“Forgive me, but your name sounds familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” The question that had been poking at the back of Cecilia’s mind finally came out. The more she’d pondered over it on the carriage ride, the more she felt certain that she must have heard his name before.
“Oh, I think not.” He coughed again, and his jaw clenched. His eyes remained fixed on his slowly melting ice.
“Do tell, my lord. Are you one of those famous Corinthians everyone in town so admires?” Cecilia knew it was a bit forward of her to press, but her reluctant companion had something to hide, and her curiosity impelled her to bend the rules.
“Quite the opposite,” Lord Overton laughed, turning his attention to their conversation. “My good Lord Neil is a humble man. So humble that he rarely emerges from his study or library save for when I’m around. He’s best known for being one of the most reserved gentlemen in the ton.”
Of course! It seemed so obvious now. Cecilia certainly knew of Lord Overton and they had even attended a few mutual events during her past two Seasons though they’d never been formally introduced. But now she knew where she’d heard her reluctant companion’s name before. Cecilia almost always heard of a mysterious Lord Neil discussed alongside Lord Overton. And while many in Society respected Lord Neil for his quiet and stoic poise, that respect did not always shield him from whispers about his unusual reclusive nature.
But finally Cecilia found something that could steer her in the right direction with the sulky man before her.
“You must do a great deal of reading in your library then, Lord Neil. Which books have captured your attention these days?” She asked with a gentle smile, hoping to coax at least a little amiable conversation out of the baron.
“I read all sorts,” was all he offered, eyes narrowed at his ice.
“Those adventure novels written by that anonymous fellow have certainly been gaining popularity, haven’t they? Do you know of them, Miss Richards?” Lord Overton intervened yet again, with an almost mischievous glance at the baron. He seemed practiced at drawing discussion out of his friend, or at least trying.
“I highly doubt she’s read any,” Lord Neil mumbled in response, glaring over the side of the carriage.
Cecilia jerked back at his response, surprised by the scorn she heard. Why should it seem so unlikely to him that she would read those works?
“Ah, do you think I’m not well read, my lord? I read all sorts as well, including those books.” Cecilia could barely keep the spite out of her voice now. There were few things that bothered Cecilia more than being thought a vapid woman, something that all the men that had come and gone from her life seemed unable or unwilling to understand.
“Sissy...” Juliet hissed, surprise momentarily overtaking her normally pleasant expression. For once, it was Juliet’s turn to censure her sister.
“I-I did not mean that.” Lord Neil’s eyes finally made contact with Cecilia’s, and guilt immediately squeezed her chest. Gone was the boredom and frustration she thought she’d seen earlier. Now he looked panicked and embarrassed.
“Of course he didn’t!” Lord Overton cheerily attempted to correct the course of the conversation. “Lord Neil has been a champion of this series since its very first installment. Unfortunately, he has not found many ladies who seem interested in such thrilling tales. They find them too harrowing.”
Cecilia swallowed and mumbled, “I suppose I must confess I also have not met many other women who read adventure novels.” She turned her face down, allowing her bonnet to shield her shame, unable to bring herself to look into the face of the man she just terribly insulted. No amount of ice from Gunter’s could soothe the heat pooling in her face and neck.
“You have interesting taste,” Lord Neil responded curtly. Cecilia’s mission of making at least a pleasant acquaintance for the duration of the outing was turning into quite the disaster.
“The stories are not too harrowing for you, Miss Richards?” Lord Overton’s question seemed simple on the surface, but the look in his eye sent a shiver through her. He was giving her an opportunity to defend herself.
“They are indeed harrowing, but that’s what I enjoy about them. I wish more ladies would give them a chance. They’re a breath of fresh air and they offer the excitement we could all use from time to time.”
The explanation sounded horribly weak after her ill-mannered accusation, despite its truth. She lowered her head again to avoid seeing the judgement in Lord Neil’s and Lord Overton’s eyes, paying excruciating attention to the ice in her hands.
“Oh yes!” Juliet chirped. “When my sister isn’t practicing pianoforte she can be found tucked away in some corner with her nose in a book.” The younger woman turned to Cecilia with a charming smile. Cecilia silently thanked Juliet for trying to salvage the situation by steering the discussion back towards more pleasant waters.
“Pianoforte, you say?” This time Lord Overton sounded genuinely curious. “I do believe I have had the honor of hearing you play at past events.”
“I am sure you have. Cecilia is often asked to perform when she is invited to dinners and dances,” Juliet answered once again.
Cecilia's stomach churned and she shot her sister a warning glance. She still did not wish to have her performance at the masked ball exposed, especially now that she had made a fool of herself in front of an earl and a baron.
“And what of you?” Lord Overton turned his attention back to Juliet. “Do you have any particular pastimes you enjoy?”
“I fear I do not share the same level of artistic skill as Cecilia. If I must remain indoors, sketching will entertain me. But I much prefer to be out and about in the open air, especially in such charming company.” She gave a demure smile, eyes flickering up to Lord Overton’s face, before continuing. “And when Papa allows it, I enjoy taking our little tilbury for a drive.”
Juliet’s voice lilted perfectly, both modest and engaging at the same time. Cecilia had always admired the ease with which her younger sister could flatter just about anyone.
“You two make quite the interesting pair of sisters.” Lord Overton nodded approval at his own statement. He seemed to have forgotten entirely about Cecilia’s earlier disgraceful outburst. Lord Neil, it would appear, had not. His gaze remained on the world outside of their conversation, his ice quite abandoned.
The rest of their party soon abandoned their treats as well and took up Lord Overton’s suggestion to walk about Berkeley Square before returning to the Richards home. Cecilia heartily accepted the idea, eager to get out of the confines of the carriage where she had no choice but to directly face Lord Neil.
With a footman following behind at a respectful distance, the two pairs strolled past the shops of Berkeley Square. Naturally, Lord Overton took Juliet’s hand through his arm and lead her down the street. Lord Neil silently offered his own arm to Cecilia—nothing more than a mere courtesy. Though they were physically closer than they had been in the carriage, her hand resting gently on his arm, Cecilia was glad that she could distract herself by observing the scenery, her bonnet obscuring her view of the baron at her side.
They walked in silence, but something about his presence—perhaps the feeling of his arm beneath her hand, or the way he walked—struck a chord within Cecilia. But she knew that any interest, no matter how slight, she may have had in the man would go nowhere. Surely he would be only too happy to never see her again. And even if he did wish to, he could only serve as a temporary distraction from the true focus of Cecilia’s heart and mind: her charming masked gentleman.
Chapter 4
The sound of Henry’s pulse rushing in his ears drowned out all his other thoughts. His arm burned where Miss Richards’s small hand rested on his coat sleeve. He became aware of every step he took, wondering if they were too long or too short or if he even walked in a straight line.
Henry could not believe his unfortunate luck to be caught in yet another unexpected situation with a stranger. Though this time he coul
d not fault Solomon. After Lord Henshell’s ball, Henry had thoroughly chastised Solomon. His friend gave a heartfelt apology and promised not to pull such a stunt again.
Unfortunately, today’s stunt had been pulled by Mr. Richards, leaving Henry in no position to refuse politely. But by now he certainly wished that he had.
The eldest of the Richards sisters had clearly been uninterested in joining Solomon’s plan to make a real introduction with the younger Miss Richards. Henry had to admit that they had both been thrown into this uncomfortable position by her overly enthusiastic father.
Having met many men like Mr. Richards—with fortunes and fancy homes but no titles—Henry was positive that the gentleman saw potential for a match, possibly for both his daughters. And Henry was also positive that he would be disappointed on both counts.
But as he walked with Miss Richards on his arm and observed the other pair ahead of them, pointing out things or people they noticed and chatting amiably, Henry was once again struck by this unusual excursion.
Of course, Solomon was not without his pick of interested high-born ladies. And unlike Henry, he made sure to politely entertain each one at least for a time. A dance there or a carriage ride here, and then Solomon would withdraw quietly, leaving some other gentleman to finish his work and make a wife out of an eager young woman.
While Solomon enjoyed the temporary company, Henry never followed up with any ladies who may have taken a fancy to him, or at least his title. And Society’s knowledge of his preference toward a shut-in lifestyle certainly helped to keep most acquaintances, man or woman, at bay. Everyone except Solomon, of course, who managed to bring Henry out to their club often enough to keep the public from speculating about his death.
Needless to say, Henry could hardly believe his ears when Solomon told him that he’d like to call upon a particular young lady. Though it was not quite what his friend had said, but how he’d said it, as well as his strange behavior following the masked ball.
In all their years of schooling and bachelorhood together—and knowing Solomon’s unkind thoughts toward marriage—Henry had never seen such an earnest desire in his friend’s eyes when he suggested they pay a visit to the Richards home. Nor had he ever seen Solomon so flustered as when they rushed out of Lord Henshell’s ballroom. He hadn’t said much about his dance, only that his partner had been such an uncommon woman that he had to remove himself from her presence as quickly as possible.
“Sissy! Look here!” Solomon’s walking partner beckoned over her shoulder. She had broken away from Solomon’s side and stood pressed against a shop window, excitedly peering in at whatever was on display.
Miss Richards suddenly came to life at her sister’s call, a gleaming smile lighting up her countenance which had heretofore been quite downcast. She stepped forward to join Miss Juliet at the window.
Henry guessed that she must have felt badly about her accusation against him for she had been all but mute since. He knew he should say something to ease her mind, to assure her that he had not taken offense, to declare that he would never think such a well-mannered young lady would be uneducated or unintelligent.
But the fact of the matter was that he had taken some offense, though his wounded pride seemed to be recovering quickly as they walked together in silence. He would never have dared to question a lady’s intellectual pursuits. Luckily Solomon had come to his rescue with a clever half-truth. It was true that his books were most popular among male readers. And he still found it rather unusual to hear of anyone reading his books, regardless of their sex—though if conversation turned to that subject, he merely pretended to be a fellow interested reader.
In any case, Henry did not appreciate being made out to be of such poor character. Yet even as the memory flared a fresh anger in his chest, he also knew that he had not been the most pleasant of companions thus far. And he had not planned on seeking another meeting with Miss Richards, even before their unpleasant exchange. He would much prefer to be reunited with his book, currently waiting for him on his desk.
“Though they may seem rather different in interest and temperament, the two make quite a pair of happy creatures,” Solomon chuckled as Henry drew up beside him, his eyes fixed on the two young women. They seemed to have completely forgotten their companions, so enraptured by what Henry now saw was a beautiful dress in a modiste’s window.
“You speak as if you know them well.” Henry glanced at his friend, curious to see where Solomon’s mind was.
“I do not.” Solomon cleared his throat and lifted his chin up, a habit Henry learned long ago that meant he was trying to hide something. “It is a simple assessment. Miss Juliet is quite the conversationalist so I feel I have been given enough of the picture to make it.”
Henry returned his attention to the Richards sisters and truly observed them. Though they were clearly from the same family, Solomon had been correct in saying that they were individuals unto themselves.
While Juliet Richards’s flaxen hair sparkled, Cecilia Richards’s honey gold hair glowed. The younger was shorter and wound like a spring, and the older was taller and carried herself with grace. One preferred open-air activities and the other enjoyed dinners with music. But they both shared a bubbling enthusiasm and sometimes surprising frankness. The sisters both eagerly admired the dress, but Henry could see that only one pair of eyes followed every detail of the stitching, embroidery, and ruffles.
He admired such qualities, but they had no place in his life.
“Wouldn’t Mama love to see one of us in this gown?” The younger sister cooed, her pale blue eyes skimming over the surface of the dress, admiring the grand view.
“Oh Juliet, you know such a fine dress would surely suit you better, especially for your first Season. Perhaps Mama would have considered it for me a couple years ago. And besides, I’ve already had my turn in beautiful gowns this year.”
As her deep blue eyes followed the cascade of embroidered rosettes over the bodice of the dress, something about the statement struck Henry as odd. In a flash he realized that his walking partner must have been the same Miss Richards that Solomon had confirmed earlier, the accomplished pianoforte player.
But she was also the same Miss Richards whom he’d heard whispers of amongst the ton, the title-hungry gentleman’s daughter who entertained a suitor for a few weeks before moving on to another, never allowing one man to get close enough to offer for her hand.
Since she remained unwed, some speculated that she—or her parents—held out for the highest bidder. Others suggested that she simply enjoyed the attention and clicked their tongues at this nearly indecorous behavior. Though Henry didn’t keep up with such news, it hadn’t escaped his attention. More than one man at Boodle’s had attempted to court her but been kindly set aside.
A sting of shock ran through him as he focused his attention on Miss Richards again, not sure what to believe about this young lady he’d spent his day with. An equally uncomfortable realization followed quickly on the heels of this thought.
Why should it matter to him what her reputation said, or which story was the truth? Before Henry could get lost in his suddenly frenzied thoughts, Solomon distracted him.
“I do believe the only thing that could rival such a lovely gown would be the fresh blossoms just coming out in the garden.” He flashed his winning smile and the two young women turned away from the window to return their own. Henry stiffly nodded his agreement and looked away as Miss Richards’s eyes trailed to him.
Drat that Solomon. Such words came so easily to him in conversation, yet Henry could only produce the same line if he was at his writing desk, pen in hand. Still, he filed a variation of it away for potential future use.
Now that their attention was pulled away from the dress, the group continued the walk, making their way toward the garden. With the Season now in full swing and spring seeping into the London air with each passing day, the garden grew lush once more, attracting many noble visitors.
They
walked along the perimeter of the garden, allowing the tall trees overhanging the fence to shade them. A slight breeze slipped around Henry, and he realized that despite the awkwardness, the day had an idyllic quality. He and Solomon walked side by side now while the women walked ahead, chatting happily with each other as if no one else—and certainly not these two unfamiliar men—existed.
“Do you hear that birdsong, Jules? How lovely! I do think I could transfer it to the pianoforte.” Miss Richards gripped her younger sister’s elbow, a dazzling smile lighting up her face.
The younger woman shook her head and chuckled. “Only you would notice such a thing, Sissy.”
Miss Richards wrinkled her nose in response, bottom lip poking out slightly—quite an endearing expression. Henry sensed that, in addition to her artistic talent, this woman possessed both a sharp mind and a spirited sense of humor.
His suspicions were confirmed as they rounded a corner and Miss Richards spied something that had her nearly bouncing on her toes. Her gloved hand shot into the air for half a second before she remembered her manners and tucked it back near her torso, restricting her greeting to a polite wave. A quiet laugh escaped Henry at the sight. There was no doubt that she was a well-bred young lady, but it seemed her enthusiasm got the better of her at times. Henry certainly couldn’t fault her for that.
“How lovely to see you, Mrs. Ashby!” Miss Richards exclaimed to a woman coming towards them from the opposite corner. Everything in Miss Richards’s world seemed to be lovely.
She strolled forward, her pale blue walking dress swishing about her feet. Mrs. Ashby unlinked her arm from the older man in her company and met Miss Richards halfway. She was older than Miss Richards but still youthful, and the warm smile on her face showed that she held Miss Richards in high esteem.
Miss Juliet hung back until Solomon and Henry drew up beside her. “A good friend?” Solomon asked.
“Of Cecilia’s, yes. She’s made many close friends and acquaintances during her past few years in London. Despite the fact that she says she prefers being at home alone with her instrument, she is quite the social butterfly. She is always being called upon or invited out by some lady or other.” She watched her sister catch up with her friend, giggling and animated, with admiration.
Behind The Baron's Mask: A Regency Romance (Resolved In Love Book 1) Page 4