A Dangerous Masquerade

by Linda Sole

‘Where is my money?’

  ‘I have two hundred francs downstairs, to pay taxes when the demand is made. I gave all the rest to the nuns.’

  ‘Then you can go and get it back for me.’

  ‘I can’t take it away from them now. You don’t understand, sir. They need that money so badly, not just for taxes and food or clothing but to keep the children safe. If the children were hungry they would search for food and then he would catch them and take them back. He is a cruel evil man and most of them will die within a few years – if they survive the beatings and the hunger. If they live through his cruelty they may die of disease.’

  The man frowned at her. Constance knew that he was deciding whether or not to believe her.

  ‘What is the name of this villain?’

  ‘Andre Renard. He uses the children as thieves and prostitutes – and if they refuse to work or run away, he beats and starves them into submission.’

  ‘How do you know all this? Why has he not been arrested and imprisoned?’

  ‘He is too clever to be caught, but the nuns know of his evil, because the children they’ve rescued tell them.’

  ‘Are there many children at the house?’

  ‘At the last count I think it was forty.’

  ‘To keep so many children safe takes a deal of money. I might allow them to keep mine – if this house exists and your story is true. If it doesn’t…I shall exact a fitting revenge.’

  Constance trembled inside as she gazed into his eyes. His expression puzzled her. At first he’d been angry but now his emotions were harder to judge.

  ‘I swear on my mother’s memory that I have not lied to you.’

  ‘Supposing that you even know who your mother was.’

  ‘You are insulting, sir.’

  ‘I am Moraven, Mademoiselle Hatherstone – if that is your name?’

  ‘It is certainly my name, my father’s name. He was married to my mother and an English teacher, as I told you.’

  ‘But also a gambler. How did he die?’

  ‘Someone followed him home after he won a pocketful of money. He was badly beaten, robbed and left for dead. Pierre and I found him and took him home to nurse him, but I think he had nothing left to live for and he just gave up.’

  ‘Leaving you to struggle on alone.’

  ‘Papa told me to send my mother’s father a letter telling him of my existence, but he did not wish to know me. My letter was returned unopened.’

  ‘So you found work with the comtesse and her disreputable husband?

  ‘She was not his wife when I first went to work for her. My lady is a sweet, gentle, person and he treated her ill. I did not blame her for running away and I have vowed to keep her things for her until she returns.’

  ‘It is too late to disturb the good nuns at this hour. In the morning you shall take me to see them. If your story is true I may be able to help.’

  ‘You would become their patron?’

  ‘Perhaps. Perhaps I could do more.’

  ‘I do not understand you, sir?’

  ‘I am in no mood to enlighten you. Take my word, Constance. I make a good friend but I am a bad enemy. I hope for your sake that you have told me the truth.’

  ‘You will discover it is so in the morning. If you could be here at ten o’clock I shall take you there myself.’

  ‘I have no intention of leaving.’

  ‘You cannot stay here in my room!’

  ‘You stole my money. I am unable to pay for my board at the hotel so I shall stay here.’

  Constance glared at him. His clothes were of the finest; the diamond ring he wore on his right hand must be worth a small fortune – and she was certain his loss was of no real consequence.

  ‘There are plenty of rooms elsewhere in the house.’

  ‘I have a fancy to stay here. The bed is large enough for two.’

  ‘How dare you! I am no light-skirt, sir. I refuse to allow you to ravish me.’

  Moraven laughed. ‘The chit flatters herself. Have I said I wanted any such thing? It is merely that I suspect you, my lady. If I leave you, both you and the old woman will disappear into the night.’

  ‘Where would we go? I have told you, we stay here until the comtesse returns to claim her things. If you do not trust me, you may sleep in the dressing room next door. There is a couch through there – but I think you would be more comfortable in a bed.’

  He unwound his long lean form from the bed and stood up, looking down into her indignant face with a mocking smile.

  ‘Very well, Mistress Hatherstone. Since my presence offends your modesty, I shall leave you to sleep alone – but I warn you, I am a light sleeper. Try to run away and I shall give you the punishment you deserve.’

  ‘And what is that?’ Constance asked rashly.

  ‘To be put across my knee and soundly spanked,’ he replied with such a gleam in his eyes that it was all she could do not to gasp.

  ‘You are no gentleman, sir.’

  ‘And you, Constance, are no lady.’

  ‘I would that I were a man. I should take my riding crop to you.’

  ‘So you ride? You are full of surprises. Just where do you truly belong?’

  ‘For the moment I belong here. For the future – I have no idea,’ Constance said truthfully. ‘Please leave me. I shall lock the door between us. If I tried to leave you could catch me in the hall. I do not care to lie in my bed knowing that you could walk in at any moment.’

  ‘As I said before, you flatter yourself. I should advise you not to run from me, Constance. You would certainly be sorry.’

  ‘I have no intention of running. You’ve promised help for the children. If you mean it, it would be the most wonderful thing.’

  ‘I never say what I do not mean. Go to bed and do not worry. I have never taken an unwilling woman yet – I’ve never needed too. Most of them fall into my arms too easily.’

  ‘This one will not!’

  ‘Indeed?’ He laughed softly. ‘You haven’t experienced my powers of persuasion. I’ll wager I could have you eating out of my hand within a month if I wished it.’

  Constance threw him a withering look then marched to the dressing room door and held it open. ‘Pray leave me before your head grows so large that you can fit through the frame.’

  Moraven’s head went back and he laughed heartily. ‘You have spirit, milady. I admire that and I shall give you the benefit of the doubt. Until the morning, Constance.’

  She tossed her head, refusing to answer. As soon as the door closed behind him she locked it. Retreating to her bed, she sat down on the edge, her legs feeling decidedly weak. Her first instinct was to wait until he was sleeping and then rouse Heloise and flee, but if she did that she might never find Madeline. Instinctively, she had felt from the first that if she stayed here for as long as she could, her mistress would return. She could not run and hide dragging three trunk loads of costly gowns to say nothing of jewels and silver that rightfully belonged to Madeline. Selling them was out of the question. No, she must continue to live here and manage as best she could until the comtesse returned, which meant she had no choice but to take Moraven into her confidence.

  Could she trust him? He was undoubtedly dangerous, but she believed him when he said he made a bad enemy. Would he also be a good friend to the nuns and their children?

  Constance stretched out on the bed. Oddly, she could smell a different fragrance to the one she was accustomed to. He must use cologne or some scented oil on his hair. Reaching down, she pulled a light covering over her. The door was locked but she was taking no chances. Her clothes stayed on until she changed in the morning.

  Moraven pulled off his boots and removed his jacket. The sofa did not look particularly comfortable. He would be better advised to seek a bed somewhere else in the house or to return to his hotel. If he were practical he would forget the loss of his purse. Most of the money it had contained had been won from others and meant little to him. True he would need to visit the Paris
branch of the bank he patronised and transfer funds, but that was easy enough and he had planned to do so soon, because his business was taking him longer than he’d imagined at the start. He was not sure what had made him so determined to discover the young woman’s secret.

  ‘Did he believe her? He had accused her of being a cheat and a liar, feeling amused as he saw the indignation in her eyes. She was probably telling the truth when she said it was the first time she’d stolen anything, though of course she might be a consummate actress - and if she was telling the truth – what then? Did he truly wish to become involved?

  He might well have been satisfied with taking a small revenge – her lips were very tempting and that disguise was tantalising enough to inflame any man’s senses. Especially when she removed the cap and let down her long, dark red hair. Her green eyes had flashed in the candlelight and it had taken all his self control not to pick her up, throw her down on the bed and ravish her. Had she agreed to lie beside him, he doubted the night would have passed without her becoming his mistress.

  She claimed to be innocent, but how could he believe her? The way she’d looked at that gaming party and the life she was leading proclaimed her as a woman who could be both reckless and daring. How was it possible that she had not found herself a protector before this?

  She must surely be lying? No one who took such risks could be as pure and innocent as she professed. The morning would tell. He yawned and lay down, closing his eyes, but did not fall asleep for his mind was busy.

  The reason he had been so determined not to lose her was because she had mentioned a name – a name that meant something to him. If her enemy and his was the same man…excitement crawled down his spine as he contemplated the likely outcome. She clearly knew of Renard and perhaps she or the nuns knew where he could find him.

  Thus far Moraven’s search had been frustrated at every turn. Renard was but one of the names his enemy used but it might be the one that led to his downfall. The Comte Devallier was another name often used by his enemy, but he had as many names as disguises and since Moraven had started to search for him, he seemed to have disappeared.

  What no one must know was the real reason why Moraven was here in Paris. Outwardly, he was an English milord who liked to drink and gamble, a man who had left England under a bit of a cloud, his reputation in tatters. In truth he was here on government business on the trail of a dangerous spy and murderer. Renard, if that was his true name, had posed as the Comte Devallier in society in London and, after winning a large sum of money from an aristocrat who should have known better, he had disappeared with certain important documents relating to the crown in his possession.

  The Regent’s reputation had been torn to shreds in the papers often enough, but this document was dangerous, because it was proof of a marriage between Prinny and Maria Fitzherbert. Should it ever be published it would affect Princess Caroline’s standing as the prince’s wife and must be suppressed at all costs.

  ‘Devallier wormed his way into the fool’s confidence,’ the government minister told him. ‘He is a dangerous man. Rumours are one thing but the proof could be highly damaging to the crown and therefore the stability of England. Besides, we are pretty certain that Devallier is the man you’ve been after for some years.’

  ‘Renard? You are saying he is Andrew Renard?’ Moraven’s gaze narrowed, becoming painful in its intensity. ‘You are certain that he is the one?’

  ‘Pretty sure. The rogue has gone under various names, but he was recognised by someone who came over to us during that time – and we know that he’s into all kinds of depravity. The man is a menace. We want you to kill him and recover that document.’

  ‘I told you that I meant to retire and settle down.’

  ‘One last task and it will all be over. I know you’ve had to carry the suspicion that you were the traitor, Moraven. Do this for us and I’ll make certain your name is cleared with Pendleton and the others.’

  ‘They probably wouldn’t believe you.’ Moraven shrugged carelessly. ‘It hardly matters after so long – but if Renard is the one I’ll be pleased to do as you ask. He betrayed us in Spain and ten or more men met their deaths because of him. I owe him for that.’

  ‘Good man. I knew you wouldn’t let us down.’

  Moraven smiled grimly. ‘If the man who was terrorising nuns and children was the man who had betrayed his comrades, he would be killing two birds with one stone.

  He’d been following a lead when he came to Paris three weeks earlier, but some discreet inquiries about the Comte Devallier had met with a brick wall. As soon as the name was mentioned, faces went blank and people avoided his eyes, even crossing the road rather than be seen talking to him. It seemed that just the name was sufficient to throw fear into his informers.

  However, if Devallier and Renard were the same man, and he had every reason to believe it so, he might just have stumbled on a clue. A man like Renard wouldn’t take kindly to children being stolen away from him, especially if the nuns were taking in all those they could find on the streets. In time he was going to try taking them back – and in doing so might just reveal his hand.

  Of course, the added bonus of a beautiful woman made the quest all the more interesting. Something about Constance Hatherstone made him suspect that she had not always been in service. She said her father had been a language teacher but he was also a gambler. The question was, who was he before his gambling brought him to such a position – and who was the girl’s mother. The reason she’d been so easily accepted as the comtesse was because she was clearly a lady. The story she’d told him was only a part of her mystery and he found he was intrigued.

  Smiling and despite his determination not to sleep, he found himself drifting away.

  Constance lay wakeful for a while but then she too slept. It was morning when Heloise brought a tray of hot chocolate and bread rolls with honey into her room. Constance sat up as the old woman put the tray across her lap.

  ‘He’s here in the house,’ Heloise said. ‘Nearly frightened the life out of me – it’s the man who came to the door when you went out last night, madame. He says you know he’s here?’

  ‘He refused to leave,’ Constance said, stifling a yawn. ‘I stole his purse and he made me tell him why.’

  ‘God have mercy!’ Heloise crossed herself. ‘Isn’t it bad enough that you risk being unmasked as an impostor night after night? Have you run mad that you stole a man’s purse? And such a man! You foolish girl. You will ruin yourself and for what – a pack of children who will go back to the streets the moment the nuns turn their backs.’

  ‘You don’t mean that,’ Constance said. ‘If you’d seen little Lucille when she first came to us…she was so thin and ill. She would have died if the nuns had not nursed her.’

  ‘That’s all well and good,’ Heloise grumbled. ‘But if you start stealing purses you will end with a rope about your neck.’

  ‘Yes, I know. It was wrong and foolish of me. I shall not do it again.’

  ‘What does this man want of you? He won’t let you take his purse for nothing – a man like that always wants payment. Did he spend the night in your bed?’

  ‘No!’ Constance was angry. ‘You should know I would never do such a thing. How could you think it?’

  ‘Because I’ve seen men like that one before. Mon Dieu! Think what you are doing child. That one is dangerous. He wants something from you or he would not still be here.’

  ‘Yes, I think he may want something. I do not know what he wants, but I shall be careful, Heloise. You should not worry about me.’

  ‘I have nowhere else to go,’ the old woman said. ‘You could go anywhere. I think the comtesse is dead. Take her things. We could find a small cottage somewhere and live in peace.’

  ‘Yes, I know that is what you need,’ Constance said. ‘If the money were mine I would find you a home of your own – but it belongs to the comtesse. I must not leave or she will have nothing when she returns. If the comte’s co
usin had reason to believe that I was not her he would take everything.’

  ‘Well, I suppose you will do as you please – but be careful of that one downstairs. He has helped himself to the comte’s things as calm as you like. If I’d known he was in the house I should not have slept a wink.’

  ‘I think you were safe enough. He had seen you earlier but meant you no harm.’

  Heloise sniffed. ‘It’s not me I’m thinking of. Watch yourself, my lady, or he will have the clothes off your back before you know where you are.’

  Constance laughed and her friend went away scowling. Heloise was right to be wary of him, of course – but her instincts were telling her to trust him. He had said that he might be able to help the nuns and that was worth taking a personal risk. He wouldn’t be the first rake that had tried to seduce her since she’d taken on Madeline’s identity. Besides, if he wanted to stay here there wasn’t much Constance could do to stop him.

  Having drunk her chocolate and eaten her rolls, she got out of bed. There was cold water in the jug on her washstand, but she wasn’t going downstairs to fetch warm water, as she usually did, in her nightrail. She would use the cold and dress before she ventured downstairs in search of her guest.

  As she fastened her gown at the front, then tied her hair into a knot at the back, she was thinking about the man who had broken into her house and forced her to allow him to stay in her dressing room. Just who was he – and why hadn’t he denounced her as a thief to the beadle? His reputation was hardly that of a gallant gentleman so why had he said he might help the children? It hardly fitted with what was whispered of him – and something in his manner had told her she could trust him the previous night, even though she’d been angry with him.

  He had mocked her and spoken of her joining him on the bed, but he’d made no attempt to force himself on her. Constance knew how badly her mistress had suffered at her husband’s hands. The comte’s cruelty to his young wife had at times been unspeakable. Madeline had spoken of beatings, rape and worse, her spirit almost broken by the time she ran away. Knowing that they were alone in the house, apart from Heloise, who did not hear well and usually read people’s lips, he could have done whatever he pleased with Constance. She would have fought him, but his strength would have overcome her.