Regency Masquerades: A Limited Edition Boxed Set of Six Traditional Regency Romance Novels of Secrets and Disguises

by Brenda Hiatt

  “No, I met him for the first time during my visit to London. I’m sure you will like him, Freddie. He’s a capital fellow. Fought on the Peninsula against Boney.”

  Frederica was aghast. “You just met him? Thomas, for all you know he might be no more than a fortune-hunter!”

  For the first time, Thomas looked uncomfortable. “Shouldn’t think so,” he said, frowning. “He’s a member at all the clubs, even White’s. It’s deuced hard to get in there. I should know—I had to have two friends put in a word for me to be admitted. They’d never allow a fortune-hunter in.” He spoke more confidently now.

  “Not if he announced the fact,” Frederica returned acidly. She had not missed Thomas’s discomfort and pressed harder. “So you know virtually nothing about the man, for all your fine speeches, other than his title and service record.”

  “It’s not as though I’m forcing you to wed some toothless old roué, you know,” said Thomas defensively. “Seabrooke is well enough looking and can’t be much past thirty—came into his title just a few months ago, I believe. He’s a bang-up Corinthian and vastly in demand. Most girls would jump at the chance to marry him.”

  “I am not ‘most girls,’ Thomas. I’d prefer to know a bit more about a man before tying myself to him for life. Your precious Lord Seabrooke could be a murderer or a highwayman for all you know of him. But I suppose I must wait to discover such things until after I am his wife.” Frederica made no effort to conceal her bitterness, hoping that it would help to dissuade her brother from his mad scheme.

  “Now, Freddie, you know I’d never expect you to marry a scoundrel,” said Thomas soothingly, patting her hand in a manner Frederica found maddeningly condescending. “Seabrooke is quite the gentleman. You must trust me.”

  She thought rapidly. “You are certain you would not force me to marry a scoundrel, Thomas?” she asked carefully.

  “Of course not! You’re my sister, after all.” His tone was indignant.

  “So if it were to transpire that your Lord Seabrooke is a scoundrel, you would allow me to cry off?”

  Thomas paused at that, but then shrugged. “Yes. But he is no scoundrel, I assure you. Oh, he has a bit of a reputation as a rake, I’ll grant you that—what red-blooded blade don’t? Nothing you need worry about, though.”

  Frederica was smiling grimly now. “I’ll be the judge of that, Thomas. I plan to do a bit of investigating about the Earl of Seabrooke. If I can prove that he’s got more than a ‘bit of a reputation,’ that he’s a fortune-hunter or in any way dishonorable, I’ll expect you to hold to your promise.”

  Thomas was taken aback, but only for a moment. After all, what could she possibly discover that he would not have heard about in Town? He had asked his friends about the man before having the papers drawn up—he wasn’t a complete nodcock! Doubtless Frederica simply meant to write a few letters. And even if she went to London herself, which he thought unlikely in the extreme, he was confident that there was nothing really wrong with Seabrooke. He’d stake his own reputation on that, even after such a short acquaintance.

  And if there were something—something that actually merited the label of “scoundrel”—well, he’d just have to find another way to raise twelve thousand pounds. He owed his sister too much to do otherwise.

  Thomas looked at her with affection, realizing for the first time what a prize she might be considered, with her cascading copper curls, wide green eyes and flawless complexion—and a fortune, to boot.

  “Very well, Freddie,” he finally said, “investigate away. You’ll see Seabrooke is a right ’un. And then I’ll expect you to do your part. I’m sure you have no more desire to end up an ape leader—er, a spinster—than I have to see you one. You are twenty already and you still resist making your come-out in Town. I can’t imagine how you ever expect to catch a husband holed up here at Maple Hill. Why, you don’t even go to the local assemblies since Father died.”

  “I’d rather remain unwed to my dying day than be bound to a man I can’t love or respect,” his sister retorted, her eyes glinting. “And despite what you say, Thomas, no man who would betroth himself to a lady sight unseen can be all that he should be. If he were as sought after as you say, why should he do so? I’ll discover something to his discredit, never fear! And I shall hold you to your promise when I do.” Her face set, Frederica strode from the room.

  Sir Thomas watched her go, a slight frown creasing his handsome brow. All in all, the interview had gone better than he had expected. At least she had not refused outright, as he had feared. If she had, he doubted he could have forced her to the match. Still, he could not recall Frederica ever failing at a task she set her mind to, and she had looked uncommonly determined this time. Could he possibly have misjudged Lord Seabrooke?

  His brow cleared and he shrugged. If he had, no doubt Frederica would discover it for him. He had decided years ago that there was never any point in worrying about things one could not change, particularly if they were unpleasant. Accordingly, Sir Thomas put the entire matter from his mind and sat down to consume the remainder of Frederica’s abandoned tea and cakes.

  Chapter Two

  Frederica went straight to the study to pull pen and paper from her desk. She knew Thomas had only made that promise because he thought she could have no way of finding out anything of substance about his precious Lord Seabrooke, but she had a secret weapon that he had doubtless overlooked—her old governess, Miss Milliken.

  In the more than ten years Frederica had known her, Miss Milliken had gradually moved from the position of governess to that of friend and confidante. She and Frederica had enjoyed an unusually close relationship based on a similarity of tastes and a sincere affection for each other, and it was only upon the death of Miss Milliken’s mother a year ago that the woman had left Maple Hill to keep house for her father on the outskirts of London.

  It was to Miss Milliken that Frederica owed a large part of her purposeful, organized approach to life’s setbacks and challenges. A lifelong student of ancient military campaigns, Miss Milliken believed strongly that a carefully planned strategy could overcome any problem, from knotted embroidery thread to a fire in the stables. In addition, Frederica had discovered over the years that her governess was possessed of a vast network of friends and acquaintances in Town and elsewhere, whose varying experiences and expertise were occasionally sought, through letters, to clarify some point in her charge’s education. Frederica suspected that if anyone could assist her in her present quest, Miss Milliken could. Quickly, she penned her letter.

  To Frederica’s surprise, Thomas really did seem intent during the next few days on learning the workings of the estate. Instead of growing bored and changing the subject as he had whenever their father had attempted to instruct him, he asked numerous questions and demanded to be taken over every farm and holding. Frederica, ignorant of the fact that guilt and the bad scare he had received in London had motivated the sudden change, supposed that he must finally be growing up.

  “Here is the school I’ve been telling you about,” she said as they approached the long, low building at one end of the village, on yet another tour during his first week at home. “I’m really very proud of it. In the two years since I opened it, nearly a dozen girls have learned to read, write and sew, substantially broadening their prospects. One has even obtained a position as a shop-girl in Broadgate.”

  “You teach them yourself?” asked Thomas in amazement.

  “No, I’ve managed to find a schoolmistress, though I did so at the outset. I still try to spend some time here every week, teaching drawing to a few of the more talented girls and helping out with some of the youngest ones. Two of the older girls have started a nursery of sorts to allow their mothers a respite at home.”

  They entered the rear of the building as she spoke, and several children ranging in age from two to six ran forward to greet her with hugs and kisses.

  “Good morning, Sarah! How are you today, Mary? Jane, is your cold bette
r?” She greeted each child warmly while Sir Thomas looked on in bemusement. Rising after a moment, she spoke briefly to one of the young women in charge of the youngsters before opening a door to the main room of the schoolhouse.

  “We won’t go in and disturb the lessons, but I wanted you to have a peek,” she said in an undertone to her brother. He looked over her shoulder at the dozen or more girls seated at small wooden desks, listening attentively to a matronly, bespectacled woman at the front of the room. Closing the door again, she turned to him. “I feel this school has truly made a difference in the lives of these girls and their families. It’s been extremely rewarding.” She let her voice and expression convey the challenge she was presenting him.

  Thomas led her back outdoors before replying. “I had no idea, Freddie,” he said, shaking his head. “But I promise to beep the school running if… when… well, you know.”

  Frederica smiled, but grimly. “That’s very comforting, to be sure, but I fully intend to see to it myself.” It was the closest they had come to discussing her betrothal since that first conversation. “I’ve not forgotten your promise, Thomas.”

  “Yes, well, I have been rethinking the matter, Freddie,” he said slowly.

  “Yes?” She felt a surge of triumph. He was going to call it off!

  “I think you should come to Town with me for the Little Season at the end of September. Meet Seabrooke yourself. Who knows, you may discover you like him well enough after all.”

  Frederica glared at him. “So that he may turn on his charm to bamboozle me as he evidently has you? No, thank you. The face he’ll show me as his wife will doubtless be quite different from the one he puts on for Society. Meeting him at a ball or a musicale will prove nothing.”

  Thomas let out a gusty sigh. “It was just a thought. Have it your own way, then—but I warn you, Freddie, you cannot take forever to prove your silly theory. Seabrooke and I discussed a Christmas wedding.”

  “Christmas? This Christmas?” Frederica was appalled. “That’s scarcely four months away!”

  “Well, if he’s the blackguard you think, no doubt you can discover it in half that time,” said Thomas loftily, though his gaze shifted guiltily away. “Now, weren’t you going to show me the drainage ditches?”

  To Frederica’s vast relief there was a letter awaiting her from Miss Milliken upon her return to the house an hour later. She tore it open eagerly, scanned its brief contents and went at once in search of her brother.

  “Thomas,” she said when she found him in the stables looking over the carriage horses, “I’ve just had a letter from Miss Milliken. You know, my old governess,” she reminded him when he looked blank. “She has asked me to visit her, and I mean to go. I believe I shall find her a soothing influence—something I stand in need of just now.” She kept her eyes wide and guileless, assuming a long-suffering look.

  “That sounds a capital idea, Freddie,” her brother replied cheerfully. “If I remember her rightly, she’ll be just the one to talk some sense into you. Didn’t she go to her father in the country somewhere?”

  “Yes,” said Frederica, not feeling it necessary to disclose the precise location of the house. “I thought I would leave on the morrow. ’Tis less than half a day’s drive.”

  “I’ll be up to see you off. Write to me if you change your mind about the Little Season so that I may make preparations.”

  “Of course I shall.”

  Frederica turned back to the house to make the necessary arrangements for her first-ever prolonged absence from Maple Hill, telling herself that it would do Thomas good to have the sole running of it for a bit. Humming a stirring march under her breath, she thought over what she hoped to accomplish. Never inform the enemy of your intentions, that was what Miss Milliken had always said.

  Before teatime the next day Frederica’s carriage drew up in front of the Millikens’ small, neat cottage. As she was giving the manservant directions about her trunks and caged pets—mice and peacock only, for the goats would have been most impractical to transport—her old friend appeared in the doorway. Frederica hurried forward to embrace her. “Milly, you look just the same as ever. I am so glad to see you.”

  “And I you, Frederica,” she replied in the low, melodious voice Frederica remembered so well. At forty, Miss Milliken still possessed fine, aristocratic features and a striking style, though she could never have been precisely beautiful. “You mentioned a problem in your letter, and I can see that you have been worrying of late. I suggest you come inside and tell me about it at once.” She led the way to a tiny, immaculate parlour.

  As always, Milly’s mere presence helped Frederica to focus and marshal her thoughts. It was a practice Miss Milliken had encouraged from the time her young charge was eight years old. “Thomas has done the most dreadful thing,” Frederica began after sitting down and taking the requisite three deep breaths. “Between us, I hope that we may undo it.”

  She went on to relate the entire situation as her brother had presented it. Her old governess listened in silence, merely nodding once or twice. When Frederica concluded, Miss Milliken fixed sharp brown eyes upon her.

  “Do you wish to marry?”

  Frederica blinked in surprise. “No! That is, well, I suppose I rather expected that I would marry someday. I had envisioned a gentleman with whom I would share mutual interests, a growing attraction, perhaps even love. Someone like Papa, perhaps, with estates that I could help to manage, who would be a good father to any children we might have.” She paused thoughtfully. “I would like to have children, I must admit. The girls at the village school are very dear to me, but that is not quite the same.” She gave a wistful sigh.

  “And yet you have never made the slightest effort to meet such a gentleman,” Miss Milliken pointed out. “You refused every suggestion that you have a London Season.”

  Frederica grimaced. “You have told me enough about the Season for me to know that I would dislike it excessively. To be thrust into a whirl of balls and routs, paraded before countless gentlemen and then chosen by one like a prize calf… that is not what I had in mind at all. Besides, who would manage Maple Hill were I to leave for two or three months at a time? It took me hours with Mrs. Gresham and Mr. Bridges to prepare even for this visit.”

  “Then it would appear that Sir Thomas has come up with a perfect solution. You can scarcely expect all the eligible gentlemen in England to come to Maple Hill to be picked over at your leisure. By marrying Lord Seabrooke, you need not subject yourself to the anathema of parties and balls to find a husband.” Miss Milliken’s eyes were twinkling now.

  “That is not what I meant and well you know it, Milly!” said Frederica with a reluctant smile. “It is simply that I should like to have a say in whom I marry—to choose someone with whom I can be comfortable, not have him thrust upon me. I know nothing about Lord Seabrooke beyond what Thomas has told me. He sounds little better than a rake, a do-nothing man about town. And for all I know, he could be much worse than that!” She shuddered involuntarily.

  Miss Milliken regarded her steadily, her expression again serious. “The unknown is always frightening,” she said perceptively. “However, I must agree that it was extremely ill-advised of Sir Thomas to make such a commitment on your behalf without your consent. I would like to think that he has your best interests at heart, and indeed it may turn out so, but you dare not leave something so important as your future to chance, or to your brother’s whims. Sir Thomas has not always shown the best of judgment. We ourselves must undertake to discover everything there is to know about Lord Seabrooke,” she concluded decisively.

  “Oh, Milly, I knew I could count on you!” exclaimed Frederica, vastly relieved. “Where shall we start? You still have numerous acquaintances in Town, do you not?”

  “I do. I shall write at once to Mrs. Pomfrey, as well as to two or three others who are not so highly placed but who may be in better positions to ferret out the type of information we require. I should have some news for y
ou in a day or two. Once we have more facts, we can decide what our next line of attack will be.”

  Frederica smiled at her friend’s phrasing. “I doubt not your connections will uncover something about Lord Seabrooke that will force Thomas to change his mind. There must be something havey-cavey about him or he would never have agreed to this betrothal.”

  Miss Milliken nodded thoughtfully. “You are very likely right. That did strike me as peculiar, particularly if the man is so popular as Sir Thomas says.” She stood then and said briskly, “Now, I shall show you to your room so that you may tidy yourself before tea is brought in.”

  Falling easily into her old habit of obedience, Frederica followed Miss Milliken out of the room, her step far lighter than it had been when she entered.

  For Frederica, staying at the Milliken cottage was like being on holiday, free of her myriad duties and responsibilities at home. She suspected that over an extended period of time she would become bored with such a life of leisure, but for a day or two it was pleasant, indeed.

  Miss Milliken’s father was a kindly old man who appeared to take in little of what went on about him. Although he was delighted at his introduction to Frederica at dinner her first evening there, she had to be presented to him all over again in the morning.

  “Ah, yes, Charlotte has told me all about you, Miss Chesterton,” he said, exactly as he had the night before. “I am delighted that you have come to pay us a visit. Do not hesitate to make yourself perfectly at home here.”

  Frederica responded with polite expressions of gratitude, wondering privately how many times this same conversation was destined to be repeated.

  The day was spent pleasantly, in long conversations with her old friend and in painting and reading, two interests the women shared but which Frederica rarely had time to indulge at Maple Hill. Late in the afternoon, as they were companionably washing out their brushes together, a note was delivered for Miss Milliken.