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

by Brenda Hiatt

  Falcon watched his face as he spoke, trying to gauge his sincerity. Mr. Fallesby had written him. She had tried to circumvent that, but obviously she had failed. The simple fact that the earl was here must count for something. If the family despised her, as she had expected, he could easily have ignored Mr. Fallesby’s communication, rather than coming to London to seek her out.

  “Does it surprise you so much that I would hesitate to approach my father’s family?” she asked quietly. “Consider how he and my mother were treated.”

  “That was your grandfather’s doing. Your grandmother never forgave him for it. Everyone blamed him for driving your father away, and ultimately for the tragedy that befell you all.”

  “I—I did not know.” It was difficult to absorb what he was saying. “I always thought everyone blamed my mother for capturing my father’s heart—that they thought she ruined him.”

  “Your grandmother is a very elderly lady, but I know she would like to see you. It would do her so much good. I believe she continued to send your father money from time to time, during all those years of service. I said nothing about you before I left for Town. I wanted to see you for myself. I did not want to build her hopes up. But come, you must tell me why you are pretending to be Spanish! You have created quite the stir among the beau monde.”

  “That was never my intention. Prudence has dictated that I pose as a Spaniard since the day my parents died. I have had to conceal my identity from the French, who were everywhere, and also from the men who did the killing, as long as they were still in Spain. For most of those years I was Señorita Alvez Bonastre, a relation of the Serrano-Bonastres who took me in. It seemed safer while traveling here to pose as a Spanish widow and infinitely easier than to resurrect a young Irish-English woman thought dead for half a decade. I had hoped to quietly attend to some unfinished business here and then return to Spain as soon as it was finished.”

  Only, now Sweeney knew of her presence here, and she was not certain what might await her back in Spain. She sighed, looking down at the flowers.

  The earl asked, “If your business was simply to find out about your inheritance, why not write? Or did you think Mr. Fallesby would not believe in your miraculous survival?”

  “When I went to see him I admit I was concerned about that. But to be honest, I did not even know of his existence until after I arrived here in England. It was other business that brought me here.”

  She hoped that he would sense her reluctance to discuss it and would not pursue the subject further, but in that she was disappointed.

  “If I am to be your guardian, any business that concerns you must also become my concern. Will you tell me about it? I have many resources and contacts—perhaps I may help.”

  She had been standing rooted in one spot from the moment he came in. Now she moved, giving the flowers to Benita and then seating herself in a chair placed at right angles to the settee.

  “I must warn you that I have no intention of giving it up, although I doubt you will approve of it,” she said, folding her hands in her lap.

  How different this was from telling Lord Danebridge! He had demanded truth and she had given him everything, not just what happened but her grief and anger, her deepest emotions. Here was Lord Coudray, asking politely, and she felt cold and calm, entirely as if what she was about to relate had happened to someone else.

  “I expect you were told my parents’ deaths, and mine, were an unfortunate accident—a by-product of the war in Spain and the chaos that went with it. Unfortunately I must tell you that is not so. My parents were deliberately murdered, and not by Spaniards, but by three men from our own regiment.”

  “Murdered!” He stood and moved stiffly to the fireplace, staring at the floor. “And by our own men?”

  “When it became clear that I would live, I made a solemn vow that my parents would not go unavenged. Despite having been trapped in Spain by the war for these intervening years, I have come to England to track down those men. I have found two of them. It is only the third one who keeps eluding me.”

  “Would this have anything at all to do with the shooting I heard rumors about?” He turned around to stare at her.

  She evaded his question. “I knew you would not approve. But if I do not undertake this task, who is to do it? I am the only witness. I am the one who lost her parents. I am the one who was left for dead, who lost the only life she had known. I am the one who made a solemn promise to see justice done!” She had meant to stay calm. She stopped herself before she became too angry.

  He came to her chair and reached down to take her hand. “I lost a cousin whom I regarded as an older brother. I thought I had lost a young woman, his daughter, who might have become the pride and joy of our family. Did you not think that we, too, might have been angry, if we’d but known? You must not carry on this mission all alone. You must let me help you, Falcarrah.”

  She shivered involuntarily at the sound of her name, and he released her hand. “You do not mind if I call you by your Christian name? I thought… as we are family…”

  “Please. I do not use it. I suppose, if you are to be my guardian… perhaps Sophia? It is my middle name. Or Falcon? That is the nickname I came to be known by in the regiment.”

  He resumed his seat on the settee. “All right, then, Sophia. Your grandmother will like that—it is her name. About this shooting…?”

  “Somehow the third man I was hunting—a fellow named Sweeney—has learned of my existence. I believe he tried to kill me. I was very lucky to escape.”

  “Good Lord! And I imagine he is quite chagrined to think that now you have escaped his designs twice. Obviously it is not safe for you here. It adds all the more reason to what I would propose—that you, and your servants, of course,” he added with a nod towards Benita, “should come with me back to Kent to Colburne Hall. There you could meet your grandmother, and you would be safe! Perhaps you would entrust the task of finding this fellow to me. I am unknown to him and would be in no danger, I suspect. We can turn all three men over to the proper authorities. This kind of thing is best left to a man, my dear, and you know now that you are not alone in the world.”

  Falcon wanted to say that she had never felt quite alone, with Carmen’s family behind her in Spain and Triss and Maggie and Lord Danebridge here in London, but she refrained. She was a little shocked to realize that the baron had truly become part of her trusted little circle. When had he? She also did not say that she thought it far too late to bring this case to the “proper authorities.”

  The earl, it seemed, was offering her a home, a family, a place to belong. Was it what she wanted? Would forming a connection to these unknown relatives be disloyal to her parents’ memory? Perhaps it would only be a certain path to more pain.

  She rose, extending her hand to her cousin. “You are very kind and generous, Lord Coudray, and I do thank you. You have given me a great deal to think about. I need some time to consider your invitation.”

  “Of course.” He rose, taking her hand again in parting. “You have suffered terribly, and I would like to see the family make it up to you. If you are in danger from this man Sweeney, I urge you not to take too long to think. I believe you would find Colburne a fine sanctuary indeed. In the meantime, you may trust that I will not betray your identity.”

  He bowed over her hand and then, as he straightened, he touched her cheek. “You are far too young and charming, my dear, to have to struggle with such burdens. I just want you to know that you need not.”

  Jeremy, meanwhile, had been summoned to the office of his superior. He thought perhaps it was because the man had not been able to see him yesterday, when he had stopped in to pick up information.

  “There you are, Lieutenant-Major. Do sit down,” his officer said. “Sorry I was in a meeting when you came by yesterday, but you should find the results quite happy. You no longer have a case.”

  Jeremy stared, dumbfounded. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  The fellow lau
ghed. “You can go home, man! Your lady from Spain is no longer a suspect in the spy case we were investigating. We are convinced that the real culprit has been apprehended. There was indeed a plot against Lord Castlereagh, but we have names now and shall have it all unraveled before today is through. Your suspect is not involved in it. You have found no evidence of her involvement in any other political matters?”

  “No, sir.” Not political. Only an apparent personal tragedy that was putting her life in danger. That, of course, was not the concern of this department.

  “Well, I must say I expected to at least see a smile on that face of yours, Danebridge. I know you were reluctant to take this last case. If I may say so, I sensed a bit of resentment, at first, that you were asked to postpone your retirement for this. You have been at this game too long for me to have to tell you that not every case is concluded with the glorious satisfaction of action. Every investigation is important to our nation’s security, no matter what the result. Think if she had turned out to be the one.”

  “Yes, sir. I know.” Jeremy felt as if his feet had been cut out from under him. He had wanted this, of course, but then the timing had been his own choice. Now he needed the resources of the office and the help of Nicholson and the rest of his men more than ever—this was the worst possible time. Was he simply to abandon Miss Colburne to her fate?

  He could pack up his family and go home to a settled life in Hertfordshire. It had been his driving goal for the last year, the one that had kept him careful while he finished his assignment in France. But one green-eyed enchantress had changed all that.

  She was not a spy. And by his own actions he had complicated her life incalculably. Perhaps it was even his own fault that she was in danger now.

  “Are all of my assistants to be reassigned immediately?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  He sighed. It galled him to admit he had become personally involved. “I have run into a non-political situation that still involves criminal activity. I do not feel that I can simply walk away from it, sir.”

  “I see. I did hear your name connected with a shooting the other night. Nicked your arm, eh? You thought that if any of the men were willing to volunteer…”

  “I would pay them myself. Just for a few days.” It would put a major hole in his finances, but he saw no choice. He was in love with the woman—that was very clear to him now.

  Falcon’s second visitor that afternoon was Lord Danebridge, who arrived carrying a package and looking very sober indeed.

  “Something is wrong,” she guessed immediately, ushering him into the sitting room.

  “Yes and no,” he replied, refusing the seat she offered him. “I have as yet no news of Sweeney. I do have something else I must tell you, however.” He suggested that she, at least, might like to sit down.

  She took a seat on the settee and looked up at him expectantly. Even the sight of him looking so serious had the power to lift her spirits.

  He thrust the package into her hands. “This belongs to you.”

  The parcel was surprisingly heavy, although it was not large. As she undid the paper wrappings he went to the hearth and stood there staring into the fireplace, leaning his uninjured arm upon the mantel.

  The shape of the object had a familiar feel to it. She caught her breath as she removed the last bit of paper. “My looking-glass! But how…?”

  He turned to face her. “It was thanks to my doing that you were forced to part with it. I felt an obligation to make certain it was returned to you. I cannot even ask that you consider it a peace offering.”

  “Whatever do you mean? You and I are not at war. I do not understand. How did you know this looking-glass was mine? Where did you come by it?” She wondered which one of them was going mad.

  He sighed. “I will explain it all. You may condemn me, and I would not blame you, but hear me first.”

  He began at the beginning, and told her everything—how he had seen her in Portsmouth on the first day she arrived in England, how he had followed her to Wickenden, and how he had arranged to have her trunk stolen in London before he had even arrived himself. He told her of his visit to Mr. Fallesby and of his investigations at his club; he mentioned the men he had assigned to keep watch over who she saw, where she went and what she did.

  As she listened, she felt an icy coldness creep into her soul. What she was hearing was so much worse than the worst suspicions she had harbored about him. This was the man she had come to trust! Much more than trust in recent days, she had realized, although she had not wanted to admit it.

  As he explained the reasons for his actions, the coldness inside her began to crystallize into anger. All of his help, all of the concern she thought he had shown for her—all had been part of performing his duty. And she had thought he wanted to make her his mistress! What an incredible fool she had almost made of herself.

  “I wondered why a man just returned from the continent would be in Wickenden,” she said in an utterly emotionless voice. Her choice was that or to rage and scream at him, revealing the full force of her pain and anger. She clenched her fists. She would not let him reduce her to such a state.

  “It explains why, when I first saw you, I took you for a military man, even though you wore no uniform. I suppose you have been paying Mrs. Isham a premium to rent me these rooms—I wondered how the price could be so little different than what we had paid in Covent Garden! Did your spies tell you which pawnbroker had my looking glass? Did they also report to you my distress when I tried to redeem it on Monday, only to find that it was already gone?”

  She thought of the pleasure she had found in his company and of the kisses they had shared. She had even spent time with his son. Had it all meant nothing?

  “Your government demands much of you, assuming you ever were a man of honor. How can you live with yourself, knowing your life’s work is nothing but deceit? How do you look your son in the face?”

  She felt the tears beginning and she dashed at them angrily with her hand. She would not cry in front of this man.

  “It is over, now,” Jeremy said gently, holding out his hands as if to show her he had nothing more to hide. Her words hurt, but he understood her anger. He only hoped she would keep listening to him. He loved her. He could not go on deceiving her.

  “The assignment is finished. They know now that you are not a spy. My involvement with the department is finished, too. I was on my way home to begin a new life when this case was given to me—one last investigation, they said.”

  “That is very well then. There is nothing to stop you from going now.”

  “Yes, there is. You. I wish to make amends for any harm I may have caused you. I care about you and I want to see you safe. I cannot abandon you. Sweeney hopes to kill you! I have the resources to find him and to protect you.”

  She rose. The lack of expression on her face struck him with a cold, nameless fear. “You do not need to trouble yourself,” she said in a tone as sharp as a saber-edge. “Someone else has now offered me assistance.”

  “Who?” Even to his own ears, the word came out sounding harsh and demanding.

  “That is no longer any of your concern, is it? But I will tell you. My cousin, the earl. It seems I did not fool him last night at the ball—he recognized my resemblance to my mother. He, too, has resources and has offered me protection. So you may take up your plans with—I will not go so far as to say a clear conscience. Say, with no further thought of me.”

  “That would be impossible.” He took a step toward her. He had to make her understand! “I think about you constantly, whether we are together or apart. You haunt my dreams at night. You—”

  “No!” She turned and walked away from him, putting her hands over her ears. “No more. Why should I believe anything you say? How could anyone trust you, when to you the truth is only a tool to be manipulated to achieve your ends!”

  She had finally raised her voice in anger. She was flushed now instead of deathly pale, and Jeremy
thought that this was better. But she was not finished.

  “You may discontinue paying Mrs. Isham; I shall be quitting these lodgings immediately, perhaps as soon as tomorrow.”

  “To go where?”

  “My cousin has offered me a sanctuary, perhaps even a home. So you see, I no longer need your help. Have you not done enough? At least I am now spared the great burden of debt I thought I owed to you. Please, just leave.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I never expected to hear from you so quickly,” the Earl of Coudray told Falcon the following afternoon. “I should not have been surprised, however. Your parents were both strong-minded people, and it is very clear that you are their daughter. You have shown good judgment.”

  I hope so, thought Falcon, acknowledging his compliment with a silent nod of her head. They were settled in his large traveling coach, headed out of London—for better or worse. Maggie and Benita rode with them, for Carlos and Triss and the earl’s own servants filled the baggage coach which followed.

  Falcon had sent a note to the earl in Bedford Square as soon as Lord Danebridge had left her the previous afternoon. Then she had set Benita and Maggie to work helping her pack.

  “I’m hopin’ you’re that certain about what ye are doin’,” Maggie had said then. “Runnin’ away is the last thing I’d ever have thought ye would do.”

  “I am not running away! From what?” Falcon had caught the look that passed between Maggie and Benita, and it rankled her. “I am pursuing a new course, one that leads towards something—the same goal I have sought all along.”

  “Oh, and is that right, now?” Maggie had countered. Since then she had said nothing more on the subject, but Falcon had continued to catch Maggie giving her the eye at odd moments. She was certain that if she looked up at the older woman now, she would see the same dubious expression on her face.