Daring Masquerade

by Mary Balogh

  “Oh,” Kate said, staring at him with wide, sympathetic eyes. She completely forgot for the moment her captive state. “You poor man. Is it a quite impossible task? But perhaps it is just as well. She might be ... I mean ...”

  “A tavern maid? A whore?” he completed for her. “I have considered that. But I believe I want to find her even so. Can you imagine what it is like, Katherine, to have believed all your life that both your parents are dead and then to find that perhaps your mother is alive after all? I am obsessed with the need to find her, or at least to find her grave. I want to know who she is. Or was.”

  “But you have no way of doing so?” she asked. She was gazing at him, spots of color high on her cheeks. She had become oblivious of the mask and the potential menace of this man at whose mercy her virtue and her very life lay.

  “Oh, yes,” he said with a laugh that held no amusement. “There is a way. The messenger who was sent to France was my father’s cousin, Mr. Clive Seyton.”

  Kate’s jaw dropped. “Then what is the problem?” she asked, puzzled.

  “I wrote to him in great excitement even before my grandfather died,” Nicholas Seyton said, “to ask for the name of my mother and the town or village where she lived five-and-twenty years ago. It did not once occur to me before I received his reply that he would deny me the information.”

  “And he did?” Kate was mesmerized.

  He laughed. “He could not recall either piece of information,” he said. “Only that she was a vulgar dancer who had been starving and otherwise neglecting me before he intervened to take me to Barton Abbey. He was very sorry he could remember no more. But he agreed with you, Katherine. It was just as well that I did not find my mother.”

  “How could he forget if he went there?” Kate asked, frowning. “Surely he can remember whereabouts it was and what towns it was close to even if the name of the precise place evades his memory.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” he said. “I wrote back to him with more searching questions. This was little more than six weeks ago, shortly after the death of my grandfather. I received a reply from his lawyer almost immediately ordering me to leave his lordship’s property without further delay or face prosecution for trespassing. I was advised to leave the district entirely and to desist from harassing his lordship with begging letters. My illegitimate status gave me no claim whatsoever on the property of the Earl of Barton.”

  “Oh,” Kate said. “How could he be so cruel? He seems not to be a hard-hearted man.”

  “I believe he made a tactical error in responding in such a manner,” Nicholas Seyton said. “My conclusion is that the earl is an imposter. He knows more than he is willing to tell me and thinks to solve the problem by getting rid of me. The only way I can explain his behavior to myself, Katherine, is to believe that I am legitimate. What would make him deny me information that might lead me to my mother? A concern for my feelings if I should discover that she is not respectable? Why would he care? And why would he tell me she is a vulgar dancer? He has not seen me for more than twenty years. A fear that I will discover that she is a lady who was indeed married to my father? I believe so.”

  “But why?” Kate asked. “Why would he do such a thing? And why would your mother have allowed him to take you away? Why would she have remained silent all these years?”

  “His motive should be obvious,” he replied. “If I was legitimate, I would have become the viscount and the heir to my grandfather’s title and property. If not, then he was the heir. He was the son of my grandfather’s only brother. Of the answers to your other questions I am more uncertain. Was my mother sick, perhaps, and unable to care for me? Did she let me go and maintain a silence because she considered such a course best for me? Did she die, perhaps, soon after I was taken away? Was she poor and forced to let me go and keep silent about me, taking money in exchange? Whatever the truth, my father’s cousin must have been confident that she would not suddenly reappear. Does that mean that he knows she is dead? I do not know, Katherine. And I want to know.”

  “You kidnapped me in the hope of forcing answers from the earl?” Kate asked.

  He got to his feet, his chair scraping over the bare floor as he pushed it back with his legs. “Yes,” he said. “And you were right, Katherine. It was a cowardly thing to do, using a helpless woman as a weapon against a blackguard. The morality of my plan has troubled me, I must admit, but I have always pushed my uneasiness to the back of my mind. Kidnapping is not a pretty crime, even if one has no intention of harming one’s victim. My pistol was unloaded tonight, by the way. I would not risk shooting anyone by accident. I am almost glad my plan failed. But you have suffered. And what the deuce am I to do with you?”

  “You will let me go, of course,” Kate said, folding her napkin and placing it on her empty plate. Suddenly she found that all her terror had gone.

  “And why would I do anything so foolish, Katherine?” he asked, turning and looking at her.

  “Because it is the decent thing to do,” she said, pushing back her chair and rising to her feet, “besides being the only practical course of action. If you will not let me go, you will have to kill me. And you will not do that.”

  He grinned. “For someone in captivity with a masked man at least twice your size,” he said, “you seem remarkably confident, Katherine. And will you reveal all you have been told to the earl? It is too late now, I suppose, for me to consider that probability. Well . . . ” He sighed. “Perhaps I can go to France and start asking at every town and village for females named Annette.”

  “Of course I will not tell!” Kate declared scornfully. “If you have been spinning a yarn, I should end up looking remarkably foolish to repeat it. If you have been telling the truth, then Lord Barton should not know that you are on his trail.”

  Nicholas Seyton smiled fleetingly. “No, I would not expect you to be so poor-spirited as to spill all,” he said. “What an admirable female you are, Katherine Mannering. What was your husband? Did he not leave you the means with which to live in independence?”

  “My husband had debts,” Kate said briskly. “I could have returned to my father’s house. But he has a large family to provide for without me. I could have entered society under the sponsorship of my aunt and waited for someone else to make me his chattel. Or I could take employment. I chose employment.”

  “Chattel,” he repeated softly. “You have certainly answered one of my questions, my dear. Come. I shall take you home without further delay. As it is, you may find that your reputation will be somewhat tarnished after tonight’s escapade.”

  “First I must leave my money and my pearl earrings with you,” Kate said, picking up her reticule and rummaging inside it, “and my wedding ring. It must seem that you had theft in mind when you carried me off. Perhaps you should take my whole reticule.”

  Nicholas watched in some amusement as she placed first the individual items and then the whole bag on the table. “They will be here for you whenever you need them,” he said. “Are the earrings valuable?”

  “Not very,” she said. “If they had been, Giles would have taken them long ago.” Then she bit her lip painfully. She was grateful that he made no comment. “I shall see what I can learn at the Abbey. Perhaps his lordship will speak of you or ask the servants about you. Perhaps there will be something else to learn. I shall try. But are you not afraid that you will be seen in the neighborhood and word will reach the earl? We rode a long way tonight, but I do not believe we can be a great distance from Barton Abbey.”

  “Only a few miles,” he said. “This is one of many cottages scattered along the coast. The sea is close by. A fisherman and his wife have been kind enough to take me in here. Indeed they now behave as if I own the house and they are merely my servants. Buildings are scattered in this part of the world, but in many ways it is a close community. Most people in the vicinity, including the servants at the Abbey, know that I live here, but all will have sealed lips if questioned. And none will have any idea
where I have gone. These people can be remarkably stupid when they wish to be.”

  “I do hope you are right,” Kate said with a frown. “Did you know that there is to be a house party at Barton Abbey next week? Is there any danger of your being recognized by any of the guests?”

  “I think not,” he said. “My grandfather did very little entertaining, and when he did, then I was treated as the bastard he thought me. I was not allowed to embarrass polite company with my less-than-respectable presence. Come, Katherine. I shall take you home.” He opened the door and gestured for her to precede him into the narrow hallway beyond.

  “Why do you not remove that ridiculous mask, Mr. Seyton?” Kate asked as she passed him. “Surely it is not necessary any longer.”

  “On the contrary,” he said with a grin. “I believe I trust you, my dear. But with my life? Forgive me for being overcautious. Besides, this way you will honestly be able to say that you cannot identify me. You will be saved from what you hate to do: lying.”

  “Nonsense,” said Kate, standing back so that he could open the door into the small cobbled yard and lead the way to the stable. “I would know you anywhere, sir, with your size and that blond hair. You would have been wise to cover that as well as your face if you wished to avoid recognition.”

  He smiled back at her as he threw the saddle onto his horse’s back again and proceeded to make it fast. But he made no move to take off his mask. Soon Kate found herself seated sideways on the horse before him once more, one shoulder leaning heavily against his chest again. This time she did not feel the fear she had felt before, but she did feel embarrassment. They traveled in near-silence. He explained to her that he must travel quietly across fields rather than along roads. It was very probable that the earl already had men out searching for her and for him. Kate’s eyes were not bandaged this time. She used the silence to concentrate on the route they took.

  Finally Nicholas drew his horse to a halt not far from the edge of a copse of trees through which they had been moving. Beyond it Kate could see in the moonlight a high stone wall bordering a road. He dismounted and lifted her down to stand before him.

  “This wall separates the park of Barton Abbey from the road,” he said. “I dare not take you to the house, Katherine. But I shall see that you do not have to find it alone in the darkness. The main gateway is but a short distance away. The lodgekeeper and his wife live in the stone lodge with their son. Josh is somewhat feeble-minded, I am afraid. But he is good-hearted and totally loyal to those he loves. He will take you to the house. His parents are quite elderly. You must not be afraid of him. He will not harm you. He will do whatever I ask him to do. He is especially fond of me because he was quite devoted to my father. In fact, he has never grasped the fact that my father is dead. He still expects him to return.”

  “I am not afraid,” Kate said. “If you wish, I shall walk to the lodge alone. I do not want you to put yourself into unnecessary danger.”

  “Danger is part of my life,” he said, flicking her cheek as he had done at the cottage. “And you must certainly not put yourself in any, Katherine. Do not ask any questions of your employer that will make him suspicious. I do not know if he is a dangerous man or not. I would not wish to find out at your expense. It will be best for you to forget about the events of this evening. Pretend that it has all been a dream.”

  “What a poor-spirited creature you must think me,” Kate said with some scorn.

  “Oh, no,” he said, laying his hands on her shoulders and smiling down into her face. All she could see of him was his teeth. “Never that, Katherine. I wish circumstances were different, my dear. I should like to get to know you better. I will say a personal good-bye to you here. Forgive me, please, for the inconvenience I have caused you tonight. I will not say ‘fear,’ because I know you would be offended at the suggestion that you were afraid at all. Good-bye, Katherine Mannering.”

  She saw the flash of his teeth for one moment and then his mouth found hers in the darkness. Kate had a horror of any physical contact with a man. She had had no choice but to endure it for five years. But no longer. Now she was free, and no man would ever possess any part of her body again. She splayed her hands against his chest preparatory to pushing him away. But she did not push. The almost nauseating distaste she had always felt whenever Giles had touched her—though mercifully he had rarely kissed her, preferring to move without preamble to the more personally gratifying stages of sexual contact—was absent tonight, and she paused with some interest to examine this new experience.

  Nicholas held her very loosely in his arms. She could have broken away without a struggle at any moment. His mouth was open on hers, and that in itself should have given her the shudders, she thought. But it was not hard, demanding, selfish, as she had assumed all men’s embraces must be. His lips teased hers, tasted them, his tongue flickering across them gently, inviting participation. She did not clamp her lips together when his tongue traced their outline and then pushed gently between. She allowed it to explore the soft, moist flesh behind her lips and moved her hands to his shoulders without realizing she did so in order to feel the firm muscles of his chest with her breasts.

  He drew back from her long before she had analyzed in her mind exactly what it was about him that did not disgust her. She even made a little noise of protest when his mouth withdrew from hers, and immediately felt foolish.

  “Katherine Mannering,” he said, “I suspect you of sorcery. I almost wish that I really had decided to keep you and take compensation for that large ransom I was to exact for the return of Lady Thelma. You are a very desirable woman. Come, while there is still common sense buzzing in my brain. Let’s get to the lodge.”

  He took her by the hand and drew her out into the roadway after looking carefully to right and left to make sure that there was no one about. Soon they were turning into a wide driveway leading to enormous iron gates and a stone lodge beside them. Nicholas tapped on the outer door, opened it, and stepped inside, drawing Kate in after him.

  “Lord bless us, it’s Master Nick,” an elderly lady said, taking her hands from a bowl of water and drying them on her white apron. “Is it one of the nights, then?”

  Nicholas waved a hand before his lips and the old woman fell silent. An elderly man, was who smoking a pipe, rose from a chair beside a small fire and touched his forelock. “It’s good to see you again, Master Nick,” he said.

  That greeting was echoed by another man, who scrambled down a ladder leading to an attic room. This man had a round, ruddy face, with pale, vacant eyes and big, widely spaced teeth. His sandy hair looked more like straw than hair, Kate decided. He was smiling and giggling nervously as he bobbed his head to Nicholas and then noticed her.

  Nicholas introduced her and explained that she needed a guide to take her to the house. The sandy-haired Josh shuffled outside to fetch a lantern while Mrs. Pickering, the lodgekeeper’s wife, spoke again.

  “There be a dreadful to-do up at the house, Master Nick,” she said, “because a highwayman made off with the young lady here, thinking he had her ladyship. The coast guard be out scouring the countryside. Were it you, sir? I hope the young lady be not harmed.” She gazed severely at Nicholas, whom none of them had had any difficulty recognizing despite the mask, Kate had noticed.

  “I am not harmed, Mrs. Pickering,” Kate said, “but will be very glad to reach the Abbey at last.”

  “Josh will take you safe there, miss ...er, missus,” Mrs. Pickering said, still wiping her hands on her apron.

  Nicholas held out a hand to Kate when Josh returned with the lit lantern. “Good-bye, Mrs. Mannering,” he said. “It has been a pleasure to meet you.” His blue eyes twinkled behind the mask. “And, Josh, if anyone asks you, you have not seen Master Nick this long time. Mrs. Mannering knocked on your father’s door alone tonight. Do you understand?”

  Josh giggled. “Never seen you, Master Nick,” he said. “Josh ain’t seen Master Nick this long time. And Josh ain’t seen Mast
er Jonathan this long time. They’ll both come back sometime. Josh’ll wait. Josh ain’t in no hurry. He ain’t going nowhere.” He leered up at Kate and led the way out of the door, which Nicholas held open for them.

  Kate smiled fleetingly as she passed Nicholas and followed her guide to a narrow pathway that skirted the closed gate and along the driveway, whose borders of tall elms shut out most of the moonlight that had lit the way across country earlier. She found herself thinking of Nicholas Seyton as she stumbled along in the wake of the springy stride of Josh Pickering, wondering if she were a fool to believe his story. Anyway, she thought, whether she believed him or not, she was fortunate enough to be free again and unharmed.

  And her mind would be better employed thinking of a story she was going to tell when she reached the house, if she were given a chance to speak up and was not dismissed in disgrace on the spot. Even though she had been abducted at pistol point, the fact was that she bad been alone with a man for several hours. Kate knew many people who would consider the reputation of such a woman hopelessly compromised. She hoped Lord Barton was not one of them.

  Chapter 4

  Nicholas Seyton sat in the worn armchair before the fireplace, one booted leg hooked over the arm closest to the fire that Mrs. Evans had lit in his absence. His body welcomed the warmth after the chill of his ride home from Barton Abbey, but he was not really conscious of it. He was feeling depressed.

  His grandfather had been dead for not quite two months, and already everyone concerned with his death appeared to have forgotten him. The new earl, he had heard, had ordered the servants to leave off their mourning and wore none himself. None of this evening’s arrivals had been wearing so much as a black armband. And what of himself? He wore black pantaloons and waistcoat, it was true, but the color had been chosen more for the occasion than out of respect for his grandfather.