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

by Brenda Hiatt

“But I have no riding habit,” she objected.

  “Mrs. Smith, a widow in the village, makes most of Mama’s and Lucy’s clothes. I am sure she would be happy to make you a riding habit. Or if you wish for something more modish, we could convey you to Gloucester where there are no doubt some more fashionable dressmakers.”

  “I would be happy to deal with Mrs. Smith, but—”

  “Don’t worry so much, Miss Hutton. You need not feel yourself under an obligation for a few riding lessons. You are a guest in my house, and it is my duty to see you are properly entertained. Will you allow me to do that much, at least?”

  She nodded, realizing that further objections would only make her look foolish.

  “Good. I look forward to teaching you,” he said, his eyes alight with anticipation. She looked away, so he would not see the devastating affect his smile had upon her.

  They had nearly reached the drawing room, and she realized that the attempted seduction she had looked for had not occurred. Was this Amberley’s way of lulling her suspicions? Or was he indeed a man of honor?

  Surely the upcoming days and weeks would reveal the truth.

  If nothing else, she would learn to ride!

  Chapter Twelve

  Grandpapa stood at the top of the steps, beaming, as Juliana descended to meet Lord Amberley, who waited beside the placid dun cob harnessed to his gig. Amberley smiled, and helped her up into the carriage. As he climbed in and took up the reins, she waved back to Grandpapa. Then they were off.

  Despite its lazy appearance, the cob trotted on smartly, and the gig bounded over the rutted drive. Juliana was not accustomed to riding in open carriages, but liked the feeling of the wind on her face. It served to cool her blushes as she discovered that a light gig such as this one had barely room for two persons. With each bump in the road, she was jolted against Amberley and made keenly aware of his hard, muscular thigh and hip brushing against her own. She looked up, and saw that his face had reddened slightly as well. Perhaps it was merely the brisk spring wind.

  “I shall not overturn us, I promise you,” he said.

  “I did not think you would,” she replied, looking down. She noticed he was now attired in serviceable buckskins and a loose-fitting dark green coat, its elbows positively threadbare.

  “I see you have put off your town clothes,” she said, wondering if he did so in response to what she had said the previous night.

  “Yes. They are not at all suitable for driving down dirty lanes and calling upon tenant farmers,” he replied.

  Abashed, she fell silent. Perhaps there were good reasons why ladies should not mention a gentleman’s clothing!

  Despite his rough, provincial clothing, Amberley looked dangerously, ruggedly attractive. The color of his coat emphasized the green lights in his eyes, and there was something very fresh and manly in his demeanor as he dexterously turned the gig onto the lane leading to the village of Redwyck.

  To divert her mind from his proximity, she began to question him about all she saw. As they drove past fields and pastures, Amberley described to her the crops and breeds of sheep being raised in each. She had no means of judging his expertise and could only pose the most novice questions, but he did seem extremely knowledgeable and answered her questions respectfully.

  After about half-an-hour spent in this fashion, he drew up before a rambling farmhouse.

  “We are going to visit my tenants, the Coles. I sent word for them to expect us,” he said, descending from the gig and helping her down before securing the cob.

  Before she had even alighted, a middle-aged couple with honest, kind faces hurried out from the house. They welcomed them politely, but Juliana could see they could barely contain their curiosity as they looked at her. Like the staff at Redwyck Hall, they were eager to see the heiress Lord Amberley had chosen for his bride, and discover how she would affect their lot.

  Mrs. Cole invited them in, shyly offering them tea and scones. Juliana accepted politely, and sat down with Amberley and the Coles in their small parlor. The men began to discuss lambing, and Mrs. Cole, relaxing in response to Juliana’s friendly manner and praise of her scones, took the opportunity to offer her good wishes on her approaching nuptials.

  Their visit was short, Amberley telling the Coles that he wished to show her the village before returning to Redwyck Hall.

  The Coles saw them out, rendering Juliana uncomfortable with all their congratulations and good wishes on the upcoming marriage.

  “I hope you enjoyed your visit,” said Amberley as they drove off once more.

  “The Coles seem to be excellent people,” she replied.

  “Sam Cole is the best of my tenants. Would that they were all so. The tenancy agreements drawn up by my uncle’s steward leave much to be desired.”

  “In what way?”

  “To keep land in good heart, one must rotate crops, raising a different crop each year for every three or four years, and occasionally leaving fields fallow for a season. Some landlords often include a provision that the tenant farmer must follow such practices. Longer leases also help, since that discourages the tenant from exhausting the land for a quick profit. My uncle’s steward was not so astute. If I could, I would buy back some of the leases.”

  “What would you do then?”

  “I’d offer those farms to Sam Cole’s sons. He has two. Both served on the Peninsula, and since then they’ve been helping him. I would be happy to help them to farms of their own. In the long term, it would be to my advantage to have such trustworthy tenants.”

  She sat silently thinking over all he had said. It began to seem possible that all he had said about himself was true.

  “My apologies, Miss Hutton. I see I have bored you.”

  “No, not at all. I find it quite interesting. Do you think I am not capable of understanding the business of farming?”

  “Not at all. I suspect you have inherited your share of your grandfather’s acuity.”

  She wondered if he mocked her, or found her interest in business demeaning, but there was no trace of it in his voice.

  After they negotiated a bend through a small grove of trees, the village of Redwyck came into sight. It seemed to consist mainly of several curving rows of cottages, all built of the same honey-colored stone as Redwyck Hall. Like the Hall, some of the stonework seemed in need of repair, but overall the image was quite charming. Most of the cottages boasted a narrow line of spring flowers in front, and appeared to have more extensive gardens behind.

  “Those are allotment gardens,” Amberley explained, noticing her gaze. “I own most of this land, and have allocated these plots for the cottagers’ use. When times are hard, a few cabbages and turnips can make a great difference.”

  Her gaze then turned to some children running about the green. Their clothes were ragged, and several were barefoot, but they played with all the abandon of healthy young animals.

  “Those are some of the farm laborers’ children. I’ve tried to discourage too great a use of children in the fields. Much as I like seeing them play, I wish I could institute a village school. I don’t expect that farm work will provide enough occupation in coming years for all the children being born here. A rudimentary education might prepare them for other positions.”

  A ball suddenly flew out from the group of children, landing in Juliana’s lap. The children turned as one to stare up at the carriage, wide eyed, perhaps fearing punishment. She tossed the ball back to them, and smiled, but the burden of responsibility weighed on her. Even though she had never penetrated into the poorer areas of London, she had seen too many ragged and hungry children on its streets. She had urged Grandpapa to contribute to a number of worthy charities, but had always felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of the problem. This was different. Here, she could make a real difference, if only she did what was expected of her, and married Amberley. Was she terribly selfish to feel that her independence was a huge price to pay?

  Marcus drove back toward Amberley, trying
not to steal glances at Miss Hutton. She sat silently, evidently deep in thought over all she had seen, all he had told her. Her delightful form beside his had nearly driven him to distraction, but by droning on about farming, he had managed to control the urge to pull her close. Now he wondered what she really thought, whether her interest in his concerns was real or feigned. She was not unaffected by the poverty she had seen, of that much he was certain.

  A pang of guilt shot through him. It was unfair to burden her with his troubles, but he could not help doing so. If only she would learn to trust him, so he could tell her how he loved her. So she would understand that he wished to make her happiness just as she could make his…

  The next morning, Juliana accompanied Mrs. Redwyck into the village to be fitted for a riding habit. Although she enjoyed Mrs. Redwyck’s conversation, she tried to hold the lady at arm’s length, determined not to raise any false expectations by becoming too familiar. The party reconvened for a cold nuncheon, and as on the previous day, Amberley’s sister was nowhere to be found. The earl looked annoyed, but Juliana told herself it was just as well; the last thing she wanted was to be drawn into the Redwyck family circle.

  Afterwards, Lord Amberley took her for another drive about the estate. Try as she would, she still could not sit in such close proximity with him and be unaffected, but she did her best to maintain her composure. Now he showed her lands farmed by some of his less favorite tenants, and she felt more troubled than she had the day before at seeing the hovels in which those tenants’ laborers dwelt.

  Finally, they turned down a lane, following a signpost to Upper Tilden. Before they had gone far, however, she felt Amberley stiffen beside her. Then she saw a smart phaeton coming their way, bearing two persons. As they came closer, she saw it was a man of early middle age, with pale hair and a handsome face marred by lines of dissipation, and a pretty younger woman with brown curls who was obviously in the family way.

  “Good day, Amberley,” said the gentleman as the carriages drew abreast of each other in the narrow lane. His polite words were belied by his expression. Instinctively, Juliana did not trust him, and when Amberley replied, she knew why.

  “Good day, Bentwood, Lady Bentwood,” he said in a carefully modulated voice.

  So it was Sir Barnaby Bentwood, Charles Bentwood’s older brother. No wonder she had detected a resemblance.

  “We hear we must congratulate you. Will you introduce us to your lovely bride-to-be?”

  The couple stared at her curiously as Amberley introduced her. Lady Bentwood’s critical gaze reminded Juliana of the unflattering combination of cap and bonnet she was obliged to wear. She lifted her chin and coolly answered their polite nothings, sensing that the couple were displeased to see her. She wondered why.

  “Have you decided on a date for the happy event?” asked Sir Bentwood, his hard-eyed gaze on them both.

  “Not yet,” said Amberley, in a light tone, though she felt the muscles in his thigh bunch with tension.

  A glance flickered between the other couple. Clearly the Bentwoods hoped to discover just how happy she and Amberley were in their engagement. She decided that she did not want them to guess any more than he did.

  “I am shocked, my lord,” said Lady Bentwood. “I should have thought you would rush to secure such a treasure.”

  “I have no desire to rush Miss Hutton into anything,” said Amberley.

  “Of course, you must be taking the opportunity to completely redecorate the Hall, and purchase your bride-clothes,” said Lady Bentwood.

  “In truth, I think Redwyck Hall has a lovely antique air,” said Juliana. “I would hesitate to change it too much.”

  Lady Bentwood pouted for a moment, before changing the subject. “Do you not find it a dreadful bore to be in the country at this time? We only left London because dear Sir Barnaby thinks rural air is better for my health.” She patted her stomach suggestively and gave her husband a coy smile. He did not look amused.

  She looked back toward Juliana and said, “Of course we all know how dear Lord Amberley loves the country. I am sure you will learn to feel the same.”

  “I have lived all my life in London,” she replied. “I find being in the country a refreshing change.”

  Amberley relaxed a trifle.

  “Now we must be on our way,” he said, “or I will not have time to finish showing Juliana around my lands.”

  They made their farewells, Lady Bentwood promising to call upon her soon. As the other couple drove off, Juliana stole a glance at Amberley and saw that his expression was sober.

  “They did not seem pleased to see me,” she ventured.

  “Sir Barnaby holds the mortgage on my lands. He stands to make a greater profit if I default. So you see, you are all that stands between him and the land he wishes to acquire.”

  “It explains a great deal,” she said, though she sensed that Amberley was not telling her everything.

  “I must thank you for not making your feelings toward me apparent.”

  “Oh, I had not the slightest desire to satisfy their curiosity. A delightful couple, all in all.”

  He chuckled in response to her sarcasm, then said, “I am surprised you had not met them before. They usually spend the entire Season in London.”

  “No, I have not met them. I have had the pleasure of meeting Sir Barnaby’s brother Charles, in Brighton.”

  “Oh?”

  Conscious of his gaze intent upon her, she replied, “Yes. Charles Bentwood was the first to show me the lengths a gentleman might go to to secure an heiress.”

  “I assume you mean he tried to compromise you into marriage,” he replied, in a tight voice. “I’ve told you before, I am not such a blackguard. I acted out of pure passion for you, nothing more. And nothing less.”

  Suddenly she felt breathless. He had treated her with such restraint for the past several days that she had just begun to forget all he had done the night she had run away from the Opera House.

  “Yes, that is exactly what Charles Bentwood said when my maid Polly came to my rescue,” she said, to hide her confusion.

  The glow she thought she’d seen in his eyes faded. Perhaps she’d imagined it. Perhaps his attraction to her had withered, after all. Some men were like that, she’d heard, fascinated by women of easy morals but indifferent to ladies of character.

  She looked away, studying the village they were just entering. The contrast between it and Redwyck was shocking. Here the buildings were in an even greater state of disrepair, there were no allotment gardens, and the few children she saw were not only ragged, but thin and dirty as well.

  “Sir Barnaby owns most of this village,” said Amberley in response to her distressed look.

  “Is that why you brought me here? So I could see what will befall Redwyck if I do not marry you?”

  His jaw tightened briefly before he replied.

  “No, that was not my intent. I only wished to show you the border of my lands. But,” he continued, looking down at her, “you are here to learn about me. You must understand it is my duty to care for my dependents, and that I must use any fair means at my disposal to do so.”

  His words were ruthless, but his tone pleaded for her understanding. Suddenly, she no longer believed him guilty of trying to trap her into marriage. Only a man of honor would care so for his tenants, and a man of honor would not stoop to so vile a scheme. She sensed he would go to almost any lengths to prevent the Bentwoods from seizing his estates. She could not blame him. She even wished she could help.

  A new, bold idea began to form in her mind.

  She arose early the following morning, restless, knowing she was on the verge of a momentous decision. She got out of bed and crossed to the window. It was very early; a morning mist still shrouded the gardens below her window. A movement below caught her eye; looking down, she saw Lord Amberley walking briskly to the right, toward a grove of trees that grew just beyond the garden. The sight reminded her of how he had spent part of each
day of their journey walking to take the stiffness out of his bad leg. Once again, she wondered how the injury had occurred, and whether it pained him much. She would ask him later today.

  As he disappeared into the woods, she realized just how her image of him had changed in the past few days. He now seemed less like a cold-hearted fortune hunter, and more like an intelligent, honorable man determined to do his duty despite formidable challenges.

  Of course, that still did not mean she loved him, or wished to be bound to him in marriage.

  After breakfast, Mrs Redwyck and her daughter departed on an errand to visit a sick pensioner, and Juliana once again joined Grandpapa and Lord Amberley in his lordship’s study, to continue studying his accounts. After yesterday’s perusal of the estate books, she was not surprised that neither she nor Grandpapa could find any error in his calculations, or the slightest evidence of waste or extravagance.

  Late in the morning, they were interrupted by Critchley, the butler, who brought word that Lady Bentwood had come to call on Miss Hutton.

  “She awaits you in the drawing room, Miss,” he said, a hint of disapproval in his voice.

  “Thank you, I will go to her,” she replied, smiling at Critchley, who permitted himself to smile back.

  Before she left, she saw a worried look cross over Lord Amberley’s face as well. No doubt he, like Critchley, feared that Lady Bentwood had some scheme to prevent their marriage.

  “Good morning, Lady Bentwood,” she said, as she entered the large though sparsely furnished room where her visitor waited. “I had not expected you to visit so soon.”

  “Oh, I could not keep away,” said Lady Bentwood. “There is so much we have in common, after all.”

  Juliana seated herself in a hard chair across from the sofa her visitor had chosen, and raised her eyebrows. “We do?”

  “I must confess to you that there was a time when I too cherished a—a particular fondness for Lord Amberley.”

  “Indeed.”

  Lady Bentwood sighed wistfully. “Of course, it was but a youthful romance, doomed to failure. My dowry was not sufficient to satisfy his lordship’s needs, you see. I am so relieved he has found a more suitable bride.”