Daring Masquerade

by Mary Balogh

  To Nicholas the scene was very familiar. It had always been a favorite play area when he was a child. The cave had been a retreat on the rare occasion when he had been out of favor with his grandfather or when he had succeeded in escaping some unwelcome lesson or chore. Looking about him now, he still marveled at the fact that he was there, quite unmolested, enjoying the surroundings that had always been dear to him.

  All the house guests had decided to join the picnic party and all had agreed to walk the mile to the lake. Nicholas had Angela Lacey on his arm. She was a sensible young lady, he concluded, though she was somewhat too shy to shine in company. He rather regretted the necessity of being the haughty, bored Sir Harry Tate. Katherine, he could see, was walking with Mrs. Carstairs. She looked very pretty despite the light brown dress and plain straw bonnet she wore. Her silver blond hair gleamed beneath the brim of the bonnet and at the nape of her neck. She could so easily make all the other ladies look too fussily dressed.

  He regretted teasing her at the luncheon table. He had not meant to touch her. For his own sake he must refrain from doing that. But he had quite deliberately maligned the birth of Nicholas Seyton and drawn her attention to the fact that she had stopped eating. She had clearly been upset. He did not think it was merely conceit that made him believe so. And the moment had presented him with too good an opportunity to increase her dislike and contempt of Sir Harry. But he regretted it. He had wanted to cover her hand with his and whisper to her that all was well. He loved her. He had not abandoned her out of indifference, but for just the opposite reason. And he found it hard now to keep his eyes off her. She was talking to Mrs. Carstairs, but she did not look quite the vibrant, very assertive Katherine that he knew her to be. He could not easily suppress the flashing memories of the way she had looked the night before: beautiful, her face full of passion, her hair in disarray about her naked shoulders.

  He hoped the scheme would work well enough. He really had left on the stagecoach that morning with a protesting Parkin. His poor valet was indeed being sent to Shropshire in order to handle any letters or other inquiries that might arrive there and in order to take two letters to be sent back to Barton Abbey. Nicholas himself had alighted two miles out of Trecoombe and met Dalrymple at the place where he had left his horse. He supposed that the actual boarding of the coach had been unnecessary. Most of the residents of the village knew quite well that he was staying at the Abbey under an assumed identity. But he wanted to make sure that his name was on the roster of passengers in case anyone should be so thorough as to check that. It had been risky, of course, to ride away from the Abbey, where he could have been seen by a soldier of the coast guard. But Nicholas was used to living with danger.

  When they arrived at the lake, the older members of the party immediately settled themselves in the stone rotunda, from which they had an unobstructed view along the length of the lake. Lord Barton was recounting to those who did not already know the fact that an orchestra had been set in this very rotunda on the occasion of his uncle’s wedding, the trees around this end of the lake hung with lanterns, while the wedding guests drank champagne and even danced.

  “How charmingly romantic, Clive,” Lady Lacey said. “You must keep that idea in mind when Adam or Thelma weds.”

  Christine Barr-Smythe loudly declared that she wished to climb the hillside to the shelter at the top. Her bosom friend, Julie Carstairs, echoed her enthusiasm. Lord Stoughton and Lord Poole stepped forward to accompany them, and Charles Dalrymple smiled at Angela Lacey and asked if she too was game for the exercise. Nicholas looked at his friend in some gratitude. The Marquess of Uppington, he had not failed to notice, was talking to Katherine, and he felt a pressing need to keep her within his sight. There were some situations in which even a fearless young lady like Katherine Mannering might find herself helpless.

  Sir Harry Tate raised his quizzing glass and gazed at his friend in some incredulity. “Frolicking like a child, Dalrymple?” he said on a sigh. “You are like to be quite disheveled and positively gasping for air by the time you reach the top.”

  “It would not hurt you to break out of a sedate stroll once in a while too,” his friend replied, grinning.

  Nicholas shuddered. “I was born a gentleman, not a laborer,” he said.

  “You must show me this hermit’s cave, Lady Thelma,” the marquess was saying. “You do not know exactly where it is? No matter. We will find it together. And of course we must take a chaperon. Mrs. Mannering? And Moreton? You are not joining the other party, I perceive.”

  Nicholas had perceived the same thing. That poor young man was obviously nursing a hopeless tendre for his hostess, and if he were not much mistaken, Lady Thelma returned the feeling. It was equally clear that she was destined for marriage with Uppington. Well, that was not his problem. He had problems enough of his own. He shrugged and pushed himself away from the pillar against which he had been leaning.

  “Lady Emma,” he said on a sigh, “I see that we shall be teased mercilessly this evening if we do not join one of these insanely energetic excursions. I favor the cave for the simple reason that it is reputed to be only partway up the hill on this side, whereas the scenic shelter is at the very top on the other. Would you care to take my arm and make the effort, ma’am?”

  Lady Emma, who had seated herself beside Lord Barton in the rotunda, rose and came toward him. “Indeed, I find everything about Barton Abbey quite fascinating, sir,” she said. “One cannot but be sensible of the air of history surrounding it. I should be quite delighted to see the hermit’s cave.”

  This group of six quickly became lost among the trees. None of them knew exactly where to find the cave except Nicholas, and he could not reveal his knowledge. By the time they reached one of the imposing little stone shelters partway up the hill, Lady Emma was decidedly cross, her light muslin dress having twice caught on the twig of a tree, and her parasol having had to be lowered, with the result that her complexion must suffer from exposure to the sun. Her breath was coming in short gasps. Sir Harry quite agreed with her that Lord Barton should have his laborers cut a clear path from the valley to the hermitage.

  Lady Emma and Thelma sat down on the bench of the shelter while the gentlemen gazed down at the lake in the valley, which seemed to be a surprising distance below them. Nicholas felt greatly annoyed that Katherine had been left to stand. If they moved closer to the outside edges of the seat, the other two ladies could have made room for her between them.

  “Mrs. Mannering,” Sir Harry Tate said with a languid sigh, “your fortitude positively amazes me. You are not even panting for breath. You must be more accustomed to hard work then we more indolent mortals. But do lean on my arm for a few minutes, ma’am.”

  He moved across the short distance between them, made her a little half-bow, and extended his arm.

  She stared back at him without the flicker of a smile. “Thank you, sir,” she said, “but as you have observed, I do not feel at all in need of support.” And she turned away from him to gaze out toward the far end of the lake, leaving Sir Harry with one arm still outstretched and one cynical eyebrow raised.

  “Now,” the marquess said, “if we are to find the cave this afternoon, we clearly must depend on a little more than luck. I suggest that we go three separate ways and that those who find the cave call out to the other four.”

  “A decidedly sensible suggestion,” Sir Harry agreed. “Lady Emma and I will keep straight ahead at this level. This is the course requiring least exertion.”

  “And the way requiring most exertion is upward,” the marquess said. “I shall go that way, of course. And . . . Mrs. Mannering may accompany me since she appears to have more stamina than the other ladies. Moreton, you and Lady Thelma may move downward and across. Shall we agree to half an hour? If none of us has found the cave by then, we shall have to abandon the attempt for another day. Mrs. Mannering?”

  Sir Harry offered his arm to Lady Emma again and congratulated her on having a relatively e
asy path to follow for the next half-hour. Nicholas Seyton seethed with frustration at the very clever maneuvering Uppington had just succeeded in. He would have Katherine to himself for at least half an hour among trees where there was almost no chance of interruption. And those were the two who were the most likely to find the cave. At least they would be headed in the right direction. Somehow he was going to have to steer Lady Emma uphill too without her realizing the fact.

  Kate had felt thoroughly alarmed when the marquess first suggested that they search for the hermit’s cave in three pairs. She had pledged herself at the start of the afternoon to make sure that Lady Thelma was not left alone with him. She was even more alarmed when his real scheme became obvious. His plan had been made in order to lure her into his company, not Lady Thelma. And she knew from her experience in the library two evenings before that he would not play the gentleman once they were out of sight and sound of the others. She gazed in some desperation at the retreating figures of the other four, particularly at the departing back of Sir Harry Tate, whom she had snubbed quite rudely a mere few minutes before. He had quite unwittingly been her rescuer on that earlier occasion. And now he was already disappearing among the trees.

  “Well, Kate,” the Marquess of Uppington said, a mocking smile of triumph on his lips, “shall we proceed?”

  “Is it likely that a hermit would have lived so far up the hill where others might have difficulty reaching him?” she asked, trying to look thoughtful. “I believe we would do better to go downhill too, my lord.”

  “Do you forget that hermits do not want the company of others?” he asked. “Come, Kate, take my hand and I shall help you up if you find the going difficult.”

  “Not at all, my lord,” she said hastily. “I have always enjoyed walking and climbing. This slope is not even particularly steep.”

  They moved sharply upward for a few minutes, Kate gazing despairingly downward in the vain hope of catching a glimpse of one of the other couples among the trees.

  “Well, bless my soul!” the marquess said, stopping abruptly ahead of her. “I do believe this must be it.” Kate leaned to one side and peered around him. The trees thinned out suddenly into a circular patch of rough grass. At the top of the clearing was a sheer face of bare rock and in the middle of it a hole large enough to admit one person if he stooped down somewhat.

  “I do believe you are right,” Kate said with wild enthusiasm. “How splendid that we are the ones to find it. I shall call for the others immediately. ”

  But before she could match action to words, his hand clamped on her wrist and he was smiling down at her.

  “Not so fast, Kate,” he said. “Imagine how foolish we should feel if we dragged them up here only to find that this was not the cave at all. Let us go inside.”

  “Oh, no,” she said, pulling at her wrist, which nevertheless stayed very firm within his grasp. “I am afraid of small dark places, my lord. I would feel much better if we called the others and you three gentlemen could explore.”

  “Ah, but you need not be afraid,” he said with that smile she was growing to feel very uneasy about. “I shall be here to hold you close if you become afraid, Kate. Come along. I shall go first and you may follow.”

  Kate gave a hasty glance back the way they had come. Yes, she thought, it would be relatively easy to bolt back downward as soon as he disappeared inside the cave and then lose herself among the trees. However, he did not give her a chance to put her plan to the test. He transferred his grasp to her hand and kept his hold of it as he lowered his head and stepped gingerly through the opening in the rock. He had to step downward, with the result that his head was below the level of hers when he turned to look out at her.

  “This is amazing,” he said. “The cave appears to be quite large despite the smallness of the entry. Come, Kate. There is nothing to be afraid of. It is not even particularly dark in here.”

  And because her one hand was firmly imprisoned, Kate saw no point in not offering the other and allowing him to help her take the step down to the hard floor of the cave. She almost forgot her fear of her companion as she became aware of cool air and a sense of spaciousness. The cave stretched above their heads, losing itself in shadows. The floor was hard earth, level like the floor of a home.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, “this must be the hermitage. I can just imagine a holy man living here, sitting outside perhaps during the evenings, gazing down on the valley as he told his beads. Look, the walls are rough. But are not those shelves, deliberately hewn out of the rock?”

  “Do you know, Kate,” the marquess said conversationally, “I do not care a fig about the holy man or his hermitage or his shelves. I would far prefer a live woman and a secluded setting where we are unlikely to be disturbed for some time.”

  Kate tried to be casual. She tried to draw her hand away almost absently, without jerking it. But his fingers held it like a vise. “I take that as a compliment, my lord,” she said. “But really it is most unfair of us to keep our find to ourselves. I shall call the others.”

  He laughed. “It will not do, Kate,” he said, jerking at her hand so that she found herself colliding with his chest. “You know why you are here and what we are going to do together before we leave. You are no maiden to feign ignorance.”

  “My lord,” Kate said, tipping her head back and forcing herself to look him squarely in the eye, “I am sensible of the compliment you pay me, but I am afraid you do not understand. I was faithful to my husband and I remain faithful to his memory. I have no wish for a flirtation or for any form of dalliance. Let me go now. I am sure it is time to go back to the picnic anyway.”

  He. laughed again. “You have me almost persuaded that you really are reluctant, Kate,” he said. “Believe me, you would be unusual if you are. Most females find my title and my money irresistible, and I believe they are not averse to my person either. It is no small honor to be mistress to the marquess of Uppington, you know.”

  “It is an honor I could live without, thank you,” Kate said.

  One of his hands was untying the strings of her bonnet. He flung it down now and threaded his fingers through her tightly drawn-back hair. “Come on, Kate,” he said, “this is far too good an opportunity to miss.”

  “My hairstyle may look simple,” Kate said, grabbing at his wrists and trying to pry his hands from her hair, “but it takes long enough to create. Remove your hands, my lord.”

  He was smiling at her. “You really do play hard-to-get, do you not?” he said. “But you will find me persistent, Kate. I mean to have you. Kiss me now.”

  “Thank you, but I would prefer to kiss a toad,” Kate said. “Ouch!” This last was in reaction to the success of her attempt to dislodge one of his hands from her hair.

  But he dragged the whole left side of it free of her bun too.

  “Are we to turn this encounter into a fight?” the marquess asked in a tone that sounded inappropriately haughty. “I merely asked for a kiss, woman.”

  “It sounded like a command to me,” Kate said. “And in future you may keep your hands to yourself, my lord. I am going outside to call the others.”

  “Ah, I do believe we have arrived at the historic site,” a languid voice said from outside the cave. “Is anyone here before us, I wonder. Hello, there! Uppington? Moreton?”

  “It is certainly not very imposing after all that climbing,” Lady Emma’s voice complained.

  “Yes,” Kate called breathlessly. “We are here, Sir Harry. We win the prize.”

  “The devil!” Uppington muttered, turning his back on Kate and folding his arms.

  Sir Harry’s face appeared in the entrance, his fingers playing with the ribbon of his quizzing glass. He stepped inside. “I say,” he said, “this is most impressive, is it not? Just one moment, Lady Emma. I do believe one of us will have to leave before you can come in.”

  He kept his back firmly against the doorway, his eyes lazily raking over Kate, whose relief quickly gave way to acute embarra
ssment. One side of her hair was down around her shoulders, her dress was twisted to one side. She felt flushed and breathless. Hasty hands flew up to straighten her dress and to smooth her hair back from her face and confine it to its knot at the back of her neck again. Sir Harry watched her the whole time, one eyebrow raised, one hand slowly twirling his quizzing glass. When she was almost respectable again, he bent lazily, picked up her bonnet, and handed it to her with a mocking half-smile.

  “Yes, indeed,” he said, “quite impressive. I am not surprised that you are speechless, Uppington. I must say, though, that I should find living here extremely uncomfortable and inconvenient. One becomes used to one’s creature comforts. Mrs. Mannering, allow me to hand you up this rather high step. One moment, Lady Emma. Mrs. Mannering and I will come out so that you may join your brother in here.”

  Kate clung to his offered hand, her own not quite steady, and stepped up into the blessed brightness and fresh air of the hillside.

  “I am not at all sure that I want to go inside,” Lady Emma said. “It looks horridly dark and dirty.”

  “It is surprisingly large and airy, in fact,” Sir Harry said. “Of course, holy men of the past did not care overmuch for cleanliness. Whoever lived here probably made a pilgrimage once a year to the lake for a bath-if it was a warm summer. It is hard to imagine such uncivilized ways, is it not?”

  “Well, I have come this far,” Lady Emma said. “I might as well see the cave, though I find it vastly disappointing from the outside.”