A Country Masquerade

by Margaret McGaffey Fisk

  This would be her punishment for her sharp tone the night before.

  Charlotte’s ice seemed nothing in comparison to the absence of her friend, or worse, the burden of injuries given then left untended.

  Sarah had done nothing to warrant her ire, wanting only to keep Barbara safe both in reputation and heart. How broken had she become already that she would cast off a lifetime of care for a moment longer with a man who would be sure to despise her for the rest of his life.

  Barbara made up the tail end of their wild strawberry gathering expedition, her thoughts on more than the hoped for glimpse of bright red.

  She searched half-heartedly as she considered what she could do to repair the breach between her and Sarah. They’d had squabbles before, but never of this magnitude, and never such that Sarah felt it necessary to involve someone else before they could mend things.

  A twinge of anger flashed through Barbara at how Sarah had turned Charlotte against her, but just as quickly it vanished under the weight of her responsibility. She’d had no other choice, unless she meant to bed down in the straw of the cow barn, and that would mean more than just Charlotte would discover their falling out.

  No, if any were to blame for Sarah needing to seek Charlotte’s assistance, it fell on Barbara’s shoulders alone. Maybe if she’d chased after Sarah rather than waiting passively for her friend to return, Charlotte would never have known. Had she acted, perhaps Sarah would be at her side now, laughing as they proved incapable of hunting down the rare, but delectable fruits.

  Barbara gave a harsh chuckle as she realized Sarah had succeeded in her aim after all.

  The break between them consumed Barbara’s every thought, leaving none for wondering whether Aubrey would chance upon them this day as he had the other times. When she longed for company, it was Sarah who came first to mind.

  But thought of Aubrey, once risen, would not slip quietly away.

  There’d been a time when she would have laid the blame for this mess on his shoulders along with the rest. Her parents may not have intended this type of growth, but Barbara had indeed learned something of her own agency.

  Whereas she’d thought herself in command before, having secured her parents’ promise to choose her future husband, she’d been no more in control of her own self than a newborn calf in Marian’s stories as it struggled to stand. She’d let an overheard comment turn her into the worst of offenders, both in London and now here, practicing a deceit Charlotte had warned would only bring harm to herself and others. And it had certainly done that.

  She’d lost Sarah as well as any chance with Aubrey.

  With none but herself to shoulder responsibility, her future seemed bleak.

  That thought, more than any other, opened her eyes to the sole path before her.

  If she were to recover her own nature and cast aside her childish revenge, she’d have to stand up to her failings. To win Sarah’s regard once more, she’d have to do the one thing she’d rejected, the very thing she’d ordered her childhood friend not to accomplish.

  She had to tell Aubrey herself.

  The thought brought with it a wash of peace followed by anguish.

  The tale told, Aubrey would be quit of her presence, of her life. She’d never have the chance to laugh with him, to discuss poetry, plays, or even pigs. To regain her friend and her true self, she would have to lose the man who had taken hold of her very heart.

  “One last day. Surely Sarah would not deny me that much. Just for today, and then I will.”

  “Will what?” Jane said, coming up on her side. “Will finally concentrate enough to find some berries? You seem a bit distracted.” She glanced at the basket on Barbara’s arm. “And your weave is empty of a single one. Don’t think we’ll be quick to share when you did none of the labor.”

  “Perhaps you’ll walk with me and show me how to find them?” Barbara asked her cousin, grateful for the distraction. Aubrey had so far been absent, but if she were to keep up the pretense for even one short day, she needed to know what a country girl would. Seeking a flash of color seemed much too simple a direction for her to have any success.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Despite Charlotte’s warning gaze the previous day, Aubrey had a feeling the four sisters were not opposed to his interest in their servant, a suspicion confirmed when he once again came across them in the fields far from their father’s stables.

  “There you are,” the youngest of the daughters called out. “We were wondering if you’d see fit to grace us with your presence at all today.”

  “Georgie, don’t cause the man grief,” her sister Jane said, offering him a smile.

  Aubrey scanned the group, finding only the four sisters.

  “Don’t look so glum,” Marian told him as she rose from the ground with her basket swinging from one arm. “We’ll think our company not good enough for you.”

  He struggled for an appropriate response, but before he could appease, she thwacked him lightly on the arm. “It doesn’t count if it takes that much effort,” she teased. “I last saw Barbara hunting over yonder.”

  Aubrey gave a nod to each of the sisters, Charlotte reception the only chilly one, and set out after his country girl without even asking what they hunted today. Whether delicacy for the dinner table or medicines to make a man hearty once again, it mattered only the company he’d find when joining them.

  His eager step was well rewarded as he came upon Barbara seated in the dirt with her legs tucked under her in all propriety. A flash of regret went through him at the sight, her toes invisible once again.

  As he neared, she glanced up with a welcoming expression. Then something changed to make him suspect her mood not conducive to courting.

  “Good morning,” he said softly. “What are you collecting today?”

  Barbara looked to the ground then raised a hand without energy to reveal a small, red berry. “Strawberries. I’d offer you one to taste, but they’re so hard to find I fear Charlotte would have my head.”

  Whereas yesterday her tone would have been full of teasing delight and her eyes sparkling with mischief, today, her voice seemed as flat as the rest of her demeanor.

  Aubrey crouched next to Barbara. “What is so wrong that it takes the light from your character?”

  Her gaze jerked to his as though she’d been unaware of her affect until he brought it to her attention. Eyes wide, she revealed nothing to ease his concerns.

  “Tell me. Whatever it is, a burden shared is a burden halved.”

  She laughed then, not her usual, entrancing laugh, but a sour, bitter sound. “What troubles me will not be assisted by sharing, least of all with you.”

  Aubrey caught one of her hands and raised it to his chest. “Try me. You have too little faith in a man raised among women.”

  That brought color into her cheeks, but not the best kind.

  “You think this a simple women’s problem you can cure with a brush of your manly hand?” She tugged free of him. “I have fought with Sarah over something large enough to break a friendship counted in years, but you will cure me of the sorrow by offering a few short hours in your company instead?”

  Aubrey rocked onto his heels at her vehemence. While relieved a spat between friends caused the melancholy rather than learning someone she loved had a fatal disease, he knew enough from his sisters to understand the impact such could have. “I didn’t mean to belittle your upset. Only that it hurts me to see you saddened, and I would do all in my power to ease your pain.”

  She stared at him then, tears welling in her eyes though she refused to let them fall.

  “Come.” He took her hand to pull her upright. “While you figure out what is necessary to mend this breach, we can gather a wildflower bouquet to deliver with your apology. What young woman doesn’t like flowers?”

  She resisted his pull for only a moment before she joined him in standing, a little of her spirit returned to her expression. “You’re so quick to assume the apology
is mine to give.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. But the hurt is yours to suffer, and an apology sincerely meant, no matter who was at fault in the rift, can go a long way to healing it.”

  He won a smile then. “You are wise for a nobleman with no duties to keep you from me.”

  “Nothing,” he declared with all his heart, “could keep me from you.” Despite his concerns, the statement rang with truth not just for her but for himself as well.

  A shadow of sorrow returned to her face, but vanished again so quickly, he wondered if he’d imagined it.

  She’d confessed the cause for her misery else he’d think her father had found her a suitor, though perhaps some element of that question rose between her and her friend.

  “Is she to marry?” he asked, his thoughts translating to words. “Your friend that is.”

  She gave him a startled look. “No, of course not.”

  Her sharp rejection raised more questions than it answered, but she showed little sign of wanting to elaborate, and he chose not to push her.

  Instead, they sought out wildflowers and strawberries across the fields, the tiny white blossoms hard to find. When they reached the rocks at the edges, they trailed along them in hopes of a cluster more visible than in the grass.

  She asked him after London, a curiosity most in the country must share, and one he happily indulged. Though comfortable in the silence when it fell, he found himself telling her of his studies in law and politics, half expecting her interest to fade into ennui.

  Barbara probed his statements with the skill of a solicitor, articulating her concerns, asking exploratory questions, and even pointing out possibilities or conclusions he’d yet to consider, her earlier sorrow set aside for the moment.

  The more time he spent in her presence, the more intrigued he felt.

  Despite the limited circumstances of her birth and station, whether considered part of the farmer’s family or not, she had a curious mind and the sharp intellect to act on it.

  Perhaps he’d been too quick to assume London would tear the heart out of his Barbara. From what he’d seen today, she’d make short work of anyone trying to cast aspersions and would likely find the amount of information available to her amazing. He wondered if she could, in fact, thrive as his wife.

  “I think I see some over there,” Barbara said, appearing oblivious to the turn in his thoughts.

  He watched her scramble around a large pile of stones pulled from the rocky soil to make the field. Though she’d kept her feet clothed this time, her efforts gave him the opportunity to enjoy her rounded hips and long legs as the cloth of her skirt pulled taut. The sight distracted him enough that he had to increase his stride to catch up with her once she vanished from sight.

  “I knew it.”

  The delight she found in overcoming every challenge, whether daring her mistresses to match her riding skills or finding an elusive flower, astounded him. How could he have been so quick to dismiss her character, to think London stronger than the woman he found before him?

  “Are you going to help?” she demanded, forgetting their differences in station and life as she leaned up to pluck the ripe strawberries nestled in the very cluster of rocks she’d clamored over.

  As Aubrey moved to join her, he realized she must have glimpsed the flowers through a crack in the pile. The rocks blocked everything on the far side from view, including the other women.

  The hot sun beat down, mixing their momentary privacy with his thoughts of tying his life to hers to concoct a wild notion in his head, one he could not deny.

  She twisted to look at him, most likely to take him to task for not helping, but the movement brought her face so close to his he could feel her breath against his neck.

  Her gaze softened as she tipped her head up to see him more fully, presenting such an appealing picture even a monk would be hard pressed to resist. Aubrey, though particular, was no monk.

  WHEN SHE’D TURNED TO find him so close, Barbara had been startled, but not enough to back away.

  He bent slowly, giving her ample time to turn aside, but when his lips met the curve of her own, she sighed, opening her mouth to his exploration.

  Her nerves seemed to fire all at the same time. She couldn’t have ducked his advance had she wanted to. Her limbs turned to water, but even that could not stop the burning that demanded more.

  Sarah’s warning repeated somewhere in the back of her mind. She should have stayed with the other girls. She should never have put herself in this compromising position in the first place.

  Barbara shifted nearer. The feel of his lips over hers, warm, firm but yet not rough, sent delicious tingling throughout her body and she never wanted it to end.

  The thought managed what Sarah’s warning could not. It would end, and badly.

  She drew in a quick breath, struggling to regain control, but the air came imbued with a rich scent that was uniquely Aubrey.

  He pulled her tighter against him so she could feel the firm muscles of his chest.

  His arms provided support for her trembling limbs, and she sank into his warmth, unable to remember why she needed to protest. This was where she belonged. This place over anywhere else in the world no matter what Sarah, her uncle, or the whole of society might think of her.

  The blood rushed through her body, warming with a deeper heat somehow than the sun’s rays. Unfamiliar desires swept over her, and she wanted something more than the caress of his lips against hers though she did not know what.

  She needed his hand to stroke her cheek as he had once before, to feel his rough skin beneath her own touch. To melt together and become one, flesh to flesh without the barriers still between them.

  The image her unspoken desire brought to mind cut through Barbara’s muddled state with the force of a cleaver, wiping out the fog his nearness had brought upon her.

  Barbara jerked free, staggering against the pile of rocks that sheltered them when he did not fight to hold her.

  She stared at him, eyes wide with fear, but something more burned in her chest and begged her to return to his embrace.

  Her hand came up to touch damp, full lips, her own not his though he stood so temptingly close.

  With a strangled cry, she gripped her skirts in both hands and twisted away from him to break into a run as soon as she stepped free of the rocks.

  She didn’t choose the direction, but when she noticed the forest edge so near, her speed increased to as fast as she could manage while holding her skirts free from her legs. There in the forest, she’d be able to lose him among the tall trees and thick undergrowth. There she’d find a quiet place to measure her sins.

  She’d wanted one last day in his company before telling him the truth of her station, her name, and what drove her to hide it from him though she knew she little deserved the gift. Once told, he’d scorn her. He’d never speak to her again.

  So why had she come so close to giving him everything, her reputation, her future, and her body along with the foolish heart he’d claimed already? Had he pressed, had he fought her moment of conscience, she’d have lain down with him there in the field without hesitation.

  One hand rose to her swollen lips again, losing her skirt enough so she almost tripped and tumbled down one of the many sharp descents this forest owned. Barbara righted herself, but the sensation of her full lips and the way her skin tingled all over drove Barbara to greater speed. Her clothing had served as an all too frail barrier to his touch.

  She ran now, driven by how she ached more than anything to be back there with him in the field. She wanted to touch the passion he drew from her, to see how she inspired the same in him.

  Barbara stopped to catch her breath, one hand clutched around a nearby branch.

  How could she inspire true emotions in Aubrey?

  He knew nothing of her. He’d seen only the country girl, a servant in a farmhouse, and thought that to be the sum of her. Why else would he have kissed her there in the field desp
ite his impassioned declaration?

  Tears gathered in her eyes, blurring the route before her even as she started off again, unwilling to chance him finding her so vulnerable and raw.

  If he were to catch up, with all that lay between them, she’d have to confess, to tell him why she ran from him, and then she’d long for the days he thought her a simple servant girl. Once he knew the truth, he’d never see her as anything but a scheming witch.

  No matter how much she now knew her revenge a ploy not against him but against herself, no matter how much her infatuation had deepened until he claimed the full of her, she had lied to him, made a fool of him this whole time. No man could forgive such a thing, not even Aubrey.

  She sank behind a bramble, too worn out to run any further and sure she’d lost him in the time it took for him to get over the shock of her escape. He would come after her, to demand an explanation if for no other reason, but she’d wandered the forest with her cousins often enough, both as a child and now on Charlotte’s various tasks. He’d have no experience with this one even if he had spent any time in the woods beyond roaming the edge with her that one day.

  Memories of Aubrey crashed down on her, each one stabbing with the knowledge that they belonged to her past. She could not stay here another moment, not after this. Let Sarah tell him, or Uncle Ferrier. It mattered not at all.

  Tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest, she’d beg her uncle for transport to London where she belonged, among the frivolous debutantes who had no thought in their heads beyond scheming to capture a husband. She’d take the stagecoach if she had to, or give up a precious piece of jewelry for a horse. She’d ride all the way back to London with her skirts tucked up between her legs if that’s what it took to put what she’d done, what she’d lost, behind her for good.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  It took Aubrey longer than it should have to comprehend Barbara’s flight.

  He’d been in a haze, captivated by her and by the possibility of having found true happiness. He’d pushed her too far, too fast, and all without revealing what had been on his mind. She would have had no way of knowing he meant to offer for her, to make her his wife.