Dangerous Masquerade

by Peta Lee Rose

“What do you mean?”

  Almost crying, he told her, “I have debts. Lots of them. I have to pay them back or end up in Newgate.” Plaintively he asked her, “Can you see me in prison? I don’t think I would like it very much.”

  Gently she said, “I can help with your debts.”

  “I don’t believe you. Why would you? Anyway, I can’t see you selling just about everything.”

  “You cannot owe that much.”

  “Can’t I? I do.” Unlike before when he was raving, at this moment he was perfectly calm. “So you see I really have no choice. I’m sorry.”

  There was no misunderstanding the meaning of the pistol in his hand. His intent was clear.

  She was going to die.

  Looking over Geoffrey’s shoulder in the direction Luc would come, she suddenly saw him. He had just left the shelter of the woods, but was too far away to help her, though he was desperately plowing through the snow, trying to reach her.

  As she thought about leaving him, what they might have had together, tears welled.

  Ria looked back at Geoffrey. The woodpile was to her left. The thick log she had dropped earlier lay very near her feet. If she could just get to it in time, she might have a chance.

  Just then, Luc gave a loud roar and Geoffrey turned in the direction of the noise. Luc had given her the distraction she needed.

  Grasping the log of wood, she ran the few steps separating her and Geoffrey. Clasping it firmly between two hands, she ruthlessly swung at the arm holding the pistol.

  Geoffrey’s gun went flying. Ria ran to pick it up, hampered by her long skirts.

  Behind her, she could hear Geoffrey yelling hoarsely. Then the sound of heavy footsteps on the snow. Arms grabbed her around the waist, and she was pushed forward, causing her to crash heavily to the ground.

  Desperately she reached for the pistol, her hands scrambling in the snow. Geoffrey once again grabbed her around the waist and pulled her away, tossing her into a snowdrift near the overhang so she landed on her back.

  Geoffrey’s chestnut gelding whickered, stamped his feet nervously, and pulled against the reins tied to the railing.

  Leaning over her, Geoffrey reached for her throat, but Ria brought both legs up against his chest and shoved, knocking him into the side of the chestnut. The horse jumped sideways and Geoffrey fell heavily to the ground behind the horse.

  The skittish gelding bucked, lashing out at the unknown threat coming from behind.

  Geoffrey scampered back, trying to get out of the way, but he was too slow. One of the horse’s hooves connected with his head with a loud, sickening crack. To Ria, it sounded like eggshells breaking.

  As she watched in horror, Geoffrey crumpled to the snow. He lay there, unmoving.

  Ria carefully approached the frantic horse and moved it away. After tethering it further along the rail, she ran to Geoffrey and knelt in the snow beside him.

  Slowly, his eyes grew dim as the snow beneath his head turned red until he gazed sightlessly up at the vivid blue sky.

  She stared as another mirror image of Geoffrey began to rise from his body. She had never seen this before. Never seen someone die.

  Scrambling to her feet, she watched as he stood up, turned, and looked at himself on the ground, then looked at Ria mournfully. “I didn’t want to do it. He made me.”

  Glancing back at his body lying in the snow, Geoffrey shook his head and repeated, “He made me do it.”

  She frowned. “Who is he? Monty? Monty made you do it?”

  “He made me.”

  Shaking her head, she told him, “I’m sorry, Geoffrey, I don’t understand. Who made you do what?”

  “He made me poison him!”

  Slowly, realization dawned. Ria regarded Geoffrey’s ghost with horror. “You poisoned Monty? Your uncle?”

  “I told you I couldn’t pay off my debts,” he whined.

  “But you said your debts were more than the St. James estate can cover so…”

  Geoffrey swiftly turned from petulant child to angry man. “I told you—don’t you ever listen! Monty’s estate wouldn’t cover the debt, but it might have given me breathing room.” Calming down, he added softly, “And he made me.”

  Geoffrey’s image was becoming thin, hazy and transparent. “I’m sorry…”

  Urgently she asked, “What do you mean he made you? Who made you?”

  But to no avail. Geoffrey had disappeared.

  Ria heard Luc coming up behind her, breathing heavily. He took one swift glance at Geoffrey, shook his head, then pulled her into his arms, clasping her tightly as though he never meant to let her go.

  She hugged him to her equally tightly. Shaking with sobs, she buried her head against his chest.

  As she recovered, she became aware of Luc running his hands over her head. Clasping her face between gentle hands, he looked directly at her and asked, “Are you hurt?”

  He then began to run his hands over her body, checking for injury, an anxious expression on his face. “If something had happened to you…”

  Ria felt that small banked ember of hope flickering back into life. He had to care. The look of desperation, his anxiety—he must love her.

  34

  Later that day, Ria sat in front of a fire in the best parlor of the village inn. Her head whirled with the speed at which Luc had made arrangements. Before she knew it, he had organized for a magistrate to be told of the unfortunate accident, arranged for Geoffrey’s burial, and whisked her away to this inn.

  Admittedly she wasn’t quite herself. But then, surviving a murder attempt and watching the would-be murderer die could do that.

  She closed her eyes at the thought but then rapidly opened them again. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw Geoffrey lying on pristine white snow that slowly turned a blood-stained red.

  She could hear the landlady protesting in the corridor, and then Luc appeared in the doorway.

  Striding over to her, he handed her a familiar blue box and said, “I think it’s time you put this back on.”

  Ria stared at the box in his hand. Her fingers itched to take it from him, but she wasn’t sure what he was really saying. “Why?”

  When she made no move to open the box he added hoarsely, as though the words had been torn from him, “It would give me peace of mind.”

  She frowned at him, not understanding his logic. “You gave me this as an engagement gift. Are we engaged?”

  His eyebrows met in a frown. “Of course.”

  “Why of course? I released you.”

  “I never accepted or acknowledged that. And last night you said you’d never let me go. Which is just as well, as I’m not going to let the woman I love go either.”

  So he had heard her! She blinked as the rest of what he’d said sank in. Hesitantly, seeking reassurance, she said, “You love me?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair, “What a question! Of course I do—why do you think I came up here?”

  “You said it was because you didn’t want me to worry.”

  “Of course I love you!” His voice cracked. “You mean everything to me. Without you, I have no future. I’ve known that since we first met, but I wouldn’t face it. The thought terrified me.”

  He bent down and pulled her to her feet. Ria went unresisting into his arms. He looked at her intently, then gathered her closer to him. Picking her up, he sat back down in the chair and held her. For a while, he didn’t say a word. Just held her tightly.

  Then, haltingly, he began to speak. “Since I met you, I’ve been afraid I was obsessively possessive like my father.”

  Pulling back, he looked down at her, “Remember the day I introduced you to Devon?”

  She nodded mutely. She remembered it well.

  “All you did was smile politely at him, and it annoyed me. I had never felt like that before,” he admitted.

  She remembered. He’d been morose and curt. She had wondered at the time what was wrong.

  Luc paused; he seemed to be
struggling for words. “When you told me about the masquerade, I had a mental image of the two of us recreating my parents’ marriage. It would be my greatest fear come true.”

  Looking up at him, she could see the truth in his face. He’d shut his eyes, as if trying to shut out the picture he was seeing. The ladies had told Ria about the scenes his father used to make. She could imagine the mere thought of recreating that would terrify anyone.

  She went to speak, but he shook his head at her. “No, don’t say anything. Not yet. I now know it’s not true.” She felt the bunching of his muscles as he shrugged. “Ironically, it was my mother who made me see that.

  He shook his head again. “She also made me look at myself, my future, and what I want. That was simple. I want you. All of you. Honey, Persephone, and Ria.”

  As he said the last few words his voice shook. Ria felt warmth blossom inside her, chasing away any last lingering doubts.

  Her normally self-assured and very composed earl was anything but calm at this moment. She recalled asking the ladies how you could tell if a rake was in love with you. They said he’d lose his charm. Luc had certainly lost his.

  She pushed against his chest so she could look closer at his face, into his green eyes. She saw uncertainty and a hint of something else. Surely it wasn’t fear?

  She looked closely. It was fear. What could he be afraid of? Fear for her safety? The danger was past. Was it fear she would refuse him?

  She looked down at the blue box. Opening it, she picked up the ring then handed it to Luc. “Will you put this on my finger, please.”

  Without a word, he picked up her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. Still silent, he looked at it on her hand, then curled her fist closed as though worried it might slip off. He drew her hand to his mouth and tenderly kissed the ring finger. “If anything had happened to you…”

  Ria placed her ring finger against his lips to silence him. She then relaxed against him.

  He felt like home.

  Epilogue

  Little Bridgeton, April 1814

  Sitting before the mirror in her bedchamber at St. James Manor, Ria combed her dark blond hair.

  Her eyes lighted on the embroideries Aunt Charity had given her that afternoon. The first of the three pieces she was familiar with already—a man was holding an apple and looking at a young lady hungrily.

  The others she hadn’t seen before today. In the second, the couple gazed at each other, obviously very much in love. Behind them was a church, very similar to St. Margaret’s in Little Bridgeton.

  The third piece made her throat catch. The couple was once again in the churchyard, but this time the woman held a baby in her arms.

  Looking up, she saw Monty standing behind her, reflected in the mirror. When he saw her gazing at him he asked, “Before you leave for Greece tomorrow, my dear, I wonder if there is something you could do.”

  Ria looked at her late husband, not trusting the too casual tone of voice. Slowly she said, “Of course.”

  “Your neighbor up north, Alex Courtney—perhaps she would like to spend some time in London, at the town house. You might like to invite her.”

  Taken aback at his request, her dark blue eyes narrowed. “What are you up to?”

  Monty held his hands out wide, then clasped them in front of his chest. “Why, nothing. Whatever do you mean? I just thought that as she was so helpful you might like to return the favor. You are both distantly related, you know. Second or third cousins or something.”

  Ria cast a mistrustful glance in his direction, not believing his innocent act for a moment. But as she couldn’t see what harm his request would do, and she wanted to help Alex, she hesitantly nodded.

  Monty then said, his gray eyes tinged with concern, “You seem to have recovered from your ordeal.”

  “The memories are much less painful now. The preparations for my wedding and the ceremony itself have helped greatly.”

  On her return from the north, Ria had told Monty everything Geoffrey had confessed. She now asked, “I’m still confused about what Geoffrey meant when he said he made me?”

  Monty shrugged. “He probably felt that the estate was his. Let’s face it, my dear, he was hardly rational.”

  Before they could discuss it further, her husband strolled into the room.

  Her husband. Just thinking that made her shiver with delight. All thoughts of Geoffrey, Monty and Alex fled from her mind, and she smiled broadly at Luc.

  He bent and kissed her neck. The shivers intensified. Rising, he cast a suspicious look around the room. “We are alone, aren’t we? There is no one else here?”

  Ria laughed. Looking at Monty in the mirror, she mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

  With a courtly bow, he slowly drifted away, thinking as he did so, London is so very interesting at this time of year.

  As Monty materialized in the library the ladies leapt up from their respective chairs and surrounded him.

  “Well, what next?” Aunt Charity asked.

  With a smile for all of them, he replied, “London.”

  Cousin Faith clapped her hands in glee. “I love London. What a diverting time we shall have, and perhaps an adventure or two. How clever of you.”

  Monty bowed politely in acknowledgement of the praise and smiled.

  Thinking of the joy that now radiated from Ria, he was inclined to agree. He was clever. Very clever, indeed.

  A note from Peta

  Thank you for reading Dangerous Masquerade. I do hope you enjoyed this first book in the Masquerade series.

  If you would like to know when I have a new release, please sign up for my newsletter here.

  I love hearing from my readers so please do stop by my Facebook page (www.facebook.com/petaleerose) to say hello.

  Best wishes and happy reading,

  Peta

  Also by Peta Lee Rose

  COMING VERY SOON

  Broken Promises, a holiday novella

  Noel let out a heavy sigh of relief when the driver on top of the carriage yelled out, “Coming up to Clair Inn.” Squeezed as she was between a woman who obviously had a partiality for onions and sitting opposite a young man who had no partiality for bathing, she was immensely thankful to reach her destination.

  As she climbed down from the carriage, she took in a deep breath of fresh, crisp air. With it came the smells of the stable yard—leather, horses, manure, smoke from the inn’s fires. But all vastly preferable to onions and sweat, even without the delightful hint of fresh-baked bread carried on the breeze.

  Ostlers were bustling about, carrying buckets of horse feed. The stalls opened out into the stable yard and the top half of the stall doors were open, so she could see the horses watching the servants, their dark eyes gleaming with anticipation. Near the stalls, a load of hay was being tossed from a laden hay cart.

  Retrieving her bag, she approached an ostler who seemed to be supervising the others. In the coach, she’d been thinking about what to say, how she could possibly find John when she did not know his surname.

  Wondering if she was on a fool’s errand, and thus a fool, she hesitantly asked, “Excuse me, I am new to Clairvale but friends of mine have an acquaintance who lives here, and I would like to pay my address to him. Unfortunately, I am unsure of his direction and have forgotten all but his first name, which is John. Perhaps you could help me? He is a gentleman with two sons. He has brown hair and eyes and is quite tall. Do you know where I may find him?”

  The ostler eyed her carefully. “That’s most likely to be—” He broke off at the sound of a crash behind him and then a nervous squeal.

  The slam of a stable door, caught by the wind, had scared one of the horses. Turning, he raced over to help with the now frightened replacement coach horse who was tossing his head and stamping his hooves and refusing to accept the harness.

  Once the horse was settled, he turned and saw her still standing there. At the same time, he caught sight of a large man just climbing up onto the
now empty hay cart and yelled out, “George, are you going past Clairvale? Could you give this lady a ride?”

  George nodded, and before Noel could ask any questions, the ostler had his hand under her elbow and was helping her clamber up onto the high seat. At George’s deep rumble to “walk on,” the two draft horses set off at a slow walk.

  It was a silent ride. After thanking George for assisting her and asking if John lived at Clairvale but getting no response apart from a nod, she left him in peace.

  After about ten minutes he reached into a basket beside him and withdrew a cloth. He unwrapped it to display a large lump of bread and some crumbly cheese. Noel blushed as her stomach rumbled. Without saying a word, he offered her some. With thanks, she broke off a couple of pieces. The coach had barely stopped long enough for passengers to go to the necessary, let alone grab something to eat. Yesterday’s lunch of sausage wrapped in bread was a dim memory.

  They’d quickly left the small village behind and were now rumbling along a tree-lined lane. Some of the trees still had remnants of their leaves, the orange and gold a stark contrast to the dark branches. Thankfully it wasn’t a particularly cold day, and with only a slight wind her thin pelisse provided adequate protection.

  Abruptly the cart halted. George nodded to a driveway set between two large, imposing columns. Taking that to mean this was the entrance to Clairvale, she clambered from the cart.

  With a tilt of his battered straw hat, he instructed the horses to walk on, and the cart began to once again rumble its way down the lane.

  A short while down the drive, she glimpsed a house in the distance and released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The house was not as imposing or as large as she’d feared since she’d seen the drive’s grand entrance.

  But a short while later, she rounded a bend in the parkland and abruptly halted. What she’d thought was the house was, in fact, located halfway up the hill. The main house was at the base of the hill, built beside the river that until now she’d heard but not seen.