A Dangerous Masquerade

by Linda Sole

  ‘I believe our rooms have been taken,’ Moraven muttered, gritting his teeth. ‘Do your worst. I shall have a stiff brandy and then we’ll continue, though I may not get as far as I’d hoped.’ He looked at his man. ‘I suppose he’s dead, Jim?’

  ‘Yes, cap’n. I wasn’t taking any chances.’

  ‘Thank you. Is he the last?’

  ‘Yes, I believe he is the last, my lord.’

  ‘Do not milord me, Jim. It’s cap’n to you and always will be.’

  ‘Yes, cap’n,’ the man said and grinned. ‘Would it be best if I tagged along, sir? Just in case you need a hand on the way?’

  Moraven hesitated, then inclined his head. ‘Perhaps that might be best since I would rather that Lady South was not put in a difficult position because of my incapacity.’

  Constance might have protested had she not thought that the resourceful Jim would be handy should Moraven take ill on the journey. He was such a stubborn man that he might be difficult to control in a fever.

  With mutual agreement the three of them set out a little later, Jim riding close behind the carriage. Moraven was determined to make light of his injury and began by making conversation, telling Constance about his various homes and inquiring where she might like to live.

  ‘If you’ve a partiality for London we could open up the house my uncle left to me. I dare say it would need a complete refurbishment but you might enjoy the chance to have it styled to your own taste.’

  ‘London like Paris is wonderful for visits and shopping trips,’ Constance told him. ‘However, I have always enjoyed the country. There is nothing to compare with walking in the country – and country gardens are so much bigger and therefore a joy.’

  ‘You remind me of someone I once knew?’ Moraven said with a little twist of his lips. ‘She loved her garden.’

  ‘Are you speaking of the young lady you once wished to marry?’

  ‘Angie? Good grief, no. She was too young to have any fixed ideas and could not wait for her first London season. I was speaking of my mother. She was a very lovely woman but completely faithless. She left my father and me for a lover when I was very young. When he deserted her she was ill, dying of a lung congestion. She begged my father to let her live at the dower house but he refused her. One of her friends took pity on her and gave her a cottage on his estate, where she died soon after – but I was not allowed to see her. My father refused to speak her name in the house for years.’

  ‘How terrible for her.’ Constance was shocked. ‘He was hurt by her desertion of course, but to refuse her when she was ill…’

  ‘It was barbaric, of course,’ Moraven said. ‘I never forgave him for it. He would not have told me of course but I overheard their quarrel. She was not permitted to enter the house. They spoke beneath one of the trees in the garden and neither of them knew that I was perched somewhere in the canopy above them.’

  ‘You must have felt awful. I think you loved your mother a great deal?’

  ‘Loved her and hated her, as my father did of course. Not that he was blameless. He had his own light o’loves, a succession of mistresses some of whom were ladies of quality and stayed in our house. My mother was supposed to accept and forgive but in the end she resented his infidelity and sought her own happiness. Unfortunately for her, when she fell ill her lover deserted her. He was younger and he did not wish to care for a sick woman.’

  ‘That was cruel,’ Constance said, her heart aching. ‘Did you know his name?’

  ‘I discovered it later. When I was first on the town he was pointed out to me. I ruined him at the card table and I heard he shot himself a few months later.’ Moraven’s voice had become a little slurred, as if he were hardly aware of what he said. ‘Does that make me his murderer, Constance?’

  ‘I dare say you did not hold a pistol to his head, either when he played or afterwards?’

  Moraven laughed a little oddly. ‘Acquitting me of all crimes, Constance? It is as well you do not know all…’

  His words tailed away and his eyes closed. She saw that his face was very pale and his body sagged to one side. Tapping the roof of the carriage, she had it brought to a halt and glanced out as Jim came riding up to them at once.

  ‘I believe he has fainted,’ she said. ‘I think it was a mistake to travel. Is there a decent inn near by where we may find a bed for him and another doctor may be called?’

  ‘Yes, my lady. It is just up ahead, less than five minutes away. I’ve stopped there myself and the people are honest. Shall I ride on ahead and have rooms prepared?’

  ‘Yes, please. I do not care to go much further until my lord is rested and feeling better.’

  As Jim went off and the coachman whipped up his horses once more, proceeding at a steady walk, Constance transferred to Moraven’s side of the carriage. She bent over the sick man, placing a hand to his brow. He was muttering, a look of pain on his face, as if he were remembering the things that had hurt him. She wondered if he would recall telling her about his mother’s desertion and the unkind way his father had treated her when she was ill.

  Stroking his hair back from his head, she held him in her arms as they completed the rest of the short journey to the inn, which was mercifully short.

  Jim had secured the rooms they needed and someone had been sent for the local physician. Constance was assured he was a good man by the anxious host, as Moraven was carried carefully from the coach and into the inn. He stirred a little and tried to protest that he could walk but in another moment seemed to lose consciousness again. Catching sight of blood on his shirt, Constance realised that somehow the wound had begun to bleed again, which might be the reason for his faint.

  She followed behind the men carrying Moraven, entering a large clean bedchamber and noting with approval that the linen was fresh and smelled of lavender. Once Moraven was lying comfortably and most of the men had departed, Jim helped her to remove his shirt so that the could see the extent of the damage. Although the wound had been bound it had come loose again and bled again, though the blood had dried now.

  ‘So stupid…’ Moraven’s eyes were open. He looked at her apologetically. ‘Can’t think what overcame me. Thought it was nothing…’

  ‘The bandage must have come loose almost at once and you lost more blood. I dare say that is why you passed out,’ Constance said. ‘A doctor has been sent for but I am going to bind your arm in the meantime, though I think the blood has stopped now.’

  ‘Sorry to be such a damned nuisance…’

  ‘No, how could you be? You did so much for me and I have had very little trouble for Jim saw to everything.’

  ‘Good man.’ Moraven smiled oddly. ‘Lucky to have such friends…don’t deserve them…but I shall frighten you away, Constance. If I ramble too much you must stop your ears and not listen. A man in a fever cannot be blamed for the foolish things he says.’

  ‘You have said nothing that shocked me so very much?’

  ‘No?’ He arched a mobile brow. ‘It did not shock you to know that I ruined my mother’s lover at the card table – and he killed himself because of it?’

  ‘He was able to get up and walk away at any time if he wished and unless you held a pistol to his head you are not guilty of his death.’

  ‘You do not ask if I cheated him?’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘No – but I encouraged him to be careless and drink while I remained sober.’

  ‘Perhaps not within the spirit of things but again it was his choice.’

  ‘It gained me the reputation of being a hard man at the tables. You would be surprised how many young idiots were determined to pit themselves and their fortunes against me. Sometimes I lost large sums but often I won. People – men I thought friends – believed me to careless of who I hurt, but I always gave my victims a chance to retreat or to get their revenge - all except the first. I told him that if he could not pay I would see him in the Fleet…'

  ‘Would you have done so?’

  ‘
Yes, perhaps. I blamed him for my mother’s unhappy end.’

  ‘Then you had your reasons. What he did was unkind and careless – you had every right to your anger.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps.’ Moraven sighed as she finished tying the bandage. ‘That feels better. I could go on again if you wish?’

  ‘Not for the world. You must stay here for a day or two, until you feel better.’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’ Moraven smiled ruefully. ‘I believe I may have met my match in you, Constance. Why am I so afraid that you would not like me if you knew me better?’

  ‘Because you are a foolish man,’ she said and smiled. ‘We shall have a lifetime to discover what we truly feel, Moraven. For the moment I think you should rest and allow the doctor to do his work…for I think he comes now. I shall leave you to him and go to my room but I will return before he leaves.’

  ‘Don’t run away from me, Constance. I don’t think I could bear it if you did.’

  Her heart caught as she saw the look in his eyes. ‘I have no intention of leaving you, sir. Where do you imagine I should go if I did? I am well content with my bargain and I hope to make you a good wife.’

  True to her word, Constance took off her outer clothes, freshened her face and hands and returned to Moraven’s chamber just as the doctor was preparing to leave. He was lying with his eyes closed, his face pale. She would have gone to him but the doctor addressed her at once.

  ‘Are you the young woman who bound his lordship’s arm?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Did I do something wrong?’

  ‘No, you made excellent work of it. I have applied a healing unguent and rebound it, but I think you are just the person to dress the wound later this evening for I am attending a patient who may be giving birth and unable to return. You would have no objection to nursing his lordship?’

  ‘None at all, sir,’ Constance smiled. ‘I think he may have a slight fever for he was very warm earlier. Do you have anything to help with that or the pain if he should need it?’

  ‘My patient assures me that he can bear the pain and does not wish for laudanum, but I will send my boy with something for fever should it be needed, though at the moment he seems easy enough.’

  ‘Your patient is well able to speak for himself. I am perfectly comfortable here and shall be ready to go on again in the morning. You will not tire yourself by fussing over me, Constance.’

  ‘I am not fussing, Moraven. You may well be able to continue in the morning,’ Constance replied. ‘I thought you were sleeping, which might be a good thing for I dare say you are feeling not quite the thing.’ Turning to the doctor, she smiled. ‘I have recently been ill and my lord spent many hours watching over me. His unfortunate accident means that I can now pay back a little of all that he did for me.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear you were unwell, my lady. Are you able to manage alone?’

  ‘Perfectly well. Besides, I have his lordship’s man to help me should I need him. Thank you for your time, sir.’

  ‘Send for me should you need my help.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Constance walked to the door with him, then returned to the bed. Moraven was looking at her oddly.

  ‘You even sounded like my mother then. I do not need a nurse, Constance. What I want from you is something very different.’

  ‘You want the lady in black you first saw in Paris I think,’ Constance said and smiled. ‘Well, she is a part of me but not the whole. I shall try not to disappoint you, Moraven – but, as you come to know me better, and if I should disappoint you, I shall ask only that you help me to find my friends. And now I am going to leave you to sleep.’

  ‘Constance, do not go. Damn it, what do you mean – disappointed…I meant no such thing…’

  ‘Go to sleep, Moraven. I shall call in on you later.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Seeing that the inn had a pretty garden, Constance went outside and walked in the fresh air for a few minutes. It was quite warm despite a ruffling breeze and she found a seat where she could sit in privacy, needing to be alone with her thoughts for a short time. Somehow, she had not expected Moraven to tell her so much of his inner thoughts. It was easy to see that recounting his mother’s past and her unfortunate death had been an emotional journey for him. His feelings must have been bottled up inside him for many years – why had he decided to tell her something so personal?

  It was almost as if he were testing her, discovering just how far she was willing to go before her good opinion of him was shattered. Why would he do that – unless he was regretting his decision to offer her marriage?

  He had told her more than once that marriage was not something he’d planned on or wished for; he would, she believed, have preferred to make her his mistress. However, discovering that she was a virgin when he took her and that she was from a decent if not important family, he now felt obliged to marry her. It must be so, because despite his manner towards her, which was both considerate and caring, she could not imagine what benefit their marriage would bring him.

  Yes, they had been passionate lovers and they liked each other well enough, but that was surely not sufficient reason for him to give up his prized freedom to marry her. Unless, of course, he felt the need to get himself an heir and saw her as an obliging and comfortable companion?

  Yet she sensed that he wanted more from her. It had not been put into words but lay beneath the pricking and verbal challenges.

  Could it be that Moraven cared more than he was willing to put into words – or was she hoping for too much?

  Constance sighed deeply. She longed for Moraven to love her, as she loved him, though she felt she asked too much. He’d made it clear that his proposal had its limitations and she’d accepted them – but then why did he seem as if he was trying to make her change her mind?

  Unless he regretted making the offer?

  No, she would not be missish. She was reading too much into his behaviour. A man who had been shot in the arm, narrowly escaping death, was entitled to some show of temperament. Moraven had saved her life, because she would almost certainly have died had he not found her when he did. A little push as the assassin fired was nothing compared with what he’d done for her. She would not pout or demand or allow him to provoke her no matter what he said to her.

  Laughing at herself, she rose to her feet and went back into the inn. She must look in on Moraven and make sure that he was comfortable and had not taken a turn for the worse.

  *

  She’d saved his life. Moraven knew that Jim would have been too late to stop the assassin had Constance not spotted the pistol in that rogue’s hand and pushed him aside. She was so brave and beautiful – and lovely inside. He hadn’t realised in Paris just how fine a person she truly was, for the person she’d seemed to be while wearing the Comtesse’s gown had fooled him. Or had he seen it but simply not wanted to admit that she was perfection…the kind of woman he had hoped to marry when he was a young man and filled with ideals?

  He moved his hand to his arm, feeling the soreness beneath the bandage. It was a damned nuisance for the loss of blood had left him feeling weaker than he liked. Had he not felt that movement might bring him crashing down, he would not have been prepared to lie here this way. It was annoying when there was so much he wanted to do and say. If there was one thing he disliked it was being obliged to lie here like an invalid, especially when he wanted to take Constance to see her new home – and to buy her the new gowns and the trinkets she deserved to have.

  When he thought of the way she had been treated by others, he felt as if he might explode with anger. The comtesse had shown contempt rather than gratitude for all that Constance had done for her. Had Constance simply taken what she was due for her wages and walked away Madeline would have found it difficult to retrieve what was hers from her husband’s relatives. She might even have been charged with deserting her husband and contributing to his illness by her absence. Constance had nursed the man, even though she disliked him, and
she played out that dangerous masquerade for the sake of the nuns and their rescued children. She was brave and fine and lovely all through and he…wanted her more than he could ever tell her.

  Damn it, he loved her. Moraven finally admitted it in his heart. It wasn’t just respect or lust or the fact that he needed an heir – or even that he needed to look after her and keep her safe. He was in love, a situation so new and shocking that he hardly knew how he felt about it.

  As a young man an arranged marriage with a young woman he’d known from childhood had seemed likely. He’d felt tenderness and concern for the frail Angela. Angie, as he’d called her when they played as children, had been the victim of Rheumatic fever and it had left her much weakened. He had spent much of his time at her bedside, reading to her, trying to make her laugh, taking her small gifts. In a way he had loved her, but it was the love of an elder brother or a dear friend. Their fathers had thought it the ideal marriage, a way of seeing two estates joined as one, and Angie had wanted it too.

  ‘I can’t marry anyone else,’ she’d told him when he’d asked if she truly wanted to marry him. He’d been concerned that she was being pushed into it, as he was, but she’d smiled and held his hand, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. ‘If you won’t marry me I won’t marry anyone, Laurie. No one is as kind as you, even Papa doesn’t understand me the way you do.’

  He’d agreed because there was no one else he wanted to marry. He was lonely, as she was, and he’d felt it would be all right – not wonderful or exciting, but comfortable. Then she’d taken a walk on a damp day and the fever had set in again. He’d been with her at the end, holding her until she breathed her last. Her father had been in tears when he’d thanked him.

  Moraven had left home that evening for London. He’d wanted to get away from all he knew, everything that reminded him of the delicate sweet girl who had not deserved to die so miserably.