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

by Brenda Hiatt

  Lucy was not so sure, although she couldn’t very well say so to his wife. Lady Kendal had not been fighting this battle for nearly two months, on the brink of losing it a hundred times or more. She wouldn’t understand how it felt to be excluded from the final confrontation when no one had a greater right to be there.

  The countess scowled at whatever it was she had been knitting and began to unravel the yarn. “I simply cannot get the hang of this, Lucy. Whatever I knit grows into a shapeless, unrecognizable thing.”

  “Why do you keep at it then?” Lucy asked indifferently.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Because I want to see my babies wearing mittens and caps I have made for them with my own hands, I suppose. At least I am able to provide them with blankets, although the blankets all started out to be something else entirely.” She glanced up with a smile. “Why not go for a walk while the weather is so fine? It will spare the carpet you are wearing down with your pacing, and if you stay in sight of the house, you will see the carriages come around when the gentlemen are ready to depart.”

  Realizing that she was making a nuisance of herself, Lucy curtsied and headed for the door. “I shall go to the hill behind the stable,” she said. “Please send for me if anything happens that I ought to know about.”

  She stopped by her bedchamber for gloves and a bonnet before taking the back way out of the house. Carriages, some bearing crests, were lined up in the stable yard, and several of the drivers and postilions were hunkered over a game of dice. Timmy waved at her from atop one of the coaches, where a kindly driver was apparently showing him how to hold the reins.

  Life goes on, she thought. How few people in the world knew what was transpiring in Lord Kendal’s parlor this afternoon. And when Diana’s fate was settled, primarily by men who had never even met her, how few would care what became of her.

  No one at all, save Diana, would care what became of Lucy Preston. She would return quietly to Dorset and take up her position at Tumbridge Manor, if Lady Tumbridge had not already hired someone to replace her. Eventually, whatever befell her when the boys were grown and she was turned off, she would dwindle into an old lady who had once experienced a splendid, terrifying adventure.

  When she reached her destination, she immediately regretted returning to this spot. Instead of contemplating Diana’s situation and her own future, she kept imagining Kit as he had been a few afternoons ago, with a parcel of chicken feet in his hand and Fidgets perched on his shoulder. Which led to thoughts of Kit wearing a horsetail wig and cascading a fall of sparks down the pele tower on All Hallows’ Eve. From there she went all the way back to the first time she saw him, trapped in the sands of Morecambe Bay, and began to relive, in vivid detail, each moment they had spent together since then.

  There was a stir at the back of the house, and she shaded her eyes with her hand to better see what was happening. From such a distance, she could make out only that a carriage was in motion, and then another. The gentlemen were leaving. It was over!

  Lifting her skirts, she pelted down the hill, her thoughts two steps ahead of the rest of her. What had happened? What if Lord Whitney had refused to set Diana free? From the nursery window she had seen Sir Basil Crawley’s arrival and knew that he’d come to make trouble. Had he succeeded? Oh, dear God!

  She reached the steepest portion of the hill, where she ought to be watching her step, but by now she was accelerating rapidly. Her feet, with a will of their own, pounded at an alarming rate, and it was all she could do to remain upright. Then a figure loomed directly ahead of her and she lost control. Arms spinning like windmills, she flailed for balance, felt her shoes slip on the grass and out from under her, and next she knew, she was hitting the ground on her backside with a loud oomph.

  When she regained her breath and her wits, she lifted herself up on her elbows and found herself at eye level with a long pair of broadfine-clad legs. They were Kit’s legs, of course. She would have known them anywhere. And it was no more than her usual bad luck to have fallen like a hailstone at his feet.

  He dropped to one knee beside her, his brow etched with concern. “Have you hurt yourself, moonbeam?”

  “Only in the vicinity of my pride,” she said in a strangled voice. “Never mind that. What about Diana?”

  “The Earl of Kendal has got himself a ward, signed and sealed. Delivery will have to wait until tomorrow morning, but I’ll go first thing and fetch her to Candale.”

  “But she knows the meeting was to be today,” Lucy protested. “You cannot permit her to worry all of tonight about the outcome. You must go immediately and tell her that the news is good!”

  “A footman is already on his way with the message I dispatched after Lord Whitney signed the documents. There was another half hour of nattering about hows and whens and wherewithals before the assembly broke up, and then I came after you.” He sat beside her, drew up his legs, and folded his arms across his knees. “For all practical purposes, Kendal is her legal guardian until she comes of age. You may as well know—although Diana need not—that Whitney could petition the lord chancellor for reinstatement should he change his mind. But there is no reason to believe that he will.”

  “Sir Basil Crawley is a reason. You know very well that Lord Whitney was his creature when this nightmare began, and I’ve no doubt he can bend Whitney to his will yet again.”

  “Nor do I. But Crawley is on his way to London and will not return until spring, if then. Meantime Kendal will continue to investigate his background and business practices. Should he attempt to make trouble in the future, we shall be better prepared to deal with him. I believe Diana is perfectly safe, but you can be sure we’ll not lower our guard until she has reached her majority. Well, not even then. She is part of our family now, you know.”

  Amid her relief and gratitude, Lucy felt a shot of monstrous envy. But Diana truly needed the support of others. Lucinda Jennet Preston had got on very well by herself until now and would continue to do so until she’d stuck her spoon in the wall. “What about the… the wherewithals?” she asked, plucking spears of grass from the ground one after another.

  “Trifles, actually. Kendal has arranged for an immediate evaluation of the contents of Willow Manor, since they belong to Diana by her father’s will. Until she has a home of her own to take them to, Lord Whitney will be accountable for every last teaspoon. Whitney has also agreed to vacate the premises for a month, during which time Diana can retrieve her clothing and whatever else she wishes to take with her.”

  “This all sounds too good to be true, sir. Did not Whitney bargain for anything on his own behalf?”

  Kit rested his chin atop his folded arms. “In fact, Whitney’s solicitors protested every jot and tittle, whatever a tittle is. And all the while Whitney poured wine down his throat, scarcely attending to what was going on. Not until the question of Diana’s injury came up did he assert himself, and then he refused absolutely to accept responsibility. His lawyers produced signed testimonies from a dozen people who heard Diana say it was an accident, and we know well enough that she did. If ever the truth is to be known for the public record, she will have to face down her uncle in a court of law and retract her previous statements.”

  “She will never do that.”

  “I know. We would prefer, of course, that Whitney had admitted to striking her, but this will only become an issue if the case is ever dragged into Chancery Court. Should that happen, we shall deal with it. Any other questions before I turn the subject?”

  What happens to me? she thought instantly. But she already knew the answer. “No more questions, sir.” She rose and brushed down her skirts. “I wish to go to Diana now. Her whole life is in the balance and you sent a footman to give her the news? That was badly done. She should be brought here straightaway.”

  Kit was on his feet before she could move past him. “Tomorrow will be soon enough, love. She is reticent about being seen, and at Candale she will be facing a great many strangers. Allow her a little time to
prepare herself.”

  “Yes. I hadn’t considered that.”

  He tilted her chin with his forefinger. “She will do well enough, Lucy. You must cease worrying about her now and begin considering your own future.”

  Elephants charged through her head. She gazed at him mutely, wishing she were Mrs. Preston again, veiled and not expected to speak. How could she, when he was looking at her the way he was just now, his blue eyes glowing with an inner fire and a smile of uncommon sweetness curving his lips?

  “Marry me,” he said softly. “Will you, moonbeam? I meant to lead up to this gracefully, but I cannot wait a moment longer. I even prepared a speech, but I can’t remember it now. I’ll give it to you later, with all the words of love and fidelity you could possibly want, and I’ll mean every one of them. Just please, please, Lucy, say that you will marry me.”

  “No!” she blurted before she said something appallingly stupid, like yes. Before she said what she wanted to say, which was also yes.

  He must have been expecting a refusal, because his confident smile never wavered. If anything, he looked mildly amused. “You don’t mean that, beloved. You know that you don’t. Tell me why you said it anyway.”

  She turned her back because it was impossible to face him when she had to tell lies. His eyes, or so she imagined, could see past all her defenses, into her very soul, and even she didn’t know what was buried down there. She could not bear the thought that he knew her better than she knew herself.

  Above all things, she must be rid of him before either one of them made a terrible, unalterable mistake. “You do me too great an honor, sir,” she said in a voice so calm that she was amazed to hear it. “When you have taken time to reflect, you will realize that I am a wholly unsuitable wife for one of your position.”

  “Balderdash. You were more on the mark when you thought me a ragtag smuggler and far beneath your notice. The accident of my birth into the Valliant clan is nothing to the point, and I’ve certainly done no credit to the family name. What has my position to do with love? Think of Celia. She came from nowhere to marry an earl, and you won’t find two happier people in England. Just ask her—”

  “What, sir? I am not she, and you are not your brother. They fell in love. You and I have done nothing but quarrel since first we met.”

  “You have quarreled, Lucy. I have been a model of patience.” That was so true that it infuriated her to hear him say it. She had been a shrew, no question about it, but how dare he point it out in such a way? Surely a lover, a true lover, would not recount her flaws in the middle of a proposal!

  “You have been caught up in an adventure, sir, and think to prolong it with a wedding. But there is nothing in the least romantical about what we have done, you and I, during this last fortnight. We were merely co-conspirators. When you come to your senses, you will accept that the adventure ended when we rescued the fair maiden.”

  He came around in front of her and seized both her hands in a firm grip. “Whatever are you nattering about now, moonbeam? I am in full possession of my senses. Asking you to be my wife is the most sensible thing I have ever done. It’s my heart that has gone missing. I lost it to you early on, perhaps the moment I first saw you, and it will be in your keeping forever. I’m asking only that you take the rest of me, too.” He grinned. “Some parts of me, I promise, you’ll be glad to have.”

  Were he not holding on to her, she would surely have dissolved into a buttery puddle. She wanted so much to believe him. To trust him. But Kit Valliant was a charmer of fits and starts and whims who lived only in the present moment. He would change the very next second, and the next, giving all of himself to whatever new adventure and new woman had crossed his path.

  And if it happened that she was wrong about him, she was certainly right about herself. No one had ever loved her before. How could he?

  Not that she was ashamed of what she was. Lucinda Jennet Preston was getting on very well, thank you, and she had actually been of genuine value in one person’s life. Not everyone could boast so much, certainly not the likes of Lord Whitney or Sir Basil Crawley, to list the first examples that sprang to her mind. No indeed, she did not underrate herself, nor did she feel sorry for herself. She was simply wise enough to know that golden men did not fall in love with dagger-tongued governesses.

  She pulled her hands free and squared her shoulders. “Whatever you believe at this moment, sir, we are not at all suited. It won’t be terribly long before you come to agree. When I have returned home—”

  “That is out of the question. Your home is with me.”

  “No, Kit, it is not. You know nothing about me and nothing of my plans.” She forced her traitorous body to stand straight and still. “My home will soon be with the man I intend to marry.” Ashen-faced, he gazed at her with a stunned expression.

  “I am betrothed to the curate of a church not far from the estate where I am employed. We might already be wed, had not Diana’s letter called me north.” Lucy picked out her words with care. “So you see, there was never any possibility of my developing tendre for you. I have all this time been promised to another man. And naturally, I must go to him as soon as may be.”

  She had meant to say more, but her courage had all run out. Not daring to look at Kit, she made a quick curtsy and fled down the hill.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next morning, Kit went to the pig farm to collect Diana and escort her to Candale.

  Lucy had declined to accompany him, which was not unexpected as she’d spoken scarcely a dozen words to him since refusing his marriage proposal. He had watched her push food around her plate at supper and escape to her room shortly thereafter, pleading a headache. He had not seen her since.

  Nor was she waiting with James and Celia in the entrance hall when he led Diana into the house, and he wondered if perhaps she was truly ill.

  Celia came forward, arms outstretched. “Welcome, Miss Whitney. We are so pleased you will be staying with us.”

  Diana curtsied prettily. “Thank you, Lady Kendal. The house is very lovely.”

  “Indeed it is not!” Celia protested with a laugh. “Candale was too long in the hands of men, who are more apt to decorate the stables for their horses than replace worn carpets in the drawing room. I am making little progress undoing so very many years of neglect and hope you will be kind enough to assist me.”

  It was exactly the right thing to say, Kit thought. Diana visibly relaxed, the notion that she could be useful instead of a burden drawing color to her pale cheeks.

  “Come meet your new guardian,” Celia said, taking her arm. “You must not let him intimidate you, even when he scowls. He’s not nearly so formidable as he likes to appear.”

  “Take no notice of anything she says about me,” the earl advised, smiling warmly. “We are both delighted to have you stay with us, and you may be sure that I stand as your guardian for legal purposes only. You needn’t fear that I’ll interfere with your wishes or attempt to manage your life. Think of Candale as your home, and feel free to ask for anything that will make you more comfortable.”

  “I am so very grateful to you, Lord Kendal.” Diana clutched at her skirts. “I cannot think how I shall ever repay your kindness and generosity.”

  “Mercy me!” Celia declared. “Repay? That word has no meaning here. But you must be wanting to see your room, Diana. May I call you Diana? Go on about your business, gentlemen. We ladies are off to have a cup of tea and a good gossip.”

  Kendal arched a brow as his wife towed a bewildered Diana up the stairs. “There is much to be said for managing females,” he observed dryly. “This one will see that my new ward settles in before nightfall. Join me for a glass of sherry, Kit?”

  Vague alarms sounding in his head, Kit followed his brother to the study and held his peace until he’d downed one helping of wine and poured himself another. “Where is Lucy?” he asked, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “Is she ill?”

  Kendal went to the
chair behind his desk. “In fact, Kit, she’s gone.”

  A cannonball thudded into his stomach. “Where?”

  “She wouldn’t say, beyond that it was a journey of several days. Directly after you left this morning, she came downstairs with her portmanteau in hand and a determined look in her eyes. Celia and I tried to hold her here, of course, but she would not be stopped.”

  “Lucifer! She has a five-hour start on me. How is she traveling?”

  “Post chaise. She intended to use the public coaches, but there I drew the line. William Reese is driving for her and will arrange accommodations along the way. She’ll be perfectly safe under his protection. Oh, and she insisted on leaving me her written voucher to repay every penny of the costs, including Reese’s salary. A headstrong young woman, your Miss Jennet.”

  “You don’t know the first part of it.” Knees melting under him, Kit dropped onto the sofa. “And her surname is actually Preston, by the way. Never mind why we told you otherwise. It’s a long story.”

  Kendal steepled his hands. “Do you care to tell me what happened? It’s perfectly obvious that she departed in a hurry to avoid seeing you again. Have you quarreled?”

  “No more than usual. What set her off was my proposal of marriage, which she speedily rejected. That led to the quarrel, and now she’s scarpered. Tell you what, Jimmie. I rarely know what to expect of her, but never once have I conceived of her running away. She stands her ground or she advances, but she never retreats.”

  “Going where she chooses to be is not an act of cowardice, Christopher. It is a decision. When a lady declines an offer of marriage, it must be accepted with good grace. You cannot compel her to be your wife.”

  “Don’t bet on it. Nothing has changed since yesterday, save that now I must go and fetch her back.” He took a drink of wine. “The moonbeam is proving devilish hard to snare.”