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

by Brenda Hiatt

  “Oh! I—I am,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Did… did he say why he decided to do this?” A faint glimmer of hope buoyed her. Perhaps, just perhaps…

  “He said it wasn’t fair to you. That you could obviously have your pick of suitors, and so forth. Does it matter?”

  Frederica’s shoulders slumped. “I suppose not,” she said dully.

  Thomas regarded her doubtfully. “I say, are you all right, Freddie?”

  “Of course, Thomas.” In fact, she felt numb all over. “This is just what I had hoped for, is it not?”

  “I had thought so. At any rate, you may now do as you like. Of course, there is still the matter of your living under his roof for two weeks, but as no one discovered it, I don’t suppose it really signifies. He did ask that we let him know before announcing in the papers that the betrothal is at an end. All you need do is write him a note crying off. If… if you like, that is.” He was still watching her with some concern.

  Frederica forced herself to smile. “How very simple,” she said lightly. “I suppose I should do so at once.”

  “That’s settled, then,” said Thomas with a satisfied nod.

  For once, Frederica was grateful that her brother was not more observant, or he surely would have noticed how she was shaking.

  “I’m off to Boodle’s,” he said then, still smiling. “I shall see you at dinner.” With a cheery wave, he tramped out of the house, whistling a merry tune.

  For a full three minutes after he had gone, Frederica remained standing by the breakfast-room table, staring sightlessly across its littered surface. Lord Seabrooke had released her from their betrothal. He had no desire whatsoever to marry her. The room lost focus as her eyes blurred with tears.

  Abruptly, she remembered Milly and Mr. Westlake in the parlor. She had been gone nearly fifteen minutes by now. She would have to rejoin them. Woodenly placing one foot in front of the other, she traversed the hallway, which seemed to stretch out endlessly before her. At the doorway, she took three deep breaths and forced a stiff smile to her lips. Pushing open the door, she paused, startled to find Milly alone.

  “Here you are at last!” cried Miss Milliken at her entrance. “Charles had business to tend to before this evening, and I suggested that he leave now so that I could tell you my news alone. Oh, Frederica, I am the happiest woman alive! Charles has asked me to be his wife!”

  Milly’s glowing face gave evidence of her joy, and Frederica hastily thrust her own troubles to the back of her mind. Not for anything would she spoil this moment for her friend. “I can’t say that I am surprised, Milly, but I can most sincerely say that I am happy for you. The two of you seem made for each other.”

  “Yes, I feel that way also,” agreed Miss Milliken. “And he insists that we must have my father to live with us, so I need not even worry on that account.” For the first time, she looked closely at Frederica. “But you are distressed about something, my dear. You are nearly pale as a ghost! Here, come sit down and tell me what has happened.”

  Abruptly, she was once again the Miss Milliken Frederica knew, governess and companion. Gratefully, Frederica sank down on the sofa beside her. “Oh, Milly, I don’t know what to do! Lord Seabrooke has… has released me from our betrothal.” In halting accents, she related her conversation with her brother. “But I don’t want to be free of him,” she concluded with a sob. “And now I shall never know if he truly cared about Miss Cherrystone or not.”

  Miss Milliken listened in silence and then said, “Frederica, I know all too well what it is to live without love. When I think of the joyous years Charles and I might have had, the children that were never born… And all because I was too proud to tell him what I felt, or even to say goodbye when I left London.”

  “What… what did happen then, Milly?” asked Frederica curiously. Somehow, she hoped that she might be able to apply Milly’s situation to her own. “Why did you leave Town so suddenly?”

  “It was my uncle,” said Miss Milliken with a sigh. “The one who paid for my education. He also sponsored my Season in London. Then, with the Season half over, he told me that he wished to adopt me—that I was to sever all ties with my mother. He was ashamed of her, you see. Against the wishes of her family, she had run away to try her fortune on the stage. Once she met and married my father, she left the theatre, of course, but her family never forgave her for it.

  “After her father—my grandfather—died, her brother offered to support my entry into Society. He never did speak or write to her, only to me, but she was willing for me to take advantage of his generous offer. My own father could never have afforded it. She had no more idea than I what my uncle’s real motive was. He had no children of his own, you see, and hoped that I might marry well, as his adopted daughter, and elevate his social standing. I believe he also saw it as a way to punish my mother for what she had done so many years before.”

  Frederica patted Miss Milliken’s hand comfortingly. “I—I had no idea, Milly. How terrible it must have been for you.”

  Milly smiled. “The worst part was leaving Charles, whom I believed was near to offering for me. But I could not have accepted him under the circumstances. I was determined to receive nothing more from my uncle. I went home to my parents, who were by then poorer than ever, and managed to obtain a position teaching at the seminary where I had so recently been a pupil. The rest you know. I cannot regret it, for if I had not done so, I would never have come to Maple Hill as your governess.” She gave the girl at her side a hug. “What I do regret is the pride that kept me from revealing all to Charles before I left. My uncle had convinced me that I would be banished outright by the Polite World if anyone were to discover what my mother had been, and that I could not bear.”

  Miss Milliken shook her head over the youthful folly that had led to so many unfulfilled years. “Do not allow that to happen to you, Frederica,” she said suddenly, almost fiercely. “Do not allow pride to stand in the way of love.”

  Frederica blinked, for Milly’s words echoed her own decision made during the carriage ride only an hour earlier. But that had been before Lord Seabrooke had made it so clear that he wished nothing further to do with her. Could she now risk the pain of almost certain rejection? He expected only a note from her, a polite communication freeing him from his obligation to her. He expected never to have to face her again.

  Slowly, a spark of determination grew within her. No, she would not submit so tamely. Frederica gave Miss Milliken a hug and kissed her cheek before rising. “Thank you, Milly. As always, you have given me excellent advice.”

  She would go to him in person, demand an explanation for his sudden volte-face. If he made reference to another love, if he so much as hinted at caring for Miss Cherrystone, then she would reveal all. If he did not… she would free him. She loved him too much to do otherwise.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gavin walked wearily up the steps of Seabrooke House. He had been unsuccessful in finding Old Joe, though he had spent more than two hours haunting the narrow streets of the business district. For the hundredth time, he wished he had thought before to ask the man where he had delivered the girl with the peacock, rather than blithely assuming that his search was at an end.

  He still had Jeffries out combing the streets for Joe’s battered blue hackney. If they did not locate it that day, he would go back to that cottage anyway, first thing in the morning, and question everyone there. Now that he was as good as free of his betrothal to Miss Chesterton, there was nothing to stop him from laying his heart at Cherry’s feet—if he could only find her.

  Daniels, his new butler, opened the door for him. “My lord! There is a young lady here to see you. She came alone.” His tone was severely disapproving; Daniels had far higher standards than his predecessor, as Gavin had already discovered.

  “A young lady?” he echoed hopefully. Could it be…? “Did she give a name?”

  “Miss Frederica Chesterton, my lord. I have put her in the front pa
rlor. If you wish, I shall inform her that you will be out for the rest of the day.”

  Gavin’s spirits fell even lower for their brief elevation. “No, I had better see her. Thank you, Daniels.” It appeared that Miss Chesterton was not as complaisant about his solution as he had expected her to be.

  Miss Chesterton looked up as he entered the parlor, and Gavin was struck once more by her beauty. Quickly, guiltily, he suppressed a vague stirring of desire. When, instead of averting her gaze as she had repeatedly at last night’s ball, Miss Chesterton continued to look him directly in the eye, he was reminded even more painfully of Cherry. Nor were the words she spoke in greeting calculated to help him forget his loss.

  “Lord Seabrooke, my brother tells me you wish to dissolve our betrothal.” Her voice, though still low, was clear and oddly familiar. He must have grown accustomed to it the night before. “May I ask why?”

  For a moment, Gavin thought over the excuses he had given Sir Thomas, pretending that breaking off the match would be for her sake rather than his own. At the same time, the real reason—Cherry—loomed larger than life in his mind’s eye. He felt he could almost touch her. Could he possibly explain that to the girl before him? No, better to use the same reasoning he had used this morning. Some part of his inner struggle must have shown on his face, for even as he opened his mouth to repeat that speech, she spoke again.

  “I already know what you told my brother, my lord. However, I believe you owe me the courtesy of telling me the true reason.”

  Gavin closed his mouth and swallowed. Suddenly he saw Miss Chesterton as a real person, with real feelings. Somehow he had not quite thought of her that way before, so wrapped up had he been in his own problems.

  “Yes, I suppose you are right. I do owe you that much,” he finally said. “The reasons I gave your brother were merely those that I used to assuage my own guilt over the business. None of this has been fair to you, from the very start.”

  She frowned at that, and moved as though to speak, but subsided as he continued.

  “I don’t know whether your brother has told you this, but he agreed to betroth you to me in payment of a gaming debt.” She nodded composedly, though her color noticeably deepened. “It was wrong in both of us, but that is neither here nor there. When I agreed to marry you, I thought that a marriage of convenience was all that I wanted. In fact, I fairly scorned the idea of a love match, for I did not then fully believe that love existed. Now I do.”

  Frederica held her breath, afraid to hope. She had trembled when she demanded the earl’s true reason, knowing what she risked. Now she would be forced to accept whatever he told her, no matter how painful it might prove.

  “Perhaps your brother has mentioned that I am guardian of my four-year-old niece, Christabel?” he continued. Frederica nodded again, with barely suppressed eagerness. “I engaged a nanny to care for her, a young woman of high principles and compassion. Her… her name is not important just now. Though she was only with us for a matter of weeks, in that time I came to appreciate her true worth. We became… friends.”

  He appeared to grope for words, his expression clouding. “In fact, I grew to love her—first, for her kindness to Christabel, and then to me, and, finally, for herself. Whether my feelings were returned I still do not know. A day or two before you came to Town, I acted rashly. While thanking her for everything she had done for… for Christabel, I was overcome by my feelings and I—I fear I may have frightened her.” As he spoke, Frederica relived that precious moment. It seemed impossible to her that he could not sense her turmoil, that the strength of her feelings did not reveal her to him.

  “She knew that I was engaged to be married. I had not yet sorted out what I should do, not yet fully admitted to myself that I loved her. What she must have thought…!”

  The handsome planes of his face twisted with strong emotion, and the torment in his once-sparkling blue eyes almost made Frederica gasp. Tears pricked her own eyes as she shared in his pain.

  “I let her go, thinking to explain everything in the morning, when my mind was clear. Stupid, stupid mistake! In the morning she was gone, and I have yet to find her again. But when I do—” his expression became determined “—I plan to tell her of my love, to ask her to be my wife. You must see why I cannot continue with this… this charade of a betrothal, as honored as any man would be to have you as his wife. Not now that I know what love—true love—is.” His eyes were pleading.

  Frederica could endure no more. She loved him far too well to allow his suffering to continue—suffering of her own making. Taking a deep breath, she stood and stepped closer to him. “My lord, there is something I must confess to you as well,” she began shakily.

  At that moment, she heard a commotion out in the hall, through the door that the butler had left discreetly ajar, just as she had done earlier with Milly and Mr. Westlake. A child’s voice, familiar and beloved, was speaking.

  “She’s in here, Abby! I heard her!” The door was thrust wide and Christabel burst into the room, the horrified housekeeper just behind her, glancing wildly from one of the room’s occupants to the other.

  “My lord, I am so sorry,” Mrs. Abbott began. “I don’t—”

  “Cherry! Cherry! Cherry!” Christabel’s cries of delight drowned out her explanations. Without hesitation, the little girl flung herself forward, wrapping her arms around Frederica’s legs and forcing her to abruptly sit back down on the sofa. “You did come back! I knew you would!”

  Gavin stared. Instead of correcting the child, or even looking surprised at the interruption, Miss Chesterton returned Christabel’s hug and pulled her onto her lap. “I missed you so very much, darling,” she said softly.

  “Please, please promise you won’t ever go away again!” Christabel snuggled up to her and tightened her clasp around Frederica’s neck.

  Gavin stood dumbstruck as Miss Chesterton looked up at him questioningly, her enormous green eyes—Cherry’s eyes—swimming with tears. “May I promise her, my lord?” Her voice was choked with emotion, but it also was indisputably Cherry’s.

  “Cherry?” he said disbelievingly. “How… when…”

  Christabel rounded on him. “Don’t let her leave again, Uncle Gavin! Please?”

  Staring at Frederica with eyes newly opened, Gavin wondered how he could have been so blind. He had danced twice with her the night before, spent an hour with her at supper… Though he still did not fully understand, he smiled, his first real smile in days. “Yes, I should like her to stay for always—if she is willing.”

  Frederica returned his smile with a tremulous one of her own. “I am perfectly willing, my lord.” Her cheeks were wet, but happiness and love, pure love, shone from her eyes.

  She then glanced down at Christabel, who was bouncing on her lap with delight, and said, in an altered tone that sounded precisely like the nanny he remembered, “Whatever do you have all over your face, young lady?”

  “Freckles,” answered Christabel readily. Gavin noticed then that his niece’s face was decorated with spots and circles of brown. “I found this pencil under your bed and gave myself freckles, just as you used to do,” she explained matter-of-factly.

  Frederica turned bright pink and Gavin exclaimed, “You little imp! Do you mean to say that you knew all along that Cherry’s—Miss Chesterton’s—freckles were false? Why did you not say so?”

  “Do not all ladies who want freckles paint them on?” asked Christabel innocently.

  Gavin was torn between a desire to shake her and to laugh. He gave in to the latter. “The eyes of a child see more clearly than those of a jaded old fellow like myself, it would appear. Go with Abby, then, and wash your face, Christabel. Cherry will be here when you return.”

  With a final, fierce hug, Christabel relinquished her hold on Frederica and followed the housekeeper from the room. As soon as they were alone, Gavin came to sit next to Frederica.

  “I still cannot credit it,” he said, shaking his head. “How did you do
it? And why?”

  “As you once observed, my lord, I have strong opinions. When my brother told me of our betrothal, I was determined to undo it, if I could. Miss Milliken helped me to obtain the post, and to disguise myself.”

  “Miss Milliken—your companion? Does she perchance live in a cottage at the edge of Town?” At her nod, he shook his head. “And I never thought to ask for a name,” he murmured. “So you came here in an effort to escape our engagement? How so?”

  “I thought that if I could spy upon you from within your own household, I might find something to your discredit that would convince Thomas to release me from it. It seemed a perfect plan.” Frederica gave him a rueful smile. “Little did I know how my feelings would change once I came to know you. I meant to prove you a scoundrel. Instead, I found you to be a man of honor. A man I could not help but love.”

  “Then you forgive me for what I did?” he asked seriously. “For forcing you to this betrothal, and for trifling with your affections while you were here as Christabel’s nanny? For not explaining to you then what my own feelings were?”

  The depth of love in his eyes made her catch her breath. “If you will forgive me for the deception I practiced upon you,” she replied. “And for the pain I put you through as a result of my cowardice.”

  He chuckled. “I suppose neither of us is entirely blameless. But if love conquers all, as they say, we can put all of our past sins behind us and begin afresh.”

  Taking her in his arms, he kissed her lingeringly, passionately, with no hint of restraint. Frederica returned his kiss wholeheartedly, her every sense fully alive. As he probed deeper, she opened to him willingly, eagerly. This was a kiss to seal their troth, to bind them together—forever. And she knew it was just a taste of more pleasures to come.

  “Love conquers all,” she murmured, when she could speak again.

  That was the one point of strategy Miss Milliken had forgotten to mention during all of their scheming. The most important one of all.