The Masked Heart

by Karla Darcy

Thankfully, Wesley Upton was so overcome by emotion that he was not aware of another presence in the room. Blaine signaled with a frantic jerk of her head and Drew, grinning like a baboon, withdrew from the doorway. Bringing her attention back to the solicitor, she reached out and patted him briskly on the shoulder.

  "Dear Mr. Upton, please rise. I am appreciative of your feelings but feel it would be best if we cry friends and get on about our lives."

  Slowly he struggled to his feet, the joints of his knees popping at the unaccustomed exercise. "You are too kind, Lady Yates," he said.

  "To be perfectly honest with you, Mr. Upton, I am a waspish, old lady who is particularly fond of you. I wish you happy. Miss Wiffledon will be getting a very fine husband."

  It luckily took only a brief time to finally send the man packing and in the sudden quiet of the room, Blaine covered her face with her hands. In the rising tide of hysteria which threatened to overwhelm her, she leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

  Drew stopped in the doorway, touched by the sight of the indomitable old tartar bowed in despair. He had heard enough of the scene to realize what was afoot but he had never suspected that she would be so overcome. He had thought he had seen nothing but relief in her expression. Closing the doors of the parlor, he hurried forward, surprised at his need to offer comfort.

  "Dear Lady Yates, the man is surely not worth one moment of your anguish."

  At Drew's words a strangled cry burst from the old woman and she rocked back and forth, shoulders heaving with emotion. He stood beside the sofa in an agony of indecision, then seated himself beside her and patted her shoulder awkwardly. This action elicited a sound closely akin to a snort and he narrowed his eyes as he peered at the woman.

  From behind the mittened fingers two eyes appeared, tears shimmering on the clumped lashes. In the watery depths, Drew caught the glint of mischief and pushed himself back against the cushions as great rolling waves of laughter convulsed him. As if his laughter had loosed the bonds of restraint, his companion burst into a chorus of throaty chuckles which she tried to smother behind her black-bordered handkerchief. When finally Drew could control his laughter, he shook his head in exasperation.

  "I say, Lady Yates," he gasped. "For a moment I was convinced you were in the greatest despair."

  "Believe me, Lord Farrington," Blaine answered, dabbing carefully at her streaming eyes. "I was considerably overset. I was so busy thinking of how I might reject the man with gentle graciousness, that I almost missed the import of his words. Imagine my consternation when I realized he was not planning to declare himself but to cast me off. Oh la, I was so puffed up with my own conceit, I totally misread the situation."

  "From what I heard, madam, you dealt with him more kindly than he deserved."

  "He is a sweet little man and I would not hurt his feelings, Drew, uh, Lord Farrington." Blaine was appalled that she would so forget herself in the companionship of shared amusement.

  "I would consider it a singular honor if you would call me Drew, Lady Yates."

  Blaine's eyes were drawn to his face. The sincerity of his voice was matched by the genuine friendship she saw reflected there. "I would like that," she said.

  Reminding herself of her role as an aging matron, she patted his hand in an avuncular manner, unprepared for the shock of feeling at contact with his warm flesh through her loosely knitted mittens. She shifted uneasily and fussed with her heavy skirts in order to reestablish her composure.

  "Perhaps you would ring for tea," she said, "since Mr. Upton chose to leave before it was served. Although at this hour, you might prefer something more strengthening."

  "If you will promise to keep my secret, Lady Yates," Drew said as he pulled the bellrope. "I have a great penchant for tea. I traveled some little bit in the east in my younger days. The ceremonial drinking of tea seemed to me a most civilized ritual. Perhaps it is that remembrance that seems to imbue each cup with a dose of tranquility. Devil take it, madam, you are so easy to talk to that I begin to wax lyrical in my enthusiasm."

  While they waited for the tea tray, Blaine hastily checked the mirror to be sure her tearful laughter had not dislodged her careful makeup. She needed the reinforcement of seeing the face of an old woman to remind her not to fall into a pattern of friendship with Drew. She, too, was surprised at the ease of their conversation. Since her arrival in Wiltshire, she had discovered a different man than the persistent dilettante who had been pursuing La Solitaire. She liked Drew Farrington and that knowledge was particularly unsettling since any relationship between them was strictly impossible. A wave of tiredness washed over her as she returned to her seat and accepted the cup of tea from Drew.

  "Well, young man, what brings you scratching at our door instead of out riding to hounds or some other odious bachelor pursuit? I would not have expected you to appear before me in all your dirt," Blaine snapped, her voice once more the crisp acerbic tones of Aunt Haydie, as she eyed his riding clothes with disfavor.

  Although Drew raised his eyebrow at her tone, he made no comment. "Your pardon, Lady Yates, for my appearance. I was riding and thought I would call as I had an idea which I hoped might find favor in your eyes," he said easily. "I talked at length to Robbie and discovered that he is surprisingly perceptive about his relationship with Fleur. It is his belief that once she has the opportunity to see more of society she will be quite content to remain in Wiltshire. He thinks she is only overwhelmed by the novelty of the attention she has received, much like most girls her age."

  "Smart lad, your brother," Blaine said. "I think he is correct in his assessment but I must tell you that a season for Fleur is out of the question."

  "I do not mean to interfere in your household, ma'am, but I have a suggestion to offer." Drew placed his tea on the table and leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. "I have a great fondness for Robbie and I would see him happy. In just this short time, it is apparent he feels strongly about your niece and I would do what I could to aid in his pursuit. I have seen far too many marriages founder to be sanguine in the face of such odds. Robbie's deep admiration for Fleur leads me to believe theirs could be a successful match."

  "You're doing it too brown, Drew," Blaine scoffed. "Would you have me believe love conquers all."

  Drew shifted in his chair as though uncomfortable speaking on such a subject. His voice held a defensive quality when he continued. "One does not often see true love. However, on the occasions that I have, it seems to make of marriage something more than a business arrangement."

  "Sometimes that is true. Surely, young man, you have been in love more times then one could count to be aware that that is not always the case." Blaine's voice was sharp and Drew looked up, a grin flashing across his face. She caught her breath at the blaze of warmth that kindled within her.

  "Only once have I felt true love," he answered. A soft smile of remembrance flickered across his face. "Her name was Delphine and her eyes were the blue of a Scottish lake and her hair was tumbled curls of shimmering black. I would have given my life for her."

  Blaine winced at his tone, not wanting to hear any more of his confidences, but she could not hold back her question. "And did she love you in return?"

  "No." Drew shook his head sadly. "When I tried to kiss her, she bit me."

  "Bit you?"

  "Delphine had little sophistication at seven."

  "For shame, sirrah!" Blaine cried, laughing despite the fact she had been taken in by his outrageous story.

  Drew chuckled at the flash of fire he saw reflected in the old lady's eyes. "I'll admit I took unfair advantage, but in a way it was an answer to your question. My experience with the toothsome Delphine, taught me a lesson and I have never again fallen victim to another pair of beaux yeux."

  "Resolved to a solitary life?" Blaine clicked her tongue in mock sadness.

  "I never mentioned that my life was solitary." He flashed her a look of pure mischief beneath his lowered brows.

  "And what of marriage, Far
rington?"

  "I assume, eventually I shall become leg-shackled. It is nothing I view with any degree of enthusiasm. If you will pardon my plain speaking, Lady Yates, I will select some light-minded, virginal chit of good family and modest means. She will bear my children, maintain my household and bore me to death."

  "Seems a bleak picture," Blaine responded glumly. "And yet you wish it for Robbie."

  "Robbie does not have my abiding need for entertainment. He would thrive in such a situation." Drew got to his feet and wandered lazily around the room, as if inspecting the furniture. "And this, my dear Lady Yates, brings me back full circle to my suggestion. Although I have known you only a short time, I would deal squarely with you, without need to mince words. Have I your permission?"

  "Cut line, Farrington," Blaine snapped inelegantly.

  Drew turned to face her, running a hand through his thick hair. "I gather your finances are not such that you can consider a season for Fleur. In my opinion, unless the girl has some taste of society she will not settle happily into country life. I would suggest a short spell in London now before the season begins. The city is light of the majority of the ton and she will not be overwhelmed."

  "It sounds a pretty plan indeed, but I do not see how it would be feasible. You are correct in your assessment of our financial condition. Much as I love Fleur, I cannot see how I could manage even a month in London." Blaine's tone was regretful.

  "Perhaps I might have the very answer. My aunt Aurelia Breckenridge has just left town for an extended stay in Scotland. Her house is small but well staffed. Since there is no accounting for tastes, Robbie is her favorite nephew and I think she would approve of anything that might promote his future happiness."

  Blaine dropped her eyes to her lap, torn between wanting to help Fleur and the knowledge that she should not listen to the soft words of Drew Farrington. She would be in an impossible situation in London. In a little more than a week, she must return to the theatre. Her palms began to sweat at the very thought of masquerading as Lady Yates at the same time as she lived her life as La Solitaire. She pursed her mouth, prepared to turn down Drew's proposition.

  "While I am cognizant of your kind suggestion, it would still be an impossibility. The child's wardrobe is insufficient for such a venture."

  "It is not as though Fleur would need to be fully outfitted," Drew suggested, his voice agreeable though there was a balky quality to the set of his mouth. "It seems to me, madam, that her gowns are quite up to the mark."

  Blaine cursed the fact that she had brought home so many new gowns for the girl. She had purchased the material and over the last several months Tate had sewn the dresses as a surprise for Fleur. She wriggled uncomfortably under Drew's steady gaze, feeling the jaws of the trap closing in. With a wistful sigh, she fluttered her eyes in distress.

  "What a shame that it is not possible. I am no longer young and I could not be the sort of chaperone a young girl would need to enter society even on a limited basis."

  Blaine folded her hands in her lap as if to call an end to the discussion but did not reckon on the stubbornness of Drew Farrington.

  "It was my understanding that Fleur had a governess who might be applied to when your duties as chaperone became too onerous," Drew countered.

  "Yes, I suppose Frau Puffentraub would be satisfactory but she would not know how to go on since she has never been much in society herself. Without proper guidance, Fleur would be much like a lamb in the company of wolves, " Blaine argued sweetly.

  "Then, Lady Yates, both Robbie and myself will volunteer to help navigate the treacherous waters of the ton ."

  Blaine stared across at the narrowed green gaze and knew he would continue offering solutions as long as she brought up objections. Although she knew the whole thing would be a nightmare, it did coincide with her own wishes for Fleur and with a brittle nod she admitted her defeat.

  "I bow to superior strength," she said.

  Despite the fact she had the urge to throw a teacup at his head, Blaine felt the corners of her mouth curl into a small grin. He saluted her with a hand to his forehead and moved to seat himself beside her on the couch. Heads together like conspirators, they planned out the details of the trip to London. They had just finished when the doors of the parlor opened and Fleur, followed by Talbott Stoddard, entered in a flurry of muslin.

  "Oh," Fleur cried, stopping abruptly at the sight of her sister and Lord Farrington sitting so cozily together. "I didn't realize you had company."

  "Watch your tongue and make your curtsy, child," Blaine warned, fearful the girl would give the game away.

  Drew hauled himself to his feet and bowed to the flustered young lady. His smile was less warm for Stoddard since he loathed the man and sensed his interest in Fleur was solely to relieve the boredom of his stay in the country.

  "Perhaps you could tell me, Miss Meriweather, where I might find your brother. I met Val in the woods yesterday and promised I would accompany him on a tour of Weathers."

  "How kind of you, Lord Farrington. Val will be in high alt. He was just on his way out to the stables when milord came to call." Her voice was breathless and a wave of color flowed up her cheeks as she indicated Lord Stoddard.

  "Then if you will excuse me, Lady Yates, I shall take myself off. Your servant, ma'am."

  With a brief but elegant bow, Drew left the room and, for Blaine, it was as if the room had suddenly become empty. It was several moments before she could focus on the others in the room. Since she did not wish to put Fleur's acting powers to the test, she asked her sister to help her to a large armchair in the corner where she might rest after her day's exertion. There, under the impression that she was dozing, she was well able to keep an eye on the girl, yet not be involved in further deception. Watching Stoddard beneath shuttered lids, she could no more like him than she had on first acquaintance. The man flirted outrageously with Fleur and the flighty chit could not see beneath the surface handsomeness of the man to the cold calculation in his eyes. Perhaps in London, she would learn to recognize the real from the counterfeit.