A Noble Masquerade

by Kristi Ann Hunter

  And when had he become so lyrical? He looked at the soggy landscape. That should displace his poetic tendencies. “It shouldn’t take long.”

  She shrugged and wrapped her arm a bit more securely around his. Her side pressed against his arm, making him wish they were at a party where he could twirl her around the dance floor in his arms.

  “What did you do before getting work as a servant?” Miranda asked.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You said you weren’t always a servant. What did you do before?”

  What should he go with? Lie or partial truth? A lie would be safer, but he was planning on seeing her again when this case was finished. “School.” He had been at school. Oxford to be precise. For all of two months before the shadows swallowed him up. “I was going to school, but my circumstances changed and I had to go to work.”

  “How sad. Was there no family to help you? I know Griffith has sent a few of our distant relations to school long enough to prepare them for a profession. He’s even helped some enter the church or the army.”

  He let her assume his changed circumstances were money related. She’d soon find out money wasn’t a problem for him. He’d have some explaining to do then. “I’m afraid I, er, we are the head of the family. There was no one better off financially.”

  “Oh.”

  “I had family that needed me.” Why was he still talking? He couldn’t tell her about his cousin being trapped in France without giving away his identity. “I had to . . . leave the life I knew in order to help them.”

  “That’s very brave.”

  Silence stretched, and he fumbled around for a new topic to introduce. If they kept talking about family circumstances he was either going to have to outright lie or his evasions were going to become apparent.

  She spoke before he had a chance to. “How far would fifty thousand pounds go?”

  Ryland lowered his eyebrows as he looked over at Miranda in confusion. “Where are you wanting to send it?”

  “Could someone live on that much?”

  “Depends how they spent it.” He could not fathom where her question was coming from.

  “If someone started life with fifty thousand pounds, would they be able to live comfortably?”

  “Of course. Modest, yes, but extremely comfortable. If invested right, fifty thousand pounds would . . .” Ryland trailed off as the significance of the number suddenly struck him. He’d come across the papers while sifting through Griffith’s study. Miranda had a fortune of twenty-five thousand pounds from the passing of her father. Her dowry was an additional twenty-five thousand pounds. She could marry a penniless man and they would start life with fifty thousand pounds. He choked on his next sentence and had to swallow before trying again. “Why do you ask?”

  Another delicate shrug. She started picking at her skirt. Yet another action that would fall outside of the realm of appropriate ladylike behaviors. “Curious, I suppose, given your school story and all. I’ve never had to deal much with money. Do you like working as a valet?”

  The bottom dropped out of his stomach. Was she actually considering making a match with him? That had to be the catalyst of this conversation. What else could it be? Shock and pleasure warred inside him. When he showed up in London to court her properly, he wouldn’t have to worry about his title being his only appeal to her.

  Her face was expectant, waiting. What had she asked him? Oh yes, she wanted to know if he liked shaving her brother’s chin and straightening his clothes. “There are worse jobs one can have. All in all it is not a bad lot.”

  “That’s good. I mean, that’s a good attitude to have.”

  “So it is.” He was in trouble. She was going to kill him when she learned the truth. The journey her mind must have gone on to even be considering a servant was unthinkably complicated. He didn’t for one moment doubt that she’d considered the social ramifications as well as the monetary ones. She was too much of a lady not to be aware of the social ladder.

  Who would have thought being a duke could be a detriment to winning his chosen bride?

  She sighed. “Maybe I should simply ask Griffith to give me the money. I could set up housekeeping in a little cottage. I’ve heard spinsters do that sometimes.”

  Ryland’s air left him in a great whoosh. So she hadn’t been thinking of marrying him. Would he ever understand the female mind?

  Ryland looked around, noticing the rock outcropping where the Russian stablehand liked to spend his free time. “I recognize where we are now. Riverton isn’t far. What will you do when we get there?”

  She laughed, making his heart jump a bit. “Take a bath.”

  “Miranda,” Ryland said softly.

  Her face turned toward him, the corners of her mouth drifting down out of their smile. “What?”

  “I want you to know something.” What was he doing? He should be distancing himself, reminding her what she truly deserved in life. As soon as she was settled in Riverton, he’d be leaving, chasing Lambert and his unknown employer across England.

  He couldn’t leave her thinking she meant nothing to him though.

  She swallowed. Her voice sounded almost choked. “What?”

  “You are . . . I have enjoyed this time together.”

  A weak smile re-formed on her face. “You must be joking. You have enjoyed being beaten, spending the night in a shed, and roaming through farm fields?”

  “What I mean is that you are a very special woman. One day, there will be a very fortunate man asking for your hand.”

  “God willing,” she whispered with a shake of her head. “Georgina will be out this Season.”

  That statement told him more than she would ever know. She may have considered setting up with a valet or even moving out on her own, but she didn’t want to do either. Somewhere she’d gotten the idea that her sister’s debut was going to hurt her chance at a good match. Ryland wasn’t sure when his peers had become so blind, but he wasn’t about to complain about it.

  They topped a small rise, and the roof of the house became visible over the trees.

  “I have never been so happy to see home before.” Miranda shielded her eyes for a better look at the looming structure.

  They walked in silence as the house grew larger. People spilled down the steps as they crossed the back lawn. A small brunette in a bright blue dress led the pack.

  Miranda dropped Ryland’s arm and ran forward to wrap her arms around the slight woman. While the women clasped each other, Ryland intercepted a distraught and disheveled Griffith.

  The noise from everyone trying to ensure Miranda’s safety and learn what had happened made conversation difficult. Even Georgina was wringing her hands, looking as if she wanted to hug her sister but unsure about the amount of dirt involved in that endeavor.

  Miranda worked her way back to his side, dragging a woman in purple with her.

  “This is Ry . . . Marlow, Griffith’s valet.”

  Ryland turned to find himself being presented to the small brunette. Why was Miranda introducing him? They were back at Riverton. No more Ryland and Miranda. No more equals.

  “Marlow, this is Lady Amelia, Marchioness of Raebourne.”

  Ryland bowed low, but otherwise did not acknowledge the introduction. He was, after all, a servant. Lady Amelia did not simply nod back as he expected. She scrutinized him, looking him up and down slowly before smiling brightly at him.

  “Griffith’s new valet?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “I see. Marlow, was it? Griffith’s been talking about you.”

  “How long have you been here?” Miranda asked.

  “We arrived yesterday, but no one knew where you were. We’ve been very worried about you.” Ryland felt skewered by Lady Amelia’s deep brown eyes. “All of the grooms are out scouring the woods. Griffith and Anthony have made several trips out themselves.”

  Miranda glanced at him, a smile no servant deserved on her lips. “Marlow rescued me.”

/>   Griffith looked back and forth between the two of them.

  Lady Amelia’s eyes widened in shock. “You must be quite the valet.”

  “I do good work, my lady.” What else could he say? He probably should have said nothing.

  She watched him for a minute more and then guided Miranda toward the door. “Sally has been keeping water warm so you could have a bath as soon as we found you.”

  The two women disappeared through the door. Ryland followed soon after them, intent on changing his clothes and doing what he could to determine where his suspects were now. Griffith made his own excuses and followed him. Probably to ensure that Miranda hadn’t been more hurt than she appeared.

  He left the door open to his little room and began untucking his ruined shirt.

  The door slammed.

  Ryland jerked his face up in time to see Griffith grab fistfuls of his shirt and shove him into the wall. What on earth?

  “I assume you’re going to marry her.” Griffith’s voice was hard and menacing, his eyes colder than Ryland had ever seen them.

  Ryland shook Griffith’s hands off and went to the water pitcher. The contents were cold since they were two days old, but it would suffice to scrub some of the grime from his face. A full bath could wait until London since he would get more road dust on him during his journey.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Griffith. I’m your valet.”

  “We both know what you are and you were alone with her overnight!”

  Ryland stared at his enraged friend. “Think, man! Imagine I was one of the other servants. Would you expect her to marry them?”

  “Hardly. She’d be better off a spinster than married to a footman.”

  “Precisely.” Ryland ripped off his torn shirt and replaced it with a clean one. He only had the one pair of shoes, so he was going to have to go to London with squishy feet.

  “You aren’t a footman.”

  “She doesn’t know that.”

  Griffith stepped up until their faces were inches apart. “Marry her.”

  “You couldn’t force me.” It didn’t matter that Ryland had already considered courting Miranda. Instinct and self-preservation had him holding his own. Friend or not, Griffith wasn’t pushing him around on this.

  Griffith threw a punch.

  It never landed. Ryland caught Griffith’s fist, and the two scuffled across the small room. The water basin crashed to the floor. Griffith had never been a fighter, despite his size, so it didn’t take much for Ryland to toss him to the bed.

  The two men stared at each other, breathing hard. Griffith finally rubbed a hand over his face.

  “You’re right. I’ve never been that scared, though. When you disappeared and then Oscar came back without her from their ride, I didn’t know what to think. I never imagined anything happening to my family when you came here to investigate.”

  Ryland straightened his clothes and headed for the door. “She’s safe now and she should stay that way. I’m assuming Lambert has left the estate?”

  Griffith sat up on the bed. “Lambert? My butler?”

  Ryland nodded.

  “He is involved?”

  “Yes, my captors mentioned his name.”

  “That explains his absence. We assumed he had joined the search party for Miranda.” Griffith grimaced. “My butler did it. It sounds like a dreadful novel.”

  “Doesn’t it? Now I have to go find him, and his trail is cold and rained on.”

  Griffith pulled a folded letter from his waistcoat pocket. “‘Sir Gilbert’ sent a note yesterday, but you’d already disappeared.”

  Ryland ripped open the letter, filtering the words through the decoding process. If only this letter had arrived a day sooner. “No one showed up for the drops.”

  Griffith raised his eyebrows. “Any of them?”

  It made Ryland want to throw something. In nine years he’d only twice failed a mission. Without Miranda this third time might have been the end for him. There was more to her than the average young lady. He shook his head. Thoughts of Miranda would have to wait. As delightful a distraction as his letters with her were, it was likely the very distraction that made him sloppy enough to cause Lambert and his cohorts to become suspicious.

  He needed to focus and finish this mission before they set up their process at another aristocratic estate. “I’m going to London.”

  “Godspeed, my friend. I’ll pray for you.” Griffith rose and shook hands with Ryland.

  “I couldn’t ask for more.” Ryland left the room and called over his shoulder as he trotted down the passageway. “I’m borrowing a horse. I’ll leave him in your London stable.”

  If Griffith responded, he didn’t hear it.

  Chapter 15

  “What do you mean, ‘He’s gone’?” Miranda sat upright in the bath, sloshing water over the side. She had asked Amelia to make sure someone was taking care of Ryland. He had been through a trying ordeal as well.

  Amelia perched on a chair next to the bath and tilted her head at Miranda. “I mean he has left the premises. He has departed. There is no longer anyone with that name residing here at Riverton.”

  Miranda allowed her maid to help her on with her dressing robe and accepted a length of toweling to blot her hair. “Sardonicism does not become you, Amelia.”

  A grin stretched across the brunette’s face. “Dear Anthony has been teaching me many things.”

  Miranda frowned. “Dear Anthony should leave you alone. I like you as you are.”

  “So does he. That’s why he married me.” Amelia’s grin was positively cheeky.

  Miranda laughed, unable to stop herself in the face of her friend’s good humor, but then she returned to the subject at hand. “Surely he has only retired to his room.” Miranda could not believe that he was actually gone.

  Amelia shook her head. “No, there’s quite a to-do in the kitchen about it. Griffith followed Marlow straight up to his room after the two of you returned. Lisette was taking fresh water up for him when she heard them fighting. She fled back downstairs. Moments later, Marlow came bursting through the kitchen. He grabbed some cheese, an apple, and a meat pie before leaving out the back door.”

  “Maybe he went for a walk?” He should have had plenty of fresh air after their experience, but maybe he was still in shock. She moved to the dressing table to allow Sally to brush out her hair. She could see Amelia in the mirror.

  Amelia shook her head. “I saw him riding across the field.”

  “He took a horse?”

  Another nod. “One of the good ones.”

  Miranda turned from the mirror to better see her friend’s face. There had to be some confusion. If Ryland had taken Griffith’s horse, he wouldn’t be the man she thought him to be. “He took Griffith’s stallion?”

  Amelia waved a hand in the air. “No, no, he took Trent’s horse. The one he was keeping here for when he visited.”

  “That is not much better. He really took a horse from the stable? What will Griffith think?”

  “He doesn’t seem very concerned about it.” Delicate brown eyebrows pulled together in thought. “He seems much more concerned with having to find another valet. He mentioned something about sending someone after Mr. Herbert.”

  Miranda groaned. The poor man deserved to retire in peace. He had worked diligently for the master of the house for years. She was sure that she’d heard his creaking bones as he went up and down the stairs the last couple years.

  “I wonder where he went.” She ran a finger along the embroidery on the edge of her dressing gown. He’d left her. Granted he wasn’t anything to her in any official capacity, but they’d had such a nice talk as they walked across the countryside. Was he running from that? From her?

  Amelia cleared her throat and rose to take over hair-brushing duties. “Here, Sally, I can do that. Why don’t you see to having a tray brought up? I doubt Miranda feels up to going downstairs for dinner.”

  Miranda sighed. “A tray would be lovely,
Sally.”

  Silence weighed down the room for several moments after the door clicked quietly behind the exiting servant.

  “Why do you care?” Amelia finally asked.

  “You’re the one who is always saying I should remember that the servants are people too.”

  “And yet you’ve said nothing about the missing butler or undergardener.”

  Miranda rose and went to the window. The rain had returned, bringing an early darkness to the countryside. It looked as if tonight’s clouds would bring another ferocious storm. She thanked God that she had merely contended with rain on her adventure and prayed that Ryland was already to his destination, wherever that may be.

  “Miranda?”

  “I want to get married.”

  Amelia’s eyes widened. “To the valet?”

  “No. Yes. No. Oh, I have no idea.” Miranda threw herself across the bed, burying her face in the silk counterpane.

  She rolled to the side as Amelia’s slight weight caused the bed to dip. When no words were said, Miranda cracked open her eyelids to try to read what Amelia was thinking.

  “I had no idea you knew him so well,” Amelia finally said. “No one else seems to know him at all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I asked around a bit after hearing he had fled the estate. He distanced himself from everyone, which is not all that uncommon for an upper servant, but it was different. They said he never belonged belowstairs. His arrogance seemed genuine. Your housekeeper’s words. Not mine.”

  Amelia had a way of bonding with people from every station in life. If the housekeeper were going to talk to anyone, it would be her.

  “He was born higher. His family became destitute and he had to leave school and find work.” Miranda rubbed her hands over her face. This was crazy. The man was gone, and she should not be despairing over that. She should be thankful he left before she could form a serious attachment that would alter her life drastically.

  “That would explain a lot of things, then.”