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

by Brenda Hiatt

  “Lady Danebridge is right, you are foxed.” She had tasted the wine on his lips, but she was not about to admit that she had found it seductive.

  “Are you all right? Should I apologize?” He looked like a little boy himself at that moment, pretending to be contrite.

  She put her hands over her ears in exasperation. “You should just stop saying anything! An insincere apology would be no better than none. Just go and deal with your family. I will collect Benita and show myself out.”

  “Very well,” he said, bowing without ever taking his gaze from her. “I shall obey. But I must remind you that we are engaged for the Giddings’ dinner tomorrow night.”

  “You may be engaged for dinner. What makes you think I will attend?”

  “I believe you could not stand to be thought a coward.” He grinned like a devil.

  The worst of it was, he was right. For that reason, she would go, despite her meager wardrobe and missing trunk.

  “In the meantime, I shall endeavor to put together some sort of letter for you, but I must say I cannot yet speak for your ability to teach languages.”

  She debated throwing something at him. “Sir, it appears to me that you already know far more than is good for you.”

  Jeremy had never meant to kiss the woman. At least, not then, not there. Dear God, what was the matter with him? He put on a cheerful face for the length of dinner with his family that evening, but despite his joy in seeing them, he was glad when they retired early. He followed soon after, only to spend much of the night in a restless wrestling match with himself.

  After so many years, he was breaking all his own rules in this one last case. Never before now had he ever mixed his private life and personal affairs with his work. Never had he embarked on a plan without thinking it through quite thoroughly first. Yet suddenly, here he was, allowing his family under the same roof where he was working and taking the subject of his case in his arms!

  Oh, he could blame his overindulgence in port at his club, but that would be no more than a convenient excuse. He was in trouble with this assignment. The signs were obvious.

  He had assumed that he could learn more about the señora simply by being with her. To that end he had made deliberate efforts to be in her company as much as possible. He had also thought that forcing her to maintain her masquerade in difficult situations would ultimately yield useful results. Did that explain why he had kissed her? No. What of the social engagements he had accepted for both her and himself? He could not deny that he was looking forward to seeing her in a glittering social setting, and to escorting her.

  The fact was, he craved her company, and now he was starting to want even more. Far from satisfying him, the kiss had opened the doors to desires he thought he had locked away for all time—desires that went beyond the mere physical craving of a man for a woman. Oh, Anne, can you forgive me? He had never thought his heart could be vulnerable again.

  Jeremy received reports from two of his men at Fitzharding Street the following morning. As he closed the door behind the second one of them, he shook his head.

  According to the first man, Sweeney had purchased tickets at the Covent Garden theater for Tuesday evening. This was good news, but Jeremy’s first response to it had been all wrong. Accompanied by a joyful sense of anticipation, his first thought had been that now he had a reason to take Doña Alomar to the theater again.

  The second man’s report had caused quite a different but no less emotional response. This morning the señora had gone back to the solicitor’s office and had not been received. Jeremy thought he knew whose fault that was. When she had returned to Charles Street, she had sent the Cornishman off somewhere with a package. Jeremy told his man to track it down. He suspected that she needed more funds, and he felt guilty as well as concerned.

  How did he expect to continue his investigation when he could no longer think objectively—or think at all? In simple terms, his assignment was to learn if the lady was a spy. So far, he had found absolutely no evidence to support that idea.

  If she was using an assumed identity, a theory which he had yet to prove, the reason appeared to have no relation to politics, international or otherwise. The people with whom she had connected since her arrival all appeared to be harmless nobodies with the exception of the Earl of Coudray, if she had indeed contacted him. If the earl were somehow involved in the military, or in the negotiations for the Treaty of Paris, or even if he were remotely related to someone else who was, that might have been different. But what little information Jeremy had gleaned at his club about the man pointed to someone utterly apolitical and very much caught up in his own world of expensive pleasures—horse racing, gaming and hunting, like so many others of his kind.

  Was the señora truly the earl’s cousin? Or was she involved in some fraudulent scheme? Jeremy knew that he was treading a fine line along the boundary of where this case became someone else’s responsibility. But he could not let it go.

  If I could just find out a little more. He had learned that the earl’s family name was Colburne. A perusal of the man’s family tree should reveal how the señora was supposedly related and who she was or at least was supposed to be. If he could just learn Sweeney’s role in all this! Perhaps all he would need were these few more days.

  Lost in such thoughts, he was startled when Tobey knocked on his door.

  “Papa?”

  “Yes, Tobey. Come in.”

  “Who were those men?”

  How the devil was he supposed to do his work with a curious seven-year-old around? Nevertheless, seeing his son seemed to make the whole morning brighter.

  “Those were just some business acquaintances involved in my work,” Jeremy said, smiling.

  “Like the Spanish lady?”

  “The—well, somewhat like that.”

  “Will she be coming again today?”

  “No, no. Although I will be seeing her later. She and I have a dinner to attend tonight.”

  If Tobey was disappointed to learn his father would not be at home for dinner, he did not show it. “I liked her. When will she come again? She taught me some Spanish.”

  “Did she now?” That’s more than I achieved. “What did you learn to say?”

  “Encantada de… something. Aw, I forget the rest. Something about a llama. Isn’t a llama a kind of animal, Papa?”

  Jeremy laughed. “Now how do you know about llamas, my son?”

  Tobey looked at him as if he should know better. “From that book you sent home to me last year, Voyages. Grandmama read me all the stories.”

  “Ah, yes, Hakluyt. Well now, I think what the señora may have said was, ‘Como te llama?’. Does that sound right? It means ‘What is your name?’.”

  “You speak Spanish, Papa!”

  “Only a little—un peu, as they say in French.” Jeremy looked at his son thoughtfully. “Are you interested in learning Spanish, Tobey? The señora is seeking students—she might be willing to teach you.”

  He had second thoughts as soon as the words came out of his mouth. What was he doing, involving his own son in a case? Another plan with no forethought at all. But it was already too late. Tobey’s face lit up with delight at the prospect he’d offered. Apparently Doña Alomar had quite captivated his son.

  “Oh, could she? Would she come here?”

  Well, it was one way to help her with her finances, Jeremy thought defensively. And it would give him yet another way to stay in close contact with her. For the sake of the case.

  “Suppose I stop in to ask her this afternoon while I am out?” He needed to tell her the news about Sweeney, anyway, and there might not be a good opportunity tonight at the Giddings’.

  “Do I still have to do my Latin study?” Clearly in Tobey’s mind the new lessons were already confirmed.

  “We’ll see, we’ll see,” Jeremy answered just as his mother came in.

  “What is it we’re going to see? I thought I would take Tobey out to Greenwich, it is such a fine da
y.”

  “Oh, Grandmama! Papa says I’m to have Spanish lessons and that nice lady is going to teach me!”

  “The señora?” Lady Danebridge gave Jeremy another look like the one she had used the previous day. “Well, I must say I quite liked her. Very elegant and gracious. Yes, I was considering that I might host a small soirée in her honor. What do you think, my son?”

  Jeremy thought that his ordered universe was beginning to spin out of control. He was determined to try to grab it back.

  Like Jeremy, Falcon, too, had spent a restless night pondering what had happened between them. How could something so wrong have felt so delicious, so utterly right? In that fleeting moment it had felt like a reunion of two lost souls. But it had been horribly wrong, and the baron’s behavior had renewed all her concerns about his motives in helping her.

  Quite possibly he was a villain. When he had warned her of it, she, foolish woman, had thought only of the warmth, kindness and humor that she knew lurked behind his gray eyes. She thought she had known villains enough—men like Sweeney, capable of horrors she doubted the baron could even imagine, like turning suddenly on someone they knew and viciously murdering them without reason or warning! The idea that Lord Danebridge should label himself one of them seemed almost laughable. Almost.

  But then he had kissed her, and Falcon had discovered the truth. His kind of villainy was subtle. With one kiss he had almost turned her into a weapon against herself, too weak to resist the pure pleasure she had found in his embrace.

  A man with such power was dangerous indeed! How easily he might draw her from her current path into another path of his own choosing! Lord Danebridge had been generous in all that he had done for her and was continuing to do for her, but she wished now that she had never asked for his help.

  Was it too late to disentangle herself from his involvement in her affairs? Finding Sweeney, recovering her trunk, even the precious letter of reference were all in his hands at the moment, but surely she could undertake some of this herself. Perhaps Mrs. Isham would write her a reference—a letter from a lodging house owner would be less helpful than one from a peer, but it would be better than none at all. Perhaps she could discover where Lord Danebridge had posted the notices for her trunk and see to its recovery herself. And why should a woman not haunt the theater offices seeking information on Sweeney? She would not make the mistake of going to them alone. Her biggest handicap was a lack of funds—newspaper circulars and hackney fares would eat up her meager balance in no time.

  Determined to rectify that matter, she had set off this morning to call on Mr. Fallesby at his office, never dreaming that she would be turned away. She had hated the need to ask for more money, yet the man had indicated that the funds would by rights be hers once the legal matters were settled. She did not know how long it would take her to find students ready to pay to learn Spanish.

  She had been informed that Mr. Fallesby could not see her, and she had not been allowed to make an appointment. Be patient, she was told. He would contact her soon. She had left wondering if the man had changed his mind about believing her story. But if so, why? And what recourse was left to her now?

  Sometimes she just felt tired of struggling. However, she had known when she vowed vengeance for her parents’ deaths that her course would be difficult, even dangerous. She would never give up. With a heavy heart she had decided to sell the silver-framed hand mirror that had been a gift from Carmen. It might not fetch much, but any amount would help fill the gap until she could earn some teaching income or her trunk was recovered. As much as she hated to part with one of the few treasures she had left, she refused to think that she could do nothing without Lord Danebridge’s assistance. She had dispatched Triss to a pawnbroker Mrs. Isham recommended.

  Now Falcon stood by a window overlooking Charles Street, watching the flow of pedestrians and vehicles below her as if she could make sense of it all. She was struggling hard to keep her spirits up and feeling very much alone in a universe that had become a thoroughly perplexing puzzle. Triss, Maggie, Carlos and Benita were all a comfort to her, but they were as much outsiders here in London as she was. She no longer knew what to think about the only two allies she thought she had found since coming here, Lord Danebridge and Mr. Fallesby.

  Almost as if she had conjured him by her thoughts, Falcon saw Lord Danebridge appear in the street below, slowing his curricle in front of the house. Oh, Lord. What was he doing here? She had not expected to have to deal with him until the dinner this evening.

  “I’m sorry, your lordship, the señora says—that is to say, the señora is not in,” Mrs. Isham’s footman informed Jeremy not two minutes later.

  “Yes, I know,” he replied with a resigned sigh. “She seldom seems to be, this time of the day. This is the fourth time I have tried to take her for a carriage drive in the park. However, you may tell her that I have some news I must discuss with her.”

  “But…”

  Jeremy had seen his man watching the house from the entrance to the mews across the street. Certainly the señora was not out. “I apologize for putting you in an awkward position. I realize that she may not be ‘at home’, but I am perfectly well aware that she is ‘in’. Tell her that I insist upon having a word with her. It is in her own interest.”

  A few minutes later the footman returned. Doña Alomar followed him closely down the stairs to the entry passage where Jeremy stood waiting. She was dressed in a day gown of white sprigged muslin that he had seen during his explorations through her luggage. He recognized the pink silk shawl around her shoulders, as well, and it gave him an odd feeling of intimacy to be so familiar with her clothing.

  For once she wore no mantilla, since he had caught her unexpectedly. Her splendid chestnut hair was swept up into a knot of ringlets at the back of her head. Soft curls framed her face, and a pink ribbon had been threaded through the whole for a simple but charming effect. She looked beautiful, yet ordinary, with no air of exotic mystery about her. She might have been anyone. And still he wanted her so much that for a moment he was speechless.

  “You wanted a word with me, sir?”

  So much more than a word! But today he was sober—he must not say that. “Yes, I have news. And as it is such a beautiful day, I thought the pleasantest place to discuss it would be driving through the park.”

  “I see no advantage in discussing it elsewhere than here.”

  “Oh, but there is! Two distinct advantages—fresh air, and privacy.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I have some information about your Mr. Sweeney, and also about your trunk.”

  He thought that perhaps, after yesterday, she would not feel privacy was to her advantage at all. He was happily surprised when after a moment’s hesitation she relented.

  “I will just need a few minutes to get ready.”

  He fully expected to wait half an hour, so he was surprised when she came down again ten minutes later. She had donned the black pelisse he had first seen on her in Wickenden, and was draped once again in black lace that concealed her hair and part of her features.

  “Ah, once again the mysterious señora,” he could not resist saying, which caused her to look at him sharply. As they went out to the street he added so that only she could hear, “You do yourself an injustice not to let the world see your beauty. They would fall at your feet.”

  “That is precisely what Napoleon thought when he invaded Spain, Lord Danebridge. It is my experience that the world does that for no one.”

  How prickly she was today! He could guess the reason—he should never have attempted to kiss her yesterday. And yet, and yet. It had not seemed as though she found him repulsive when she was in his arms. More the opposite, he would have said.

  “Napoleon vastly overrated his own charms. You do not. I rather suspect you underrate yours,” he replied, helping her up into the carriage.

  He took his seat beside her and they drove the short distance to Hyde Park in silence.

  “This is the b
est place to have a private conversation in all of London, if you don’t mind occasional interruptions,” he told her as they entered the park by the Cumberland Gate. He guided his matched bays carefully into the flowing current of vehicles making the circuit of the park. “While we are most certainly not alone, we will not be overheard, and may say quite anything we please. I am afraid there is no remedy for being stopped by acquaintances, however—it is all part of the ritual.”

  The señora was gazing at the park with interest. “It goes on for miles! I had no idea London had any parks this large. I must say I am impressed. As for the ritual, it is no different in Spain. In Madrid they drive along the Calle de Alcalá and in the Prado, and socialize in just the same way. But, you were saying that you had news for me?”

  “I have learned that your Mr. Sweeney has tickets for Covent Garden on Tuesday night. I assume that you will wish to attend?”

  “I… yes. That is…”

  “Good. I have made arrangements to procure a box for that night, if possible.” She looked uncomfortable, but he decided to ignore it.

  “Have you… rather, did the theater by any chance provide an address for this Mr. Sweeney? Suppose he is the wrong one—some other man by the same name?”

  “How would you tell? I thought you did not know his address,” he said quickly. What deep game was she playing?

  “Well. I just thought… it might be a way to tell—afterwards, I mean.”

  He thought he knew exactly what she meant. She meant that what she really wanted was this fellow’s address, and if she could get it without actually having to go to the theater, so much the better. Who was this fellow? What had happened at Astorga?

  Jeremy decided to try to make a game of it. “Why are you seeking this fellow, after all?”

  She shook her head.

  “Let me guess—he was your lover in Spain and you have followed him here.”

  He knew that was outrageous, but even so he was not prepared for the look of sheer horror that came over her face.