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

by Brenda Hiatt

  “Are you quite all right, young woman?” he asked.

  “She does not understand English,” Falcon explained. “You are kind to ask, however.” She repeated his question in Spanish and was relieved when Benita nodded.

  “Sure, the poor girl is frightened, that is all,” Maggie said, efficiently shifting Falcon to one side and setting to the task of assisting the maid. As she bent down she reverted to speaking Spanish in an unusually formal tone, “Watch your skirts, Miss, or they’ll get into this mess.”

  The words were meant to convey a different warning, but Falcon chose to ignore it. She did not care at that moment if she was behaving improperly for her role as a Spanish doña. She was quite charmed by the gentleman’s unexpected kindness and humor.

  You are disobeying every possible rule of propriety, said a little voice that might have been Maggie’s but wasn’t. What am I supposed to do? Falcon argued with herself. Ignore the entire problem, simply because the gentleman and I have not been introduced?

  The innkeeper himself and one of the maids appeared in the passageway then. Falcon was not the least surprised to see them.

  “Here, what’s all this?” the man demanded.

  Falcon sighed. He had pegged her for trouble, and now here she was…

  “I will pay for the damages—” she began, but the unnamed gentleman who had been the victim of the disaster cut her off.

  “I will pay for the damage,” he said. “It was simply an accident—an unfortunate consequence of bad timing.”

  “I cannot possibly allow you—” Falcon began again, and again he cut her off.

  “Please. I insist. You are obviously a visitor to our country. If nothing else, consider it a gesture of hospitality. What happened was no one’s fault.” He turned to the innkeeper. “I will take care of this matter with you directly. My dinner should already be awaiting me downstairs. At the moment, however, I must repair to my room for obvious reasons.”

  He bowed to Falcon. As he turned to go, the chambermaid handed him his hat, retrieved from the floor of the passageway. It appeared to be the only item of his clothing which had escaped from the accident quite unscathed.

  “Now that was a fine, handsome gentleman,” Maggie declared a short while later, after the mess had been cleared away and some sherry and a new pot of tea delivered.

  “Handsome and high-handed,” Falcon replied with a sniff of disdain, “and that is as much as we know about him. Just another English stranger.” If only she truly felt that! Perhaps if she denied the attraction she’d felt, she would soon forget him.

  “I cannot possibly allow him to pay for the damages, of course. It is just as well that I had one last word with our wretched host. Honestly, Maggie, I will be very glad to quit this place and be on our way to London in the morning.” At least that much was true. She poured a generous amount of sherry into one teacup and passed it to her companion.

  “What you need to do is find a fine young gentleman like that and settle down,” Maggie said, nodding sagely as she accepted the cup.

  “Fine young gentleman, indeed. Is that why you were trying to impress him with what a lady I was supposed to be? He wasn’t all that young, and I doubt he understood your Spanish. Please don’t start with this again, Maggie! You know we have had this conversation before.” Falcon poured another portion of sherry which she handed to Benita. The maid perched beside Maggie in obvious discomfort on the edge of the well-worn settee, where Falcon had insisted she join them. Behind them a fire crackled in the grate.

  “I have too much anger bottled up in my heart to make room for any other emotions,” Falcon said, pouring a portion for herself. “And I haven’t even the use of my own name. How could I marry? What sort of wife could I be to anyone?”

  “Once you’ve settled this business that’s brought ye here, you might feel differently.”

  “Once I have settled this business, I expect to go back to Spain. I still won’t belong here.”

  As far as Falcon was concerned, she had no connections in England other than Triss. Her English relatives had rejected her father and cut him off over his insistence on an Irish wife—her mother. She did not know them and did not wish to.

  In Spain she had Carmen Serrano-Bonastre, who had been like a sister to her, and Carmen’s parents, Don Andrés and Doña Luisa, who had taken responsibility for her at Carmen’s insistence. They had treated her almost like family and Falcon believed that they had truly become fond of her. But then, there was the problem of Carmen’s brother, Ramon Alonso, who had become too fond of her.

  “Why would you go back to Spain after all that you have suffered there?” Maggie asked.

  I don’t belong in Spain. I don’t belong anywhere, Falcon thought, but she did not want to reveal the desperation she felt inside. She sipped her sherry thoughtfully, letting its warmth filter through her. No place had ever been home to her—as a “daughter of the regiment” she had moved with her officer father’s battalion wherever they were assigned. “Home” had been embodied in the loving presence of her parents. She had lost it along with them in a few moments of senseless violence.

  She shut her mind to the memory of that day, focusing only on the anger that had supplanted her grief. Maggie would never understand. The three men who had killed Falcon’s parents had to be found. I will see them pay or die trying, she vowed, not for the first time. She would not be distracted by handsome gentleman strangers or worries about the future.

  Maggie’s question still hung awkwardly in the silence caused by Falcon’s thoughts. “Maybe I’ll go to Ireland and see my mother’s country, instead,” she answered finally, just to say something. “In the meantime, the only place we’re going is London. We’ve a long day of travel ahead of us tomorrow. I suggest we make certain to get a good night’s rest.”

  “Amen to that,” Maggie said, holding out her empty cup for a refill.

  When they came down to settle their bill after breakfast the next morning, they found the “fine gentleman” waiting for them.

  “I did not like to trouble them with too much food in our room this morning, after the problem last night,” Falcon was saying to Maggie in Spanish as they descended the steep and poorly lit stairway, “but can you imagine them not having chocolate? I never realized how many habits I developed living in Spain.”

  “Plenty of rich English take chocolate for breakfast, child. This is a poor excuse for an inn, in an out-of-the-way village…”

  The conversation halted abruptly as Jeremy appeared at the foot of the stairs.

  “Good morning to you, ladies,” he said quite soberly. “I hope you will forgive my intrusion—I wanted to be certain that no one had suffered any ill effects after the mishap last evening.”

  In truth, the lieutenant-major had more on his mind than that alone, but it was a good beginning. Certainly the ladies looked none the worse for their upset. His lady from Spain looked more elegant and attractive than ever, although perhaps that was only because he now knew what charms lay hidden beneath her black mantilla. After the disaster in the doorway, he had seen clearly that she was every bit as beautiful as he had guessed she might be, with skin like ivory and glorious hair the reddish color of almost-ripe chestnuts. This morning she was dressed in a stylish black pelisse and she did not have the veil covering quite so much of her face.

  “Benita is perfectly well this morning, sir,” she told him, “thanks to your kindness in not blaming her. I believe that was her greatest fear. But it is we who should be inquiring after you, I am certain, for what happened was my fault, and it was you who suffered grievously. Are you well enough this morning?”

  Jeremy flashed his notable grin and held out his arms to display his coat. “As you may see, I am spotless this morning and have suffered not at all. It takes a good deal more than an unfortunate encounter with a dinner tray to ruffle my feathers.” He was intrigued that she did not giggle and turn her eyes away from his immodest display.

  In truth, his feathers
had been considerably ruffled by the disruption of his plans. He had not intended to come face to face with the subject of his investigation at such an early stage in the game. Yet, in the end, he thought the mishap had worked to his advantage. He had gotten a good look at the mysterious doña and learned that she was much younger than he had supposed. Certainly that gave weight to the theory that she was the señorita of the letters after all.

  Like any good agent, he had readjusted his plans. Now that contact had been made, however inadvertently, he fully intended to pursue it.

  “I wanted to warn you not to allow the innkeeper to charge you for the damages from last night,” he said, lowering his voice. “I have paid him, but I would not be surprised if he tried to collect twice.”

  “Twice? Oh, I see. Thank you for the warning,” Falcon said in surprise. “I would never have considered that. Impertinent man! I thought I had arranged matters with him that I would pay! I shall demand at once that he refund your money.”

  “Please do not do that.” Extraordinary as her behavior had been at times, he doubted that she would haggle over finances with a stranger in a public inn. He could not allow her to pay, for although he could not say so, the accident had truly been his fault. “Allow me the honor of taking care of it. It is only a trifling matter. I can see that you are ready to make your departure, and this would only delay you.”

  He hoped that she would happen to confide her destination to him, for although Nicholson had already reported to him earlier that she had hired a carriage for London, Jeremy could not reveal that he knew this. His new plan depended entirely upon furthering their contact in Town.

  “Yes, we are headed for London,” she replied innocently enough, and Jeremy hid his sense of triumph behind what he hoped was a perfectly normal smile. He pushed the nagging thought that this was once again all too easy into the back recesses of his mind.

  “Why, I am headed that way myself,” he said, feigning surprise at the coincidence. “Would you permit me to present you with my card? If you should find yourself in need of assistance of any kind at all while you are there, I would be honored to be of service.”

  He fished in his pocket and withdrew the card he had put there earlier, one of the various cards he kept to fit appropriate circumstances. In this instance he planned to take full advantage of the fact that he was well known in London as Lord Danebridge. It was, in fact, his legitimate title, as the rank of baron had been awarded to his great-grandfather by King George II.

  The young woman took the card and read it. She looked impressed, as he had hoped she would. “Lord Danebridge? I am certain the honor must be ours. I am Doña Sofia Alomar de Montero. This is my companion, Mrs. Meara.”

  He decided to see how far he could press his advantage. “A pleasure, indeed, ladies. Where will you be staying in London?”

  “A friend has recommended lodgings.”

  Her tone left it quite clear that she would not reveal more, and he decided he could not push for more without arousing suspicion. Nicholson would have to take care of that detail by following them to London.

  He nodded. “That is always a wise course, rather than taking a chance on some unknown establishment. There are parts of London you should definitely avoid.”

  She tucked his card into her reticule. “As is the case in any large city. I have heard much of London and I look forward to seeing it. We must be on our way if we wish to do so, however—our carriage is waiting and I still must settle my account.”

  Impossibly green eyes held his for a moment. “I apologize again for that distressing incident last evening. Thank you for your generosity in that matter and also for offering your assistance if we should need it in London. You are indeed a gentleman.”

  Did he detect a note of regret in her voice? Or was that merely his male pride influencing his perceptions? She was a very lovely woman. What man would not like to think that she might be a tiny bit sorry at having to part?

  He bowed. Acknowledging him with a nod, she disappeared into the inn’s parlor to settle with their host, followed by her two women. Once they had gone in, Jeremy donned his tall beaver and ducked out the back door that opened into the stableyard.

  Nicholson was relaxing on a bale of straw, chatting amiably with two of the stablehands. Doña Alomar’s London carriage stood at the ready, the postboy waiting at the horses’ heads and her male servant checking the luggage strapped on behind. Jeremy waited by the door until Nicholson glanced his way. Then he raised his hat in the pre-arranged signal that told Nicholson what he must do. The husky fellow levered himself up from the bale and moved casually to the back of the stables, where his saddled horse no doubt stood ready, too.

  Nicholson would have to be careful not to be seen by the lady’s servants, whose acquaintance he had so carefully cultivated. It would be up to him not only to discover where in London the little party were bound, but also to arrange matters so as to make certain that they would need Jeremy’s able assistance once they had arrived there.

  Jeremy had a good deal to do himself, including writing a letter to his son with some excuse for the delay in his arrival. Still he decided to stay in the yard and see the lady off first. He felt quite confident that this would not be the last she would see of him.

  Chapter Four

  London loomed mysterious, wreathed in fog. Mist had graced the countryside all day as Falcon and her companions traveled from Wiltshire, but it had been harmless—thin and light, floating above the fields and just softening the edges of the hilltop views. Now it seemed to have collected, concentrated, in the streets and alleyways of the great city, obscuring grand buildings and famous sights along with scenes of squalor as the travelers completed their journey.

  “Tisn’t much of an introduction to the grand Town, now, is it?” Maggie sniffed in disdain. “We’ll be lucky if we can find our way, never mind escape bein’ set upon by footpads or brigands.”

  “I don’t mind it,” Falcon replied, smiling. “Think of all the times we would have blessed this cool moisture when the summer sun beat down upon us in Spain.” She was simply relieved that they had found a hackney to take them and their luggage from the last posting inn to their final destination. “It is already so late, I doubt we would have seen much more of the city than this without the fog. Night will soon be upon us. Perhaps tomorrow we can take in some of the sights.”

  In truth, the fog struck Falcon as rather appropriate for her arrival in London. It was so utterly English, and it seemed to symbolize her future. The course she must follow now was as uncertain as the road before them or the direction of their lodgings.

  The ancient hackney they had hired came to a halt as their coachman sought directions from the driver of a heavily loaded dray. In this street there was barely enough room for the carriage to pass, unlike some of the wider thoroughfares they had already traversed.

  “I hope the lodgings Triss recommended are as suitable as he claimed,” Falcon commented, looking about her. “After all, he did admit that he has not been to London in some time.”

  In the fog it was quite impossible to tell what sort of neighborhood they had entered, but some indeterminate sense had begun to make her feel uneasy. For a fleeting moment she wished they had the company of a capable gentleman like Lord Danebridge along. His handsome image had plagued her thoughts for much of the day, for no particularly good reason. He was attractive; she had liked him. That was all. He was irrelevant to her life and should remain so! Had she not come this far on her own? Why should she need him, or anyone?

  She tried to tell herself the uneasy feeling was only the natural consequence of her state of mind, anxious as she was over what lay ahead for her in the coming days. But then quite suddenly she realized what was wrong.

  “This does not smell like a good neighborhood,” she stated. “Esta vecindad no me huele muy bien.”

  Benita only nodded, but Maggie took a deep whiff.

  “Ugh. Tis smellin’ like cooked cabbage and filth, now th
at you mention it, child. But faith, we’re not stoppin’ here.”

  Their coachman urged the horses forward and the hackney moved on down the street, turning left at the next corner. Falcon and Maggie’s relief was short-lived, however. The smell was no better where their vehicle halted a few blocks further on.

  “I do hope this is a mistake,” Falcon said, straightening her mantilla and preparing to get out. They had stopped opposite a very tall, narrow, shabby-looking house, so dingy gray that it and its neighbors almost blended entirely with the fog.

  Maggie gathered her cloak around her. “Ye’ll not be going to that door, young lady. Tisn’t seemly. I shall go. Carlos can come with me.”

  Falcon swallowed her protest and watched Maggie bravely march up to the door of the shadowy building with Carlos close behind her. What a pair they made! The tall, lame Irishwoman with wisps of gray hair sticking out from her bonnet, and the short, slightly built Spaniard. What Carlos lacked in stature he more than made up in ferocity, while Maggie was a woman whose determination alone could probably shatter iron. Anyone with a brain in his head could see that those two are a force to be reckoned with. Falcon smiled and relaxed a tiny bit at the thought.

  The expression on Maggie’s face when she returned to the hackney showed that no mistake had been made, however.

  “Oh, tis the place, no question,” she grumbled, signaling that Falcon and Benita should descend from the carriage. “To be sure, the mistake was lettin’ that Cornishman of yours be tellin’ us where we should stay in London. Hmph! Tis nothing like a respectable hotel—tis naught but a seedy lodgin’ house at best, and at this moment I’m having trouble thinkin’ that!”

  “Maggie, what choice had we?” Falcon shared the Irishwoman’s misgivings, but she would not let her blame Triss. “We knew of no other place to stay, and Triss needed to know where to find us when he arrives in the city.”