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

by Brenda Hiatt

But it did not matter what he said. The looks on the faces of the other two spoke volumes.

  “I quite understand, mes amis,” she replied, smiling reassuringly. “I assure you I am not disloyal, to your King or my own, and I shall not betray Lord Dare to anyone.”

  They nodded, looking satisfied, but Juliana’s mind whirled at this new piece of information. For the rest of the evening, she flirted and danced as usual, but all the while she pondered the question of whether Lord Dare was in actuality a spy.

  It was an exciting thought, but perhaps it was just something those silly bucks had dreamt up, no more real than all the duels Dudley claimed to have fought. Still, it explained so many things about Lord Dare. His air of mystery, his command of French, even his interest in her. Perhaps she had inadvertently put herself under suspicion by pretending to be French, and he had flirted with her as a means of discovering the truth.

  Actually, it was a lowering thought. Now that he knew she was not French, he had apparently lost all interest.

  Marcus spent a quiet Sunday morning going to Mass and then walking about St. James’s Park, even though he knew it was unlikely that Mademoiselle Juliette would be there. He wondered if she had noticed his absence last night. The words she’d spoken when they had last walked together continued to haunt him. Why did she have to view all men as scoundrels? Surely she would be happier in the end if she met some man who could convince her otherwise, who would protect her as she deserved. According to Jerry, sometimes the opera dancers made decent marriages, although generally not into the aristocracy. Try as he would, Marcus found it difficult to picture the irrepressible Juliette as the respectable wife of some banker or shopkeeper.

  On Monday he received a note from Mr. Hutton, indicating that Miss Hutton was feeling better, but still indisposed to receive visitors. It was a polite note; Hutton had been careful to assure Marcus that Miss Hutton would be delighted to meet him once she had recovered from her illness. A cheerful letter from his mother, telling him she had sent The Perils of Francesca to the Minerva Press, and that he need not worry about her and Lucy, did little to lighten his mood. He could not be so sanguine about their futures.

  Both missives left Marcus in a mood of restless impatience. He had done all he could to court his heiress; he had set his affairs in order, in preparation for the success or failure of his suit. Now he was at a loss for how to occupy himself, and keep Mademoiselle Juliette’s cynical words from his mind.

  Later that day, he decided to take action.

  Chapter Six

  For the next few days, Juliana tried not to think about Lord Dare. She rehearsed as usual, putting forth her best efforts to master the new ballet being prepared, based on the story of Daphnis and Chloe. As part of the corps de ballet, Juliana would play a wood nymph. She wondered how she would dare go on the stage. Her new costume made her peasant dress from the previous performances seem positively demure by contrast. Although it did not bare a breast, as did some costumes from seasons past, the gauzy draperies revealed more than even the daring Mademoiselle Juliette felt quite comfortable showing.

  As she walked back to Madame Bouchard’s house after a rehearsal, she realized it was now three weeks since she had run away. Grandpapa still had not inserted a notice into the Times to show that he had relented. She had done her part: earned wages, avoided rakes and scoundrels, and sent Grandpapa letters by the Penny Post several times each week to assure him of her well-being. What would it take to convince him she was capable of caring for herself? Had Lord Amberley arrived as planned, and what had Grandpapa told him?

  As a slight drizzle began to fall, she reflected that her enjoyment of the masquerade was beginning to pall just a little. She even had to admit that Lord Dare’s departure from her life had something to do with it.

  The drizzle changed to a light rain, and she increased her pace. At the turn from Picadilly onto Half Moon Street, she once again noticed the stocky individual she had collided with last week. It had already occurred to her that he might have been someone hired by Grandpapa to find her, but either her disguise had fooled him, or he skulked about the neighborhood for some other reason. She could not like it, and was relieved when she reached the apartment she shared with Jenny.

  There an unexpected sight met her eyes. Jenny sat in a straight chair, wide-eyed and nervous, her hands folded across her slightly rounded belly. Across from her, two gentlemen occupied the small sofa. The younger of the two was thin, handsome and looked as anxious as Jenny. He must be her Edward, the young man who was studying to be a barrister, and had deserted her in such a cowardly manner when he had realized she was increasing. The other, a stout gentleman dressed in old-fashioned knee-breeches, looked of an age to be his father.

  As Juliana advanced into the room, the younger gentleman stood up, but the other remained in his seat, looking her over with a contemptuous eye.

  “Sir William, Edward, this is Mademoiselle Lamant, who shares this lodging with me,” said Jenny, stammering a little. “Juliette, this is Sir William Kendal, and his son Edward.”

  The younger man responded politely, but his father continued to scowl. The hostility in his expression and the uneasy looks on the two lovers’ faces made it clear that matters were not proceeding smoothly. Was there any way she could help?

  “Bon jour, Saire William,” she said.

  If anything, Sir William’s scowl intensified at her words. Clearly he disapproved of loose Frenchwomen; Juliana wondered if his distrust could be put to good account. She glanced over at Jenny, satisfied to see that her friend looked modest and demure as usual in a plain blue dress, a cap she had been embroidering for the baby still in her lap. There could be no stronger contrast with her own attire and demeanor, Juliana thought, now doubly glad she had purchased the closely-tailored, dashing moss-green pelisse she was wearing.

  She removed her hat with its long ostrich plume and set it down on a side table, strutted into the room and boldly took the other seat at the table where Jenny sat.

  “I presume you ’ave come here to make poor Jenny reparation for the wrongs that have been done her,” she said, smiling brightly at the gentlemen on the sofa.

  “Hmmph!” said Sir William. “Wrongs? I’ll wager your precious Jenny has no proof that my Edward fathered her child. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was just one of many.”

  “Papa, I told you it wasn’t like that!” protested young Kendal. “I love Jenny, and she loves me—or did—and if she will forgive me I intend to marry her!”

  “Marry her?” Juliana asked cautiously, not wishing to appear too excited over this unlooked-for turn of events.

  “Of course not!” said Sir William. “It is out of the question. My son and an opera dancer? Outrageous!”

  “Oh, I quite agree!” trilled Juliana. She looked at Jenny and winked, then fluttered her eyelashes before looking back at the two gentlemen. “How can you think she would wish to be the respectable wife of a barrister? No, it would be so much more amusing for her, and comfortable for you, if you would just make her a—a settlement!”

  They all goggled at her.

  “Is that not the correct word?”

  “No, it is not!” said the older gentleman, glaring at Jenny. “You think to extort money from us, girl?”

  Jenny quailed under his angry gaze.

  “Mon pauvre,” Juliana said, leaning over to put an arm on Jenny’s shoulder. “Do not let him frighten you. We must make certain you receive your due. Then you will be comfortable, and buy many lovely gowns. Perhaps, once the baby is born, you may even find a new, more amusing lover, n’est ce pas?”

  “I don’t wish for another lover!” said Jenny, staring at Juliana as if she had lost her mind. “I do not wish to cause any trouble, only to—”

  “But of course you do not wish to cause any trouble,” Juliana interrupted. “Chere, you must think of yourself. If they do not make reparation to you, you can easily make a suit for—how do you English call it when a gentleman promises marr
iage and then runs off?”

  “Breach of promise,” supplied young Kendal.

  Sir William turned his angry gaze on his son.

  “Ah yes! Breach of promise,” Juliana echoed.

  “You will neither of you do any such thing! There is no proof other than this girl’s word that Edward promised her marriage—if he ever did, which I take leave to doubt!”

  “I told you, Papa, I did,” said Edward, braving another wrathful glance from his father.

  “But I do not wish to testify against Edward!” cried Jenny.

  Gleefully, Juliana noted how Sir William’s eyes darted between her and Jenny. If all went well, Mademoiselle Lamant’s outrageous demands would throw a more flattering light on shy, undemanding Jenny.

  “It will not be necessary if his father agrees to compensate you as you deserve,” she said. “Ten thousand pounds would not be an unreasonable request.”

  “Ten thousand pounds! You impudent French hussy!” Sir William’s face reddened with anger as he jumped up from the sofa and advanced toward Juliana. He stopped and stared at her, clearly torn between the desire to strangle her and an innate politeness that prevented him from manhandling even a woman of such questionable character.

  “Yes, I think it quite a reasonable sum,” she replied, looking up at him calmly. “You English would do anything to avoid a scandal.”

  “Stop it!” cried Jenny. “I do not wish to bring any suit against Edward!”

  “You heard the girl,” said Sir William, his angry color receding a little. “She does not wish to bring suit against us.”

  Juliana noticed his gaze soften as he looked at Jenny.

  “Kindly leave us now,” he continued. “This is none of your affair, and rest assured you will not profit by it!”

  She looked at Jenny, then at him.

  “Well, chere, if you really wish to marry the son of such a tedious English squire…” she said, raising her eyebrows.

  “I do!” said Jenny, her eyes shining with tears as she looked nervously back at Sir William. “But not if it means his family will disown him.”

  “Hm, well, I would never disown my son,” said Sir William.

  He was clearly weakening. Juliana hid a smile.

  “Edward tells me your birth is respectable, eh?” he asked Jenny bluntly, but his voice was gentler than before.

  As Jenny recounted her sad family history, Juliana quietly arose and left the three of them. She entered her bedroom, but stayed close to the door. She listened happily as Sir William gave his permission for the young couple to wed, and even helped them make plans to keep the exact date of their marriage vague to prevent unwanted gossip. After these details were arranged, Sir William made his farewells, leaving his son to spend some time alone with his intended. Juliana moved away from the door and went to stand by the window, not wishing to eavesdrop on the lovers. Finally, she heard the door close again. She left her bedroom, and found Jenny beaming and walking about the sitting room, as if too excited to rest.

  “So is it all settled?” she asked.

  Jenny nodded. “I still cannot believe my good fortune. I did not think Sir William would ever relent. Then you came in, and acted like such a—such a…”

  “A scheming French hussy,” supplied Juliana, grinning. “You thought I had gone mad, didn’t you?”

  “Well, at first I did. But then I realized what you were doing. It answered perfectly. Thank you!”

  Juliana embraced her heartily, then laughed. “It was nothing, I assure you. I had only to convince Sir William how fortunate he was to be dealing with a gentle, unassuming English girl. Once I had achieved that, I knew all would be well.”

  “Indeed, I am so happy!”

  “I am so glad Edward came to a realization of his responsibilities. I had not expected it at all.”

  “Oh, you do not know? Edward said a Lord Dare sought him out, and scolded him quite fiercely for deserting me. I thought perhaps you knew him.”

  Juliana nodded. “I did say something of your situation to Lord Dare, but I promise you I did not mention either of your names. He must have found out on his own—but why?”

  “I do not know, but I am glad he did,” said Jenny, patting her stomach. “Yes, I know you are thinking that Edward was very wrong not to come to me sooner. But I cannot love him less for not wanting to grieve his family.”

  Juliana nodded, though she could not find it in herself to condone Edward’s weakness so easily. She hated to think how Jenny’s happiness depended on the vagaries of men such as Edward and his father.

  The more interesting problem was why Lord Dare had intervened. Was it an act of chivalry? Was it a scheme to earn her gratitude? He had said he was not seeking a mistress, but perhaps he was trying to put her off her guard.

  But when she looked back at Jenny, contentedly at her needlework, Juliana could not be anything but grateful.

  Juliana pirouetted before a mirror in the Green Room that evening, feigning absorption in her steps after having requested several admirers to leave her be. If they all thought Mademoiselle Juliette was out of temper this evening, so be it. They would never guess that she was avoiding them in part because her scandalous new costume made her self-conscious. But that was not all that troubled her. She could not deny it to herself. She wanted to see Lord Dare once again, unwise as that was.

  She paused, staring into the mirror at her reflection. The new costume was composed of enough layers of gauze not to be quite transparent, but it was short, and left her back and shoulders bare. Imitation vines crossed the front of the bodice, and again below her waist, emphasizing her breasts and hips in a quite scandalous fashion. An involuntary warmth arose in her face as she contemplated herself. It only deepened as she detected Dare’s reflection behind her own. She was glad of the concealing layers of rouge on her cheeks.

  “Milord Dare, I am delighted to see you here again,” she said, assuming her French accent and speaking loudly enough for any possible bystanders to hear it.

  “Thank you for the kind welcome, Mademoiselle Juliette,” he replied softly, trying not to stare at her, but not quite succeeding. Something about his hesitant, polite gallantry touched her. Suddenly he seemed less sophisticated than he had, and more vulnerable.

  “What a surprise,” she said, striving for an airy, unconcerned tone. “I had quite given up seeing you again.”

  “I could not stay away.”

  She looked into his eyes then, and though she knew it was a mistake, allowed herself to be captured by his gaze. She had to think of something to say, and quickly, or she would yield to impulse and beg him to take her in his arms and kiss her again.

  “I am so glad you spoke to Mr. Kendal on my friend Miss Church’s behalf. It was most kind of you to do so,” she said, dropping her French accent and speaking more softly.

  “I trust the outcome has been happy?” he said, coming closer to her so they could speak without being overheard. Juliana did her best to try to ignore the intimacy.

  “They are to be married. His father has given them his blessing.”

  “He has? After I spoke to Kendal, I realized that he and Miss Church were truly attached, but I had not expected his father to be willing to do more than provide her some monetary assistance.”

  “Ah, but by the time he realized that his son might have gotten himself entangled with a scheming French hussy, he was positively eager to welcome quiet, modest little Jenny into the bosom of his family,” said Juliana, smiling.

  “Poor Sir William! You are a wicked woman, Mademoiselle Juliette.” Dare laughed, the first time she had heard him laugh. Perhaps he had little opportunity to do so, though she suspected a sense of humor lurked behind his serious demeanor.

  “I do my best.”

  “With excellent results.”

  “Yes. For Jenny, that is. She truly is a respectable creature at heart. This life was not for her.”

  “Is it for you?” he asked.

  The directness of his
question surprised her.

  “Of course,” she replied quickly, hoping he had not noticed her hesitation. “I enjoy my independence too much to wish to form any sort of entanglement with just one man.”

  “Not even a man who cared for you?” he asked, leaning over to speak even more softly.

  “Are you perhaps referring to yourself again, my lord?” she asked, trying to sound arch, though her pulse began to race again as she felt his breath on her cheek.

  He did not answer. Instead he stood very still, his gaze turned inward, as if he searched his soul for an answer.

  “Why did you speak to Jenny’s lover?” she continued to probe, unable to bear his silence.

  “Because he was behaving badly,” he replied. “Because I did not want you to think all men would behave so.”

  “Is that all?”

  “That is all,” he replied. “If my circumstances were different… but they are not. In fact, I shall probably be leaving London very soon.”

  “That is a relief indeed, for I am not seeking a lover either,” she said, to cover her disappointment. Then she realized her words were not in character. “That is, not unless he were very wealthy and very generous.”

  His expression became guarded, but she thought she could see a hurt look in his eyes. Impossible! Surely he was wise enough to recognize Mademoiselle Juliette for the abandoned woman she was. Or had he, perhaps, developed a real tendre for her?

  “Why did you come here tonight? What do you wish from me?” The rash words broke free before she could recall them.

  “Nothing,” he said almost fiercely. “Only a farewell kiss.”

  This time he did not await her permission. Her heart pounded wildly as his hands encircled her waist, caressing her through her diaphanous costume, slowly pulling her closer until he held her against his chest once more, so near that she could feel his own quickened breath. She had only to say the word, she knew, and he would release her. But she could not. If this was the last time they would meet, she would not deny him, or herself, this heady delight.