A Country Masquerade

by Margaret McGaffey Fisk

  He’d chosen the answer that trumped any protest she might think to make. She’d been the one to encourage him from the start. Surely she wouldn’t hold him back with everything hanging in the balance.

  “At least stay the night and set out well rested. You’ll do no good showing up at Lord Whitfeld’s doorstep mussed and raving at an hour when the household is still abed. Their butler would toss you out before you had the chance to make your case,” Jasper said, perhaps seeing an opening to change their agreement. “I doubt they’ll rush her decision what with her mysterious jaunt to the country. It would only cause gossip.”

  Aubrey’s memory flashed back to when he’d first awoken and knew his friend suspected a similar event would occur when he reached London. “I promise you both, I will stay calm. Now that I know what was behind her tears, I cannot delay and chance her giving up on me. This all began because I saw fit to lay judgment on a slew of girls I hardly knew if at all. Why would she not presume the same when I learned of her mischief?”

  Daphne pressed a hand to Jasper’s arm before he could speak again. “Promise us this much. When the carriage reaches London, direct it to your lodgings. Lie down if you cannot sleep, at least until fashionable society recognizes the existence of the day. Remember you’ve been keeping country hours. Besides, after so long traveling, you’ll need your rest. It won’t help your case any to collapse on her doorstep. She might be moved, but her father would suspect you of being in your cups.”

  He nodded, seeing the wisdom in her words and knowing his other promise to stay calm had a greater chance when his energy wasn’t at a low ebb.

  The conversation turned to different subjects, much to Aubrey’s relief, but his thoughts kept dwelling on what he’d learned.

  He had no particular memory of how he’d condemned Barbara in specific, but that her name came from his lips stood crystal clear in his remembrances.

  Perhaps Jasper’s mother drove him, or maybe his heart recognized a connection before his mind could. Perhaps she’d been the focus of his thoughts not because he found her wanting but because he wanted her then as he did now.

  He needed to make her see that even as he’d called her frivolous, he’d been the one too foolish to know what he’d cast aside. Her own actions paled next to that fact, and though extreme, he could see why she’d felt driven to seek recompense from him.

  Daphne’s hand on his shoulder brought Aubrey back to awareness only to discover the meal done and his friends already leaving the table.

  “If she means this much to you, you’re right to hurry. Fight for her. Don’t let anything stand in your way even if she has accepted one of the others. If she feels a fraction of what you do, denying it will only make you both miserable for a lifetime, along with the poor fellow she’s settled on.”

  He didn’t know what to say in response, and she’d gone from the room before he could say a word anyway. In the distance, he could hear her calling her staff and assigning them tasks designed with one purpose in mind—to get him to London.

  “Two better friends I could not have,” Aubrey said, half under his breath.

  “Two friends ready to be quit of your presence and the chaos you bring, you mean,” Jasper said with a laugh. “Come on, old man. We need to gather your things and send you on your way to a respectable life. No more racing about the countryside like a rogue. You’ll be an upstanding gentleman of politics sooner than any would have suspected.”

  Aubrey rose to join Jasper as they headed for his rooms. “You’re describing yourself much more than me. You’ve adapted to the married life so well one would think you were born to it.”

  His friend gave a quick headshake. “Far from it as you know, but with the right partner my eyes were opened just as yours have been. Don’t stress yourself. If she had nothing but friendly or revengeful feelings toward you, she’d have no reason to flee and every reason to linger so she could see your face when the truth came out. You have only to confront her, and her resistance will melt away.”

  “If I can get her to listen.” The morose words were more for show as a certainty settled into his bones. Nothing would keep him from presenting his case even if he had to shout it up to her window as in many theatrical performances.

  No matter what she might have thought of him, her laughter and smiles—how she’d teased him—showed her heart followed different instincts than her head. Just as he’d come to know Barbara beyond the shelter of her name, she’d seen deeper into him than he’d let anyone in a long while. She had to believe him, and he wouldn’t rest until she did.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Georgiana thrust her hands through the hairstyle it had taken Sarah a good hour to perfect, sending a shower of pins across the room. “That was wonderful.” She sighed and collapsed onto the bed. “How could you have given it all up to pluck berries?”

  Barbara managed the first laugh since they’d gone down the stairs to greet her mother’s guests. “It wasn’t like I asked to leave.”

  Her cousin offered a level stare. “From what your mother told me over tea, you didn’t protest that much either.”

  Turning so Sarah could help her with the last of her own pins, Barbara kept her expression hidden. She hadn’t thought her parents so aware of how little their punishment had punished until now. Maybe they’d known it a kindness.

  “And your suitors. I can see why you have so much trouble choosing between them. Handsome and witty too.”

  That brought a sigh from Barbara, and not one of delight. “If you like them so much, why don’t you take them off my hands?”

  Georgiana giggled. “From what your parents say, you have enough to spare, but no. My Freddie is the only one for me. I’m here to get a bit of culturing and enjoy myself before heading home. It’s your job to choose a suitor since you’ve given up on the one you left behind.”

  “I never had him,” Barbara said, her tone quashing any further conversation, for the moment at least.

  She’d spent an uncomfortable evening between a marquess and a baron. Both of whom had sought her father’s permission already only to be put off, and neither intended the other to get the slightest advantage. They’d exchanged biting remarks, ostensibly with her, about the readings, the latest politics, and whatever else they could come up with, challenging each other to provide a better topic or a wittier phrase.

  Little had they known a different man all together held Barbara’s attention, the reading only reminding her of the last one she’d attended. She’d wasted the event then, using it to condemn Aubrey when she would have lingered over every word and collected memories to sustain her had she only known. None of the readers tonight had his skill with the spoken tongue. Though he’d never consider such a thing, his talents would serve well on the stage of a public theater. She had no doubt he’d proven a favorite for more private dramatic parties a time or two.

  While they’d captured Georgiana’s attention, Barbara had been busy spinning fantasies all the more impossible for how they swirled around Aubrey. She pretended she could explain her behavior away once he returned to London, that Aubrey would see fit to forgive her and they could begin again.

  Sarah tugged the brush through a snarl in Barbara’s hair, startling her. She’d been caught up in her thoughts and hadn’t noticed when the style fell.

  “You’ll find another,” her friend murmured. “If not one of those two, then a different gentleman. Despite all that happened, your true nature is sound and pleasant as so many have recognized.”

  Barbara stood, ignoring the sharp pain as the brush tangled. “Why don’t you help Georgie tonight? She’s had quite the adventure in even such a simple gathering.”

  Sarah’s lips pinched together, but she did not speak any rebuke as Barbara moved to the window that had held her presence more often of late than ever before. At least there no one could question how she looked into the distance, nor could they see the shadows in her eyes as she did so.

  “Have you ever gone
to a reading?” Georgiana asked Sarah from the same stool Barbara had vacated. “It was like when my mama read to us when we were little. Charlotte tries, and Father too, but neither have the knack for making the voices come alive like she did.”

  Tuning out Sarah’s reply, Barbara wished she could go back to the time of innocence when she’d sat against the wall so she could see Aubrey without interference. She’d watched his lips form the voices, sometimes pinched together, sometimes wide and languid.

  She’d known better then, seen the measure of the man in so much more than one remark not intended to be overheard.

  With the maturity of experience though little time had passed, she recognized sharp words could be a release of frustration or other emotions kept hidden beneath a social mask. Rather than seeing through to the heart of him, she’d seen him at his worst, but at the same time at his best. He could have stood in the center of the dance floor and called out his cutting words to each debutante who circled him, ever hopeful of an interested look from someone who had station, finances, and a fine figure. Had he spoken then, his intent would have been to damage. Though his remarks had not been far from the truth, they were hardly what one wanted bandied about.

  Instead, he’d chosen a secluded corner and had spoken to a trusted friend.

  Fate and bad luck had her near enough to overhear, but it had been her own willfulness that took his words not just to heart but to the point of revenge. Her uncharitable nature had almost cost him his life, and for what crime? A moment of irritation at the marriage mart? Could she stand tall against such a happening?

  “You’ll have the curtains down on the floorboards and the bright sun to wake the two of you much too early if you don’t leave off your moping.”

  At Sarah’s words, Barbara became aware of how she’d taken hold of the curtains in her fist and now tugged them far too taut. She let go, the fabric still wrinkled from her attack as it swung into place.

  Georgiana came up on her other side and pulled Barbara over to the bed. “The standard you hold for yourself is too firm by far, Cousin. And you measure him too low.”

  Barbara tried to protest, but a callused finger against her lips forced silence.

  “We all know who held your thoughts as you stood by the window, fists clenched and shoulders slumped, don’t we, Sarah? You let thoughts of him take all the joy out of life and yet won’t give him the chance to bring it back.”

  Barbara shook off her cousin’s hold. “You don’t understand. There is no chance. I need to accept my path and put him behind me. All this lingering is the cause of my sorrow, and it’s a further sign of my foolishness. What I’ve done is unforgivable, and I know it.”

  Georgiana burst out with laughter sharp enough to bring the blood rushing to her features. “You think playing on his own arrogance the worst a girl could do? Freddie has forgiven me that more times than I could count and me the same for him.” She shook her head. “There is a chance if only you give it. You have to stop running away before he can catch you, and until he does, he cannot forgive because he knows not what makes you run.”

  The wisdom coming from a girl she’d thought truly frivolous where Barbara had only pretended stunned Barbara to silence for a moment.

  When she found her tongue though, she didn’t bother to explain the difference between a simple farm boy and a nobleman when it came to playing the fool. Instead, she said only, “You are a very lucky girl, Georgie. I hope your Freddie proves as steadfast, and my uncle sees the good in seeking happiness over the chance at a rise in station.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Aubrey had reason to appreciate Daphne’s advice as he stepped down from the carriage and mounted the stairs to Barbara’s home.

  His mother had been stunned to see him home again with no warning, but when he asked for a certain address from her, she’d forgiven him entering her bedroom so early in the morning. Somehow, he didn’t think Barbara’s neighbors would have felt the same should he have banged doors up and down the street when the carriage first rumbled into London. He’d known the location of the Whitfeld town house generally, but not well enough to arrive here without assistance.

  The knocker thudded against a solid door twice before Aubrey stood back, not wanting to appear rushed for all his blood sang with urgency. He’d rested both in the carriage and at his home, regaining more of his natural energy than he’d believed possible, or perhaps thoughts of Barbara gave him strength.

  “Your card,” the butler said, holding out a silver tray on which lay two others.

  Aubrey patted down his pockets in the vague hope his valet had tucked one into his waistcoat, but he came up empty handed. “I have none on me, but I didn’t intend to leave a card anyway. I’d like to speak to Lord Whitfeld.”

  The butler’s eyebrows rose. “Lord Whitfeld is not receiving visitors yet.” He shook the plate as though to suggest Aubrey’s claim not to have a card on him a prevarication.

  He’d come too far to turn away now, and no butler would block his path. Aubrey thought about pushing past the man, but remembered his lessons from the country. His first proposal had been to a farm girl. No matter that she turned out to be of high standing, he could not act the superior here and would not unless he had to.

  “I understand the hour is early for London,” he said, “but I’ve come of late from the country where the sun seems to rise much earlier.”

  A smile threatened to undercut the man’s severe expression, which Aubrey took as a good sign.

  “It’s a matter of some urgency. It’s about his daughter.”

  The butler frowned. “It’s always about Lady Barbara when they come calling so early,” he muttered as though talking to himself. “I guess you better come in then. His lordship is in his study.”

  Aubrey offered his thanks with a smile even as he suppressed a sigh of relief that at least he wouldn’t be rousting her father from his rest. If Lord Whitfeld had discovered any portion of Barbara’s experience in the country, he’d need all the help he could get. Turning her father’s favor would be a big step toward that.

  “My lord, you have a caller. It’s about Lady Barbara.”

  Aubrey had not realized how his lack of card would make introductions awkward, but the butler acted as though lacking a name meant nothing.

  “Aubrey St. Vincent,” he announced himself as he stepped through the opened door. “I’ve come to speak to you about your daughter.”

  “You and half of society, the male half,” Lord Whitfeld said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Have your say and be done with it. I have work to do.”

  “I wish to ask permission to marry Lady Barbara.” He carefully used proper address to prevent the appearance of impropriety. And they’d been well chaperoned on every encounter except the last.

  Her father sighed, not quite the response he’d been expecting. “You are aware, I’m sure, of the number of suitors already declared for her. There’s little point in adding to the list, especially as she shows no inclination toward choosing a favorite.” His hands slapped the desk in front of him. “I pray you do not end up with daughters, but if you do, never give them their heads. Like barely broken stallions, they’d prefer to toss you off than carry you forward.”

  Aubrey didn’t know what to say in response, though he understood the sentiment all too well from helping raise his two younger sisters.

  Lord Whitfeld bit off a laugh. “Here I am speaking disparagingly of my very own flesh and blood though it be poorly done. And like the others, nothing I could say would dissuade you short of denying my permission.”

  “With all due respect, Lord Whitfeld, I have a feeling Barbara would not let your permission stand in her way.”

  The man’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “Barbara?”

  Aubrey swallowed a curse at his mistake. “My apologies. When I met your daughter, the circumstances were a little less formal than here in London.”

  Lord Whitfeld straightened and fixed Aubrey
with an intent stare. “When you met her she wasn’t in London, and you come to me now.” He paused and his eyes narrowed. “You, sir, may just be the cause of my daughter’s change and not the change I’d been hoping for. She’s lost the frivolity, but returned disinterested in most everything. Not even her cousin can keep her spirits up for long.”

  “I swear to you I did nothing to harm your daughter on purpose.”

  Lord Whitfeld laughed. “I don’t suppose you’d be here if you had, young man. She mopes as though of a broken heart, and yet here you are, steadfast in your regard.”

  “The situation is a bit more complicated than you might suppose,” Aubrey offered.

  “With my Barbara, it usually is.” He looked about to chuckle then Lord Whitfeld froze and shoved to his feet to level a glare on Aubrey. “Have you compromised my daughter in these less formal circumstances?”

  “Never.” The confidence in his tone stayed strong through the one word, but his thoughts wavered. Had she not broken away from him that last day, he might just have given in to his desires, thinking her no more than a country girl who had therefore not been as sheltered. Or more likely, thinking not at all. It burned him her station would have determined his behavior. No matter her willingness, he should have shown more restraint.

  “Well, then what is it?” Lord Whitfeld demanded, drawing Aubrey back to the present and her impatient father.

  “When I met your daughter, she was wearing worn clothing and working in the fields,” he began.

  “I should have suspected Ferrier would do such a thing,” Lord Whitfeld interjected with no sign of distress.

  “I mistook her for a country girl,” Aubrey continued, spilling out the whole story. He spared himself not one bit, recounting his ill-thought-out comments that unwittingly brought about a complicated scheme for revenge which rebounded on both of them.