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

by Brenda Hiatt

  “It was a superb notion,” she conceded. “It assuredly saved us this afternoon, sir, and I am most grateful to you.”

  “Hear that, Fidgets? Your mama approves of me for a change.”

  Letting go of Lucy’s arm, he opened the cottage door, but before she could enter, he leaned over to whisper in her ear. “My inamorata won’t like it, I expect, but if you hope to take her with you when you leave, Fidgets ought to be confined now.” The owl was none too pleased about it, but Lucy managed to secure her in the wicker traveling cage.

  “Who were those men?” Diana demanded as Kit helped her ascend from the cave.

  “I’ll tell you later,” he replied, carrying the three-legged stool to the table. “There’s no immediate urgency, sweetheart, but I’d like us to be on our way within the hour. Any questions that can wait probably should. Good work with the box, by the way.”

  Diana dropped onto a chair. “I was scared out of my wits.”

  “But you did just as you ought in spite of being afraid, which is precisely what it is to be brave. Things are well in hand now. My brother is assembling a formidable regiment of lawyers, and believes that a good case can be made for overturning your uncle’s guardianship. Naturally he will do all in his power—considerable power—to bring that about, and at the end of the day, you will be perfectly safe.”

  “What about the first part of the day?” Lucy asked tartly. “What do we do in the meantime?”

  He smiled. “I’ve spoken with a good friend, a widow who lives alone on a small farm not many miles from here. Her husband was killed early in the war, and since then she has made ends meet by raising pigs to sell at the local markets. The farm is isolated and a trifle rank to the nose, which helps to keep people away.” He sat on the stool and took hold of Diana’s hands. “You’ll like her, I promise, and she welcomes both the company and the opportunity to earn a bit extra by taking in a lodger. I’ll tell you more about her on the way there.”

  “Lodger?” Lucy had not missed his use of the singular noun. “Am I not to go with Diana?”

  “One person is more easily concealed than two,” he said, “and the house is small. Robbie is on his way there now with her belongings, after which he’ll arrange passage for you on a coach headed south. It may not be possible, though, for you to leave until tomorrow morning. Will you mind greatly remaining alone here for the night?”

  She waved a hand, unable to speak. He had taken complete charge of Diana’s future and drummed Lucy Preston from the ranks as if she were no longer of the slightest use. The Earl of Kendal and his brother had stepped in with all their power and money and male arrogance, and might just as well have said, “Run along, Miss Preston. We’ll handle things from here on out.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes, the first she could remember for many long years. She wished she had not removed the veiled hat. Kit would be even more certain he was right to dismiss her if he saw her weeping. She went to the window and lifted the curtain slightly, gazing outside with burning eyes, seeing nothing. She could not even think how to fight him. What more could she do for Diana, after all?

  There was little reason not to return to Dorset and her wearisome job. And really, she had failed Diana at the end. She’d no place to take her, no money to hire a reputable barrister to plead her case in the courts, no excuse to stay. She had done her best, but it wasn’t good enough. Diana would be far better off with a powerful earl to champion her cause.

  Two warm hands settled on her shoulders. “What’s wrong, moonbeam?”

  “N-nothing. I’m glad you found somewhere Diana can be safe while the lawyers wrangle. Please thank his lordship on my behalf for his assistance. And I don’t mind remaining here until Robbie comes to take me to the posthouse. My employer will be pleased to see me, I’ve no doubt. I told her I’d be gone a fortnight, but it’s well beyond six weeks already. I simply had no idea how long it would take to steal Diana away and—”

  “You’re babbling, poppet. And crying, too, I suspect. Did you imagine you were to go home?” One hand lifted to stroke her cheek. “As if I’d permit you to escape so easily. You’ve not heard the other half of my plan, you know.”

  She could not help leaning into him, despising her own weakness even as she relaxed against his hard chest and savored the feel of his callused fingertip on her cheek. “W-what is the other half?” she murmured.

  “Well, as to that, I cannot say. Primarily because I’ve not yet worked it out, but it promises to be a cracker. We shall put our heads together when you arrive at Candale.”

  She pulled away from him. “I cannot possibly go to an earl’s estate. It’s unthinkable. Just look at me.”

  “Mrs. Preston ought to depart the vicinity, I agree, which is why you’ll first take a southbound coach. A carriage will be waiting at one of the posthouses along the way, one where the passengers are given time to have a meal. A room will be reserved for you, and a maid will be waiting there with your next disguise. Lest anyone miss you, she will transform herself into Mrs. Preston, take your place in the coach, and continue on to Liverpool for a visit with her family.”

  “But Mrs. Preston has to go to York! Mr. Pugg expects her to.” Lucy knew that sounded ridiculous, but she could not let go of the idea that he would verify the story she had given him.

  “Should he retain the slightest interest in Mrs. Preston, which I very much doubt, he will do no more than make a few inquiries regarding her departure. If he checks at any of the coach stops, people will recall seeing her, and she must necessarily go south before transferring to a coach heading across the Pennines. He’ll not attempt to trace her very far, I assure you, and we are taking excessive precautions as it is.”

  She supposed so. But he had not met Mr. Pugg, nor experienced the terror she’d felt when he probed her with his sharp, assessing gaze. All the same, she might as well go along with Kit’s plan since she had none of her own to propose. “I—perhaps this is an improper question, but I must ask why it is Diana must stay on a stranger’s pig farm instead of—”

  “If you imagine she is unwelcome at Candale, that is far from the case. But when it becomes known that the earl has taken up her cause, Mr. Pugg and his like will come looking for her there. It’s remotely possible that Lord Whitney could secure a warrant to search the estate and the several other properties in the area owned by our family. Better she be stowed safely elsewhere, I am persuaded. Only Robbie and I will know where she is, so that the rest of you can in all honesty deny any knowledge of her location.”

  “But I wish to know. And I am an exceedingly good liar.”

  “Such an accomplishment!” he chided, grinning. “So am I, as it happens. But the truth is easier to keep track of, and this one time I am heeding Kendal’s advice. He is a master of deception—used to be a diplomat, y’know—and he instructed me to tell him absolutely nothing he did not need to know. The same applies to everyone else, including you. Don’t quarrel with me on this subject, Lucy. It is for the best.”

  She slipped around him and went to where Diana was sitting quietly, waiting while other people made decisions on her behalf. In her place, Lucy knew that she’d be furiously demanding to express her own opinions on the subject of her future. “Are you in agreement, Diana? Will you mind staying with someone you have never met?”

  “No. It is precisely what I most wish, a quiet place where I can come to terms with myself. There has been no time for that before now. But I’m glad you are not returning to Dorset just yet, and that you’ll be close by.” She lifted her gaze to Kit. “Might she send me letters, telling me how things are proceeding?”

  “Why not? I’ll deliver them when I visit, or she can send them through Robbie. We don’t mean to abandon you there, butterfly. This is a temporary arrangement only. I think we should be on our way now, since I mean to take a roundabout way to the farm. Are you ready to go?”

  “Nearly.” She stood. “Let me fetch my cloak and gloves. They’re in Lucy’s portmanteau.”
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  “Dig out the witch’s cape and wig, will you? I want to take them with me.”

  “Whatever for?” Lucy asked as Diana went into the other room.

  “They may prove useful. I’m not altogether sure how, but as I told you, I’m still thinking about my next plan. Meantime we need to complete the one in progress. Are you clear on what you are to do?”

  “I am to wait here for Robbie, who will take me to the coach, probably tomorrow morning. At some point I’ll leave the coach and change into clothing provided me by a servant. How am I to know which posthouse is the right one?”

  “The driver and the maid will be watching for you. Don’t worry about the details, Lucy. Robbie and I are seeing to them. You have only to relax and do your part. By tomorrow evening at the latest, you will be joining the family for supper at Candale.”

  He could hardly have said anything more likely to rock her on her heels. As it was, she put a trembling hand on the table for support. “Is that necessary? The last thing I wish is to encroach on your family. I would much prefer to remain somewhere out of the way.”

  “The countess would not hear of it,” he said in an amused voice.

  Diana returned, wearing her cloak and gloves, Lucy’s black cape folded neatly in her arms. “The wig is wrapped inside,” she said, handing the bundle to Kit before turning to embrace Lucy. “Thank you so very much for all you have done. I can never repay you as you deserve, but I shall always pray for your happiness. And please don’t be concerned for me. I have never seen a pig, you know, but I expect I’ll come to like them.”

  Eyes burning, Lucy could only hug her tightly. She had loved few people in her life, and none who failed to betray her trust. Even Miss Wetherwood had dismissed her from the academy after heeding the lies of another teacher. Although she later discovered the truth, apologized, and offered Lucy her former job with a rise in salary, Lucy had declined. She corresponded with the headmistress during the next few years, but their relationship was never the same.

  It was difficult to admit to herself that she loved Diana, and impossible to say so aloud, but she knew that she did. She hoped that Diana, with the fine-tuned instincts Lucy so admired, was aware of it, too.

  “Ahem,” Kit said from the door. “Not to interrupt, but you’ll be seeing each other again sooner than you expect. Detach yourself, Diana, and come along.”

  Lucy followed them to where the horse was tethered, feeling an unexpected shot of jealousy when Kit helped Diana to mount and swung himself onto the saddle behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist. And all with one arm in a sling, Lucy thought with some amazement.

  “Last chance, moonbeam. Any questions?”

  Probably a score of them, but she couldn’t think of one. “No. I suppose not.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Give Fidgets my love.” With the slightest nudge of his knee, he turned the horse and guided it deeper onto the narrow track.

  Lucy suddenly thought of a question. “What disguise?” she called after him. “What sort of costume are you sending me?” She heard him laugh as he disappeared around a curve.

  Chapter Eleven

  In other circumstances, Lucy might have enjoyed the luxury of Lord Kendal’s elegant crested carriage as it made its way along the turnpike road. Beside her in the wicker cage, Fidgets had long since gone to sleep, leaving her alone with her tumultuous thoughts.

  So far, all had transpired exactly as Kit said it would. At a posthouse south of Lancaster, a pretty young girl led her to a room where a change of clothing was laid out for her on the bed. Then the former Mary Fife, now Mrs. Preston for the rest of her own journey, went downstairs to join the other passengers as they reboarded the Lancaster-to-Liverpool Comet. Lucy was to wait, Mary told her, until a footman came to get her. Alone in the bedchamber, she took the time to examine her appearance in the cheval mirror. In the rush, she’d paid no attention to what she was putting on, but when she had a moment to look, she scarcely recognized herself. The lavender carriage dress had been made over to fit her, she could tell, but she’d never worn a lovelier gown. It was embroidered at the hem and around the neck with violets, and there was a pelisse of darker purple to match.

  When had she become so vain? She had never been so before. But she could not help turning her head this way and that, delighting in the French bonnet of tulle and watered silk with lush satin ribbons that framed her face to advantage. Only her black half boots, the ones she had to wear because the lavender kidskin shoes sent along with the dress were far too small, spoiled the image of the otherwise proper lady gazing back at her.

  After a few minutes a footman had appeared to lead her to the coach. And now here she was, within a few miles of Candale, shaking like a custard.

  It wasn’t as if she were unaccustomed to fancy houses and aristocratic families. At Tumbridge Manor, she was sometimes permitted to dine at table when there were no guests of importance, so she knew how to make polite conversation with those above her rank. Primarily, of course, she knew how it felt to be ignored.

  Her parents had been too busy deliberately ignoring each other to pay her any mind at all. When she turned nine they had stashed her at Miss Wetherwood’s academy and separated, her mother to go off with a man who had a bushy mustache, which was all Lucy knew of him, and her father to bring his mistress to live with him at the small family estate. He ceased to pay tuition for her schooling when she was six-and-ten, and from then on she was left to her own resources.

  Neither ever answered the letters she wrote so earnestly for the first few years, until she finally awakened to the fact that they cared nothing for her. So she stopped caring about them, and had not since let herself care overmuch for anyone else.

  Thinking on her parents never failed to put her in the dismals, so Lucy unfolded Kit’s note and read it for the dozenth time.

  The man was addled, really he was. She had now been cast in the role of Miss Lucinda Jennet, since using the name of Preston might call untoward attention from itinerant Bow Street Runners. She was newly come north to meet the family of her betrothed, the Honorable Christopher Valliant, who had met her on his travels and fallen irremediably in love. She was advised to create a suitable background for herself, unless she wished to adopt the one he had thought up. They would discuss it when she arrived, to make sure they got their stories straight.

  The next time she saw the reprehensible Kit Valliant, she would set him straight. Fiancée indeed! Under no circumstances would she agree to this infamous deception. What he had told his family she could not bear to imagine, but they would hear only the truth from her. Except the part about her abbreviated name, which suited her well enough. Lucinda Jennet she would be, for the short time she remained where she did not belong.

  The coach drew up before a tall set of wrought-iron portals, and a kilted Scotsman hurried from the gatehouse to swing them open. He must be the one related to Robbie’s late wife, she thought, smiling when he gave her a friendly wave of welcome.

  But her spirits plummeted again when the enormous three-story house came into view a few minutes later. On a low grassy hill, a large square building was set between two wings, forming a block letter H, the effect more imposing than graceful. But it was a beautiful house nonetheless, with tall shade trees planted just where they ought to be and an ornamental lake curving around the west wing as if in an embrace. Pale afternoon sunlight glittered off the mullioned windows and turned the massive gray stone walls to silver.

  A marble-pillared portico sheltered the wide entrance doors, which swung open just as Lucy was alighting from the coach. A breathtakingly lovely woman with curly golden hair stepped out, a warm smile curving her lips. The countess, Lucy thought, feeling painfully anxious at the prospect of meeting her. She could not bring her feet to move any closer.

  Lady Kendal came to her, skirts billowing as she rushed to the coach with her arms open. “Miss Jennet. I am delighted to meet you. Welcome to our home.”

  Lucy managed an
awkward curtsy. “Thank you, ma’am. I shall try not to be any bother.”

  “Nonsense! We adore bother. Come along and meet Kendal, and then I’ll show you to your room and give you a chance to catch your breath. Kit isn’t here, I’m afraid. We had no idea what time you would arrive, and he’s gone off on one of his errands. It doesn’t do to ask him where or what, but he will be back in time for dinner.”

  Rather sure she’d been caught up in a whirlwind, Lucy accompanied the chattering countess through the marble-tiled entrance hall and down a long passageway.

  “Now, I should advise you, if Kit has not already done so, that the earl is not nearly so starched up as he first appears. He spent a great many years in the courts of Europe and acquired a bit too much cosmopolitan polish, but it is beginning to wear off. Don’t let him intimidate you, Miss Jennet. It is the last thing he would wish.”

  Thoroughly intimidated already, Lucy was ushered into an impressive study lined with bookshelves and glass-topped cases. She couldn’t see what they contained, her attention riveted by the gentleman seated behind a large mahogany desk. He rose when the ladies entered the room and inclined his head in response to her curtsy.

  Her first thought was that Lord Kendal looked nothing like his brother, although they were both tall, slim, and broad-shouldered. But the earl had light brown, close-cropped hair, graceful, long-fingered hands, and a decided air of elegance about him. She thought him handsome, in a quiet way, like sculpted glass. Only his blue eyes put her in mind of Kit, and only for a moment. Kendal’s eyes were cool and watchful, not dancing with high spirits and good humor.

  His voice was dark velvet when he spoke. “You are most welcome to Candale, Miss Jennet. May I offer you a glass of sherry?”

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” the countess said, taking hold of Lucy’s trembling arm. “She has had a long journey hard on the heels of a mighty adventure. I shall sweep her away now, and you will have to wait until dinner to become better acquainted. Come along, my dear, and tell me what you would like to have with your tea as we make our way upstairs. Cook baked apple tarts this morning, and I can testify they are delicious because I’ve already devoured three of them.”