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

by Penny Fairbanks

  And dare he admit it? Yes, Henry decided that he would admit. It was nothing less than she deserved. Henry found himself truly inspired by Miss Richards. Not just her resounding performance, but her victory over her internal battles.

  “She is something else, isn’t she?”

  Though the voice was soft and quiet, its sudden appearance next to Henry startled him. Tilting his head down slightly, he saw Miss Juliet Richards standing next to him. And beside her was Solomon. Her pale blue eyes searched his with a gentle knowing.

  “Yes, of course. She is rather remarkable.” Henry found himself agreeing without hesitation or embarrassment.

  Miss Cecilia Richards deserved all the praise in the world, and he would give as much of it as he could as often as he could.

  Sleep evaded Henry for several nights. He could not even fall asleep at his writing desk. His words remained buried deep within his mind and he had to claw each one out onto the page. A few pages a day was the best he could hope for. He’d told his publisher that he’d hit a rut, but that he was sure to break out of it very shortly. Henry wondered how many times he had to say it for it to become reality.

  But seeing Miss Richards’s perseverance had indeed inspired him. He sat at his desk every day and scribbled out whatever lines he could manage. It wasn’t much, and he was sure it wasn’t very good, but they were better than nothing. If Miss Richards could apply herself to her craft every day to improve herself and overcome her mental barriers, then so could he. Though he ardently wished that that moment would come sooner rather than later.

  Henry suspected that his lack of sleep did not help matters.

  He wished, if his mind insisted on keeping him awake until morning, that it would occupy his time with figuring out how he could move his book forward.

  Instead, his thoughts dwelled on Miss Richards, replaying their dance, her performance, and their many meetings, over and over. Henry dared not guess what clues his mind hoped to reveal in those memories.

  These endless circles ran him ragged as he tossed and turned in bed. And last night had been particularly difficult. He hadn’t been able to secure another dance with Miss Richards at their last ball. Her mother had filled out the young woman’s dance card with every gentleman that approached. And there were many men eager to dance with such a talented lady, so many that by the time Henry edged his way over, all of Miss Richards’s remaining sets had been spoken for.

  But he couldn’t let go of the remorseful look on her face as the first gentleman took her out to the floor. Or the way he’d caught her eye more than once as she twirled about the room in another man’s arms.

  And so Henry did something he would have never expected of himself, and having sent the necessary letters he found himself quite unprepared for the task he’d undertaken.

  The day after the ball, he’d written to the Richards family, inviting them to his home for dinner. He had invited Solomon as well, of course. And he’d agreed that this would not count as one of their weekly agreed upon meetings. This event fell outside those bounds, marking it as something of a special occasion.

  Indeed, it was very special, as Henry had never hosted anything more than the very occasional casual drop-in from gentlemen he knew from Boodle’s. Solomon was over near every other day, so his presence in the house hardly counted as a visit.

  He had never considered that he might wish to host a family for dinner and amicable conversation. In fact, he hardly remembered writing and sending the letter. He had been in such a daze from the previous evening’s events, and the first of his string of sleepless nights. When Solomon waltzed into his study and clapped him on the shoulder, beaming from ear to ear, Henry had thought his best friend had gone mad.

  But it seemed that Henry himself had gone mad. Solomon had wrestled the blank sheet of paper from Henry’s hands and thrown his pen across the room so that he could not draft a second letter to renounce his invitation.

  That would appear very ill-mannered, Solomon had scolded him. But true to his nature, Henry’s friend had not left him in the lurch. If Henry was a complete novice at organizing such events, Solomon was an expert.

  He'd given Henry detailed instructions on what to prepare and when, and then repeated those same instructions to the staff, not trusting Henry to see to it properly himself. In fact, the staff positively buzzed with excitement as the event drew nearer. Surely they too had never thought that they would have an opportunity to see anyone else in the house but their master and the Earl of Overton.

  Now the appointed day had arrived. Henry couldn’t calculate how many hours of sleep he’d gotten the previous night, but he suspected that in total it couldn’t be more than a handful, and the sleep had been light and broken.

  Even still, the nerves managed to keep him from falling over in exhaustion and he bustled about the house, adjusting frames and turning vases that had already been adjusted and turned. He was nervous about hosting guests for the first time, yes. But his thoughts always returned to Miss Richards and what they would speak about and if she would find his home to be comfortable and pleasing. This, he surmised, was the true source of his anxiety.

  Henry was pacing about the dining room, ensuring that every centerpiece and fork was in its designated place, when Solomon strode in with a confident smile on his face, arms open wide in an overly grand gesture.

  “Here he is, London’s finest baron and most gracious host!”

  Henry merely shook his head at his friend's proclamation and continued tending to items that didn’t need his tending.

  “Aren’t you even a little excited?” Solomon pouted, sliding between Henry and the sideboard he fussed over that would soon be laden with food.

  “Surely this was a mistake, Solomon,” Henry groaned, covering his face with his large hands. Every second that brought him closer to having the entire Richards family in his dining room was agony.

  “Tell me, what are you so afraid of? That the food won’t be cooked to perfection? It always is when I’m here. That the décor won’t be pleasing enough? Every piece here was chosen with your keen eye, an eye that I would trust to furnish my entire home.”

  Solomon leaned back against the sideboard and crossed his arms. His voice was firm but understanding, and his brows furrowed together with concern. He might not always understand Henry’s eccentricities, but he always tried to.

  “It’s not any of that. At least not mostly. But the real problem is that I don’t know these people, do I? How could I ask near strangers to dine with me here? What do we have in common that we can discuss?” Henry let the exasperation and fatigue spill out of him and propped himself up next to Solomon on the sideboard.

  “Well, how did you expect to get to know someone? You call on them, talk of whatever comes to mind, and learn about them that way. Mr. and Mrs. Richards might be pretentious, and they are not nearly as subtle about their social aspirations as they might think, but they are not scary people. They can’t harm you. And the girls of course are both as kind as they come.”

  Solomon’s words carried a sense of truth. Henry knew that he didn’t take the time to cultivate relationships. It had always seemed to be an awkward endeavor, and therefore not worth the effort. Especially now that he wished to devote his life to writing. Solomon was the only person he knew with any depth, being an only child and with both parents passed away. But he hadn’t needed to get to know Solomon. They'd been young boys when they met, and Solomon had done most of the getting to know bits.

  But if he wanted to become closer to Miss Richards, to learn more about her dreams and plans, to hear about her childhood adventures, to understand what she thought of the world, he would need to embrace the transition period, awkward though it may be at times. And he would need to make a good impression with her family, if he wished to occupy more of her time.

  “Yes, you’re right. I only wish I could have half your confidence.” Henry smiled ruefully.

  “Confidence isn’t the only thing that matters.
And besides, everyone gets nervous. Yes, even me.” Solomon dramatically waved a hand over his handsome face.

  Henry laughed. “That is true. I’ve seen you become nervous more in these past two months than in our entire lifetime of friendship.”

  Solomon blanched at having his jest turned against him, but Henry didn’t press him and instead changed the subject. “Would you mind assessing my closet and help me choose a charming coat for this afternoon? I need a true dandy’s eye if I am to make a decent impression.”

  Surprised and very relieved, Henry announced that his guests might join him in the drawing room or library for more relaxed conversation. He had indeed made it through the dinner with not so much as a hiccup.

  Solomon gladly took the reins of the conversation, speaking equally to everyone at the table since their party was so few. He sat to Solomon’s left while Mrs. Richards sat on his right, with the two young women on her side of the table and their father across from them.

  On the one hand, Henry would have liked to be seated next to Miss Richards so they could speak more easily. But the seating arrangement had worked out for the best, as he might have ended up a bit too overwhelmed with her right next to him. But now that the meal was over, he hoped to find an opportunity to engage her quietly.

  “I should very much like to see your library,” Miss Richards offered. No one else objected, so Henry led the way down the hall, Mrs. Richards giving many flattering compliments to Henry’s home the whole way.

  “Good Heavens...” Miss Juliet gasped as they entered the room, her mouth ajar ever so slightly and her eyes darting all over the room.

  Miss Richards also showed surprise in her wide eyes, but the surprise quickly gave way to wonder. She gazed about the large library slowly, taking in the floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall shelves that took up nearly every inch of the room’s perimeter.

  Henry thought very little about his library, having become so accustomed to it over the years, but as he watched Miss Richards’s expression, he too appreciated just how magnificent the room really was.

  Every shelf was filled to capacity with books of all heights and widths and subjects, carefully organized by topic and author. Henry liked to think that he had something of everything in his library. And no, he had not read them all, but he had little self-control when it came to the bookshop. His collection grew, but he did not mind that he likely would never read them all. Many of them were very well loved, with cracked pages and softened spines. Something about their presence brought him comfort.

  Henry greatly enjoyed the sparkle in Miss Richards’s eyes as she turned about in a slow circle.

  “This is a very fine library you have, my lord. I daresay it could rival the Palace’s library.” She sounded nearly breathless with awe.

  “Oh I highly doubt that, though that is one library I would love to browse,” Henry laughed. “You’re more than welcome to borrow anything that catches your eye.”

  Miss Richards only nodded quietly and walked to the far wall, eyes glued to the rows and rows of books. His other guests settled in wherever they wished. Mr. And Mrs. Richards seated themselves at a small round table while Solomon and Miss Juliet stood before the wide window and looked out at the street below.

  Henry stood near the door of his library, watching the scene unfold. It truly was a strange feeling, seeing this room inhabited by other people. They all seemed engaged in their own thoughts and conversations, comfortable and companionable. Perhaps having people in his life wasn’t as difficult as he’d thought.

  He rang the bell for refreshments before crossing the room to join Miss Richards at the back bookshelves, only vaguely aware of Mrs. Richards eyes upon him as he made his way toward her daughter.

  “Have you found anything of interest yet?” He asked as he took his place next to her, keeping his voice low so as not to startle her out of her fixation.

  “That’s just the problem, you see,” she responded without taking her eyes off the many titles before her.

  “How’s that?”

  “Everything is of interest. How am I to choose just one?” She smiled, gently stroking the hard leather spine of one of the books, her fingers just barely brushing against the indented lettering.

  “That is a predicament I understand very well. I dare say that’s how I ended up with all these books in the first place. Each one looked so tempting that I had to have it. There are some that have been here for years that I haven’t yet read as I keep accumulating more.”

  Miss Richards finally turned to look at him with a smile. “In that case, why don’t I read the ones you haven’t yet and I’ll just give you a summary?”

  He knew she meant it as a jest, but suddenly the idea sounded quite appealing to Henry. “Yes, perhaps I might take you up on that someday.”

  They continued to make their way along the bookshelves slowly in an amicable silence. Henry allowed her to take her time observing the books, while he observed her in turn, enjoying the curiosity in her eyes when she came across an interesting title or the sharp intake of breath when she pulled out a book to see a surprisingly intricate design on its cover. He gladly answered her questions as best he could, telling her what he knew of each book or what he’d liked most about this or that.

  Solomon and Miss Juliet remained by the window, discussing whatever they saw in the outside world, but Henry caught Solomon’s pointed glance at Miss Richards on more than one occasion. Henry’s neck burned and he hoped his companion remained oblivious.

  Indeed she was so engrossed in looking over every shelf that she barely seemed to register that there was anyone else in the room. She seemed so perfectly comfortable in his library browsing through his collection. She seemed at home.

  The tea and coffee came and went while the small group conversed about many idle topics. Mr. Richards loved to stealthily ask for Solomon’s thoughts on the latest sporting news when the young ladies were engaged in their own discussion, often accompanied by soft laughter and smiles.

  Mrs. Richards had selected a book of poetry and read while silently sipping her tea. But Henry could see the way her eyes roved over the page far too rapidly to take in any of the words. She wasn’t reading but rather listening intently to all that went on in the room.

  “You know what would be just lovely right about now? There’s just something about a hot cup of coffee that makes me want to take a long leisurely turn about the drawing room. Lord Neil here has a such a spacious drawing room that it would feel as though we were walking through Hyde Park. Who would like to join me?” Solomon stretched his arms out to his sides, showing off his broad chest and shoulders.

  “Yes let’s do just that!” Miss Juliet happily gave her consent to Solomon’s plan.

  The rest of the Richards family agreed and their small group left the library behind. Solomon remarked on various features in the house as they walked through, playing the gracious host even in someone else’s home. But Henry certainly didn’t mind having less pressure to speak.

  Solomon led the way, followed by Mr. And Mrs. Richards and Miss Juliet while Henry and Miss Richards brought up the rear. He didn’t remove his eyes from her, noticing how she took in every aspect of his home with interest, lingering especially over the artwork that adorned his walls.

  Once again, Miss Richards gazed about the drawing room with that same look of wonder in her eyes as she had in the library. Henry smiled to himself. He found this quality more and more endearing every time he saw it. What a blessing it must be, to see even such simple everyday things as a library or drawing room or bird on a branch or gown in a window with such awe.

  Just as Solomon had suggested, each couple looped arms and began walking through the rooms. Mr. and Mrs. Richards preferred going around the center of the room while the younger couples took to the outskirts in different directions.

  “My, this must be one of the loveliest drawing rooms I’ve ever seen.” Miss Richards sighed as she took in the fine furnishings and artwork. “But what�
��s this?” Her eyebrows shot up as something in the far opposite corner caught her eye. “You never mentioned you owned a pianoforte, Lord Neil.”

  “Ah, yes. It belonged to my late mother. She enjoyed the instrument quite a bit and I couldn’t bear to part with it. Unfortunately it has not seen much use in quite a number of years now.” Henry coughed, feeling ashamed that he let his mother’s pianoforte fall into disuse—though he still had it regularly maintained in her honor.

  “I’m very sorry to hear that,” Miss Richards offered quickly, her eyes turning down to the carpet under their feet.

  “There is nothing to be sorry for. It happened some years ago. Her health had always been fragile, and after Father passed unexpectedly…. I believe she missed him so dearly that she followed not a year later. It is a shame, but perhaps soon the instrument will find someone to play it again.”

  The words came out of Henry faster than he could stop them. He rarely spoke of his parents—not for lack of love, but simply because he preferred quiet contemplation of their memories.

  And of course only one person came to mind when he thought of someone playing his mother’s pianoforte.

  “I hope you will. I find that a little music can go a long way toward increasing the brightness in a home. But I’m sure you won’t be surprised by my saying so,” Miss Richards said with a gentle smile as she gazed at the instrument from afar.

  “Indeed I am not,” Henry chuckled. “But your singular enthusiasm for music is quite inspiring.”

  “Inspiring?” Miss Richards tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes narrowed with curiosity.

  A flame of nerves flashed through Henry’s body. He swallowed hard to drag down the lump that sprung into his throat.

  “Yes, I simply mean I admire your passion for your craft. It inspires me to cherish my books all the more.” He pulled his shoulders even straighter and gave a sharp nod, hoping to add earnestness to his awkward explanation.