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

by Brenda Hiatt

She looked over at Grandpapa. There was a thoughtful expression on his face. Heavens! Was he wavering?

  “You do not believe him, do you?” she demanded. “I still think he planned the entire thing.”

  Grandpapa looked back at Amberley. “Can you honestly say you did not know her identity? What were your intentions, my lord?”

  Surely Grandpapa had Amberley at a disadvantage now. He would have to admit either to being a fortune hunter, or a libertine. Looking over, she saw Amberley look back at her, his eyes full of unspoken meaning, as if entreating her to go along with what he was about to say.

  He squared his shoulders and turned toward Grandpapa.

  “I told you the truth when I said I did not know who she was. I must admit, however, that my intentions in bringing her to my house were… amorous.”

  Juliana studied the faces of everyone else in the room. Neither Amberley’s mother nor the Plumbrooks looked particularly shocked. Even Grandpapa’s expression was less disapproving than she had hoped.

  “Well, it seems you are a Redwyck, but at least you’re honest,” he said, somewhat grudgingly, then looked back at Juliana. She knew he was wondering how far Amberley’s plan had progressed. If her folly was exposed…

  “I must tell you, sir, that your granddaughter resisted all my advances,” said Amberley. “Being a gentleman, I did not force myself upon her. We were just discussing how she could most safely hide from Lord Verwood when the Plumbrooks and my mother arrived.”

  Grandpapa looked relieved, but Juliana did not know what to make of Amberley’s lies. Was he protecting her reputation? Or was he just trying to win Grandpapa’s approval?

  “Yes, and we have not yet been properly introduced,” said Amberley’s mother, smiling at Grandpapa.

  Amberley performed the introductions, and Grandpapa bowed courteously toward Mrs. Redwyck.

  “I am delighted to meet you, Mr. Hutton,” she said.

  “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Redwyck, but I must apologize for my granddaughter’s wild behavior. I don’t doubt you find all of this terribly shocking.”

  “Not at all,” she replied. “I must admit, I was not pleased with this scheme for my son to court your granddaughter. However, now that I have met her, I see she is just the bride for dear Marcus.”

  Juliana stared at her, wondering if the lady had escaped from Bedlam. But there was no sign of insanity in Mrs. Redwyck’s liquid brown eyes, only a friendliness Juliana could not fathom. What sort of mother would welcome a daughter-in-law who had graced the stage?

  One who coveted that daughter-in-law’s dowry as much as her son did. Juliana’s resolution hardened at the thought of the trap she had nearly fallen into. Perhaps now she could turn Amberley’s lies to her own advantage.

  “I am not going to marry Amberley,” she announced. “He has not compromised me, so there is no need for us to marry.”

  “Of course you must marry him,” objected Lady Plumbrook.

  “Why?”

  “If you do not, Verwood will bleed your grandfather dry to keep silent about this whole business,” said Lord Plumbrook sternly.

  Juliana shivered, and looked at Grandpapa.

  “Lord Plumbrook is right. You must marry Amberley,” he said, his resolve evident in the set of his jaw.

  “Is that all that matters to you? Money? Do not let it worry you. I should rather lose my reputation than be wed to a two-faced fortune hunter!”

  Amberley winced. Everyone else looked shocked.

  “Of course it is not the money!” said Grandpapa.

  Looking into his ravaged face, she saw how anxious he was over the possible loss of her reputation. But she could not give herself to Amberley just to avoid a scandal.

  “I spoke in anger, Grandpapa,” she said in a milder tone, “but you must believe I am in earnest when I say I will not marry Amberley.”

  Mrs. Redwyck stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Juliana backed away defiantly.

  “My dear Miss Hutton, please reconsider,” said Mrs. Redwyck. “Please allow my son to explain himself. Perhaps in private?”

  “No,” said Juliana, resolving never to allow Amberley to explain anything to her. Particularly not in private.

  “Enough of this nonsense, child,” said Grandpapa, impatiently. “There is nothing to discuss. You are coming home now, and we will insert the notice of your engagement into the newspapers tomorrow.”

  “You may insert all the notices you wish, but I will not marry him!”

  It seemed to Juliana that each person in the room, except for Amberley himself, began to harangue, scold or cajole her. She stood stock-still, letting their words rain over her, determined not to give in.

  “May I make a suggestion?”

  Juliana glanced over at Lord Amberley, but it seemed that the others had not heard his soft-voiced question. He repeated himself, more loudly, and the others fell silent.

  “I am afraid Miss Hutton’s reluctance to marry me is quite understandable,” he said, his voice disarmingly rueful.

  Both Grandpapa and Lady Plumbrook began to speak, but Amberley raised a hand to stop them.

  “No, please do not interrupt me. Miss Hutton has not had the opportunity to become acquainted with me or my character. Although I am willing to marry her in any case, I cannot think our marriage will be happy if she is forced into it.”

  He paused to let his words sink in. Juliana winced to see how the others were nodding their understanding. She could not tell them she had become acquainted with Amberley, not without exposing her own folly.

  “However, I do see that Miss Hutton’s reputation is now at risk, for which I am partially to blame,” Amberley continued. He looked over at her, his expression entreating her understanding.

  She looked back coldly. His calm, reasonable manner was infuriating, along with the way he had assumed command of the situation.

  “What I should like to suggest is that we make public our engagement, but allow Miss Hutton some time, perhaps a month, in which to become better acquainted with me. If she decides that she still does not wish to marry me, she may end our engagement.”

  “Do you think that will stop Verwood from spreading his vile tales?” asked Grandpapa.

  “Of course it would,” said Lady Plumbrook. “Once it is known that dear Juliana is to marry an earl, and one of such ancient lineage, Verwood will find it hard to convince people she ever made an appearance on the stage.”

  “Would it not cause a great deal of talk if my granddaughter breaks off the engagement?”

  “People would gossip,” replied Lady Plumbrook, “but it would be nothing compared to the scandal that threatens us now. Besides, once Juliana comes to know dear Amberley better, she will not wish to cry off.”

  Lady Plumbrook looked at her fondly. Once again, Juliana was thrown into indecision. Lord Amberley’s suggestion presented a compromise, one that offered her a chance of escape while sparing Grandpapa the grief of a scandal. Could she refuse?

  “Of course she will not wish to cry off,” said Mrs. Redwyck, echoing Lady Plumbrook. “May I make a suggestion now? I think Miss Hutton should come to visit us at Redwyck Hall. We can say she wishes to begin making some changes there before the marriage, which will give her some time to become better acquainted with all of us before she makes up her mind.”

  “A capital idea!” said Grandpapa.

  “Yes, and it will allow time for the dye to fade from her hair before she must appear in public again,” added Lady Plumbrook, ever-practical.

  Juliana could not deny that the plan was sensible, but she felt as if a soft net was slowly twining itself around her.

  “Please, Miss Hutton, consider our suggestion,” said Amberley. “For the sake of your own reputation, and for your grandfather’s sake, if nothing else.”

  She looked back at him. He stood still, his face tense and expectant. Their eyes met, and for an instant, he was Lord Dare once more, his expression full of yearning. She could almost b
elieve that he did long to know her better, to discover who she was now that he knew her name. But it was all very likely a ruse to win her trust. Could she trust him to keep the line when she was at his home?

  She looked back at Grandpapa. A muscle twitched in his cheek. Clearly, he was taking pains to keep quiet, desperately trying not to antagonize her while at the same time hoping the others’ arguments would win her over. It hurt to see him so troubled.

  “Very well, my lord,” she said, addressing herself to Amberley. “I will consent to be engaged to you, and to be a visitor in your home.”

  An almost audible sigh of relief arose from the older members of the group. Even though she did not look at him, she knew Amberley watched her closely as she finished her speech.

  “But know this: I agree to your plan only to spare my grandfather concern. In one month’s time I shall cry off from our engagement, and nothing you say or do will dissuade me.”

  Marcus endured Miss Hutton’s cold looks as he bade her and her grandfather farewell, and saw them and the Plumbrooks to their carriages. He would not place even the smallest of wagers on the chance of her anger cooling by morning, when he was pledged to visit the Huttons again.

  As the coaches drove off, he came back to the entrance hall, to find Mama smiling at him tenderly.

  “Well, my darling, I suspect it will take a few more minutes for your servants to get a bedchamber ready for me, and for Dora to unpack my things. Let us go back to the drawing room and sit down, so you can tell me the whole story.”

  The whole story flashed through his mind, which boggled at the thought of relating it to his mother.

  “Come, you know I am not easily shocked, dear. Can you not see I am positively dying to hear about your lovely Miss Hutton?”

  “Yes, Mama, I can see that,” he said, taking her arm to lead her back to the drawing room. “I would rather know why you have arrived here at such an hour.”

  As he had hoped, the question diverted her. She smiled coyly as she replied.

  “The Plumbrooks were coming down for the Season, and were kind enough to offer me a seat in their coach. Then we were delayed by the rain.”

  “Yes, but you know that is not what I asked, Mama. Why have you come to London?”

  “Mr. Wilson at the Minerva Press has expressed an interest in The Perils of Francesca!”

  “That is excellent!” he said. “But I am not at all surprised. I knew all you had to do to engage their interest was to complete the story.”

  “So sweet of you to have such faith in me, my darling son. However, the terms Mr. Wilson offered were so paltry that I thought it would be better to come in person to negotiate with him rather than to do so through correspondence.”

  They entered the drawing room, and Mama sat down. Marcus went back to stand by the fire, shaken by the thought of what had transpired in this room, how the warm, passionate Juliette had suddenly transformed herself into the cold, contemptuous Miss Hutton. He still found it difficult to reconcile the two; he felt as if he had tried to seduce a stranger.

  “Did you hear what I said, Marcus?”

  He wrenched his thoughts away from Juliette—Miss Hutton—and back to his mother.

  “I am sorry, Mama. What did you say?”

  “I was telling you how I planned to manage things with Mr. Wilson. But I see your mind is more interestingly occupied. I cannot blame you, darling. She is delightful!”

  “She is furious with me.”

  “She has spirit as well as beauty—just the sort of girl I would have chosen for you. By the way, I think you handled the situation beautifully.”

  “I could not allow them all to coerce her into marriage with me. You do believe me when I say I had no plan to compromise her?” He flushed as he asked the question. One did not discuss such matters with one’s mother, no matter how liberal-minded she was.

  “I know you are always truthful,” his mother replied, nodding. “I am only delighted to see you finally allowed your Redwyck tendencies a little free rein.”

  “And you can see where it has led to.”

  “Do not browbeat yourself! Of course, things are in rather a muddle now, but I have every confidence in a happy outcome.”

  Marcus remained silent, thinking of the fury he had seen blazing from Miss Hutton’s brilliant blue eyes as she had accused him of intentionally compromising her. Would he ever convince her that he had acted out of a grande passion for Mademoiselle Juliette? And would it help if he did?

  Which was worse—to be thought a rake or a fortune hunter?

  “You are in love with her, are you not, dearest?” Mama asked with a knowing look.

  “Can I be in love with someone whom I hardly know? Perhaps I was only letting myself get caught up in a fleeting fantasy. But there was… is … something about her. I can’t explain. In any case, I’ve ruined everything.”

  “Don’t be so gloomy! She may be angry now, but she will come around. Now, I think you should drink a little of your uncle’s excellent brandy, and go to bed. Things will seem better in the morning, I assure you.”

  She yawned and got up from the chaise longue. “Dora must be ready for me by now. Good night, Marcus.”

  She kissed him, and left.

  He remained in the room. Now that Mama was gone, the smell of the flowers he had ordered, the candles flickering low in their sconces, were all a potent reminder of Juliette. Of her vivid blue eyes, darkened with passion, of her soft skin, of her sweet cries as she had responded so delightfully to his first attempt at seduction. They had come so close… and that would have been an even greater disaster.

  He paced, knowing he should be thinking of his lands, of Mama and Lucy, and how he could salvage this situation to their advantage. It was useless; all he could think about was the mysterious creature who had so enthralled him, and who was now so fiercely determined to spurn his suit. He still ached with desire for her, but could he ever hope to recapture the passion they had shared this night?

  Chapter Ten

  The carriage ride back to Russell Square was a quiet one. Juliana was thankful that Grandpapa did not seem inclined to question her further over what had happened. Mrs. Frisby greeted them, apparently having stayed up to watch out for their return. Her thin face, already lined beyond her years, lit up with relief at the sight of Juliana.

  “My dear! Thanks goodness you are safe,” she said, giving Juliana a shaky embrace. “What have you done with your hair? You must tell me everything that has happened. What—”

  “You had better get her upstairs first, before any of the servants see that hair,” interrupted Grandpapa, sending Mrs. Frisby nervously spurting towards the stairs.

  “Good night, Grandpapa,” said Juliana as she turned to follow Mrs. Frisby.

  “Good night, child,” he added in a softer voice.

  Once in the safety of Juliana’s room, Mrs. Frisby rang for Polly to come and attend her mistress. Polly hurried in, looking overjoyed at Juliana’s return. As Polly helped Juliana prepare for bed, both women pelted her with questions and fussed over her as if it were a miracle that she had survived over a month away from their care. Juliana kept her explanations brief, bearing their shock and subsequent excitement at her engagement to Lord Amberley as best she could.

  When they left, she sat down at her writing table to compose short notes to Madame Bouchard and to Penelope, reassuring them that she was safe and well, at her grandfather’s house. She would make sure they were delivered next morning.

  She got into bed, feeling restless despite the late hour. She tried to think through everything that had happened, and plan how best to escape her engagement to Lord Amberley. However, her mind stubbornly refused to concentrate, instead recalling the way he had looked, how he had touched her, the pleasure he had given her, the like of which she had never even imagined…

  She turned over, reminding herself that Amberley had seduced her in order to win Grandpapa’s fortune. Like a perfect ninny, she had woven a fantasy
about him that had nothing to do with the reality, believing him when he had all but told her he was departing on a dangerous mission for his country. She had even offered to go with him, thinking he offered her a chance for freedom and adventures she’d only imagined. Fool that she was!

  He was probably laughing at her right now, and congratulating himself for having maneuvered her into a pretense of an engagement. No doubt he hoped that once at Redwyck Hall, he would be able to charm her back into his arms.

  She was not going to allow it. She would cry off, even if it meant more years spent in suffocating dullness in this very house, with Grandpapa and Mrs. Frisby. How to avoid that fate was a far more difficult matter, and she finally drifted off, still struggling for an answer.

  She slept late into the next morning, and awoke feeling disoriented by the sight of the blue and gold bed curtains and painted furniture with which Grandpapa had furnished her room just prior to her return from Miss Stratton’s school. It was almost as if her masquerade, the time she had spent living at Madame Bouchard’s house, and her association with Lord Dare had all been an outlandish dream. Sitting up, she caught a flash of reddish gold hair reflected in the mirror across the room. No, it had not been a dream. Once again images and sensations from the previous night assailed her as her traitorous body tingled with remembered delight.

  Then she remembered what Lord Amberley had done, and why, and she burned again, this time with fury at the trap that he had laid for her. Resolutely, she got out of bed and rang for Polly to help her dress.

  “Good morning, Miss,” said Polly, smiling far too cheerfully as she brought in a cup of steaming chocolate a few minutes later.

  Juliana resisted the impulse to ask Polly what was good about it, and instead returned her maid’s greeting. As she accepted the cup of chocolate, she asked Polly the time.

  “It’s just past eleven o’clock, Miss. Mrs. Frisby and your grandfather are at church. Seeing as you were so tired last night and we have been telling everyone you’ve been sick, they decided to let you sleep. Breakfast is still laid out in the parlor, if you fancy some.”