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

by Penny Fairbanks

  “And the other problem is a bit more...intimate. I danced with the most incredible man after my performance. But he seemed reluctant to share his name and I didn’t press him for it, and I didn’t share my name either. In all honesty I was quite caught up in the moment and didn’t notice the fact until I realized I had no way of finding him again.

  “You all know how I feel about the matter of marriage. Mama and Papa would see me married to a man of fortune and title, without a thought to his character or our real feelings for each other. But I can’t bring myself to accept this—though I feel I am getting closer to that point with each passing day if I wish to have any kind of comfortable life. I know Mama and Papa are on the verge of dragging me to the altar if I don’t manage to sort it out myself.

  “I want love. True love. I know it’s possible, so why shouldn’t it be possible for me? None of the men who have tried to court me in these past few years have been the right one. I can feel it in my bones. But this masked gentleman from the ball.... I truly feel that if only I could come to know more of him, he could be what I’ve been looking for. But it’s been weeks since and I’ve come no closer in discovering his name, or even the slightest clue as to who he might be. He comes into my thoughts every time I try to play, and my heart seizes up with regret and fear.”

  Cecilia’s shoulders slumped forward, as if the tension insider her had suddenly been let out with her speech.

  “Oh Sissy, I’m so sorry. I had no idea these issues weighed so heavily on you. I’m afraid I haven’t been a very attentive sister.” Juliet gripped Cecilia’s hand, her large pale blue eyes pained.

  “Nonsense, you’re busy enjoying your first Season, as you should be. And in any case, I haven’t been very inclined to discuss it myself. You didn’t know any better.”

  Cecilia squeezed her sister’s hand and smiled through her heartache. She was glad just to have her near, to have someone she knew she could call upon if she needed it. And she vowed to call upon her more often lest she break under her silent suffering.

  “I too must apologize for not visiting sooner,” Rosamund chimed in. “But I can offer my assistance now!” She stuck a gloved finger in the air as an idea struck and her face transformed into its usual bright countenance. “Let me ask Father if he might have an idea. He’s friendly with many men about town and could steer us in the right direction. You should certainly not have to settle for a man who will mistreat you. I should know. I promise I will do everything in my power to help you find this man!”

  Cecilia’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, but it quickly sank back down into the pit of her stomach. Nothing good could come of her getting her hopes up. “Thank you, Rosamund. I would very much appreciate that.”

  Juliet nodded vigorously and continued, keeping her fingers wrapped tightly about Cecilia’s hand. “I’m not sure what I can say about your other dilemma. You know I’m no lover of pianoforte or any other music—except for when you play, of course, and when it’s time to dance. But, sister, I truly hope you won’t give up on it. It’s your dearest passion, all skill aside. You've loved it since you were tall enough to sit on the bench. That’s worth holding on to. Whatever this is, you’ll overcome it. Just give yourself time. Even if you never achieve the same level as you did at the masked ball, that doesn’t detract from your talent. You shouldn’t hold yourself to that expectation either.”

  Tears sprung so quickly to Cecilia’s eyes that she had no time to stop them from trickling down her cheeks. But these tears were far different than the ones she’d shed just a few minutes ago. Instead of her heart being gripped by paralyzing fear and her stomach in sickening knots, a sweet calm settled over her entire body. She truly was an incredibly lucky woman, regardless of what happened from here on out.

  “Thank you, both of you. You are the best friends anyone could ask for. I’ll do my best, for the masked gentleman and for the pianoforte.” Cecilia smiled and swiped at her tears with the handkerchief.

  “I so admire you, Sissy. I hope you know that.” Juliet pulled Cecilia to her feet and wrapped her in a tight embrace and Rosamund joined in. Cecilia nuzzled her face into Juliet’s neck and pulled Rosamund in close with an arm tightly about her friend’s shoulders. The three women stood like this for some time, drawing support from each other as well as lending support in the privacy of the drawing room. By the time they broke away and sat back down to resume the normal course of the morning call, their tea had gone quite cold.

  Another lovely gown sprawled out over Cecilia’s bed. This one was pale blue crepe with delicately embroidered swirling patterns and small touches of ruffles here and there. She recognized the dress as one from last year, but new details had been added to refresh it for another Season. Cecilia allowed her fingers to slide over the fabric gently. It had turned out beautifully, though of course it could not compare to the dress she’d worn at the Henshell family’s ball. Nothing could compare to that night.

  “Shall we begin, Miss Richards?” Violet’s quiet voice drew Cecilia’s attention back to the task at hand. It was time to prepare for Lord Overton’s dinner. She nodded, her head heavy with anxiety.

  Tonight would be an important test of her perseverance. Despite her heartwarming conversation with Juliet and Rosamund yesterday, the nerves twisted in Cecilia’s stomach yet again. She had practiced all day today, with varying degrees of success, leaving her unable to gauge how she might play when it mattered most. She would simply have to bear it as best she could and hope that she came out of the experience unscathed.

  As Violet put the final touches on Cecilia’s hair, carefully arranging every curl and ensuring her headpiece was secure, the maid’s eyes grew thoughtful. “Pardon me for speaking so out of turn, Miss Richards, but is something troubling you?”

  “It’s nothing to worry about, Violet. I appreciate your concern.” Cecilia gave a reassuring smile to the young woman, who smiled back shyly. “I am simply nervous about this dinner. I’ve been asked to play on pianoforte, and the instrument has proven challenging for me of late. And...I believe there will be a certain man in attendance.”

  Violet’s eyebrows arched up, the only clue giving away her interest on her otherwise professionally neutral face. Suddenly Cecilia wondered what love must be like for a servant; her heart sank with guilt when she realized that she’d never considered the question before. Clearly the prospect intrigued Violet.

  But would she ever be courted and marry? Was such a thing an option for a working woman? Violet had far fewer chances to meet potential matches than Cecilia, and the thought weighed heavily in Cecilia’s chest. Here Cecilia was, lamenting over the many suitors she’d turned down in hopes of finding her perfect future husband, while Violet would likely spend her life in service with no time or opportunity for love.

  Cecilia wasn’t sure what she might be able to do about that situation, and unfortunately now wasn’t the best time to solve it. But she vowed to consider it further as soon as she was able.

  “Yes, a certain man,” she continued. “Juliet and I went on a carriage ride and walk with him and his friend recently. I’m afraid I made a poor impression on him. And even had I not, he seems quite uninterested in having anything to do with me, or anyone for that matter. I have reason to believe that he will be in attendance tonight, and I would rather not make contact with him.”

  Everyone knew of the close friendship between the gregarious, flirtatious earl and the reclusive, somber baron. A seemingly unlikely duo, but for whatever reason they were fast friends.

  Lord Overton loved his social gatherings and could often be seen in the company of other gentlemen or escorting some lady or other. But Lord Neil, on the other hand, was rarely seen out except for with Lord Overton. Cecilia had her suspicions that the only reason Lord Neil regularly left his home was because of Lord Overton. As such, Cecilia felt it was almost guaranteed that Lord Neil would be present at the first dinner Lord Overton hosted this Season.

  Violet’s brow furrowed this
time, processing the situation. “Well, I hope for your sake you will be able to avoid him if that is your wish. And if not, I hope you will be able to be quit of his company as quickly as possible.”

  Cecilia laughed. “Thank you, Violet. That is very diplomatic of you. Are we about ready? Mama will barge in here any moment now to drag me out by my curls if I don’t present myself to her soon.”

  The maid glanced over Cecilia once more and nodded. With that, they left the room together and Cecilia headed downstairs to await the carriage.

  It came as no surprise to Cecilia that Lord Overton had a large, ornate home in Half Moon Street. Even still, the outside of the building alone caused her breath to hitch in her throat. And the inside was just as beautiful. Whether it was Lord Overton’s taste or simply inherited décor, the foyer was full of plush rugs, expertly crafted furniture pieces, and expensive artwork hung on the walls.

  The butler led the Richards family into the drawing room, where about a dozen guests were already gathered. Cecilia glanced about for Rosamund and spied her in the back corner, staring at the back of her mother’s head with a glazed look in her eyes, clearly bored by whatever the older women were discussing.

  “Mama, I’ve found Miss Henshell. May Juliet and I chat with her?” Cecilia asked.

  “Indeed. Please do give my regards to Lady Henshell and Miss Henshell.” Mrs. Richards responded a touch too loudly, glancing around to see if any other guests may have heard. Mr. Richards made a beeline for the other end of the room, where several gentlemen had gathered with glasses of champagne in their hands.

  Cecilia and Juliet made their way through the room as quickly as was appropriate, nodding and smiling to the other guests as they went but without stopping to make conversation.

  “Good evening, Lady Henshell, Miss Henshell,” Cecilia said quietly as she approached the small group of women so as not to disrupt their meeting but still make their presence known.

  “Ah, good evening Miss Richards, Miss Juliet. How very lovely to see you both here.” Lady Henshell, the epitome of grace and excellent manners, bowed her head slightly to acknowledge Cecilia and Juliet. She quickly introduced the two young women to her companions before politely removing her attention from them to return to her conversation.

  Rosamund glanced to the wall, signaling them to follow her.

  “Mother, we’ll find some refreshments,” Rosamund stated politely in the hopes of excusing herself to a quiet moment with her friends.

  Lady Henshell turned only her eyes to her daughter and nodded sedately, keeping her attention on her conversation.

  “Thank goodness you’re here. I thought I might drop dead at any moment from that dreadfully tedious chatter. Surely the inside of a coffin would have been more interesting,” Rosamund sighed quietly once they were out of earshot of her mother and any other guests.

  Cecilia tapped her friend on the arm. “You are too brash, Rosamund,” she chided with a chuckle. She thoroughly enjoyed Rosamund’s ability to speak whatever wild things came into her mind, at least within their friendly company.

  With her back turned to the room, Rosamund pulled a comical face that clearly mocked the pretentious expressions of the ladies who spoke with her mother, mouthing along silently.

  Cecilia managed to hide her grin behind her gloved hand and stifle her laugh. Juliet, on the other hand, let out a high-pitched gasp that she quickly cut short, clapping a hand over her mouth as several heads turned sharply in their direction. Rosamund’s eyes squeezed shut as a silent laugh rolled through her body, the tremble of her shoulders betraying her.

  That was when Cecilia saw him. Lord Neil. He stood almost directly across the drawing room from their small party. He stood alone, a nearly full glass in his hand. When her eyes found his, the baron’s head snapped to the side as if something immensely interesting had caught his attention. He quickly wandered off in his new direction.

  If Cecilia wasn’t mistaken, she could have sworn that he had been staring directly at her before she’d noticed. But why, and for how long? The questions sent a flutter through her chest and suddenly her dress felt far too tight. But she didn’t have long to ponder them as Rosamund drew her attention away from that spot by the wall where Lord Neil had just stood.

  “I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news.” Gone were Rosamund’s cheers and jests. Her dark brown eyes conveyed the seriousness of the situation and the strange sensation that had just been in Cecilia’s chest was instantly replaced by dread.

  “I’m sorry, Cecilia, but Father was of no use. I gave him the description of the gentleman just as you told it to me. I think I saw about ten seconds of serious thought pass through his mind before he waved me away and said there were far too many gentlemen dressed in exactly that manner, and that he had many friends who claimed a love for the arts.” She recounted the incident with bitterness in her voice.

  “If I may speak frankly and in complete confidence, I do believe he was likely too deep in his cups to even remember which of his friends had been at the ball or what they were wearing. I even asked Mother if she had any guesses, since she’s the one who assembled the guest list and sent out the invitations. But all she had to say was that she simply invites whichever names Father gives her and has nothing more to do with them.”

  Rosamund rolled her eyes while Cecilia and Juliet glanced sadly at each other. Though their parents were far from perfect—with nearly nothing in common in personality or interest—their single-minded determination to officially enter into the ton by way of at least one of their daughters' marriages provided them with a common goal.

  The same could not be said for Rosamund’s parents. In fact, Rosamund had lamented many times to Cecilia about how much her parents loathed each other, and how her father handled life’s ups, downs, and everything in between with a drink in his hand. Lady Henshell at least cared for her daughter, but to Lord Henshell Rosamund might as well have been a visiting guest of little consequence in his home.

  “That’s quite alright, dear. I truly appreciate your effort. I know it can’t have been easy for you.” Cecilia patted her friend on the shoulder. Rosamund tried to avoid her father as much as she could, even when they were in the same room. They were not quite on speaking terms, so Cecilia knew it must have taken much effort for Rosamund to break the silence.

  “Don’t lose hope yet, Sissy. Maybe something will turn up when we least expect it.” Ever the optimist, Juliet beamed a smile at Cecilia and Rosamund to keep their spirits up.

  Cecilia sighed. She had told herself not to get her hopes up, but she would have been lying if she said she’d been able to squash all of it. There had been a glimmer of hope in the deepest corner of her heart. But with this lead exhausted, that glimmer was all but snuffed out.

  Chapter 6

  Finally, the butler announced that it was time to enter the dining room. Henry didn’t understand why dinners had to include a period of standing around before the actual meal. Of course, he knew it was to allow the guests a chance to get to know each other and converse beforehand. But Henry found there was no one here he wished to get to know or to converse with. Except for Solomon, who was busy playing host and gliding about the room greeting all his guests.

  And her.

  Henry had known that she would be in attendance tonight. But the sight of her still shocked him somehow. Miss Richards looked quite lovely in her evening dress, as he had suspected she would. To his great embarrassment, he’d been caught staring from across the room.

  He shuddered at the memory, at the look of complete surprise on her face when she’d noticed him, and his less than graceful escape. He could have simply crossed the room and greeted her, as most probably would have done. Instead, it was as if she was one of the insurmountable obstacles facing the heroes he wrote about. Though he knew he had next to nothing in common with his heroes.

  But as Henry silently observed her from afar, he could see that she and her sister and friend, Lord Henshell’s daughter, were
clearly having a spirited conversation and enjoying the evening. He hadn't felt right intruding upon her fun.

  Suddenly Solomon appeared at his side as it came time to head downstairs to the dining room. “Everyone looks very handsome tonight,” he mumbled, but Henry could see that his eyes flickered to a particular corner of the room, where the Richards sisters and Miss Henshell cloistered together. Without giving Henry a chance to respond, he hurried off to the front to begin escorting the party to dinner.

  Henry gave his arm to a well-bred lady whom Solomon had quickly introduced him to and led her into the room. At least, due to the Richards family’s station, he wouldn’t have to sit near Miss Richards and likely embarrass himself further.

  Solomon had chosen his guest list well, and Henry was able to sit next to Lord Henshell. Solomon knew that Henry felt more comfortable at these affairs if he had at least one person he knew to converse with.

  He chatted with the other baron as the first course was served, but eventually Lord Henshell found a more talkative guest in the woman on his other side. Henry decided to keep to himself as much as he could for the rest of the meal, only stealing an occasional glance down the table to Miss Richards, conversing happily with a gentleman on one side and her sister on the other.

  Henry was surprised that Solomon had gone with so many courses for this dinner. There was no particular celebration or any other meaningful event to tie it to. Just three courses would have been enough for an average dinner party. But as the evening wore on, Henry certainly noticed that Solomon’s eyes often wandered down the table to the Richards sisters. Just as Henry’s had, he realized with a jolt.