The Irresistible Lady Behind The Mask (Historical Regency Romance)

by Emily Honeyfield

  Why did the barman look familiar?

  Tempest’s eyes widened when she finally recognised the face! Why this was no other person than the local vicar who had supposedly joined her in holy matrimony with Hudson!

  The man had the gall to look in her direction, nod and smile at her as if he didn’t recognise her. Was that his play? To act as if he wasn’t the one who had acted the part of a vicar over a week ago? Mayhap he would claim it was his twin, not him.

  Tempest clenched her fist. She who prided herself as one who was intelligent had allowed two people to put a ring through her nose. First it was Valerie and now it was Hudson! She had been duped yet again into thinking she was married to the despicable lout!

  Unable to stand the sight of the man for she feared what she might do to him, she stormed out of the place. So, Hudson had lied to her yet again. It galled her that he hadn’t even wanted to marry her for real to get his inheritance.

  Was she so objectionable that he had to hire a fake vicar to deceive her? And what was all that soppy talk about wanting their marriage to be a real one? And then consummating it! He would have just taken his pleasure repeatedly from her until he tired of her and then would cast her out to marry the woman of his choice.

  Tempest dabbed her eyes as she walked away from the tavern with determined strides. Angry tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but she pushed them back. She had the mind of going back to the manor to make Hudson’s life a living hell, but then she might not be able to escape again.

  Oh that she were a man, she would call him out for callously deceiving her and then she would put a bullet in his leg for him to limp for the rest of his life and never forget her.

  He had perfectly enacted his revenge on her. Making her fall in love with him although he wasn’t aware of it, and creating an illusion of a marriage that was nothing but a farce.

  Still pushing back her tears, Tempest walked to the deserted highway and pondered on her predicament. How would she get to London when she had no money on her?

  You could pretend to be a highwayman, came an errant thought.

  Tempest giggled despite herself. What would she request for, a seat and some food? She giggled again and shook her head.

  But as she stood there for minutes on end without any hope of getting to London and the fear of Hudson finding her heightening, Tempest began considering the outrageous thought.

  After all, she ran a secret gaming hall, and she had been trouble for her family with her mischief and shenanigans.

  “I can pull this off,” she said to herself.

  When she sighted yet another coach approaching from a distance, she removed the mask she usually wore in her club and hid behind some bushes. Her father had brought the rest of her belongings with him when he came for the fake wedding. Tempest was very grateful for that and the intuition that had made her take it along with her.

  Her palms became clammy as the coach drew closer. Tempest released a ragged breath and prayed she wouldn’t hang for this. Highwaymen weren’t common let alone highway women. Since she desperately needed to get to London, what choice did she have?

  “Hold it right there!” she shouted as she jumped out from her hiding place.

  The horses neighed in confusion at the way she jumped in front of them. The coachman looked at her with frightened eyes as she pointed her small dagger at him.

  The four women in the coach screamed with fear. She turned to them.

  “We have no jewels or gold for you to take. Please let us go,” said one of the scared women after Tempest had held them at knifepoint for some minutes, still trying to decide what next to do.

  “I have no desire for your jewels or gold,” she announced in a large voice with her knife still pointed at them. Then her eyes fell on a picnic basket near the foot of one of the women.

  “Is there food in that basket?” she questioned, unable to stop herself from licking her lips and swallowing in anticipation as her stomach rumbled from hunger.

  The four women looked at one another with surprise in their eyes. Tempest gave allowance for the fact that it looked absurd that a highwayman was only interested in the contents of a picnic basket not their purses.

  “I’ve got chicken and pie inside it,” one of the women replied.

  Oh, chicken and pie; one of her favourite meals. She hoped it would be apple pie. That was her favourite.

  “What kind of pie do you have in there? Is it by any chance an apple pie?” she asked before she could stop herself. What a queer highwayman the women would think of her.

  The woman shook her head. “It’s a blueberry pie.”

  Drat! It would have to do.

  “Do you have any drink as well?”

  “I’ve got some freshly squeezed plum juice,” another woman supplied helpfully.

  Tempest licked her lips. “I’ll partake of them.”

  “What say you, highwayman? Are you going to take the food and leave us be? We have a long way to go.” The coachman’s voice held irritation.

  “One moment, sirrah. I intend coming along with you. I have no money to buy passage to London,” she informed them, and the women gasped perceptibly and murmured things she could not understand.

  “Then get with it,” the man said in an exasperated tone.

  Only when Tempest had settled herself on an empty seat beside the women and was munching hungrily on a drumstick did she realise that she hadn’t changed her voice. She had claimed to be a highwayman yet spoke like a woman.

  Blushing under her mask, she was glad the women couldn’t see her face. From the corners of her eyes, she saw one of the women giggle. Tempest couldn’t blame her. It was silly of her to have tried to pretend to be a highwayman. But having no money and starving, what other options did she have?

  As the coach moved along the rocky dirt road, Tempest’s thoughts returned to her supposed husband. Her absence might have been discovered by now. No doubt, his first port of call would be the hill, thinking she had decided to risk it again. Even though a hand squeezed her heart in pain, she knew she was doing the right thing despite the sadness she felt.

  Chapter 28

  Dusk was beginning to set in when Tempest roused from her slumber. At first, she was disconcerted as she wondered where she was. She was seated on rough ground beside a rather foul-smelling being.

  “Why, those despicable people!” she muttered angrily when she figured out what must have happened.

  She had tried not to doze off in the coach but with the gentle breeze wafting around the conveyance as they travelled, she had been hard put not to fall asleep. And now, most likely the coachman who had grumbled all the way that if it wasn’t for her, he would have carried more passengers and earned more coins for himself.

  Tempest had warned him to keep shut or she would be forced to use her knife. The man hadn’t been frightened of her words but continued grumbling until Tempest dozed off. She reckoned that it was immediately she was deep in sleep that he stopped his coach and coyly placed her here. She wished she could catch sight of him now; she would blister his ears with her cuss words.

  Slowly, Tempest pushed herself to her feet and removed her mask. She also removed the scarf she had tied her hair with and wondered where she was.

  The disconcerted woman turned around and surveyed the building that she had been lying against. It appeared to be an abandoned inn because she couldn’t hear anyone inside it neither did she see anyone coming or going.

  Almost in tears at another predicament that she found herself, Tempest wished she hadn’t fallen asleep. So because of a few coins in which she would have offered him triple when she reached London, the vile coachman had deigned to place her in the middle of nowhere.

  What was she to do now? Hijack another coach? There might not be another coming for hours yet. Besides, it was already getting dark, and she feared what might happen to her

  Acknowledging that she was stranded without money or food, Tempest wasn’t sure what her next recourse
would be. Should she stay there and wait for the next coach although she didn’t know when that would be or continue her journey on foot till she either came across a house or another establishment like this one but one that was functioning?

  The confused woman worried her bottom lip as she pondered on the necessity of changing into her feminine clothes or leaving the masculine clothes on.

  Tempest decided to leave on the clothes acknowledging that she was more in danger dressed as a woman than a man in all black attire. She would have to remember to use a masculine voice unlike the way she had made a cake of herself when hijacking the coach earlier in the day.

  Sighing, Tempest pushed away from the back of the inn and stared to the vast vegetation to her right and the duty road to her left. Her mind whirled as she tried to think of where the coach had come from and where it was heading.

  Drawing closer to the road, she examined the tire tracks and deduced that she had to follow the duty road to her left. To endure the long walk ahead of her, she made plans in her head of what she would do when she finally arrived in London.

  A hot soak in a bathtub was the first thing she would do. Then she would order her favourite apple pie to be made. After the satisfying meal, she would head down to her gaming parlour to make sure the place had been functioning very well in her absence.

  Anthony and Aunt Beth could be trusted to handle things, but she would still worry nevertheless. Being treated like a prisoner in the Strombridge manor, she hadn’t been able to exchange correspondence with her aunt and Anthony to know how the club was faring.

  The joy of being reunited with the business she loved so much increased her pace. How she relished how her staff would welcome her! How she would laugh gaily when they recounted tales of what went down in her absence.

  Nevertheless, there was a gap in her joy even though she would love to be back in her establishment again. The sense of satisfaction she always felt anytime she thought of the business in the past was frighteningly no longer there. Now, it was as if her heart was yearning for something else and the ache was much stronger.

  Hudson Danvers!

  Surely she couldn’t be thinking about that lying scoundrel. He had wasted these few weeks of her life in a non-profitable venture. Despite that he had shown her record showing he was a very wealthy man, their fake marriage gave her course to question it.

  If he was truly wealthy in his own right, then why the fake marriage?

  “Why am I bothering myself thinking of a man who doesn’t care a fig about me?”

  Sniffing away the tears from the knowledge that he didn’t want her, she continued her journey with slumped shoulders. A few minutes later, her ears perked when she assumed that she heard the sound of an approaching carriage.

  “Dear God, let it be true,” she prayed as she turned around and waited for what indeed was a carriage.

  Throwing away the idea of pretending to be a highwayman, she decided to go for a cockney accent to pave a ride from the occupants.

  “Ahoi!” she yelled as she waved her hands frantically to gain the attention of the travelling coachman.

  Though the light of the day was growing dim, Tempest could still make out the Strombridge crest on the side of the carriage. When Hudson jumped out of the carriage even before it pulled to a stop beside her, Tempest stifled a scream and willed her legs to move.

  A second later, she was ensconced in Hudson’s arms, in a tight embrace.

  “Thank you, dear God. Temp, you can’t begin to imagine how scared I have been since I discovered your absence from the manor. These parts are not safe, my dear.”

  Infuriated by his use of her pet name after the way he had deceived and used her, Tempest struggled out of his hold and graced his cheek with a stinging slap.

  “How dare you show your face here, you lying cad!”

  Grasping his sore cheek with one hand and the other clenched in a fist, Hudson said, “What was that for, Tempest?”

  Satisfied that he had called her name in full after the resounding slap, she made to turn away, but he grabbed her arm tautly.

  “You are my wife whether you accept it or not, and your place is with me!”

  Something snapped inside her at the emphasis he placed on the word ‘wife’ and she let him have it.

  Jerking her hand from his grip, “Don’t you dare call me your wife, you deceiving lout! You duped my father and me into thinking that you and I had a real wedding. You’re nothing but a vile, contemptible animal.”

  Not even flinching at the insults he was apparently used to receiving from her, his eyes narrowed as he queried, “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, please, don’t pretend anymore. It just might make me damn you to Hades!”

  “Tempest, would you please calm down and tell me what you’re talking about.”

  Shouting at the top of her voice and stamping a foot on the ground, she said, “I saw the barman at a tavern who acted the part of the local vicar whose part in the script you’d written was to wed us. What man of cloth would join his flock in supposedly going astray?”

  Hudson’s eyes narrowed in confusion for some minutes before they widened and amusement covered them. Not long later, he tossed back his head and laughed in an unbridled manner.

  “Oh, Tempest, there’s never a dull moment with you. Thanks for making me laugh in an otherwise trying day.”

  He drew her to his chest, but she struggled against him. He kissed her hair and leaned in to capture her lips. Pulling her head backwards, she glared at him. He exhaled loudly and released her.

  “I assure you that our marriage is very real. Why would I want a fake marriage?”

  Placing her hands akimbo and thrusting out her chin to increase her stature, she snapped, “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  “My beauty, men of the cloth around here have no issues tossing alcohol down their thirsty throats. In fact, it is even welcomed around here. So you mustn’t think of our marriage as a shame. If you’re truly in doubt, I could take you to the local parish and have you meet him and members of his congregation.

  “Which you have already arranged, I believe.”

  Running his fingers through his hair, Hudson observed her with something akin to exasperation.

  “Tempest, I swear to you on my mother’s grave that our marriage is real. We wedded before God and man and although the ceremony is yet to be consummated, the wedding document is very valid.”

  Tempest bit her lower lip as something told her that Hudson was saying the truth. Dare she believe him again and later discover he had lied to her.

  “Tempest, please come back with me to the manor. It’s quite late, and I don’t reckon you would want to spend a night out here because I doubt if any more carriages will be about at this time of the day.”

  Her hands dropped from her waist. “Just like you told me our neighbours were miles away.”

  He had the decency to blush. “The next manor is indeed miles away which is our nearest neighbour. I never said anything about a tavern.”

  Tempest hesitated. She didn’t want to return to the manor with Hudson. At the same time, she didn’t want to be out here in the dark and in the middle of nowhere stranded.

  “Please come back home, Tempest. I might very much regret venturing out of the house to search for you. You couldn’t have chosen a worse day to pull this disappearing act of yours.”

  Hearing the edge in his voice, her brows elevated, and she asked, “What’s wrong?”