Behind The Baron's Mask: A Regency Romance (Resolved In Love Book 1)

by Penny Fairbanks

  “Too right you are. For some reason those wonderful adventure novels by that promising new author have come to mind.” She paused thoughtfully, the corner of her mouth turning down slightly as she puzzled over her own words.

  A sudden chill stole over Henry. He had no doubt she must be thinking of his anonymously published series. But why would she connect them with Henry’s critical statement?

  “Is that so?” Half of him did not wish to hear what the masked lady would have to critique about his work. But the other half needed to know, needed to understand what his writing lacked. Henry only hoped that he managed to keep the nerves out of his voice.

  “I quite adore those books myself.” The young woman hurried to continue. She seemed to sense that Henry had grown tense, but she didn’t question it. “The hero is dashing, the adventures are exciting and terrifying and humorous and heartwarming all at once, and the writing is so eloquent. But…”

  She paused again, her blue eyes narrowed as she pondered how to phrase her thoughts in a respectful way.

  “But…something is missing?” Henry found himself offering, surprised by his own assessment.

  “Yes, that’s it.” The young lady agreed with a grateful smile. “The stories are all full of brave, intelligent, reckless, honorable men who go to unimaginable lengths to right the wrongs that have been done in their world. But I can’t help noticing that there are so few ladies with whom I can relate or aspire to be like. Ladies who can stand next to the hero against a foe or offer comfort. Perhaps such situations have simply never crossed the author’s mind, but I think the books would be just perfect if they did. Women long for adventure and escape just as much as men do.”

  It was Henry’s turn to pause. His brow furrowed under his mask as he let his dance partner’s words sink in and take root. Perhaps his perspective did require some growth after all. He had to admit to himself that he had not given much consideration to writing female characters. But the young lady’s observation was bright and astute. He ardently wished that he could thank her.

  “That is very interesting. I’m sure the writer would have been happy to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

  A small smile painted her lips and her eyes sparkled. “I would very much enjoy having someone I could share such thoughts with, though I fear it is difficult to find such like-minded gentlemen. Save for yourself, of course.”

  Henry swallowed as a blush tinged his cheeks under his mask. “Indeed. Having similar interests is crucial for any long-term relationship if it is to be happy and fulfilling for both parties. And both partners should feel free to share their thoughts and interests with each other. That will make for a worthy match.”

  Silence followed Henry’s statement and he realized after refocusing on the lady’s frozen face that perhaps he had been far too forward with his thoughts. Something about these masks must have loosened Henry’s tongue.

  “That is simply my opinion, at least. I am far from an expert in the matter,” he mumbled.

  “No, I think you absolutely have the right of it.” The woman’s voice sounded nearly dazed and she stared at Henry with interest. She appeared to be seriously considering his words. But she squeezed her eyes shut and returned to her previously unaffected and sweet demeanor, deftly changing the subject.

  Though Henry had never been a particularly strong dancer, often struggling to keep conversation while minding his feet, he found that he needed little concentration for the movements now. Each step seemed to flow into the next with ease as he enjoyed both simple discussions and comfortable silences with his partner.

  He couldn’t stop himself from noticing the many charming nuances of the woman’s countenance, from her perfectly bow shaped upper lip to the way her ringlets framed her round face. The glimpse of dark blue eyes behind her mask stirred his curiosity. If only he could see all her features put together properly.

  Above all, Henry clung to every word she said. At times he struggled to hear her above the music and the general cacophony of noise that crowded the room, but something about the quiet timbre of her voice seemed to put him at ease. And she was clearly an intelligent and responsive woman with an appreciation for beauty. Something told him that so much more bubbled below the surface of this conversation that the current situation did not provide sufficient opportunity to discover.

  The time slipped by and suddenly Henry found himself bowing to the young woman as she curtsied to him and turned away, swallowed by the throng of guests. For a wild moment he considered following her and asking her name.

  But Solomon quickly squashed this impulse. He materialized at Henry’s side and urgently whispered, “Come, it is time we take our leave. I cannot stand to be in this room another moment.”

  Alarmed, Henry allowed himself to be led out of Lord Henshell’s ballroom. As they reached the double doors, he spared a glance back, hoping to catch a shimmer of blonde hair or cream satin. But there were far too many people for him to analyze in the mere moment he had before he and his friend quit the room.

  It was just as well. Whatever interest the girl had sparked would remain trapped within these walls. True to his goal of secrecy, he’d never told her his name.

  Chapter 3

  “Sissy? Are you meant to be practicing or daydreaming?” Juliet’s voice startled Cecilia out of her reverie. She certainly meant to be practicing, but her mind had wandered back to a sore subject that had been heavily occupying it as of late.

  “I see I’ve been found out,” Cecilia admitted sheepishly, turning herself around to face her sister. She still sat at the bench, but her hands lay limp in her lap, the sheet music before her turned to the middle of a piece. It did not help Cecilia that after her perfect performance at Lady Henshell’s ball nearly two weeks past, her hands seemed to freeze up whenever she approached the pianoforte.

  “Still no word on your mystery gentleman?” Juliet sat next to Cecilia, the fabric of their dresses rustling against each other.

  Cecilia smiled ruefully. Of course Juliet would have already known. “Luck is not on my side, it would seem.”

  Juliet took one of Cecilia’s hands in her own and patted it gently. “You know I love you so, my dear sister, but perhaps it is time to move on from this train of thought. What good can come of dreaming about a man who wouldn’t even give you his name?”

  The words jolted through Cecilia, an equally embarrassed and disappointed knot forming in her stomach. Juliet had always been bold, willing to speak her mind, and lively—much to the chagrin of their mother, governesses, and schoolteachers. Yet the truth of the words, and the gravity with which she delivered them, still stung. She glanced over to her sister and saw only concern.

  “I appreciate your candor, Jules. I know you must be right.... Yet I cannot shake this feeling that he was exactly the man I’ve been looking for these past two years. He had such a soft-spoken charm and he seemed so interested in everything I had to share about music and art.”

  Her head dropped down to her chest, defeat sinking in. “I simply cannot believe that none of our connections at the ball knew his identity or could even make a guess.”

  “Is it really so difficult to believe? You weren’t forthcoming with your identity either.” The motherly tone in Juliet’s question clearly carried an implication Cecilia did not like. “You yourself begged Miss Henshell to leave your name out of your performance. I do believe only myself, Mama, and Miss Henshell knew it was you. And even now you refuse to claim responsibility for your playing.”

  Cecilia’s cheeks flamed. Juliet’s point did not go unheard. When had her little sister matured into such a sound thinker? Still, Cecilia knew she must defend herself.

  “It is that very fact that allowed me to play so splendidly that night. No one knew it was me, so I felt as though I was simply playing here in the drawing room as I always do. Even though I’m asked to perform during dinners and dances, I’m always beset by nerves and it impacts my ability. And even if that weren’t the case, it wo
uld be exceedingly rude of me to presume to show off.

  “And I fear that if I do claim responsibility, I will forever be held to that standard at every future event and that is an expectation I cannot force myself to meet. It would kill the joy of the art for me.” With a voice to finally give them life, the words tumbled out of Cecilia.

  She herself had only come to this conclusion slowly since the night of the masquerade. After the first few days of stilted playing, she realized that putting on the best performance of her life somehow put more pressure on her. And the question of the masked man she’d danced with only added to her clouded mental and emotional state.

  Juliet sighed and shook her head slowly. “I suppose I can appreciate that, but you know I’ve never had any great love for the pianoforte or most other dear female accomplishments. I can’t say I truly understand your predicament but I respect it.”

  She squeezed Cecilia’s hand as if to emphasize her support. “I would just hate to see you waste away waiting for someone who may as well be nothing more than a mirage. Especially when there are many fine men who would happily ask for your hand—if only you’d let them.”

  Juliet’s knowing look caused Cecilia’s blush to deepen and she again rose to her own defense. “You know very well that most of those ‘fine men’ are only looking for a wife who will produce an heir and keep out of his business. I do not desire such a match in the least. There must be at least one man in all of London who hopes for a true companion in his wife, someone he can share himself with and she do the same. And I believe I danced with him that night...”

  Though she had started strong in her argument, Cecilia could feel her despair—not just with this man but with her situation as a whole—breaking down her resolve.

  “I do so admire your romantic ideals, Sissy. I wish I shared them—or any inclination toward marriage that seems so innate in our sex. Mama and Papa truly drew the short straw with this pair of stubborn daughters.” Juliet chuckled, but there was little true humor in it.

  “But you have been absolutely glowing since you made your debut. And you were quite popular for dances at Lady Henshell’s ball. Are you so sure no one struck your fancy?”

  For as close as they were, Cecilia and Juliet were opposites in many ways. But she was indeed correct. Their parents had been struggling to marry Cecilia off for two years, with another year shaping up to be just as unsuccessful. And Juliet still seemed disinclined to give them an easier time.

  Cecilia had to admit that her sister’s almost complete lack of interest in marrying at all did concern her greatly. At least Cecilia did wish to marry, but only to marry the right man, regardless of her parents’ opinion on his rank. After all, marrying for social standing had not brought her parents any latent happiness.

  So far the many elite men of the ton whom Mr. and Mrs. Richards would have been thrilled to have her marry had failed to set off that desperately desired spark in her. Cecilia had not lacked for suitors in her first Season, and even in her second.

  But Cecilia knew the hope they carried during her first Season of finding a good match dwindled smaller by the day. Her mother’s patience in particular grew dangerously thin. Cecilia knew she was on borrowed time, that her parents were near their wits end. Mrs. Richards had once been content with watching the suitors come to Cecilia and reveled in her eldest daughter’s natural popularity. Her increasingly active role in managing Cecilia’s appearance, behavior, and social calendar had not gone unnoticed.

  Juliet was another tale entirely. She had always been a clever and independent girl, oftentimes to a troublesome degree. But even Cecilia had expected, or at least hoped, that she would mature into a slightly mellower young lady before her first Season. Juliet had certainly matured, as this conversation indicated, but she had matured even further into her own beliefs of independence.

  “It is really not so different than your own convictions. I love being out in Society. The dances, the dinners, the socializing. I know for most women the goal is to marry. For me the goal is to enjoy every moment on my own terms. I don’t know if there is a man in all of England who would allow me that after we were wed.”

  Juliet’s expression grew dark. A lump rose in Cecilia’s throat. She hadn’t realized how deeply this issue troubled her sister, nor how hypocritical she’d been for expecting Juliet to mold herself to ideals that did not suit her.

  “It seems we are both in quite a bind,” Cecilia whispered. “There is only one thing that can sooth our worries now.”

  Juliet shot a sideways glance at her older sister and raised an eyebrow. Based on how many times Cecilia had seen that same expression over the course of their lives, she would have happily placed a wager that Juliet had been born with it.

  “An ice from Gunter’s!” she cheered, springing off the bench. Juliet’s momentary shock was quickly replaced by a beaming smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. There was nothing in the world that a sweet treat couldn’t fix, at least for a moment.

  “Ah, just in time!” Mr. Richards’s booming voice caught them at the bottom of the stairs, freshly changed into comfortable walking dresses. He’d just stepped out of the library.

  “Papa, we were just on our way Gunter’s,” Cecilia explained quickly. After her suggestion to Juliet, she found that she desperately needed to get out of doors and distract her restless mind with the hustle and bustle of London.

  “Surely you wouldn’t mind some company then.” Their father beamed, his exceptionally good mood radiating in every word. He disappeared back into the library. The sisters exchanged nervous glances with each other.

  A few moments later he emerged from the library, followed by two gentlemen. “My lords, I am delighted to introduce you to my daughters, Miss Richards and Miss Juliet.” The two sisters curtsied respectfully. “And these fine men are the Earl of Overton and the Lord Neil.” The two men dipped their heads in acknowledgement.

  The atmosphere immediately changed as soon as introductions were made. Juliet went stiff next to Cecilia and the younger woman scooted even closer to her side. From the corner of her eye, Cecilia could see that Juliet’s naturally doe-like eyes had become even bigger, and they were glued to the taller of the two men, the one with dark reddish hair—the well-known Earl of Overton.

  Mr. Richards chuckled, looking between Juliet and Lord Overton. “I suppose I didn’t need to make an introduction between the two of you. But there, it is official now.”

  The realization suddenly dawned on Cecilia. Juliet had mentioned this man in the days following Lady Henshell’s masked ball. He had asked for a dance shortly after Cecilia had been whisked away onto the floor. But unlike Cecilia and her partner, they’d had the good sense to exchange names. Though Juliet hadn’t expressed any particular interest in him over the other numerous gentlemen she’d danced with.

  “Juliet, Lord Overton has requested your company on a carriage ride today. Though I don’t suppose he would be opposed to a stop at Gunter’s for your ice?” Mr. Richards posed the question to the earl.

  “Of course not.” He smiled graciously. “My friend Lord Neil is happy to accompany us wherever we may choose to wander.”

  The other man simply cleared his throat and looked down the hallway toward the front door. He clearly had no interest in playing chaperone but he’d been dragged along somehow.

  “Why don’t you make a true outing of it and take Cecilia along!” Mr. Richards declared, taking Cecilia by the hand and pulling her forward.

  She could feel her ears and cheeks burning. Of course, she knew exactly what her father was trying to do. Her parents would be thrilled if they could get rid of both daughters in one fell swoop. And to a baron and an earl, no less. It would be a dream come true for them.

  “Oh please do, Sissy. Wouldn’t that be so fun?” Juliet suddenly transformed back into her usually cheerful self, clinging to Cecilia’s elbow. But Cecilia could see the plea in her sister’s eyes. Juliet did not want to go on this outing for whatever reaso
n, but if she must then she did not want to go alone.

  And realistically, Cecilia knew that if her father pressed it, she had no choice. “I’m sure we’ll all have a grand time,” she acquiesced.

  The carriage ride to Gunter’s felt every bit as awkward as Cecilia imagined it would. Lord Overton engaged Juliet in conversation and Juliet responded with a cheer that only Cecilia could see through.

  Lord Neil, on the other hand, appeared entirely uninterested in either joining their conversation or striking one up with Cecilia. He simply gazed out to the passing streets and buildings and people. Cecilia did the same. On the one hand, she supposed she couldn’t blame him. She too was an unwilling participant in this excursion. But if they were lumped in together, the least he could have done was try to put her at ease as any well-mannered man should.

  Cecilia hardly remembered the ride to Gunter’s being so long, nor the waiter being so slow to bring their ices out to them as they waited in the carriage under the shade of the trees. The sweet dessert did soothe her frazzled mind a bit, but the trip had turned out very differently than she’d hoped.

  Lord Overton and Juliet continued to chatter and, as Cecilia glanced out of the corner of her eye at her sister seated next to her, she noticed that her smile and interest appeared more genuine as time went on. Those two were slowly being sequestered into their own world. The man across from her, however, ate his ice as morosely as possible, a feat that Cecilia had not known could be accomplished. Clearly, it fell on her shoulders to turn this event around.

  “Lord Neil, are you enjoying your ice?” Cecilia put every ounce of grace she could muster into her voice.

  He coughed suddenly, seemingly caught off guard by the question, or by the reminder of Cecilia’s presence. “Yes, indeed.” He quickly checked his coat to ensure that he hadn’t spilled on himself.