A Noble Masquerade

by Kristi Ann Hunter

  “Nothing?” Miranda was mystified. Gossip was currency in London for every class from servant to peer. How was it no one knew anything about what went on behind the walls of Ryland’s home?

  “Nothing.” Amelia gave a slow shake of her head. “It’s as if the man simply dropped from the sky.”

  Miranda couldn’t hide her disappointment. She’d been hoping Amelia would be able to give her some insight, some secret information about Ryland to help level the playing field. After all, he knew so much about her private life after living as a servant at Riverton.

  It was Amelia’s turn to reach out to Miranda and grip hands. “Why don’t you tell me how the card party went? You said he was there.”

  “It all started to go wrong when I sat down to play a game of whist with him. . . .”

  Account books spread across the desk surface, requiring so much of Ryland’s attention he almost didn’t hear the knock on the door. “Enter,” he barked.

  Price, the butler, opened the door, his wide torso filling the doorframe. Ryland glanced up at the man and grinned. He wished he could have seen his aunt’s face when Price had come to work here. With arms the size of ham hocks, a nonexistent neck, and scars along the side of his face, he was no one’s idea of an aristocratic butler. Ryland had seen him throw a grown man fifteen feet through the air. The man might have kept going, but the wall stopped him.

  “What is it, Price?”

  “Mr. McCrae is here to see you, sir.”

  Colin clapped the giant on the shoulder and sidled around him into the room. “You’ll have to start using Your Grace instead of sir if you want to be a proper butler, Price.”

  Price grinned as he backed out of the room. It made his face look eerily boyish. “I think that’s the least of my problems, Mr. McCrae.”

  Colin made a show of looking over the butler. “You may have a point there.”

  Price pulled the door closed as Colin threw himself into one of the Chippendale wing chairs that flanked the cold fireplace. He stuck out his booted feet and crossed his ankles. “Didn’t expect to see you at the card party last night.”

  Ryland shrugged as he came around the desk to settle into the other chair. “I couldn’t bear to hide out in my room any longer.”

  “Is your aunt delighted you’re home?” That Colin had managed to say that with a straight face was a compliment to his composure. It must be a considerable asset during business dealings.

  “Hardly. I think she coddled the eggs with her glare this morning.”

  “And your cousin?”

  Ryland shrugged, and wished he’d had a fire set, even though it was too warm to need one. It would have given him something to look at. He wasn’t sure how Gregory felt. Their past experience should have brought them closer, but Ryland knew the other man had attempted on two separate occasions to have him declared dead. While he was certain Aunt Marguerite instigated the attempts, Gregory had agreed to carry them through.

  His family was not something he felt comfortable discussing. He had to protect them, he was supposed to love them, but in reality life would be considerably easier without them. A change of topic was in order. “Have you found anything more about that mine investment inquiry?”

  “I thought you were off the case. You said you turned everything you had over to another agent.” Colin frowned.

  Ryland dropped his head onto the back of the chair. “I don’t like leaving things unfinished.”

  Silence stretched.

  “You’re supposed to be moving on with your life,” Colin finally said.

  Ryland rolled his head to the side so he could look at Colin. “What do you know?”

  “You first. Are you truly getting out of the spying game or is this all some elaborate ruse?” Colin’s blue eyes were hard and flat. Ryland didn’t often see the side of Colin that made him such a shrewd and successful businessman, but at times like this he was reminded why he’d given Colin so much money to invest over the past five years.

  Ryland turned his gaze back to the ceiling. “Out. As soon as this mission is actually completed.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first man to use that lie on himself.”

  “I’ve given enough of my life to king and country. But I can’t leave this undone. Despite what they say, the Office is counting on me to finish this. No one else knows as much as I do. So I need to know what you know.”

  Colin sighed. “Not a name. I was able to learn that all of the men in the mining venture are small fish. A title or two, some lower sons, even a few gentry. Your man may think he’s got some considerable prestige to protect, but it’s not enough to save him from the gallows.”

  Ryland sighed. He thought of the two men in the tea shop. Sketching had never been his greatest skill, but he grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and did his best to draw the men’s faces.

  Colin waited in silence.

  “Do you know these men?” Ryland shoved the drawings in Colin’s direction.

  “You’re not serious. Look at those. Do they look anything like the men you’re trying to identify?” Colin laughed and tossed the paper into Ryland’s lap.

  Ryland cringed as he admitted that even he wouldn’t recognize the drawings as the men from the shop.

  When Ryland asked no more questions, Colin moved on to another topic. “How fares your latest project?”

  “I assume you refer to my courtship of Lady Miranda.”

  “Aye. Unless you’ve decided the younger sister is more appealing after all.”

  Ryland’s lips curved into a half smile. “Not at all. Are you intrigued by the younger—”

  “Are you daft, man? It takes only a moment to tell her head is filled with fashion and frippery. I’d rather court your parlor maid.” Colin shuddered.

  “Jess is actually quite fetching. She likes to read Shakespeare.”

  Colin laughed. “Maybe I’ll take her for a drive.”

  Ryland leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “I was wondering if you would take Miranda.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You didn’t reveal last night that we know each other.”

  “Old habits, you know. I never knew what you were up to on the rare occasion that I saw you. Seemed safer to pretend I didn’t know you.” Colin leaned forward as well, mirroring Ryland’s posture. “Please don’t tell me you want me to spy on this woman.”

  “Yes.”

  “I refuse to interrogate a lady as to whether or not she’s forgiven you. Besides, as you said, she doesn’t know we know each other.”

  Ryland examined his fingernails. “You could ask her about the card game.”

  Colin burst from the chair and paced across the room. “You want me to go to this woman’s house, ask her to go for a ride, and then proceed to embarrass her thoroughly so that you can have more information with which to create your plan of attack?”

  Colin’s knowing him well made things much easier. “Yes.”

  “No. This is a courtship, not an army invasion.”

  “One should always know the factors involved when creating a plan of action. Information is power, and I’m going to need all of the leverage I can get to bring her around. She’s being stubbornly female about the whole thing.”

  Colin scoffed. “How dare she?” He glared at Ryland. “Find yourself another lackey. I won’t do it.”

  Time stretched on, the clicking of the mantel clock the only sound as the two men stared at each other.

  Chapter 25

  “My lady, Mr. McCrae has arrived.”

  Miranda looked at the butler in surprise. If she were to make a list of all the people returning to partake of Georgina’s special brand of refined rejection, Mr. McCrae would certainly not be on it. He had seemed much too intelligent during their conversation at the card party. A glance at Georgina revealed that she was stunned as well.

  “Odious man,” Georgina hissed under her breath. “I don’t wish to see him, Mother.”

  Gibson
cleared his throat. “He asked to see Lady Miranda, milady.”

  “Oh.” Two sets of startled green eyes turned to Miranda. Mother’s were glittering and crinkling at the corners with a small smile. Georgina looked dumbfounded.

  Miranda couldn’t quite resist the urge to preen. Odious or not, Mr. McCrae was rich and attractive and he’d chosen to visit her instead of Georgina. “Thank you, Gibson. Please show him in.”

  Gibson bowed and returned to the front hall. Mr. McCrae strode in moments later.

  He bowed to Mother first. “Good afternoon, my lady.”

  “Same to you, Mr. McCrae. I didn’t know we would see you again so soon.” Her smile was a bit larger than socially acceptable. It warmed Miranda’s heart that her mother still believed a match could be found for her eldest daughter, even if it was a mere mister and a Scottish one at that.

  Mr. McCrae bypassed Georgina entirely, startling a muffled giggle from Miranda. “Lady Miranda, I know this is quite presumptuous of me, but would you care to go for a drive?”

  Mother’s smiled dimmed a bit. “I don’t know—”

  “Yes.” Miranda popped up from the settee. “Yes, I would love to.”

  Mr. McCrae might not cause a stirring in her middle like Ryland did, but he had been a perfectly pleasant companion at the card party. It was worth considering him as a future husband. The fact that she would be unavailable for Georgina to use as a decoy for the afternoon only added to her anticipation.

  And as much as she hated to admit it, loving wife and mother sounded much better than doting aunt.

  “Oh, well, I suppose it would be acceptable.” Mother’s light green eyes met Miranda’s. “An hour. No more.”

  Mr. McCrae bowed again. “Of course.”

  Miranda placed her hand on his arm. Neither spoke as he escorted her from the room and out the door. The curricle looked brand-new. The seat was unworn, and no signs of mending marred the harness connections. Even the wheels looked free of scuffs.

  Settling onto the seat, she realized the curricle was exceptionally well sprung. A vehicle like this would not have come cheaply. She watched Mr. McCrae with an assessing eye as he circled the curricle and climbed up beside her.

  “This is very nice.” She ran a hand along the polished wood.

  Mr. McCrae’s grin was instantaneous and accompanied by a self-satisfied chuckle. “A friend loaned it to me. I’m considering keeping it. He owes me. I’m doing him a grand favor.”

  “Oh.” Miranda didn’t know what to say. The answer was not at all what she had been expecting. On the one hand, the fact that he had gone through the trouble of convincing his friend to loan him such a fine curricle was flattering. That he was considering not returning it showed a lack of character she could not condone, although she knew gentlemen took their debts very seriously.

  He clicked at the horse, a tall, sleek creature with a beautiful reddish-brown coat. The curricle glided smoothly into the traffic flowing toward Rotten Row. “I enjoyed meeting you last night. I haven’t played such an interesting hand of whist in years.”

  Miranda flushed. She turned her face to gaze at the passing houses, hoping the edge of her bonnet shielded her face from his eyes. “I confess that I have not either.”

  Mr. McCrae waved to a few people before speaking again. “Lady Miranda, may I be ruthlessly honest with you?”

  “Of . . . of course.” Could there really be any other response to a question like that? One could hardly say that she would prefer to be lied to and deceived.

  “We both know there was more afoot than a game of cards last night, and we also know that I could never compete with a duke as far as social status goes.”

  “Mr. McCrae, I can assure you that I find you a most interesting gentleman.” Such a bald statement left her flustered and flaming. She tried to fan her cheeks with subtle hand movements in an attempt to dispel the heat in her face and neck.

  He cast her a sideways glance before turning back to the road. “It’s glad I am to hear that. I was more wondering if you would say that the duke was an interesting gentleman as well. As I said, I don’t have much to compete with him.”

  Miranda snorted, which caused her blush to return full force. “Have you had any dealings with him? Wait, that is a silly question. He’s only been back in London for a few days.”

  “I’ve worked with him a time or two before.”

  “You . . . you have? Then you . . . I mean, you do that too?”

  He looked down at the reins for a moment. A muffled cough preceded the lifting of his head. His lips were pressed into a tight line. “Do I do what?”

  “Er, what he does.”

  “Manage estates? Hardly. I dabble in a shipping company and manage investments.”

  “Oh.” Miranda found herself confused. If Ryland had been acting as a spy for the past nine years, how had he worked with Mr. McCrae? “Did you invest money for the duke, then?”

  He cleared his throat. “I don’t like to discuss such matters. You understand.”

  “Oh yes, of course.”

  They turned onto Rotten Row, joining the parade of fashionable couples in their open-air conveyances.

  “The thing is, Lady Miranda, I’m considering looking into some investments out of town. I know this is terribly forward of me, but I need to know if I should postpone my trip.”

  “Mr. McCrae, I—”

  “Do call me Colin. It’s the least I can offer considering how personal I’m being at the moment.”

  Miranda swallowed. “Colin, I don’t know what to say to this. I have known you for a mere day.”

  She felt trapped as he turned his head to catch her in his blue gaze. It was not the piercing intensity of Ryland’s nor the powerful demand for respect she often saw in Griffith’s. It was captivating. Like watching the dancing flames of a fire or the repeated licks of the ocean against the sand in Brighton.

  He sighed. “There’s something between you and the duke, isn’t there? You’re a beautiful lady, but I have a sense I shouldn’t waste my time courting you. Am I right?”

  She opened her mouth, intending to deny the charge that her heart was already taken, but nothing came out. Her encounters with Ryland floated through her memory. For the first time she allowed herself to see how genuine he had managed to be, even while playing the servant. Allowing herself the freedom to imagine a future with the duke, she began to smile and cry at the same time. Getting past the hurt and mistrust was not going to be easy, but maybe it would be worth it.

  “I’m sorry, Colin, but I think maybe you are. I’m not entirely sure what will happen with the duke, but I owe it to myself to find out.” A sad smile curved her lips. Colin seemed like a good man. He didn’t deserve to have the woman he was courting thinking of another man.

  “I understand. Shall we simply enjoy this sunshine, then, as I take the route back home?”

  “That would be wonderful, yes.”

  They drove on in companionable silence, occasionally breaking it with a remark on a particularly interesting hat or ramifications of seeing certain couples riding out together. They discussed the ball she was to attend later that evening. Miranda participated in the conversation by rote, her mind focused on acclimating to this new way of thinking about Ryland. Was she in love with him? If the answer was yes, what was she going to do?

  Colin pulled up in front of her home and jumped down. As he walked her to the door, he looked over his shoulder at the vehicle. “It is a fine curricle, isn’t it?”

  “It is. I hope your friend will allow you to borrow it again when you find another young lady to take for a drive.”

  That large, self-assured grin spread across his face once more. “I think I’ll keep it. It’s the least Ryland can do after putting me in a position to anger such a lovely woman as yourself.”

  The door opened behind Miranda but it felt as if the pavement had just crumbled beneath her feet.

  Colin continued speaking as he bowed to her and backed down the fou
r steps to the street. “Do tell him for me at the ball tonight, won’t you? That I’m keeping his horse and curricle? He’ll understand.”

  He tipped his hat.

  Miranda stomped into the house. Apparently Colin McCrae was not such a nice man after all.

  “You’re going to break that fan.”

  Miranda ceased the staccato slap of her folded fan against her arm and turned to find the younger of her brothers leaning against the wall. It didn’t surprise her. He’d been her shadow since the card party, waiting to see what would happen next between her and Ryland.

  Miranda was beginning to wonder herself. It had been a week since Colin had taken her for a ride. During that time Ryland had kept their interactions brief and public, never giving her the chance to confront him about what he’d done. The conflicted emotions it was causing were maddening.

  She glared at her brother. “Do you have a point?”

  Trent shrugged and pushed away from the wall, strolling the two steps necessary to reach her side. “That it would be a sad waste of a fan, I suppose. After all, it’s done nothing to harm you. Your energy would be much better spent if you directed it at the actual problem, wouldn’t it?”

  “The problem, as you put it, has not seen fit to make an appearance yet this evening.” Her volatile mood had driven her to the corner to sulk and glare at the doorway, daring Ryland to appear. Agitation sent her hand into motion once more, the lace border of her fan doing little to pad the clicking of the ivory ribs as she tapped her arm.

  “Maybe he doesn’t know you’re here.” Trent eased a hand toward the fan. Miranda rapped him on the knuckles before resuming her rhythmic motion.

  “He knows. Somehow he always knows. He knows when I go shopping so I’m positive he knows when I attend a social event.” Her foot joined the fan in announcing her displeasure. The infernal man had driven her to abandon her carefully held ladylike veneer. It terrified her that he had caused such a lack of decorum and he wasn’t even in the room. That more than anything revealed how much he must matter to her. It wasn’t smart to let him matter to her. She still had questions.