Miss Weston's Masquerade

by Louise Allen

  After a considerable time, Cassandra finally managed to free herself from her ball gown and perched on the edge of Guy’s bed, unlacing her shoe ribbons.

  She sat wriggling her aching toes, almost too weary to make the effort to roll into bed. Without warning, the quiet of the mansion was shattered by a thunderous knocking at the front door, and the sound of raised voices.

  ‘Milord! Stop! You cannot… my master is not receiving.’

  ‘The devil he’s not. Stand aside.’

  Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. Guy, in his shirt sleeves and breeches, flung open the dividing door from the dressing room.

  ‘What is happening?’

  ‘It’s Nicholas,’ she gasped, her mouth dry.

  ‘Mon Dieu. Events are moving faster than I expected.’ He strode over and put a protective arm around her shoulders as she sat on the bed. ‘Your godmother must have found your letter at once. Your Nicholas, unless I am much mistaken, is out for my blood.’

  ‘Oh, Guy,’ Cassandra clutched his hand, terrified of what Nicholas would do when he found them like this. She was acutely aware of her bare legs and shoulders, of her flimsy petticoats and Guy’s own half-dressed state.

  The chamber door opened with almost maddening slowness to reveal Nicholas, his face taut with anger. Through her fears, Cassandra felt her heart surge with joy at the sight of him. He was here and, for whatever motive, it seemed he cared enough to come after her.

  ‘A very touching scene,’ Nicholas remarked, eyeing the pair of them as they sat on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Nicholas, it is not what it seems,’ Cassandra began.

  ‘That I can well believe,’ he retorted. ‘I suggest you take your arms from around Miss Weston, Count. This farce has gone quite far enough.’

  ‘I have no intention of leaving the side of my affianced wife,’ Guy said, with some panache. ‘Leave my house immediately, you are distressing Miss Weston.’

  ‘If Miss Weston is distressed, it is entirely her own fault. Cassandra, put on some clothes and wait downstairs. I will come and take you home in a minute.’

  ‘No! I won’t leave Guy. You’ll challenge him to a duel or something dreadful and one of you will be killed.’

  ‘Probably me,’ Guy muttered, sotto voce.

  ‘Undoubtedly you,’ Nicholas remarked. ‘Cassandra, will you do what you’re told?’

  ‘I think perhaps the time has come to tell him the truth.’ Guy got off the bed and moved with studied casualness to a position nearer the dressing room door.

  ‘How can you suggest that?’ Cassandra said reproachfully. ‘You know why I can’t.’

  ‘One of you had better tell me, or I will have to extract the information some other way.’ Nicholas leaned one shoulder against a massive armoire. ‘And my patience is not unlimited.’

  Cassandra felt herself go pale. She couldn’t let Nicholas fight Guy, yet nor could she betray whatever hopes there were of him honourably marrying Lucy.

  Guy, however, had other ideas. ‘No, really, mon ami. You cannot be considering fisticuffs? This evening suit has suffered enough, what with being wept down…’

  Nicholas grinned. ‘You have my sympathy.’

  ‘Oh, stop it! Stop it, both of you!’ Cassandra could stand it no longer. ‘This isn’t a joke. Nicholas, Guy was only trying to help. I came away with him so you would be free. Free to marry Lucy.’ There was a surprising lack of response from Nicholas, but she stumbled on. ‘How could you hurt her by jilting her when you love her so? I saw you together kissing. How could you make her cry like that?’

  Nicholas straightened up slowly, his eyes on her face. She had all his attention now, and the tolerant amusement had vanished. ‘What is this about Lucy Hartley? I can make neither head nor tail of it. What has she to do with any of this? You can’t have run away because the girl kissed me on the cheek, for heaven’s sake! Why should I have to marry her?’

  He seemed entirely sincere. Cassandra shook her head in confusion. ‘But I overheard you in the retiring room. You were making a declaration, you made her promise not to tell anyone yet. And then you proposed to me out of some misplaced fear you have compromised me, and say Lucy will understand. No wonder she was in tears on the terrace.’

  There was a long silence while Nicholas digested this outburst, then Guy said wearily, ‘I confess I do not understand how you English manage to make simple matters of the heart into such dramas. It is a wonder any of you marry at all. And if you would stop regarding me with that sinister look in your eye, I will assure you that not one word of Miss Weston’s escapades in Paris or here will ever cross my lips.’

  Nicholas glanced at him. ‘I will take your word for it. But why you felt it necessary to interfere, and why you had to descend on us with that minx Mariette in tow…’

  ‘You’ve spoken to her?’ Guy waved a hand. ‘But surely you see, one word from her and Cassandra’s reputation would be ashes.’

  ‘Ah, but she now knows I can spoil her chances here in Vienna, just as effectively as she could damage Cassandra’s good name. She will keep her mouth shut.’

  Nicholas looked at Cassandra. There was an expression in his eyes she had never seen before, and when he spoke, it was as though he had forgotten Guy. ‘Is this all true? That you fled because you thought I was proposing to you only out of a sense of duty, and for no other reason?’

  She nodded dumbly.

  Nicholas turned to Guy. ‘You are decidedly de trop, my friend. Might I suggest you leave us?’

  ‘With pleasure, Nicholas.’ He slipped from the room, closing the door silently behind him.

  ‘Now, let us be clear. On seeing Guy and Mariette, I am supposed to have decided to jilt Lucy, and offer for you, to save your reputation?’

  Cassandra nodded. ‘Well, didn’t you?’

  ‘No. What you overheard was me telling Lucy of my intention to propose, not to her, but to you, Cassandra. I wanted to propose to you tomorrow, when everything was quiet and we could be alone. Then, when I saw Guy and Mariette, I felt I had to establish your position at once, beyond any doubt. But I handled it badly, my love. I am not surprised you misunderstood.

  ‘As for Lucy, knowing how close you had become over the last few weeks, I thought she might give me some clue as to how you would receive me. Lucy is a friendly soul, I’ve known her for years. People keep suggesting we should marry,’ he added ironically, ‘and perhaps we would have done. But neither of us truly loved each other that way, and mercifully, we are friends enough to admit it. What you saw was Lucy giving me her approval with a kiss. Then when I told her how coldly you had rejected me, she was upset: hence the tears.’

  Cassandra stood staring at the man she loved, wondering at how this tangle had come about, then the import of what he had said dawned on her. ‘You were going to propose to me, anyway? Before you saw Guy? But why?’

  He moved slowly towards her, the tension easing slowly from his face to be replaced by a wry smile. ‘Can’t you guess, brat?’

  ‘But you don’t love me,’ she said shakily. This couldn’t be happening.

  ‘Don’t I?’ He was very close to her now, but still he did not touch her. ‘Oh, but I do, Miss Weston. I think I’ve loved you ever since you braved Aunt Augusta with that pile of shirts. I just didn’t realise it.’

  ‘But why not?’ she whispered, looking up into the green eyes, too afraid to believe this could be true, and not a cruel joke.

  ‘First of all, because I thought you were too young, and I was full of guilt about the way you made me feel.’ His hand came up to cup her chin gently. ‘And you made me feel so very…’ He broke off at the blush staining her cheeks.

  ‘And when I discovered the truth about your age, I was so confused by the responsibility I felt for you, and my regret at dragging you half way across Europe, and the sheer irritation you invoked in me every time I started to feel fond of you…’

  ‘Irritation?’ Cassandra exclaimed, suddenly, miraculously, enjoying herself.
It was all going to be all right, he loved her, he had always loved her. ‘I was never as irritating as you were!’

  ‘You were enough to try the patience of a saint.’ He smiled down at her. ‘You still are. Cassandra, .do you think, just possibly, you could…’

  ‘Love you? Is this a declaration, my lord?’ She hated – and loved – to see Nicholas, her Nicholas, deprived of his usual self-assurance.

  He raked his hands through his hair. ‘Yes, of course it is, you provoking woman. I love you. Do you love me? Will you marry me? Is that plain enough for you?’

  She opened her mouth to say yes, then was struck by a cold fear. ‘Even after what I did in Venice?’

  He didn’t reply, but took her hand and led her to a chaise longue. Seated beside her, he gathered up both hands in his and said quietly, ‘Tell me why.’

  Cassandra looked into the strong, tender face she loved so much and struggled to find the right words. ‘I wanted you to see me as a woman, not a silly, troublesome girl who had spoilt your Tour. I wanted you to see that those moments when you’d seemed to want me, meant something, that we were right for each other.’

  ‘But you could have told me.’

  ‘I didn’t think you would understand. You saw me as a mixture of a boy and a child. But I loved you as a woman, although I didn’t understand what that meant until that moment in Lucia’s bedroom.’

  ‘That woman. She led you astray. What can one expect from a – ’

  ‘No, that is not fair. She wanted to help me, she made me see that perhaps you cared for me. I was wrong to accept her solution.’

  ‘Why did you run away having come so far?’ he queried gently.

  ‘I had no idea it would be like that, that I would feel so overwhelmed. I was frightened and then, I realised it would be wrong to do something that would dishonour both of us.’ She lifted troubled eyes to his, ‘Can you understand?’

  Nicholas put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her hard against his chest. ‘Why couldn’t you tell me? Later?’

  Cassandra kept her face hidden in his shirtfront, the smell of clean linen and the warmth of him was achingly familiar. ‘I knew you’d be angry. I couldn’t bear you to think less of me. And I was afraid, I couldn’t control what I had incited in you.’

  ‘You have no need to be frightened, Cassie. Next time it will be different, I promise you.’ His voice was very husky against her hair.

  ‘But not too different,’ she ventured, daringly.

  Nicholas laughed, and tipped up her chin. ‘Minx. We are getting very solemn here, but while we are, let me say I never meant any of those things I said to you the other morning when I found the necklace. I was hurt and I struck out when I should have trusted my feelings for you.’

  Cassandra twisted free from his arms and looked at him directly. ‘Why did you not tell me how you felt when we reached Vienna?’

  ‘Because I thought you had had enough of me,’ he said wryly. ‘I had scolded you, walloped you, lectured you, nearly got you drowned. You’d seen my bad temper. How could that compare with being courted by the likes of Lord Stewart or a horde of well-bred, amiable young men?’

  ‘What could Lord Stewart give me that could compare with being attacked by brigands, bitten by fleas, poisoned by disgusting food and entertained by the Bulstrodes?’ She regarded him from under her lashes. ‘I think you must agree, Nicholas, that either I’m in love with you, or I am fit only for Bedlam.’

  ‘I think we’re both mad,’ he said, with a smile. ‘But tell me you love me, and will marry me regardless.’

  Cassandra looked at him, the happiness welling up inside her so she could hardly speak. ‘Yes, Nicholas, I love you. I think I have loved you from the beginning, but I only realised what it was in Nice. I will marry you, it’s all I ever dreamed of. I only ran away with Guy because I saw no future without you, and I wanted you to be happy. I would never have married him, nor anyone else.’

  ‘Little fool,’ he said huskily, pulling her against his chest and kissing her with a passionate, possessive intensity. With a sigh of surrender, Cassandra responded, melting into his embrace. For the first time, she could express all the love she felt for him without reserve, without fear.

  How long they would have stayed there locked in each other’s arms she had no way of knowing. All she knew was that Guy tapped on the door and strolled in, a bottle of champagne in one hand, three glasses in the other.

  ‘It seems I must play the chaperon tonight, my friends. Not a role I am used to, but then, tonight has been full of new experiences. And besides, that’s my bed.’

  Nicholas turned to him challengingly. ‘How could you play such a trick on me, after all the years we have been friends?’

  The Count was concentrating on setting the glasses down safely. ‘I guessed Cassandra might be wrong, and if that was the case, I was sure you would come for her, as indeed you did. If I had been wrong, well, I would have done my best to help her.’ He sketched a small bow, ‘I am entirely at your service, my friends, and you see what risks to life and limb I am prepared to run for you!’

  There was a short silence while both Nicholas and Cassandra regarded the Count, then Nicholas laughed, hugging Cassandra against his side possessively. ‘It seems we must both thank you. Will you come to the wedding?’

  The Count de Courcelles popped the cork and filled the glasses. ‘I shall expect to be nothing less than the best man. Your health!’ He raised his wine. ‘To the Earl and Countess of Lydford!’

  About the Author

  Louise Allen lives on the North Norfolk coast close to the 18th century seaside town of Cromer. She is a passionate collector of late Georgian and Regency ephemera and prints and is the author of over fifty historical romances and non-fiction works, mainly set in the Georgian and Regency period. She also blogs about Georgian life at http://janeaustenslondon.com/

  Full details of all her books, including extracts and buy-links, can be found at www.louiseallenregency.com

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