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

by Brenda Hiatt

  Marcus had called her insatiable, but in the succeeding days, Juliana decided the term could as well be applied to her loving husband. After that fateful picnic, he continued to be as charming and passionate as ever, and amazingly inventive. He made love to her in her bedchamber and his, in the library, even in a secluded corner of the gardens, and taught her the many ways lovers could please each other.

  It occurred to her that she might already be carrying Marcus’s child, although it was far too early to tell. The prospect filled her with both fear and wonder. Although she enjoyed talking to the villagers’ children and hearing their quaint views on life, she had so little experience of children. What sort of mother would she be? And how would a child affect the life she and Marcus were just beginning to plan together?

  When she was alone with Marcus, encircled in his loving arms, her worries retreated. He loved her, and she knew now that she loved him. Whatever came, they would face it together. Together, they would find a way to be happy.

  As for Marcus, he had never known such a blissful period. No longer burdened with debt, or troubled by pain, with a beautiful wife by his side and in his bed, he knew he was the luckiest of men.

  “You are holding me entirely too closely, Marcus! It is not proper.”

  Marcus did not relax his hold one iota, as he twirled his wife in a small circle in the library, where they had gone after dinner several weeks after beginning their true marriage.

  “You are my wife. Can I not dance with you as I please?”

  She pursed her lips adorably. “Everyone will be scandalized. You know that fashionable couples do not sit in each other’s pockets.”

  “Are you suggesting we emulate, let us say, the Bentwoods?”

  “Heaven forbid! Very well, hold me as you wish. But this is still not the correct way to perform the waltz. Mind your steps, please.”

  “How can I, with such a beauty in my arms?” he asked, letting his gaze rove down from her face to her décolletage, where the sapphire brooch he had just given her for the second time sparkled between the curves of her breasts.

  “I told you you were holding me too closely,” she scolded, but her lower lip quivered with suppressed laughter.

  There was nothing to do but to kiss it.

  “Marcus! Do you want to learn how to waltz, or not?”

  “As you wish, my lady,” he said, and returned his attention to his steps.

  Every movement was a joy. Juliana’s treatments had dramatically reduced his pain, although he suspected that his leg would never quite regain its original resilience. He would never shine on a ballroom floor, either, but what did it matter how well he danced, as long as he could do it with Juliana? Taking the time to try to learn the steps only enhanced the anticipation of the delightful way the lesson was likely to end.

  They took a few more turns about the library, until he could no longer bear the temptation of his wife’s sweet form pressed against him. He guided her over against a wall, as if by accident, and silenced her protests with a kiss.

  Then he heard a faint knock on the door. Annoyed, he looked toward the door, wondering what could be important enough to interrupt them, and at such an hour.

  The knocking came again, more loudly.

  “Come in,” he said, relaxing his hold on his wife, noting with regret her bright eyes and flushed cheeks. Perhaps, once he’d dealt with the interruption, they could resume what they had begun.

  “Mr. Hutton, my lord,” said Critchley, in an apologetic tone, before ushering in his grandfather-in-law. Mr. Hutton looked well. There was a twinkle in his eye as he eyed Marcus and Juliana.

  “Grandpapa!” Juliana exclaimed, and Marcus released her so she could greet her grandfather.

  “My little Juliana,” said Mr. Hutton, enfolding her in a hearty embrace before looking up at Marcus. “Good day, Amberley. Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve something to tell you that wouldn’t have been right to put in a mere letter.”

  “You are always welcome, sir,” said Marcus. “I trust they are preparing a room for you?”

  Mr. Hutton nodded.

  “Have you dined, Grandpapa? Or do you care for some tea?” asked Juliana.

  “Some tea would be most welcome, my dear,” he said.

  After giving orders to Critchley, Juliana bestowed her grandfather in the most comfortable chair in the room, and curled up on the floor beside it, still holding his hand. Marcus took the opposite chair, glad to see the two of them so easy with each other. It had disturbed him to see them at odds over Hutton’s matchmaking. They were too alike, he reflected. Strong-willed, stubborn, but amazingly generous toward those they cared for.

  “So, what is it you came all the way from London to tell us, Grandpapa?” asked Juliana.

  “In point of fact, I have come from Bath.”

  “Did you see Mrs. Frisby? Is she well?”

  “Very well indeed,” he said. “That is what I wanted to tell you. A few days ago I offered Mrs. Frisby my hand in marriage, and she accepted. We were married yesterday.”

  Juliana stared up at him for a stunned moment, then smiled.

  “How delightful! But it is so sudden. Why did you not tell us, so we could have attended the wedding?”

  “At our age we saw no reason to wait, my dear, and we know how busy you are here. With the estate, of course.”

  Marcus realized Hutton had not wanted to interfere with their honeymoon any more than was necessary.

  “I am very happy for you both,” said Juliana. “Dear Mrs. Frisby will take the greatest care of you, I know.”

  “I’m not senile, child. I don’t need a nursemaid,” said Hutton. “It is just that I missed her company. She says she missed mine, too.”

  “You should have brought her with you, sir,” said Marcus.

  “You know you are both always welcome here.”

  “Thank you, m’lord. We will do that sometime. But I must be off to Bath tomorrow, so we can get back to London. Business waits for no man, you know.”

  “Well, I wish you very happy.”

  “Most kind of you, Amberley. By the way, you needn’t worry about Juliana’s inheritance. Of course I will arrange a generous jointure for my wife, but the greatest part of my fortune will go to the both of you and your children.”

  “It is of no consequence, sir,” he protested. “You have done enough for us already.”

  Juliana was glad to see the tea tray arrive, for she knew Grandpapa’s references to their money made Marcus uncomfortable. She poured out tea, then excused herself, to seek out Mrs. Critchley and tell her exactly what Grandpapa would like for breakfast. At the foot of the staircase, she met the efficient housekeeper, who had come to ask just what arrangements should be made for his comfort. After a mere five minutes, Juliana turned back toward the library. She had not gone halfway down the hall that led to it when she heard Grandpapa’s voice once more. It was a shame his hearing was not what it once was, but he never could be convinced that he spoke too loudly.

  “—never seen Juliana so glowing. Could she be—but I suppose it is too soon to know.”

  She sighed. She should have known Grandpapa would be so eager to learn if she was increasing.

  Marcus said something in reply, but she could not catch his words. She paused, waiting for a less embarrassing point to return to them.

  “Ah well, plenty of time for that! Of course, Plumbrook tells me you’re the last of your line, so of course you must be anxious to be setting up your nursery.”

  She stopped now, as Grandpapa’s words sank in. Was Marcus desperate for an heir? Now that she thought about it, none of the relations that had come to the wedding had borne the name Redwyck. Why had Marcus not told her? Perhaps he’d feared she would misconstrue his motives for telling her he loved her, and so kept silent about the succession. She clung to the thought.

  She wished she could hear what Marcus said in response, but if she went any further, they would see her from the doorway.

  “I
have some other good news for you,” Grandpapa continued. “While redeeming your mortgage from that rascal Bentwood, I made a few inquiries. It seems his brother lost a fortune at some gaming hell, and Bentwood’s all to pieces trying to pay it off. His wife spends too freely as well, which is why they left London a few months ago.”

  He paused. Juliana wondered if perhaps this was a good moment to return. Then Grandpapa spoke again.

  “Well, the long and short of it is that I’ve bought up a good portion of his own lands, everything that was unentailed. I’d like to make a present of it to you. You’re a clever lad; I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it profitable.”

  She could not quite make out Marcus’s reply, though she hoped he protested the gift.

  “No, no, I insist,” said Grandpapa. “Think of it as my way of thanking you for all you’ve done. I don’t mind telling you, before you came along I was fretting myself to flinders over that granddaughter of mine. She’d got some rather wild notions in that pretty head of hers. Now I see you’ve given her better things to think about.”

  A heaviness descended on Juliana’s chest as she suddenly remembered the arrangement she’d heard Grandpapa and Marcus make the morning after she had been discovered in Marcus’s townhouse. How could she have forgotten?

  But Marcus had had no choice at the time, her heart protested. He’d had to court her or see his lands and people fall under Sir Barnaby’s control. This new development must be just another of Grandpapa’s generous schemes. Marcus could not have known about it, could not have planned it. He loved her, and nothing else mattered.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, hating herself for being so suspicious, at the same time shaken by the fear that Marcus had played her for a fool all along. All his sweet words, all his passionate lovemaking… were they all just part of the bargain he had made with Grandpapa?

  No. It could not be true. Could it?

  She realized the men had gone on to speak of estate business. It was time she rejoined them, but she could not decide what to do. Should she confront them, show her anger and hurt over the scheme they had arranged? What good would it do? It might distress Grandpapa, and possibly turn him against Marcus. No, she would have to speak to Marcus first, privately, and try to discover the truth.

  She took a deep breath, forced a smile to her lips, and walked into the library. Fortunately, Grandpapa confessed that he was tired after his travels, and wanted nothing better than to be conducted to his bedchamber. She conducted him to his room and kissed him on the cheek, then went to her bedchamber, knowing Marcus would soon join her there.

  She struggled to hide her agitation from Polly, who chattered as usual while helping her prepare for bed. She slipped between the sheets, but as soon as Polly had gone, she got back out. She could not start this encounter in bed, wearing only a cloud of lace and gauze.

  She pulled on a satin dressing gown, set her candle down on the table by one of the tall windows, and sat down in one of the blue and yellow striped chairs that flanked the table. A moment later, Marcus knocked, as he always did, with a respect for her privacy that she had found touching.

  She bade him come in, and he entered. A lump rose to her throat. He was too handsome, too utterly desirable, in a dark green dressing gown that revealed the strong contours of his neck and chest. He looked grave, no doubt wondering why she did not await him in bed, as usual.

  “I trust they’ve done everything to make your grandfather comfortable,” he said, sitting down in the opposite chair.

  “Yes, of course,” she said, clasping her hands in her lap, glad they were too far apart for him to touch her.

  “I think he is very happy in his new marriage.”

  “Yes. They will be good companions for each other. I did not like the idea of him living alone in Russell Square, with only his servants for company.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, while Juliana tried to think how to ask Marcus about the conversation she’d overheard.

  “Is something troubling you?” he asked softly. “I think I can guess what it is. Did you overhear what your grandfather said to me earlier, while we thought you were with Mrs. Critchley?”

  She nodded, a little relieved by his openness.

  “What exactly did you hear, darling?”

  “I heard him say that—that you need an heir, or your title will die out. It is true, isn’t it?”

  He looked down, his expression sober. “Yes, I am the last of my name, and it is my duty to try to ensure the succession.”

  Duty. He’d used that word to her before, when talking of the need to provide for his dependents. Duty, after all, was why he had married her.

  “But that isn’t the only reason—or even the most important reason—why I said I wanted a true marriage,” he said. “Do you believe me?”

  “I—I want to believe you.”

  Disappointment flickered in his eyes.

  “I suppose that is a start,” he said, and sighed. “Do you have other reasons to doubt me?”

  “Can you deny that you made a bargain with Grandpapa, that he would redeem your mortgage if you convinced me to marry you?”

  His face froze in an expression of guilt.

  “Your grandfather did offer me such a bargain, but indeed, I never wanted to be anything but honest with you. I always had every intention of making you happy.”

  “So you had planned all this, even before you’d met me.” She choked back sudden tears; she would not let him see her cry.

  “No! It was my duty, but—”

  “Yes! It was your duty,” she said, jumping up from her chair. “Your duty to make me happy, to make me believe that you loved me, to—to keep me content, and busy, and b-breeding…”

  She stumbled away to the other side of the room, half-choking with anger, pain and humiliation at the memory of all that had passed between them. All the wanton, intimate acts she had so eagerly allowed him to teach her. Had it all been part of a scheme to win her compliance?

  “Juliana!” he protested. His chair creaked, and she realized he had arisen and was coming up behind her.

  “Juliana,” he said softly. “I love you. The past few weeks have been the most glorious of my life. Can you not believe me?”

  He put his arms around her, from behind. She tried to stay perfectly still, tried to ignore the heat of his body behind her, the strength of his hands clasped at her waist. But as always when he touched her, it was as if a fire had been lit somewhere inside her. If she allowed it to spread, it might consume her. She twisted out of his grasp and turned to face him, feeding her anger so she would not cast herself onto his chest.

  “Yes, I know you enjoyed it all. No doubt you are like all the others. I know what they all said. At last, an heiress who is not an antidote. Bedding her will not be an ordeal. Well, I am glad you found your duty so pleasurable, my lord!”

  Now he stood still, his face stark with pain. Her heart tore. Was she wrong? What had she done?

  “Is that what you think it all meant to me?” he asked, his breathing labored.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  “If you haven’t learned by now to trust me, to know how much I love you, I—I don’t know how we can ever hope to be happy.”

  She looked down, aching, wondering if she had ruined everything, and yet still tormented by doubts. How could she think she loved him, if she could not trust him?

  “I’m sorry, darling!” he said, his softened voice nearly melting her. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’ve had so little time to adjust to everything. What reason have you to believe me, when you and your grandfather have given me everything? All I can give you in return is my love. My self. Give me some time. Let me try to prove it to you somehow.”

  He took a step toward her, and once again she felt the heat stir inside her, confusing her, blinding her. She backed away.

  “No! When you touch me, when you look at me like that, I cannot think,” she said, turning away from him. �
��From the first time you asked me to kiss you, you’ve managed to seduce me into doing your will. I can’t let you do so now.”

  “What can I do, then?”

  The desperation in his voice nearly overset her,

  “Nothing. I must leave you, Marcus.”

  Marcus stared at his wife’s rigid back. Her words struck him like a blow to the chest. Did she mean them? If he took her in his arms, carried her to the bed and buried himself inside her, could he change her mind? Perhaps, if he tried hard enough, he could make her yield, melt her resistance…

  He took a step forward, then stopped, realizing that even if he succeeded in arousing her passions tonight, she would hate him for it later. But how could he bear to let her go?

  The past weeks with her had brought him greater joy than he’d ever known. He’d forgotten that he’d done nothing to deserve his good fortune. He’d been so lost in bliss that he hadn’t even noticed that she’d never said she loved him. If she left, she might decide her feelings for him were just a fleeting passion. He would have no way of proving that his own feelings were sincere.

  A chill swept over him. There was no way to prove his love. Not even the legendary family charm could help him now. He had no choice but to let her go.

  And pray every day that she would return.

  “Very well,” he said. “You are free to go. I stand by my promises. Will you at least tell me where you are going?”

  Her voice was strained as she said, “To visit Catherine. She is near her time, now. We can tell everyone that she asked for me to come to her.”

  At least she did not want everyone to know about the rift between them. It was a cold comfort.

  “And—will you return?”

  He braced himself for her answer, but it cut him like a slowly twisting knife.

  “I don’t know.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Juliana traveled north in the expensive, luxurious chaise Grandpapa had bought for her and Marcus, attended by Polly, driven by a new but very reliable coachman, and greeted obsequiously at the best inns along the way. Despite all the comforts surrounding her, the journey seemed long and dreary.