Masquerading the Marquess

by Anne Mallory

  She absorbed the spirit of the masquerade and pretended they were two people meeting for the first time. What a dashing suitor. Midnight eyes seared through her and soft lips curved into a smile. Lips like those were definitely . . .

  "Are you enjoying yourself tonight, Esmerelda?"

  Calliope missed a step. "Lord Angelford, I didn’t know you recognized me."

  "My dear, I would recognize you in sackcloth."

  She didn’t answer and he drew her in more closely, branding her everywhere they touched.

  "Did you sleep well last night? Finn mentioned you prepared a tasty breakfast." His warm breath tickled her ear as he spun her and leaned closer. "It seems you have many surprising skills."

  Heat kindled inside. His fingers trailed up her left arm.

  "Have you heard from Stephen?" he asked.

  "He said he would meet me here tonight, but I have yet to see him." Her voice was husky.

  Angelford nodded thoughtfully.

  The waltz ended too quickly and he returned her to her entourage. Bowing low, he kissed her hand and disappeared into the crowd.

  Dancing was a heady experience, made all the more so by the proximity of her skillful partner and adversary. His strong lead made dancing easy, even with her temperamental leg.

  After that first dance, she was in much demand. For the next two hours she laughed and chatted with nameless, faceless people. She found it novel that the men attended her in much the same manner they did the popular debutantes, only with more provocative suggestions and behavior.

  But as the hour grew later and Stephen still hadn’t arrived, worry for him overrode the fun.

  Calliope declined dances, instead choosing to scan the crowd. Her court, along with Deirdre’s, remained loyal, providing beverages and sweets, and reciting outrageous poems and even more outrageous requests.

  "My dear, you must allow me to be by your side at the unveiling. Nothing would give me more pleasure," said the man she had identified as Lord Pettigrew.

  "May I also offer my services to unveil you?" said Lord Roth, laughter in his voice.

  "He’s a wastrel, my lady. just like a baron to have a girl in every shire. I would be a much better choice," intoned a disguised Mr. Ronald Ternberry.

  "Ah, but you are a complete boor, Ronnie. The lady needs excitement. " Roth’s posture was lazy as he nettled Ternberry. She had the distinct impression it was one of his favorite pastimes, and if perhaps the real reason he was part of her court.

  Other voices were raised in chorus.

  "Alas, you are all worthy," Calliope said, "but l if I have given my pledge to another. "

  Groans met her statement.

  A squat, gravelly-voiced man in a jester costume approached their group with a note. "Mademoiselle, I was told to hand this to you."

  She murmured her thanks and opened the note, concealing its contents from the others.

  Mademoiselle,

  I have discovered information on Stephen’s whereabouts. Please meet me in the garden

  Angelford

  Why hadn’t he just approached her directly? The man was strange and proving to be as secretive as she. The word "please" in the note was unexpected. She shrugged and excused herself from the group. Deirdre was occupied with a charming young man and appeared to be having a grand time, so Calliope signaled that she would return and then headed for the gardens.

  A chill hung in the spring air. Calliope shivered and peered into the darkness. Couples were engaged in all sorts of licentious behavior on the terrace. She restrained a blush at one enthusiastic duo and searched for Angelford’s all-black attire.

  The moon was dim, and she debated the wisdom of heading into the maze of hedges. The lingering unease grew as she looked into the shadowy foliage. Better to stick to the populated areas.

  Calliope stepped to the left edge of the terrace. There was no sign of Angelford. She turned to walk back toward the entry when she spied him making his way through the doors.

  She waved an arm to flag him, but he looked straight ahead and strode into the hedges. Her brows furrowed in frustration. She sighed and headed into the maze. She caught sight of him, the dim light glinting off his jet-black hair. Calliope opened her mouth to announce her presence when he veered left. What was be doing?

  She clenched her jaw, irritated, and quickened her step. She reached the fork and turned left, but there was another branch and no sign of him. She looked down both paths to no avail, and then examined the ground. Fresh footfalls led to the right, so she followed them. She approached another fork some twenty steps in and threw up her hands. He could damn well talk to her in the ballroom.

  Calliope smelled ale and dirty clothes a second before a callused hand was clamped over her mouth. An arm encircled her waist and arms, imprisoning her.

  "Where is it?" a rough voice demanded.

  Calliope struggled against her attacker. His arms were too strong to break free. She kicked backward into his shin with her slipper and bit hard into his hand, causing him to loosen the grip on her mouth.

  "Help!" She managed the start of a scream but he quickly clamped his hand back over her mouth using her chin and nose to force her teeth together.

  "You’ll pay for that," he snarled.

  His grip on her nose made Calliope’s vision swim. She could not seem to form a coherent thought. Everything dimmed.

  She felt a whoosh of air and suddenly the pressure encasing her was gone. She sank to the ground. Must run. She awkwardly pushed upward off the rough pebbles. Which way? She was unable to distinguish shapes. Firm but gentle hands slid under her arms and lifted her to her feet. A scream rose in her throat.

  "Take a deep breath." The soothing tones of Angelford’s voice calmed her. "I’m here. Everything will soon be better."

  Shadows became shapes, which in turn became objects, and she was finally able to focus on his handsome face. Calliope looked down at the motionless form on the ground and leaned into Angelford, shivering. He tensed, then relaxed.

  "Thank you. He appeared from nowhere."

  She felt him tense again. "What in hell were you doing out here?"

  She pulled away, surprise giving way to anger. "Meeting you."

  He scowled. "Meeting me? I’m flattered, but l followed when you left the ballroom."

  She frowned and pulled the paper, now crumpled, from her pocket. "I received your message."

  He took the note and squinted in the dim moonlight. "I didn’t write this."

  The attacker stirred and Angelford reached down and thumped him on the head. The man slumped back. A harsh light played on Angelford’s face. "I’ll see you to your coach. Finn said your servants are back. Make sure you lock your doors tonight. I’ll take care of this."

  Calliope was too stunned to argue. The excitement of the masquerade was over, and the realization of what might have occurred set in.

  He held on to her arm as they re-entered the ballroom and steered her to the stairs.

  "Wait, my lord, I need to get my, uh, friend."

  But Calliope needn’t have worried. Deirdre must have observed their progress across the floor and interpreted that there was a problem because she immediately excused herself from her group of admirers amid heavy protests.

  "Gentlemen, it has been a lovely time, but I am wanted elsewhere. I bid you adieu."

  Deirdre blew kisses to her court and hurried to Calliope.

  She sent a questioning look but said nothing. Without a word, Angelford offered an arm to each lady.

  It seemed to take an eternity to reach the coach and Calliope tried to steady her shaking hand, which was still draped on Angelford’s arm.

  He handed them into the carriage. "Have a pleasant night, ladies. I will speak with you soon. " His smooth brandy voice washed over Calliope. He bowed and motioned to the driver.

  Deirdre sent her another questioning glance, but kept silent as the coach began moving. They encountered no traffic; the majority of guests had elected to remain
until the unveiling.

  "What’s wrong, Callie? What were you doing with Angelford?"

  Calliope shook her head. "I don’t know, Dee. I don’t know. I need to think for a minute."

  She looked out the window and saw the black-garbed figure standing on the steps watching the carriage leave. She watched him until they turned the corner and he passed from her vision. A shiver coursed through her.

  "Dee, do you think you could stay with me tonight?"

  Deirdre looked concerned. "Yes, of course, I will send a note so our parents won’t be worried."

  Calliope nodded and nestled into the cushions, trying to relax.

  Who was the man in the maze? Why had he accosted her? Where was Stephen?

  Angelford had saved her from the attacker. She remembered leaning into his warm chest. Her traitorous body had accepted his help. She was beholden to him.

  Questions swirled through her mind and collided with intense emotions.

  The following morning Deirdre was still attempting to coax answers from her.

  "Callie, come home with me. I don’t know why you won’t tell me what happened last night, but something is obviously wrong." Deirdre looked tired and concerned. "I’m worried about you. And why didn’t Stephen show up? I’m going to give him a piece of my mind next time I see him."

  "He must have been detained. Dee, I promise to come by later. There are a few things I need to tend first."

  She nudged Deirdre out the door after promising to drop by the family’s house. Less than fifteen minutes after Deirdre left, there was a knock at the front door. Calliope looked up as Grimmond walked in.

  "Miss, there is a note for you. It was left willy-nilly on the front stoop." A stickler for convention, disapproval laced his voice.

  Calliope opened the card as Grimmond walked back out. Sweat broke across her brow and a cold pulse emanated up her body, halting her heart for a beat.

  If you wish your family to remain unharmed, you will deliver the item we seek, the Adelphi is such a lovely theater. It would be a shame, Callie, dear . . .

  The letter was unsigned.

  Calliope scrawled on a piece of Stephen’s stationery, pocketed the threatening note, threw on her pelisse and ran out the door and into the street.

  It took a few precious minutes, but she finally managed to catch a hackney. She needed answers and needed them quickly. Only one person seemed to know more about the situation than she. She gave the driver the address and sped off toward the devil’s den.

  The short trip seemed to take an hour. The driver pulled in front of the huge estate on St. James’s Street. She paid the fare and hopped to the ground. She grimaced as she landed on her bad leg. Too late for a cane now.

  The hackney took off down the street and she regretted not asking the driver to wait. She looked at the imposing Palladian structure. It epitomized everything she despised. She was alone.

  Calliope climbed the stairs and walked nervously to the large door. She took a deep breath and rapped.

  A white-haired butler opened the door.

  She straightened her shoulders. "I am here to see the Marquess of Angelford. It is a matter of the utmost urgency. " She handed him the hastily composed note she had written.

  The butler examined the stationery and then surveyed her once again, obviously noting the absence of a coach and attendant. In order to gain time, she had eschewed both. She held her breath; he might refuse her admittance. There was some relief in the thought he might bar her access, but the situation required entry. She lifted her chin and thought, I belong here, a technique she used when preparing for her roles and employing one of her many guises.

  He opened the door, reluctantly allowing her into the front hall. "Please wait here."

  The main hall had three connecting passages. He strode down the one on the left.

  As his footsteps echoed in the hallway, she glanced toward the ceiling, reluctantly impressed. The high ceiling and gorgeous banister dominated the entryway. The ceiling was hand-painted with angelic images depicting the heavens.

  A curved staircase flowed down and to the right, a small hallway underneath on the left. Intricate marble tiles were arranged artfully in the floor and stairs. A beautiful Aubusson runner curved up the middle of the staircase, and its cousin lay horizontally on the floor. A regal portrait hung on the wall under the curved staircase, and a small Queen Anne desk sat beneath.

  The entire scene screamed wealth, and she again experienced the urge to flee.

  The butler returned just as she gained control and motioned to her. "Follow me."

  She relinquished her pelisse and followed him down the left hall.

  James fingered the note and waited.

  Templeton, his butler, opened the door. "The stranger on the step, my lord." He then disappeared from view.

  James saw her give his butler a disgruntled look before entering the room.

  A glance at her disheveled state had him instantly aroused. She looked as if she had just stepped out of bed, thrown on the first thing she could find and then rushed to meet him. Honey-colored hair dripped down her shoulders and a simple lavender morning dress clung to her frame. Satisfaction flowed through him.

  She broke his train of thought. "I know my presence is unconventional, but I need information quickly. " She gave a tight shrug and moved a bit farther into the room.

  He motioned to a chair in front of his desk. She hesitated before slipping into it. "Thank you."

  He sat behind his desk, leaned back in the chair, steepled his fingers and waited.

  Her brow furrowed, but she said in a rush, "Why did you appear two nights ago? Where is Stephen? Who was the man who attacked me last night? And why is someone sending me threatening notes?"

  James dropped his hands and leaned forward. "Threatening notes?"

  She hesitated. "I received one this morning. They threatened my family."

  He held out his hand. "Let me see it."

  She shook her head, and he saw her finger her left pocket. "No, it has personal information. There is no need for you to see it. Suffice to say the note tells me to give them an item or else."

  "Do you have this item?"

  "I don’t know. I don’t know what the item is."

  "Then why are you here?"

  She visibly bristled. "Because you seem to be on my heels the past two days and I believe you are somehow involved in this situation."

  "What makes you say that?"

  He said it in a nonchalant way and expected her anger. He was not disappointed.

  "Forgive me. I’m wasting my time here. Good day, my lord."

  "Sit down, Miss Stafford," James ordered in the steely tone that generally caused people to do his bidding.

  She turned toward him, a shocked look on her face. "What did you call me?"

  He couldn’t tamp down the sardonic smile as he gestured toward her. "You forgot to not be yourself today."

  ·

  A horrified look crossed her face as she grasped at her hair with one hand and her cheek with the other.

  "Sit down. "

  She obeyed this time, but he thought it more from the shock than anything else.

  "I have known your identity for quite some time. But I am curious: What turned you from lady’s companion to courtesan, Miss Stafford? Surely you were not that down on your luck?"

  Her initial shock had obviously subsided somewhat because she shot him an even nastier look than before. She gazed around the room’s elegant furnishings. "I doubt someone such as yourself would understand what the peasants of this world have to go through on a daily basis. Please, don’t lower my opinion of you any more by asking such inane questions."

  His temper flared. "You are a silly girl. I doubt you know what true hardship is."

  She seemed to withdraw and sat staring mutely ahead.

  He tried to rein in his temper. He had magnificent self-control. Everyone knew it. Why did she always incite him?

  He said in a more
reasonable tone, "If you want my help, I need to see the note."

  She continued to stare at him, not speaking.

  "You are involved in a dangerous matter. Give me the damn note."

  Her eyes flashed. "I don’t want your help. I want answers."