Timeless Regency Collection: Autumn Masquerade

by Josi S. Kilpack

Gregory blinked. “Yes, Your Grace. You yourself have helped me with crop techniques, my tenants are hardworking, and we turn a modest profit every year.”

  “So, you aren’t destitute?”

  “No, Your Grace.”

  “Has anyone ever accused you of being a fortune hunter?”

  Mr. Gregory stepped back in surprise. “No, Your Grace.”

  “And you aren’t a rake? You don’t gamble or drink excessively or trifle with women?”

  “Oh, no, Your Grace.” He looked more horrified with every question.

  Suttenberg paced across the floor amid a plethora of tropical plants, enjoying himself but trying to look grim and thoughtful. “So, you have much to offer a wife?”

  “I...” Gregory trailed off. “I think so, but that depends on the lady.”

  Suttenberg nodded. “I understand that you have formed an attachment for the duchess.”

  After another glance at Mother, Mr. Gregory drew himself up and spoke to them both. “Yes, Your Grace. I have loved the duchess for years.”

  “Did you declare yourself?”

  He hung his head. “As much as I want to, no. I know when I’d be reaching too far above me.”

  Suttenberg turned to his mother. “Do you love him?”

  “Yes,” Mother almost sobbed.

  “Do you care about his rank or his wealth?”

  “No.”

  “Would you marry him if he asked you—if I gave my blessing?”

  She looked like a child about to reach for a longed-for gift. “Yes.”

  “Then for heaven’s sakes, Gregory, you have my blessing. Will you two just get married and stop mooning over each other?”

  Mr. Gregory and the duchess ran into each other’s arms. Suttenberg turned away to give them privacy.

  The duchess’s voice stopped him. “Bennett.”

  He froze. She hadn’t called him by his Christian name in years.

  She gave him a dazzling smile. “Perhaps you ought to take your own advice, son. If love is good enough for me, it’s good enough for you, as well.”

  He paused with his brows raised.

  “I believe there is a lovely girl in the other room, perhaps without all the qualities one would expect from a duchess, but with many qualities desirable in a wife—a girl you can’t seem to keep your eyes off of.” She smiled as she rested her head on Gregory’s shoulder.

  Suttenberg made no comment as he left the conservatory. He shouldn’t be surprised Mother had noticed his preference for Hannah Palmer, despite his attempts to keep his feelings hidden. She was right; Hannah might not be as cool and poised as some believed a duchess must be, but she was in possession of every character trait he most admired. And he loved her. He should take his own advice.

  He sought out Lord and Lady Tarrington, inviting them to join him in the library. They eyed him curiously as he paced. “I have a problem. I have fallen in love with Hannah. I asked her to marry me yesterday—I hope you will forgive me for not seeking your permission first—but she refused. She said she’s not the kind of person who would make a good duchess. But I cannot let her go. And I believe she has feelings for me, as well.”

  Tarrington grinned. “Permission granted. But she must willingly agree to marry you; I won’t coerce her.”

  “Nor would I want you to, of course. Lady Tarrington?”

  She narrowed her gaze. “You kissed her again, didn’t you?”

  He gulped. “I did. I can’t seem to control myself around her. She is the most wonderful, remarkable, genuine lady I have ever met, and I am quite hopelessly in love with her.”

  The Countess of Tarrington stepped forward and raised her hand.

  He tensed.

  She patted his cheek and smiled. “Then go and woo her—gently.”

  He almost shouted his happiness. After giving instructions to the nearest servants, he practically raced to the drawing room where the other guests gathered. “Ladies and gentlemen, I suggest we dance. Miss Blackwood, since you are such an accomplished pianist, will you play for us? Begin with a waltz, if you please.”

  Without any expression, even surprise at the request for a waltz at the beginning of the evening, the cold beauty stood and went immediately to the piano. The gentlemen helped servants push furniture to the edges of the room and roll up the carpets to transform the drawing room into a small ballroom.

  Suttenberg went to Hannah and held out a hand. “Dance with me, my Aphrodite, I beg you.”

  She blinked, and a slow smile curved her delicious lips. Her chin lifted, and her posture straightened. “I’m not certain I ought to dance with a mere mortal such as you at two different balls.”

  “Then I thank you from the bottom of my heart that you have deemed me worthy of your divine presence once again.”

  As he took her in dance position, his body sighed as if finding its missing parts. She slipped completely into the goddess role and moved with him with all of his Aphrodite’s grace and poise.

  While he spun her around the room, contentment and joy wrapped around him. “You know, a goddess could easily play the role of duchess.”

  Her façade slipped for a second. “A goddess does whatever she wants. A duchess has to obey society laws and have large parties and ride horses.”

  “A duchess doesn’t have to do anything. Most view her as almost a goddess.”

  “But she’s expected to follow certain conventions. And a duke needs a duchess who will.”

  “Not this duke.”

  Her eyes widened, but he said nothing further. Instead, he kept conversation on lighter matters, flirting with her as he had at the masque and enjoying her flirting in return.

  As the dance ended and they bowed and curtsied, he took her hand. “Take a turn about the gardens with me?”

  She went still, considering.

  He held his breath. If she refused, he’d try again and again. He would not lose her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hannah paused. Did she dare go outside alone with Bennett? He had a habit of kissing her when they were alone, unless she was limping.

  She glanced at her sister, who smiled so broadly at her that a light seemed to come from her. “You appear to have won over my sister,” Hannah said.

  “At least she didn’t slap me this time. I’ll have to tread more lightly around your family—very strong women. Katherine would be proud.”

  She smiled at the reference to the Shakespearean characters they’d discussed. She could apologize for her sister’s conduct, but apologizing for the actions of a countess seemed presumptuous. Besides, at the time he’d deserved it. She settled for giving him a saucy grin that would have pleased Aphrodite.

  As Bennett led her outside, Hannah inhaled the chill, earthy air. A bright moon bathed the gardens in a soft glow. Their feet crunched in a carpet of fallen leaves. The pale patch in his hair seemed to glow in the semidarkness.

  Chill bumps peppered her arms. “Perhaps I should have gotten a shawl.”

  He took off his coat and draped it around her shoulders. “Don’t go in just yet, please.”

  She cocked her head, as daring as she’d been on the night of the masque. “Are you going to kiss me again?”

  “Most certainly. But first I must tell you something. I love you.”

  Her breath stilled. He loved her? Despite all her shortcomings?

  He took both of her hands in his. “I want you at my side wherever I go. I want to share with you my estates and introduce you to my tenants. I want to show you what London has to offer and take you to the seashore where we’ll swim together. I want to tell you what I’m thinking and feeling, knowing I can trust you to accept me as I am, a human with fears and weaknesses. I want to hold you in my arms at night and wake up with you in the morning. I want you to always be honest with me and tell me what you think.” He drew her closer, gently, as if giving her a chance to step away if she wanted. But into his arms is where she longed to go.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but h
e put a finger over her lips. “I want to get old with you. I don’t care for parties and balls; those aren’t required to serve in Parliament. And on the occasions we do attend a gathering, if you remain quiet, everyone will think you’re mysterious.”

  She latched on to the sentiment her sister had expressed once. Perhaps they were both right.

  Bennett continued, “If you only choose to surround yourself with your closest friends, people will think you are discerning. If you only have small parties, society will view them as exclusive. When you find yourself obligated to enter society, bow to the queen, and so forth, all you need to do is pretend to put on your Aphrodite mask and you’ll be perfect. The rest of the time, be your genuine self. I love you as you are.”

  He loved her. He truly loved her! And he had given such carefully worded, wise counsel that she actually dared believe him. The moment he called her Aphrodite, she automatically fell into the poise she’d adopted at the ball while in costume. So she could do it at will. Now that an expert had assured her that she had no reason to fear that she’d fail to produce an heir, her greatest fear of all, her other concerns faded away as too meaningless to consider.

  “Please, Hannah, please marry me. I promise I’ll live every day trying to make you happy.”

  A little ripple of pleasure ran over her skin at the sound of her given name uttered in his voice. She kissed his finger still over her lips.

  He removed the finger and offered a sheepish smile, but intensity, almost desperation, darkened his eyes.

  Stepping nearer, she placed a hand on his chest. His heart thumped against her palm. “Before I give you my answer, I want you to promise me something.”

  “Anything.” He ripped off his gloves and touched her face, running his fingers up and down her cheeks, a pleasantly distracting motion.

  She touched that blond patch of hair that contrasted so sharply with his dark waves. It was, indeed soft, but no softer than the rest of his hair. “Promise me you will only wear your mask of the paragon in public, and when you’re alone with me, you will be yourself.”

  He awarded her the most glorious smile she’d ever seen. “You are the only one with whom I trust to be myself, and if you call me Bennett, I will have no trouble remembering.”

  “Then I shall, Bennett. And if you can be the real you in my presence, I can be Aphrodite in public as your wife.”

  “As my duchess.”

  She smiled, no longer terrified at the thought. “As your duchess.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. The explosion of warmth and pleasure nearly took her breath away.

  The love, the sheer passion, pouring into her through his kiss transported her to a realm of joy and beauty she’d never dared dream. Every inch of her body sighed as the missing piece to the puzzle of her life fitted into place. All her life had led to this single, glorious, perfect moment. And she belonged there. With him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hannah smiled at her husband as he escorted her into the ballroom at Tarrington Castle. Though this year the Countess of Tarrington’s ball was not a masque, as last year’s had been, Hannah firmly wore her Aphrodite persona as if she were in costume. When she entered a room on the arm of the Duke of Suttenberg, such a feat came easy.

  He glanced at her, the corners of his lips curving and his eyes shining with adoration. “You look beautiful, my goddess.”

  “You are handsome as ever, my delicious mortal,” she purred.

  Abandoning his usual reserve, he broke into a broad grin.

  All eyes fixed on them, and murmurs of what a handsome couple they were, and how mysterious the duchess was, rippled around the room. Hannah only smiled. They were, indeed, a handsome couple, and she’d grown comfortable smiling mysteriously when she could think of nothing to say. As the Duchess of Suttenberg, she’d managed not to embarrass herself or her husband during the London Season, and she’d even bowed to the queen and backed away wearing a hoopskirt and train without tripping. And, if her suspicions were correct, she now carried Bennett’s child. How different she was from the girl she’d been a year ago.

  Alicia and Cole greeted them. Hannah hugged her sister, whom she now outranked—a thought that always made her shake her head at the ironies of fate. As she caught the glances of familiar faces, she nodded. Fortunately, she’d built a reputation for having little to say.

  As the duke paused to speak with someone, Mr. Hill approached. “Good evening, Duchess.”

  She turned her head slowly and said with cool reserve, “Mr. Hill.”

  “I—” He glanced at the duke. “I just wanted to congratulate you. I wish you all the best.” He smiled tentatively.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hill.”

  After casting another furtive glance at the duke, Mr. Hill bowed and backed away. Nearby, the Buchanan twins flirted with young girls barely out of the schoolroom.

  The musicians struck up the dance introduction, and Cole and Alicia headed up the line. The duke led Hannah to stand next to them. Others lined up behind them. As the dance began, Hannah smiled at her husband, admiring the grace with which he moved, the beauty of his face, the signature blond shock of hair surrounded by dark waves. Sometimes she still could hardly believe he was hers.

  As the set ended, he grinned mischievously at her. She knew that grin. Trying to keep a silly smile off her face, she went with him into the library. Bennett tugged her into his arms and kissed her so thoroughly she wasn’t sure she could continue standing.

  After he ended the kiss, he chuckled. “I couldn’t help myself. You looked so tempting, I just couldn’t resist.”

  “How very fortunate for me.” She put a hand on either side of his face and caressed his cheeks. “And now, allow me not to resist.”

  She kissed him until he groaned. “Aphrodite, you must leave off or I won’t be able to go back into that room full of people. I am only a mortal, after all. There is a limit to my endurance.”

  “I’m counting on that,” she said huskily.

  They cast off their masks of the duke and the goddess and spent a few minutes together as just Bennett and Hannah, the happiest people at the Autumn Ball.

  Other Works by Donna Hatch:

  Click on the covers to visit Donna’s Amazon author page

  Donna Hatch is the award-winning author of the best-selling "Rogue Hearts Series." She discovered her writing passion at the tender age of 8 and has been listening to those voices ever since. A sought-after workshop presenter, she juggles her day job, freelance editing, multiple volunteer positions, not to mention her six children (seven, counting her husband), and still manages to make time to write. Yes, writing IS an obsession. A native of Arizona, she and her husband of over twenty years are living proof that there really is a happily ever after.

  Visit Donna’s website: http://DonnaHatch.com/

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  Chapter One

  Penelope Timely used two hands to steady the piece of paper she read for a second, and then a third, time. The words swam in a jumbled mass the longer she stared at the paper, and she eventually lowered it to her lap, meeting a gaze identical to her own. Her twin sister stared at her, mouth agape, green eyes wide, dark golden curls hung in suspended animation before Persephone finally blinked and closed her mouth.

  “Well, you’ll have to go in my place, Penny.” Persephone nodded as if the matter were good and settled. She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “That way I shall have plenty of time to spend with Gilroy, and Aunt Millicent will be none the wiser.”

  Penelope gaped in outrage, searching for words that were, for once in her life, absent. She blinked and looked at the paper again. “The duke wants to meet you, Persephone; he thinks he’s been corresponding with you.”

  “Well, but he hasn’t been, now has he?” Persephone pulled a chair close to Penelope’s and flounced into it. She took the letter from Penelope’s nerveless fingers and smacked it on the kitchen table with an impressive thwack. “He�
��s been corresponding with you, so therefore it’s you he must meet.”

  “I only did this for your sake,” Penelope snapped and, at Persephone’s wild-eyed censure at her vocal volume, lowered her voice to a furious whisper. “I wrote to him because you begged me to and said that, as we would never, ever meet the man, it hardly signified which of us was the author!”

  Persephone pouted prettily in a way that Penelope, despite bearing her sister’s identical features, could never quite manage. Her efforts always resulted in more of a grimace. And therein lay the difference between the two. Everything about Persephone’s personality and inner glow, well, glowed. Her interests represented those every gently-bred and reared young lady’s should. She enjoyed embroidery. She enjoyed flower arranging. She enjoyed painting landscapes with water colors. The only thing Penelope ever wanted to paint were trilobites.

  “Penny.” Persephone grasped Penelope’s hands and gave them a hearty squeeze. “The letter says he’ll be here for the Ellshire Village Autumn Masquerade Ball and Festival, and even then only for the second day. All you will need to do is sit near him and chat during the supper picnic and bonfire. Simply engage in your customarily inappropriate conversation, and he will be instantly repelled.” Persephone’s eyes twinkled, and she clapped her hands. “Problem solved! He returns to London, I am free to pursue my tendre for Gilroy, and all will be perfect!”

  “All will not be perfect, Persephone!” That her sister was a true nitwit never came as a surprise to Penelope. What did come as a surprise, time and again, was the fact that Persephone always managed to pull Penelope into her ridiculous schemes, and when the jig was up, she somehow emerged smelling like the proverbial rose, while Penelope smelled like something that had crawled out of the stables. “She is going to know. Somehow,” Penelope stabbed a finger toward the parlor where their aunt sat, entertaining the vicar’s wife, “she always finds out. She loathes me, and this is going to be one more reason she’ll feel justified!”