It would not suit her. She gave a shaky laugh. ‘He is wrong; it would suit her very well.’

  When she finally appeared in the morning room, dressed for the journey back to Kent, she wore the brooch upon the lapel of her very pretty, fawn-coloured, velvet spencer. As Bella had not yet made her appearance, she sat down to write a note of thanks to the Duke. It was an unexpectedly hard task, and she had wasted a good quarter of an hour upon it before she realised that the note was in her own, exquisite, penmanship and would instantly betray her.

  She was just tearing the note into tiny pieces when the butler entered. ‘Mr Franklyn Clareville has called to see you, your Grace.’

  ‘Oh? But surely it is the Duke he wishes to see.’

  ‘No, your Grace; Mr Franklyn asked for you especially.’

  ‘Very well. Please show him into the Blue Salon. I will see him there.’

  The butler looked much taken aback. ‘Is there something wrong,’ she enquired.

  ‘No, Ma’am, it is just—’

  ‘Just?’

  ‘Well, usually, you see Mr Franklyn in here, so—’

  ‘So here I am,’ came a light voice, and Mr Clareville stepped out from behind the butler’s impressive bulk.

  The butler bowed himself out of the room, and Clareville sauntered forward, very much at his ease. Before she knew what he would be about, he had taken her hand and with a brief ‘May I?’ kissed her cheek.

  ‘No, you may not!’ She whisked herself away from his proximity. ‘How dare you?’

  He looked at her, his brows knitted. ‘How dare I? But my sweet Eugénie, what is this?’

  ‘You take liberties, Sir.’

  ‘Liberties that did not displease you in the past. Now what has changed?’ He looked at her thoughtfully while Minette digested this information. Eugénie had permitted him to treat her with this careless gallantry? What else had she permitted?

  ‘Whatever happened in the past is irrelevant,’ she announced rather breathlessly. ‘Rochford is entitled to my good faith and loyalty.’

  He laughed. ‘What a to-do about a few mere cousinly kisses. Very well, I will behave myself.’ He strolled over to the fire and dropped gracefully into a winged armchair. ‘I congratulate you by-the-by. Bringing Bella to London was very clever. So much better than a contrived meeting down at Camer.’ He spread his hand and studied his nails consideringly. ‘I thought I struck just the right note, too, almost avuncular and yet romantic. Do you not agree?’

  Minette might be innocent, but she was no fool and had few illusions about her twin. However, the revelation that Eugénie had been plotting with Clareville to bring about a marriage the Duke would certainly deplore shocked her. She gave no sign, merely saying in a cool tone, ‘You flatter yourself, Mr Clareville. My bringing Bella to Town had nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Oh dear, I have sunk back to Mr Clareville, have I? You must be cross. Or is this all part of the dutiful wife role you have decided to play. And I am sure you will play it charmingly.’

  ‘It is not a role. It is merely that I have been brought to see—’

  ‘Which side your bread is buttered on?’ he suggested amiably.

  ‘Where my duty lies,’ she corrected him, frowning.

  He grimaced. ‘How disappointing. So you won’t help me to capture Bella’s silly little heart? Never mind; I believe I can manage it without your assistance.’

  ‘She is just a child.’

  He lifted one eyebrow. ‘You truly are a reformed character, my dear. Odious chit is the kindest epithet you had for her formerly.’

  ‘I am better acquainted with her now.’

  ‘So it would seem. Strange, I would not have thought she improves on acquaintance. Quite the contrary, in fact.’

  ‘If that is how you feel, you had best give up this scheme to ensnare her.’

  He smiled and shook his head at her. ‘Oh, I intend to be a charming husband, make no mistake. So charming, indeed, that she will be able to deny me—nothing.’

  At that moment, the door opened, and Bella came into the room. She was wearing one of her new gowns, a delicate, figured muslin with rose satin ribbons. She looked fresh, pretty, and very young. A blush suffused her cheeks as she said, with an appealing hesitation quite unlike her usual manner, ‘Oh, Cousin Franklyn, I’m so happy you called. I have been wishing to say goodbye.’ She laid her hand timidly upon the crook of his arm. ‘You will keep your promise, won’t you?’

  ‘My promise, sweet Coz?’

  ‘To spend Christmas at Camer.’

  ‘Did I not say I would?’ He took her hand and kissed it, throwing a laughing glance at Minette as he did so. ‘I can think of nowhere I would rather be, and no one with whom I would rather spend Christmas.’

  She dimpled. ‘You do say the nicest things.’

  There was a murmur of voices just outside the door, and all three lifted their heads, united in sudden alarm. The door opened, and Rochford walked into the room. He stood for a moment, his head a little to one side, and then moved forward with his hand held out. ‘You all look very guilty,’ he remarked. ‘How are you, Franklyn?’

  To Minette’s fancy, Clareville seemed to diminish in his cousin’s proximity. The aura of power she acknowledged in Rochford quite simply extinguished the more venal man. But then she saw that Bella was still looking at Clareville with the eyes of a dazzled schoolgirl and laughed at herself. She was as bewitched as Bella and with as little cause. What did it matter to her if Rochford was beginning to fancy himself in love with his wife? In a few months, she would be gone, and Eugénie, not she, would reap the fruits of his new ardour. And then, perhaps, Eugénie would learn to love this damaged, bitter yet passionate man while she would dwindle into an old maid and be forgotten.

  Rochford turned to Minette, his glance alighting on the brooch. She smiled at him and, touching the jewel with one finger, her pretty lips formed a silent ‘Thank you.’ His smile answered hers in a moment of unspoken communion.

  Franklyn, however, had noticed this little byplay, and a slight frown appeared between his brows. ‘That is a very pretty brooch you have there, Cousin Eugénie. Now where have I seen it before? Oh yes, does not Lady Ashbury have one just like it?’

  Rochford turned on his heel, his expression suddenly so grim that Franklyn took an involuntary step backwards.

  ‘You are mistaken.’ He lowered his voice, but Minette heard him say, ‘Do not try your tricks with me, Franklyn. You will come to grief, I promise you. Do you think I do not know what you are about?’

  ‘I do not know what you are talking of, Cousin. Why should Lady Ashbury not have a diamond brooch? This one is hardly unique.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Bella suddenly found her voice, and she said to her brother with a trembling lip, ‘What is it? Why are you angry with Frank?’ She ran forward and hung on to the Duke’s arm. ‘You are frightening me.’

  He glanced down at her and covered her hand with his own. ‘Am I? I am sorry, little Chicken.’

  ‘Oh, you haven’t called me that in ages.’

  ‘Have I not? What a crusty old beast I am!’

  She laughed. ‘Well, you have been lately. You were very kind to me when I was little.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘You are not so very large now.’

  ‘Not too big to put over your knee?’ she said quizzing him. ‘You always used to say that.’

  ‘I would not
dare put a fashionable young lady over my knee,’ he said gravely. His glance shifted to Minette’s face, and he added with a slight smile, ‘Unless invited to do so.’

  He became aware that Clareville, who had retreated to the fireplace, was still in the room. ‘Shall we see you at Camer shortly?’

  Franklyn shrugged. ‘If I am still welcome?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be a fool, man. Of course you are.’ He held out his hand once more, but with a measure of cordiality. ‘It was not our first wrangle nor, I suspect, will it be our last.’ He turned to Minette. ‘I came to tell you, my love, that the carriage is at the door. If you are returning to Kent today, you should leave at once. I do not want the two of you or my horses travelling that road after dark. There is no moon tonight, and the sky is threatening. I think it will hold off for a few hours yet, however. I have desired Mrs Mason to put hot bricks inside and a basket of provisions in case you are held up.’

  ‘Held up? How exciting!’ exclaimed Bella.

  ‘By snow, not highwaymen,’ he answered in a damping tone. He took Minette’s hand and carried it to his lips. ‘I wish I could accompany you, but there is business that keeps me in Town. I shall be down in time to help you receive our guests.’

  In spite of herself, she returned the clasp of his fingers. ‘You shall find all in readiness when you do come.’

  ‘Shall I? That will be—very pleasant.’

  Eleven

  Minette soon found that, apart from directing the invitations, she had nothing to do with the preparations for Christmas. Mrs Pritchard ran the operation like a military campaign, as she had done for many years, and it was made quite clear to the young Duchess that any interference would be much resented.

  Minette, in consequence, found the time to hang heavy on her hands. She was used to rising at dawn and not getting to bed before midnight. As housekeeper of her grandmother’s establishment, she directed their two maidservants, did the marketing, washed the valuable china and laces, too delicate to be left to the servants, and prepared the subtle dishes her grandmother relished. Now she was not permitted to so much as arrange flowers in a vase. She was naturally forced into spending a considerable portion of her days with Arabella, and much of that time was spent in discussing the Duke.