Love in Disguise (The Love Trilogy, #1)

by Edith Layton

  His friend grinned, pocketing his invitation, and then Warwick spoke again. “But, Julian,” he began, and then paused and said seriously, “I hesitate to say this…”

  “Old friends shouldn’t hesitate to say anything to each other,” Julian commented simply.

  “Ah, but sometimes new loves interrupt the flow of old friendships, as they should, I suppose, as they should,” Warwick sighed. “But still, you’re right in that as well. This seems to be your day, entirely. So indulge me in this and don’t answer, with either fists or words, before you’ve thought it through.… Are you entirely sure, my friend, that it is Lady Marianna that you want? Or is it only that she’s the only woman you’ve ever known that you seem unable to have?”

  Julian didn’t answer at once, and when he did, he asked, with the smallest smile, “Warwick, have you never been in love?”

  His friend gazed back at him, and smiled as well, a crooked sorrowful smile of the sort that came so easily to his lean face. And that smile was his only reply.

  It wasn’t until after they’d parted, in charity, but in silence, that Julian realized to his discomfort that Warwick had replied to him with laugher and smiles, but that he’d never really answered his questions about the state of his own heart, no, not any of them.

  *

  It was a ball given in honor of Miss Lillian Mary Cornelia Hoyt and it was given because she’d sunk without a trace when she’d tried London’s deeper waters earlier in the Season, so her mother was very pleased when the Viscount Hazelton finally finished making his bows to her and moved off down the reception line. It was bad enough that several young misses present were so attractive that they made poor Lillian look no-account, it was worse that the handsome young man that took her hand cast her into the shadows as well. He was so tall, blond, graceful, and radiant, Lady Hoyt was near to tears by the time he left the entry hall, for not only had he taken all the attention, he’d taken every shred of her awkward daughter’s countenance with him as well.

  But then, nothing had gone right for the Hoyts this Season. They’d given house room to Lady Marianna in the hopes that some of her rejected suitors would settle for Lillian, but it seemed that lady never cut line from any of her admirers, preferring to keep them all on various lengths of string for her amusement. Still, Lady Hoyt thought as she automatically greeted her next guests, there was only one week left to the lady’s visit before she returned to London. If they were good hosts, it still might be that the Incomparable Marianna would donate some new acquaintances or used suitors to poor Lillian in gratitude, as a parting gift. So long as none of them were romantic-looking young pauper viscounts, they’d count themselves repaid. Craning her neck to see the expression on that viscount’s face as he greeted Lady Marianna in the ballroom, Lady Hoyt sighed with relief and relaxed enough to pinch her daughter to remind her to stop slouching. For the first and last time in her life, she was actually pleased that Lillian was not more attractive. For the handsome viscount had everything a mother would want for her daughter, except for a full purse, and the emptiness of that article, of course, outweighed all else.

  Then that social-climbing nouveau riche Miss Logan came along the reception line, and in her buttercup-yellow gown with her fair hair done up in a coronet of curls and flowers, she cast Lillian so much in the shade that it even took her own mother a few seconds to see where she was standing and gaping openmouthed at her new guest. Lady Hoyt couldn’t even celebrate the fact that her invitation had lured the wealthy reclusive Mr. Jones to her ball, she was so busily despising Miss Logan and thinking of all the criticisms she’d have for her daughter the moment they were left alone. Fortunately for the graceless Miss Hoyt, that wouldn’t be for some time, for the ball was well-attended and had only just begun.

  Lord Hoyt opened the ball by dancing with his daughter, and though some parents and chaperons cooed their approval at how pleasant a scene it was, every other eye was on a more spectacular couple. The Viscount Hazelton danced with Miss Logan, and the fair-haired pair were so dazzlingly lovely they attracted the eye like sunlight glancing off a windowpane. As one gentleman hastily explained to his annoyed partner, it was not so much that one wanted to watch them as it was that one simply couldn’t help doing so. All the other dancers glanced over to them often, even the darkly beautiful Lady Moredon, in the arms of a perfectly pleasant young gentleman, even Warwick Jones, as he honored a wallflower by stepping into the dance with her.

  Then there was a waltz, and Mr. Jones relieved the viscount of his fair partner, and then there were the country dances, and more waltzes and minuets and reels, and so soon the couples mixed and scattered and separated and came together once more in more ways than one, for no unwed, unengaged couple could dance together more than twice and keep to society’s dictates.

  Julian had two waltzes with his lady, and that was all he could have. Usually, when he was at a ball that she graced, he then repaired to the sidelines, content to watch her for the rest of the evening. He was well used to languishing at the side of the room, communicating with her chiefly with his eyes throughout the long night. She’d spin past with a smile for him alone, he’d watch and wait so that she could always see him wherever she danced. But tonight he also danced with Susannah twice, and neither time did he look away from her to exchange so much as a wink with Marianna.

  When he’d done dancing, he stayed to the side, as ever, but this night he didn’t pine, but rather wore a smile as he watched Susannah when she was swept off by Mr. Jones, and then Mr. White and Mr. Hughes, and Lord Beccles and a half-dozen more gentlemen, even including Lord Hoyt himself, the unlucky gentleman enjoying himself hugely, never knowing what his lady-wife had in store for him later.

  Tonight Lady Moredon wore white, and although there were a dozen other girls in white, since it was a debutante’s color, it was pure and suited her dark beauty, and so it was as easy for Julian to single her out from all the others as it was for her to outshine them all in it. But Susannah’s yellow frock was like a shout of laughter, and exactly suited her radiant fairness, so it was equally simple for him to pick her out from the mass of dancers. Warwick came to his side and they grinned at each other as they saw her whirling about the room in a lively country dance. Julian was so engrossed with their protegee’s success that he entirely failed to see the particularly winsome sidewise smiles Marianna gave him over her partner’s shoulder as she danced by him.

  It was an odd night for the viscount. He actually found himself fidgeting, instead of envying his lady’s partner as he stood and watched the dancers sail past during the waltz. He was pained by his foot falling asleep, instead of his heart sinking down, when other gentlemen claimed two dances from Marianna. By the time supper was announced, he realized he was actually quite hungry, and took a full plate to his table, instead of the usual meager rations he toyed with when he was forced to watch some other, more fortunate fellow take Marianna in to dine. And yet, as he shared that table with Warwick and Susannah, he passed more time laughing than eating, no matter how hungry he’d gotten.

  “Well,” he’d asked Susannah at once, when they sat down together, the three of them alone at last, the contessa having joined the other chaperons, “how do you feel, Miss Social Success?”

  “Dizzy,” Susannah replied thoughtfully, “and my feet hurt, for many of the gentlemen are more enthusiastic than accurate dancers, although you two,” she said quickly, “are perfection. And,” she added, stirring her aspic round her plate and watching it melt as though she were reading omens in its gelatinous depths, “afraid, I think, of going to the ladies’ withdrawing room by myself, because I don’t think some of the other ladies are exactly thrilled by my success. Oh dear, I oughtn’t to have mentioned that, should I have?” she asked innocently, knowing very well she should not, but delighted that she had, when her two companions threw back their heads and roared with laughter at her face, as well as her words.

  “No,” Warwick said, vastly pleased, looking down at her f
ondly, “but thank you for it. She quite enlivens a party, don’t you agree, Julian?”

  “Oh yes,” the viscount agreed, bending a softened smile upon her as well. “I don’t know how we got along before without her, in fact.”

  There were a great many other persons watching their table, like vultures, Warwick complained, and so when the musicians began to tune up again, he announced that he’d take unfair advantage and immediately claim his second dance with Susannah. Julian, having had his two with her, and two with Marianna, and desiring no more with anyone else, wandered to the edge of the dance floor again. As he watched his elegant friend smiling warmly as he led Susannah to the floor, he realized there were few gentlemen here he’d care to call friend save for Warwick, and as his evening was ostensibly done, all he had left to hope for was that country hours would close a country ball down earlier than one held in town.

  But before he could decide where to station himself for the rest of the night, however long it might be, he felt a light touch upon his hand. He looked up to see Miss Bridie, Marianna’s dour chaperon, standing beside him. For an odd moment he couldn’t place her; she and her mistress had been, for once, far from his mind.

  “She wants to see you,” that tight-lipped female hissed.

  “And I, her,” he replied amiably. “Only tell me when, and where.”

  Since this was the common way Marianna let him know when she might next meet him in private, he was already pondering when she was planning to schedule a visit with him, when his breath was taken away by the unexpected reply.

  “Now. And here,” Miss Bridie said in a fierce whisper. “Or at least, outside of here, out those French doors and down the path to the right. And she asks you go casually, your lordship,” she added coldly, “and by slow degree when the dancing’s most active, so no one notices you’ve gone.”

  There were dozens of couples wheeling about the floor in a spirited reel when the viscount backed off to blend in with the shadows and slowly exit the room by the side door. He did it so cleanly he believed no one noticed. But, he thought, if Warwick saw him leave (and it would be remarkable if he missed anything), it wouldn’t matter. It might actually be to the good. Warwick was knowing and could make plausible excuses, if necessary, for his absence. If a footman noticed him depart, it made no matter. The evening was getting on, there were always some young people getting on with other things in various clandestine fashions, and footmen were only human. They’d alert their employers only if such activity involved young persons of their house. They were sympathetic, for they were, after all, young too, even if they were invisible. The only advantage they’d take might be the amusing conversation they’d make of it at the servants’ table as they finished the leftover cold meats of the party with a tasty relish of odd bits of juicy gossip.

  It was a warm night, and a light one; the half-twilight would last until past midnight on this short magical night of the longest day of the year. The shrubs and trees stood out against the hazy dim night sky as clearly as if it were first dawn and not last light, and Julian felt the enchantment of the soft night rising with his own excitement at this unexpected turn of events. Marianna had never been so bold in her preference for him, he’d never had her to himself in such a romantic setting, although he’d often dreamed of it.

  Thus when he turned a corner of the narrow crushed-shell walk and saw his Marianna standing alone waiting for him, he didn’t wait. He was as bold as she’d been as he came up to her and took her in his arms and kissed her. And she let him. Only after a long moment did she put her hands against his chest and hold him away. Then he sighed and obediently stepped back from her, for he’d expected no less, but however brief it had been, it had been lovely to feel her cool mouth against his, her long slender form quiescent in his arms. Then she surprised him again.

  “Not here, Julian,” she said. “Come with me.”

  She hadn’t said, “No, I cannot,” or “You must not,” or “Oh please, Julian, you should not,” as she always did. So he was bemused as she hurried him down the path, and then beckoned him through a gap in a yew wall, only to stoop and pull back a long quavering branch of hemlock to lead him along another narrow walkway through an alley of towering, fragrant evergreens. He followed her, expectant, enchanted, feeling more and more a character from a summer masque celebrating an ancient night of wonder. He wanted to share it, to tell her on a laugh that he felt like Bottom, poor, unworthy, ensorcelled, donkey-eared Bottom the Weaver, blindly pursuing his love, Titania the Fairy Queen. But when he began to speak, she turned and held a finger to her lips. He fell silent and followed her deeper into the remarkable night.

  They crossed a swaying rustic bridge that creaked louder than the frogs did in the small ornamental pond it took them over. He scented honeysuckle as they skirted the margins of the little pool, whose waters were gray and still as slate in the half-light. And then, set a few steps into a birch wood, they came at last to a child’s summer playhouse, a charming thing made of rough-hewn logs, with long windows that held no glass but made do with strands of ivy and night-blooming vines instead, to keep out the summer breezes. He had to bend his head as he entered it, and couldn’t stand at full height when he did, but Marianna seemed calmer there, and she leaned against the half-scale table that, along with a pair of miniature chairs, was the only furnishing in the room.

  “Now,” she sighed, her hand to her heart, sounding slightly winded, “now we can talk freely.”

  “Indeed, this is charming—” he began.

  But she hushed him at once, whispering, “Softly, Julian, you must speak more quietly.”

  “But you said we could speak freely,” he protested, as she whispered, “Yes, so I think. No one can see us here, but there are no windows, and who knows who’s abroad tonight? Lillian said no one knew of the place but herself, for it was hers when she was a child, but we can’t be too careful.”

  “Well, then,” Julian said on a smile, moving closer, seeing her face as a pale blur in the dim light in the little room, her dress glowing with the strange luminescence white takes on in shadowy light, “since we can’t be seen, here’s a thing that can’t be heard,” and he gathered her in his arms and kissed her again.

  He’d meant it as a poetic gesture. It was a romantic night, a daring encounter for her to have arranged for them, it was the least he could do in tribute to her cleverness and thoughtfulness. He was only surprised when he found it was entirely possible to do more. For though she did no more than lie still in his arms, she did remain so, and never pushed him away, or- protested, or demurred, even when, at length, his hands stroked her, moving up along her waist, touching the cool skin at her breast. It was he that was suddenly shamed when he realized that he was only half-attending to what he did, because he was waiting for an order to stop that never came. Then, precisely because of her unusual cooperativeness, he became aware of her complete stillness: her soft but totally unmoving mouth, her hands hanging limp at her sides.

  He released her, apologizing, puzzled because he’d never gone so far, never having been allowed to, and yet once laving achieved more than he’d dared, he was amazed to discover that he’d no wish to do more. For he couldn’t forget that she was a lady, and he, no despoiler.

  “I understand,” she said softly, brushing aside his apologies. “I do, that’s why I arranged to meet you here tonight. But, Julian, things can’t go on as they are. My brother has come. “

  At that, he stopped mulling over his reasons for his unease it her accepting his embrace. He stood very still, and could only ask: “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know where he is now,” she sighed. “He’s gone, thank heaven, but he stayed all yesterday and we brangled far into the night. There’s no hope for it, Julian, he’s determined. I’m to marry Alford, in the autumn, as he wishes.”

  “Marianna!” Julian cried, forgetting to lower his voice in his distress. “You can’t!”

  But then he could say no more, for she stepped forwa
rd and laid her hand across his lips.

  “Of course I can,” she said with a bit of annoyance, “and since I must, I shall.”

  He took her hand in his and pressed his lips to her palm and then said in a lower, calmer voice, although he felt not at all reasonable, “You mustn’t, Marianna. I can repair my fortunes within a year. Only a year. There must be some way you can wait out that year. Marriage is forever, surely it’s worth the wait of a year. It’s no pipe dream, my love, I’ll have the funds by then for us to live comfortably by any standards, with what Warwick has invested, with what I can add, it won’t be long, and if you think you can’t wait, then,” he said desperately, “we can run away. There’d be no shame to it. Only you mustn’t buckle under, not now, not when it will all be resolved so soon.”

  “Julian,” she said sternly, cutting him off, “I won’t be buckling under to Robert. It’s time to be perfectly honest, and utterly sane. I’ve no intention of running away with you. We’ve had a lovely association. I do enjoy your company. But I’m already past nineteen. It’s time for me to wed, and I’ve”—she paused and took in her breath—“always intended to have Alford anyway. There it is. I’m sorry, but there it is.

  “I put it off as long as I could, because I enjoyed my single state very well, but my brother tells me he’s having some difficulty now, some misunderstanding with important persons. When I return to town he says I might not have the same entrée into society as I had before. So I might as well settle the matter with Alford. He and I have had an understanding forever.”