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

by Penny Fairbanks

  With the last course cleared away, and everyone quite stuffed, the ladies retired to the drawing room and a footman brought out the port.

  “Finally! The course we’ve all been waiting for!” Lord Henshell declared as the footman poured, several of the other men in the room laughing with him.

  The gentlemen naturally found their places with each other, loitering here and there in small groups and floating in between to join other conversations. Henry noticed that Mr. Richards eagerly zipped from one cluster to another, trying desperately to be part of all groups and not miss a single word said by anyone. And naturally, Henry stood alone against the wall.

  “What do you think so far? Not too shabby for a bachelor, eh?” Solomon waltzed over to Henry, his decidedly casual gait looking rather forced. Nervous was not a look Henry was used to seeing on his friend.

  “Ah, it is clear to me now. You’re trying to impress her, are you?” Henry kept his voice low, but the lighthearted jab was heard loud and clear by its intended.

  “Impress who? I have no reason to impress anyone, least of all the daughter of a gentleman with no rank.” Solomon huffed and took a quick sip of his port, his eyes shifting to the door through which the ladies had gone.

  “You give yourself away, friend. I didn’t provide a name, and though you tried to play dumb you ended up answering your own question.” Henry shot a sly glance to Solomon, the corner of his mouth drawing up in a smirk.

  Solomon’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake. He pursed his lips together and shook his head. “Drat it all. There’s no use hiding it, from myself or from you. Despite all my dearly held beliefs, yes, I am interested.”

  Henry immediately felt guilty for poking fun at his friend. Solomon ran a hand through his auburn locks, the frustration clear on his face. When he stopped to think about it, this truly was a serious development for Solomon.

  The man had vowed to put off marriage for as long as possible, despite being an earl and his family’s desperate pleas for him to at least marry someone—almost anyone, now—and produce an heir. So the fact that his heart now betrayed him must have come as a shock to Solomon once he realized what was happening.

  “Come now, Solomon. Could it really be so bad? She seems like a lovely young lady.”

  “Yes, it could really be so bad,” Solomon snapped. “She’s lovely enough now, but I promise you if we were to wed, she would show her true colors the instant the vows are completed. And I will tolerate no such thing.” The earl glared bitterly into his glass of port, as if he watched a play of events past unfold in the dark liquid. “Though, if I am to find out what kind of character this woman has...” Solomon peeked at Henry from the corner of his eye.

  “Go on...” Henry hesitated, recognizing the sound of a plan being hatched.

  “If I am to test this woman and find out if she is real all the way through, then I must well and truly court her.” Solomon nodded sharply, as if he were strategizing a crucial battle maneuver in the trenches of France.

  “Well, that’s wonderful news.” Henry clapped Solomon on the shoulder, surprise giving way to happiness for his friend. He truly hoped that Miss Juliet would prove to be a worthy companion.

  “But there is one thing...” Solomon peeked at Henry again, a look of faux innocence on his face.

  Henry sighed. “Go on.”

  “I think I should have a far easier time of it if you accompanied me.” Solomon rushed out the words and just as Henry opened his mouth to protest, he held up a hand, anticipating the forthcoming disagreement. “Hear me out, Henry. You know I typically have no issues making acquaintances or keeping engagements or conversing about this and that. But this time.... For some reason I can’t explain, this is different.

  “I find myself flustered around her, even just at the mere thought of her. If you are nearby you can observe our interactions and provide your opinion of her sincerity. You of all people know how to read and understand someone.”

  Despite the plea in his friend’s voice, Henry balked at the idea. “Solomon, you know I can’t spend so much time away from my work...” he mumbled, but the excuse sounded hollow even to him. “And besides, you wouldn’t want some useless tagalong following behind you on your adventures.”

  “That’s just the thing!” Solomon bounced on his toes as he grabbed Henry by the upper arms and gave him a little shake. “You wouldn’t be a useless tagalong! Of course not. Do you assume I think so little of you as to saddle you with such an uncomfortable role? We’ll simply ask her sister to join us so you will have a companion, too.”

  “Solomo—” Henry tried to protest again but he was quickly shushed once more, Solomon growing bolder and more frenzied as his plan came closer to fruition.

  “And I promise that you will still have plenty of time to write! I won’t be calling on her every day. How about once a week? Surely you can spare a few hours once a week.” Solomon peered eagerly into Henry’s face, searching for a chink in his resolve.

  Henry had to admit that it was nice to see his friend back to his usual mischievous, enthusiastic self. It was quite the turnaround from the angst that radiated from him just a few minutes ago. Solomon must have given this proposal—and its implication for his ideals—much thought, Henry realized.

  Still, he hesitated. His brow furrowed as he considered the possibility of being shackled to Miss Richards once a week. Perhaps he could have tolerated the idea more if their acquaintance hadn’t gotten off to such an uncomfortable start. But as it currently stood, he knew that Miss Richards would think herself to be suffering in his company, even if she went for her sister’s sake.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t given Miss Richards any consideration, Henry. You’ve been ogling her all evening. I’m doing you a favor, really.” Solomon slapped Henry’s arm with the back of his hand and wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Ogling?! I certainly have not been ogling! If you want to know what ogling looks like you should have seen yourself at the dinner table tonight, glancing to their end every other second.” Henry, well and truly offended now, felt disinclined to give in to his friend’s ridiculous request. It wasn’t Henry’s responsibility to court anyone for Solomon’s benefit.

  Henry expected a tirade in response, knowing that he’d injured the earl’s pride—his most prized possession.

  Instead, a rosy blush sprung into Solomon’s cheeks and he lowered his head. “You’re right, my good man.” He stood straight again and looked Henry squarely in the eye. “I can’t seem to keep my eyes or my mind off her, and I’m at a loss as to what I should do. This position is very unfamiliar to me. I confess that I am afraid. Afraid of ending up disappointed...again.”

  Henry was breathless for a moment, so rarely did he see such a pained, earnest expression in his friend’s eyes, small wrinkles appearing at the outer corners and a deep groove between his brows. His voice had grown deep and quiet.

  This truly must have been a serious situation. Henry would simply have to put his own feelings towards Miss Richards aside and work harder on his book at other times. He knew that he could not allow his best friend to fall into the same disastrous trap as he had years ago.

  “Alright. I’ll join you. But once a week only. If you desire to visit with her more than that, you will have to go on your own.”

  “Excellent!” Solomon nearly splashed his drink over both of them in his excitement. “I suppose I should go mingle with her father for a time before we join the ladies in the drawing room.”

  Henry chuckled as he watched his friend nearly glide across the room on feet that almost looked like they were dancing.

  Once again, Henry minded his corner as the entire party gathered together in the drawing room for more conversation, this time with coffee and tea rather than champagne and wine. He sipped quietly from his cup of tea as he watched the guests and picked up on bits and pieces of conversation.

  Solomon, ever the dutiful host, made his rounds about the room, ensuring that all his guests rece
ived equal attention. All, perhaps, except for Miss Juliet. The earl had done a superb job of avoiding that small table where she sat with her sister and Miss Henshell, their mother standing behind their chairs so she could maintain a clear view of the room and its guests.

  Unable to stop himself, Henry gave in to his habit of observation. But having learned from his previous mistake, he turned his body to the side and watched from his peripheral vision, keeping his face low over his cup.

  As always, Miss Richards was engrossed in whatever tale Miss Henshell shared, her eyes wide as she listened. When the story came to its climax, Miss Richards’s face lit up and even from this angle Henry could see the shimmer of amusement in her eyes.

  A gentleman Henry vaguely knew, Mr. Faxby or some other, must have overheard their conversation and approached the group to join in. Miss Richards greeted him with cheer and fell quickly into a companionable discussion with him, trading off with the other ladies with such ease. He wondered what it might be like to truly enjoy this type of activity as she did.

  Another movement nearby caught his eye and Henry looked up to see Solomon making his way toward him from the opposite corner.

  “I know you try to be inconspicuous, friend, but how is it that I always managed to find you instantly in a crowded room?”

  “That’s quite simple, Solomon, so don’t get too ahead of yourself. You’ve known me for years and you’ve been to countless such events with me. You simply know by now exactly where I’ll be.”

  Solomon laughed heartily. “Too right you are. Then in that case, why don’t we shake things up a bit? I’ve neglected a certain little gathering over there. Why don’t you join me in a little chat with them? You needn’t speak if you don’t want to. But I’d like to have you nearby when I ask Miss Juliet to join me at Hyde Park in a few days.”

  Henry could already feel his palms growing slick with sweat, but he’d promised to assist his friend in this endeavor. He would need to leave his comfortable corner sooner or later. He nodded and followed Solomon.

  “Ladies, Mr. Faxby, I trust you are enjoying your evening thus far?” If Solomon was nervous, he managed to hide it well under his gleaming smile. Only Henry noticed the way his thumb brushed against his knuckles repeatedly.

  The ladies simultaneously praised the extravagant dinner and the wonderful furnishings in the Earl’s home. Mr. Faxby nodded in agreement.

  “I am so very pleased to hear that.” Solomon laid a hand over his chest and bowed his head to accept their compliments. “Miss Juliet...” He cleared his throat as he turned to the youngest member in the group. The eyes of the three young ladies and Mrs. Richards all turned to Solomon. “I have already had permission from your generous father, but I thought I should ask if you would be willing to join me for a carriage ride in Hyde Park a few days hence?” His normally confident smile faltered just slightly at the corner as he laid out his request for their whole party to hear.

  The young woman nearly jumped as Mrs. Richards’s hands came swiftly down on her shoulders and squeezed. No doubt a silent demand for her daughter to accept. The sudden hunger in her eyes as they fixed upon Solomon spoke loudly enough.

  “That would be just fine, my lord,” she answered with a tight smile, either from the pain of her mother’s fingers digging into her or from a bashful excitement, Henry couldn’t quite tell. Perhaps a mixture of both.

  “Excellent. I shall write ahead with the precise date and time. Oh, and my friend Lord Neil would also like to join us, hopefully with your charming sister in attendance as well.”

  Henry could have sworn that Mrs. Richards looked fit to burst with joy as she moved one hand from her youngest daughter’s shoulder to her oldest.

  “Ah, Lord Neil come to the rescue like the hero in those popular adventure novels,” Cecilia chuckled, a hint of playful taunting in her voice. Her mother did not appreciate the humor and dug her fingers into her daughter’s shoulder, a wince flashing over Miss Richards’s face for a fraction of a second.

  “A hero?” All eyes turned to Mr. Faxby. He had been quite forgotten. “Do not compare a man like Lord Neil to the heroes in those works, madam. You do him a disservice. They may seem dashing and gallant at first glance, but they are nothing more than arrogant fools who find themselves in contrived situations that they are too dimwitted to escape without endless pages of struggle. I find it sad that so many people have fallen under the spell of these mediocre stories. I almost feel an obligation to expose them for the nonsense they are.”

  Mr. Faxby smirked as he looked down his nose at the ladies before giving Henry a proud nod.

  Henry was utterly bewildered as to why this gentleman would speak so negatively of his books, though the man seemed to think he’d done Henry a favor. He knew him by name and by face as a new frequent at Boodle’s, fresh out of university. Henry knew his works were not perfect, but he’d never received such a scathing review.

  Some of the ladies had covered their mouths with their hands while Solomon’s mouth simply hung slightly ajar. Such a tirade had been completely unexpected.

  But, reserved though he may be, Henry was not without his pride. “I beg your pardon, sir, but I do not believe such words are appropriate for pleasant company. Miss Richards simply meant to pay me a compliment. Since you appear not to be such pleasant company, I would ask our host to see you out at once.” Henry drew himself to his full height, which was nothing to boast of but still an inch or two taller than the young man. His dark eyes sent the challenge to Mr. Faxby, and he seemed to quiver slightly under what Henry hoped to be a piercing gaze.

  “How disappointing, Mr. Faxby.” Miss Richards stood, her elegant bearing cold and intimidating. “I should think that a man of your immense knowledge, as you have made so clear to us in the minutes since you made your introduction, would know very well that heroes are not meant to be perfect. They learn and grow during their trials and adventures. That’s what makes a hero’s journey so worth reading.”

  Solomon seemed to finally snap back to his senses. “Lord Neil has the right of it. I will not tolerate any harsh language during what ought to be a cheerful evening—especially not when Miss Richards has offered such a kind compliment to my friend. Show yourself out, or I will have my footmen and butler show you out. The choice is yours.” He took a heavy step toward Mr. Faxby, hand at the ready to beckon a servant forward.

  The younger man’s cheeks blotched bright red and his nose scrunched in anger, but just before Solomon flicked his fingers to call a footman, he turned on his heel and marched briskly out the door.

  Solomon summoned one of the footmen anyway and commanded him to follow the gentleman out and ensure he left the premises.

  “Ladies, I am so sorry you had to bear witness to such a boorish scene.” Solomon bowed his head, and Henry could tell that he was genuinely embarrassed.

  “Do not trouble yourself over it, my lord.” Once again, Miss Richards came to the defense. “We cannot control the actions of others, but we can control how we respond. Let’s not allow this to spoil our evening.” She smiled at Solomon, a warm understanding in her eyes.

  “Perhaps some music would provide a happy distraction,” Miss Henshell chimed in cheerily, standing up next to her friend. “Miss Richards is so very talented on the pianoforte.”

  “Yes, that would be splendid. We would be honored, if you would be so gracious to play for us.” Solomon relaxed, his shoulders sinking down slightly as the tension eased away.

  Miss Richards nodded with a small smile and began to make her way to toward the other end of the room, where Solomon’s pianoforte sat in neglect.

  “We will eagerly await your letter, Lord Overton.” Mrs. Richards fluttered her eyelashes before following her oldest daughter. It would appear that this embarrassing event had not deterred her from allowing her daughters to share in their company in the least. The other young women also trailed behind Miss Richards.

  “Goodness, I hadn’t realized I’d asked the whole of the R
ichards family and Miss Henshell to also play tonight,” Solomon muttered in surprise as they watched the women walk together to the instrument.

  But Henry noted the way Miss Richards’s younger sister intertwined their fingers, the way Miss Henshell gently stroked her shoulder and whispered something in her ear. Miss Richards only nodded stiffly at these gestures.

  Solomon turned to follow them so he could announce Miss Richards, but Henry gripped him by the forearm and spun him back around.

  “Though Miss Richards has been kind enough to offer you an escape, I will not let you go so easily.”

  Henry’s eyes bored into Solomon’s face, his anger at being criticized so harshly in his best friend’s own home, by one of his invited guests, swelling to the surface. Worst of all, he’d had to pretend as though Mr. Faxby’s words had no personal effect on him. “Who on God’s green earth was that man? Did you know he had such an open disdain for my work and yet you still asked him here?”

  The earl hung his head, his eyes closed in a pained expression. “I am truly sorry, Henry. I invited Mr. Faxby against my better judgement. He’s a new fellow at Boodle’s and he’d spent much of his time at Cambridge writing stories of a similar nature to your work. He seemed quite eager to have them published, as he’s fallen on hard times and hoped to make some money to pay his debts. Not long ago he mentioned leaving a package at the adventure novelist’s publisher to forward to the anonymous man himself…”

  “Ah, I see.” Henry already had an idea of where this tale led. His jaw involuntarily tensed and he massaged it as he thought back to a recent letter he’d sent, minus a return address.

  “Yes, you have already worked it out for yourself. He had it delivered to you under his own alias, but that manuscript you reviewed recently indeed belonged to Mr. Faxby. It seems you sent your response to his friend’s address and he collected it from there.

  “Yet he seemed not to care at all if the other gentlemen at the club knew it was he who implored upon the fashionable mystery writer, only so that he could besmirch you as arrogant, tactless, and entirely unhelpful to anyone who would listen. I do believe he had a rather inflated opinion of his own ability, so when he read your honest evaluation his poor ego could not stand it, and he sought to blame you rather than his own lack of skill. And you are so rarely at the club that you never heard him speak of it.”