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

by Brenda Hiatt

  “This is my Henry,” she said, remembering to sniffle as she handed the miniature to the constable. “He sent it to me from Brussels, and it arrived a week after I had news of his death. I carry it always.”

  Pugg was at the window, lifting one of the heavy curtains to look outside. “An out-of-the-way place, I am thinking, for a female to be living alone.”

  “Oh, I have been here only a short time. Until a few weeks ago I resided with Henry’s family. But they had disapproved our marriage, and resented keeping me after he was gone. Finally they decided that they had done their Christian duty by me and proceeded to toss me out.”

  “With nowhere to go?” Scowling, the constable gave her back the miniature. “That ain’t Christian, to my way of thinkin’.”

  “They believed charity ought more properly to be dispensed by those of my own blood, and to be sure, I was most unhappy in their home. My sister and her husband have agreed to take in the poor relation, reckoning that I can be of help tending to their seven children.” She tried to sound martyrish. “Unhappily, Henry and I had none of our own.”

  “That don’t explain what you are doing here,” Pugg said, turning with his hands clasped behind his narrow back.

  Even through the heavy veil, she felt the force of his sharp gaze. No fool, Mr. Pugg, and singularly unimpressed with her tale of woe. But she went on with it, head bowed, for the constable’s benefit. “A capricious fancy. I’m afraid, which struck me on the long journey from Devon. You see, since learning of Henry’s death, I have never been alone to grieve for him. His parents are cold by nature and disliked any show of sensibility, and when I move in with my sister, there will be little chance for solitude amid so large a family. I suddenly longed to bid him farewell in my own way, near the seaside Henry and I so loved.”

  She made a distracted gesture. “A tedious story, I know. You must pardon me. I decided to seize a few weeks for myself before proceeding to York, so I turned west, to the coast. This cottage was available, and my savings reached to a month’s rent. Does that answer your question, sir?”

  He shrugged, and she could read nothing from his expression. “Seems odd for someone sez she likes the out-of-doors to keep the curtains closed. And I can’t help but wonder why you are wearing that veil.”

  “My eyes,” she said. “They can tolerate no more than a brief exposure to bright light, especially sunlight. I was born with the ailment, and it has proved a vast inconvenience, you may be sure. ’Tis a wonder Henry married me in spite of it, but he always took the greatest care to protect me. Naturally I do not wear the veil indoors when the curtains are closed, but you arrived just as I was preparing to go out for a walk.” She lifted the veil and gave him a shy smile. “I am so used to having it on that I did not think to do this beforehand.”

  He scrutinized her cheek, and she knew that he had suspected it was Diana Whitney hiding herself under the veil. She only hoped he failed to notice that the brown wig was still damp. Pugg was an acute observer, though. Ought she to tell him she had washed her hair that morning?

  No. Coming from nowhere, that would only make him more suspicious. An innocent woman is calm, she reminded herself, and curious why two officials had shown up on her doorstep. “I have told you why I took up residence in the isolated cottage, Mr. Pugg, but you’ve not explained why you are here.”

  “We are in search of a missing girl,” he said shortly. “Reddish brown hair, hazel eyes, a scar on her right cheek. Seen anyone matching that description?”

  “I have not, but I see almost no one save the blacksmith who brings supplies as he makes his rounds. I’ve been into Silverdale a time or two, but cannot recall encountering anyone with a scarred face. Is that all you wished to know?”

  “Indulge me a few minutes longer,” he said coolly. “If I am not mistaken, you were in Lancaster yesterday.”

  She gave him a look of surprise. “However did you know that? Good heavens. I had heard that Bow Street Runners were enormously skilled, but never imagined one might be keeping track of my inconsequential journeys. Yes, I went into Lancaster to run a few errands. How does it signify?”

  “I’m not certain that it does,” Pugg admitted. “A gentleman has employed me to trace Miss Diana Whitney, and yesterday a solicitor brought information regarding a veiled woman who made certain inquiries that raised his suspicions. A few routine questions at posthouses and like places directed me to you.”

  “Indeed? I did in fact call briefly on a solicitor and asked a few questions relating to my sister’s unhappy situation. Her husband is something of a brute, and she… well, I shall explain the whole if you think it necessary, but I cannot see how it will help you. The solicitor struck me as something less than competent, and I confess to taking him in dislike from the first. After only a few minutes I took my leave.” She wondered if Pugg could hear the blood pulsing in her ears. “Did he imagine it was the missing lady who had been in his offices, wearing a veil to conceal her scar?”

  “Like as not. There is a reward for information leading to her whereabouts, and all manner of folk are turning up with claims of having seen her, most of them spurious. I followed up on this one because I’d been nosing about in the vicinity earlier in the week and heard reports of odd happenings near to this cottage.”

  Lucy held herself straight and forced an expression of mild interest to her face. “What sort of happenings? I have observed nothing unusual, but to be sure I generally remain indoors during daylight hours.”

  “It’s an apparition of some sort, which appears only at night. Cocklers and mussel diggers have seen it walking along the cliff. Glows in the dark, it does.”

  “Some believe it’s one of the Lancashire Witches,” the constable put in, “come back to punish the descendants of them what hanged her.”

  “My word! But I must confess that I put no credit in the existence of witches.”

  The constable scuffed his booted toe on the dirt floor. “Most folk in these parts know the story. Down around Clitheroe, near Pendle Hill, there was some ladies charged with witchcraft and put to the gallows. This was mebbe two hunert years ago, but when I was a lad, there was tales of a witch what lived in this cottage until the landlord tried to evict her. She ran to the cliff and jumped, and he swore that he saw her fly away.”

  Lucy shuddered. “It’s true that I’m not in the least superstitious, but by no means would I have leased this cottage if I’d known it was reputed to be haunted.”

  “One of the witches,” Pugg said, “the leader of the coven, I believe, had the name of Preston. Same as you.”

  “My. That is an odd coincidence, sir. But I am most certainly not a witch. I do, however, occasionally take long walks at night, when I can be outside without wearing the veil. Do you suppose the cocklers saw moonlight reflecting off my clothing and let their imaginations run wild?”

  Pugg rubbed at his chin with skinny fingers. “Happen they did. In my job, half the time is spent chasing rumors and following trails that lead to nowhere. But so long as we’ve come this far, madam, you won’t object if we search the cottage?” Her heart raced. She could think of no good reason to protest, and knew that any hesitation on her part would only increase his suspicions. So she put a smile on her face and made a sweeping gesture. “By all means, sir. There is only this room and the one through that door.”

  She didn’t follow the men into the other room, fearing they would hear her heart thumping in her chest. There was little to see in there, so perhaps they would not remain very long. Moving to the doorway, she saw Pugg lift the portmanteau as if checking its weight. Did he imagine the missing girl was encased within it?

  The constable appeared a trifle embarrassed. “Nothin’ in here, sir.”

  “Evidently not.” Pugg put down the portmanteau and examined the walls. “This bit was added on after the cottage was built. I wonder there’s no window.”

  “Windows be taxed from time to time,” the constable observed.

  With horro
r, Lucy watched Pugg’s gaze shift to the thatched carpet. Then he shrugged and started toward the door. She barely had time to exhale with relief before he abruptly went back, grabbed hold of a fraying corner, and pulled the carpet to one side.

  She closed her eyes, unable to watch what was coming next. “Eh, what’s this?” The trapdoor creaked slightly as he pulled it open.

  Forcing herself to look up, she saw both men bent over the square opening. Surprised that Mr. Pugg did not immediately make a move to descend the stairs, she drew closer and looked over his shoulder.

  She gasped. “Dear me. I had no idea this was here.” They were the only true words she had uttered since the men arrived. Instead of the shadowy cave and stone steps, there was only a wooden box about eight inches deep, the rough-hewn planks unevenly nailed together. Cobwebs matted the corners, and scattered in the sifting of dust covering the bottom were, unless she was very much mistaken, several of the shiny pellets Fidgets sometimes regurgitated. “Whatever can it be?”

  Pugg lowered the trapdoor. “A hiding place for valuables, most like, dug out from the ground and lined with wood. This one’s crude, but I doubt the people who constructed it had much to conceal. Any other buildings on the property, Mrs. Preston?”

  “No.” She followed him into the other room, the scalloped edges of the miniature she was still holding digging into her palm. “Is there anything else you wish to know, sir?”

  “The location of the nearest pub house,” he replied with a self-mocking laugh. “I owe Planter a pint. He told me this would be a wasted errand, and so it has proved to be. Save for the pleasure of making your acquaintance, ma’am.” To her astonishment, he gave her a courtly bow.

  She might have curtsied in return, but she feared her jellied knees would not lift her up again. “I am unfamiliar with the local watering places, but I expect Mr. Planter knows the best ones.”

  “Oh, aye,” the constable said. “Sorry to have troubled you, ma’am. We’ll take ourselves off now so that you can get on with your walk.”

  Remembering to lower her veil beforehand, she opened the door and led them outside. “I do hope you find the missing girl,” she said.

  “You may be sure of it.” Pugg mounted his horse. “God grant you a safe journey to York, Mrs. Preston.”

  Lucy managed a friendly wave as they rode away and waited until the curving track took them around the woodlands and out of her sight. Careful not to appear in a hurry, she returned to the cottage and raised the trapdoor a few inches. “Diana?”

  “I’m here.” Her voice sounded hollow. “What is happening?”

  “All’s well, but stay where you are for now. I’ll explain everything later.”

  She disliked leaving Diana alone to fret, but since the men expected her to take a walk, she had better do so. The tenacious Mr. Pugg might decide to swing past the cottage again, hoping to catch her by surprise. Taking the spyglass with her, she strolled up the long hill leading to the cliff and gazed out over the bay.

  The tide had begun to retreat, and above the water she could discern the very tops of the boxes on the wagon. She’d never have spotted them if she hadn’t known precisely where to look. Raising the spyglass, she pointed it in the opposite direction to the one the men had taken and slowly made a half circle. A few moments later she saw them, tiny figures rounding a small hill and, glory be, making the turn to Warton. They were soon out of sight, but caution sent her walking along the cliff for nearly a mile, checking constantly for any sign of them. If they circled back through the thick woods, she wouldn’t know it until they were nearly upon her.

  As she walked, disconnected thoughts tumbled over one another in her head. When first she saw the men, she’d been certain that Kit had dispatched them here. But when they did not immediately go to the trapdoor, she realized her mistake.

  It had been that reptilian solicitor after all. She longed to wring his scrawny neck with her bare hands.

  Kit must have nailed that box together. She had to grant he was clever, if nothing else. Well, also intelligent, witty, and leagues too handsome for his own good, she would be forced to admit if she allowed herself to think on it, which she was careful not to do.

  Taking care did not always turn the trick, though. It had no effect whatsoever when she tried not to think about his kiss. That proved as impossible as not thinking about an elephant when told not to think about an elephant, after which one could think of nothing but elephants.

  His kiss had been an elephant stomping back and forth through her thoughts ever since it happened.

  Summoning all her willpower, she wrenched her concentration to Pugg. Runners were for hire, she knew, and Sir Basil Crawley must have paid him a pretty penny to come so far north. It was he who posted the reward, no doubt, since Diana’s uncle hadn’t two sixpence to scratch together.

  Sir Basil knew about Diana’s scarred face, although he’d not seen it, but it appeared he was still determined to wed her. It was a good investment on his part, Lucy supposed. Diana was a great heiress and her family had held the barony for centuries.

  She wondered what it was about Sir Basil that Diana so detested. By her account he was a well-looking man, somewhat rough about the edges by the standards of old aristocratic families but impeccably dressed and well-spoken. To be sure, any man of forty probably seemed ancient to a girl half his age. In any case, Diana had found him repellent when first they met, and she undoubtedly feared him. “Even thinking about him makes him somehow present,” she had once said. “I only want him gone.”

  Lucy respected Diana’s feminine instincts. She only wished she had a few of her own. Pragmatism and experience had been her guides as she steered through a bramblebush life, subject to the whims and dictates of those who paid her wages and put a roof over her head.

  She took another long look through the spyglass, seeing no sign of Pugg and the constable. Diana must be in agony by now, wondering what had occurred. Lucy headed down the hill, choosing the track that skirted the woodland on her way back to the cottage. Her senses were at knife edge. She expected Pugg to leap out from behind every tree she passed. But she heard only the soft sifting of the afternoon breeze through the woodlands, and birdsong, and the crunch of her boots on fallen leaves.

  She ought to be making plans, she thought as the cottage came into view. But her mind felt swaddled in wool, and she could not think beyond the next footfall.

  “Pssst!”

  A scream jumped to her throat. Forcing it back, Lucy swung her gaze past the thick undergrowth and saw Kit leaning against the trunk of an oak, grinning at her.

  She had never in her life been so happy to see anyone. And she wanted to throttle him for scaring the stuffing out of her. She threaded through the bushes to a small clearing where Kit’s horse was nibbling grass.

  “You arrived just in time,” Kit informed her. “I’m in serious danger of being ravished.”

  Following his gesture, she looked up to a branch directly over his head where Fidgets was perched, staring at him with owlish concentration.

  “While I’ve been waiting for your guests to leave and you to return, my suitor—or ought that be suitress?—has supplied a picnic lunch.” He pointed to the limp figure of a vole stretched inches from his boot. “Mind you, I’ve always longed to be wooed. It’s deuced unfair, don’t you think, that men have to do all the work of seducing while females have only to flutter their lashes and flirt?”

  “I never flirt,” Lucy snapped. In truth, she’d no idea how to go about it. And how came they to be chattering nonsense in the midst of a crisis? “Not that you seem to care, but a constable and a Bow Street Runner were here not an hour ago, looking for Diana.”

  “A Runner?” Kit frowned. “Bad news, Runners. In my experience the local constabulary is a pack of well-meaning fools, but Runners are smart and relentless. They never give up until the mission is accomplished.”

  “You may well believe it. I told more clankers in the last hour than I’ve told i
n all the rest of my life, and I’m not sure if he credited a single one of them. They certainly did not dissuade him from searching the cottage.” She shuddered to remember what had happened next. “He found the trapdoor.”

  “But not the cave, I take it. Feel free to praise me for divining a way to conceal it. An inspired notion, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I might say, had you not anticipated me.” She gave him an exasperated look. “No wonder that poor Fidgets is enamored of you, what with you displaying like the vainest peacock in all creation. He thinks you to be some sort of oversize bird.”

  “She, please.” He whistled softly, and Fidgets swooped down to perch on his shoulder. “We’ve been practicing this for the past hour,” he told her when she gaped at him. “Come along, Lady Lucy. We have much to discuss, but Diana should be present for all the important bits.”

  She took the arm he offered her, keenly aware of its solid strength under the obviously expensive sleeve of a bottle-green riding coat. His left arm was still encased in the sling made from her Norwich shawl, and he limped slightly as they made their way to the cottage, but otherwise it was hard to remember that he had ever been injured.

  “Tell me about the box,” she said. “How is it affixed?”

  “Stop that, you impertinent wench!”

  Startled, she looked over to see Fidgets grooming his hair with a sharp V-shaped beak.

  Kit grinned at her, rolling his eyes. “She thinks you her mother and me her mate. Would that make you my mother-in-law?”

  His mother-in-law? Was that how he saw her? The elephant stampeded through her skull.

  “I’m no carpenter, as you can tell from a close look at the box. It’s propped up with sticks of wood cut to the distance between the box and the first two steps leading down to the cave, and I imagine it would collapse if given a good hard push from above. The important thing was making it simple for Diana to manage, and she practiced until she could install it in a hurry.”