Masque of Enchantment

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Masque of Enchantment Page 9

by Charlene Cross


  Alissa had wondered why a child of six needed such a lengthy rest, if one at all. And when she’d inquired such, she’d thought the ceiling had collapsed around her.

  “If she doesn’t have her rest, she’s unable to stay awake through supper,” Leona had informed her tersely.

  “Then can’t supper be moved to an earlier time? I’m certain Mr. Braxton wouldn’t object.”

  “The evening meal has always been served at eight. It was his wife’s wish.”

  “But his wife is no longer alive.”

  That had been the wrong thing for Alissa to say. Leona Dugan had glared her intense disapproval, then stalked from the room. Supper that night was at eight.

  Several other issues had precipitated words between the two women, but Alissa had won on only one of those issues—supervising Megan’s playtime. That concession came about when Jared had approached the pair on it himself. But, when she’d inquired about outside play, she’d been thwarted again. Megan had no suitable clothing for such an activity, and Leona wasn’t about to dress the child like some street urchin. “A young lady of Megan’s class should emulate those of her stature and no less,” Leona had responded. And, again, Alissa had backed down.

  As she remembered the small skirmishes, Alissa thought anew of going to Jared in hopes he’d act as peacemaker. Yet she feared another confrontation with the man. But in reality, there was only one reason why she maintained her silence: Hawkstone was her refuge, and inside its walls she was safe from discovery.

  Shaking her head in defeat, Alissa decided it best to remain the coward. At least for now. Yet, in order for her to continue her masquerade, she realized she’d have to keep a tight grip on her temper, especially since she was but a word short of letting it fly. Over the past week, she’d become very suspicious of the housekeeper. For any progress—a show of trust, a spark of friendship—she’d made with Megan during the light of day had been mysteriously stolen during the dark of night. And Alissa was certain Leona Dugan was the thief.

  Enough! Alissa thought and refocused her eyes and watched as Megan played with three dolls: a father, a mother, and a small girl. She maneuvered them through the rooms of a large dollhouse, taller than Megan herself and very similar in structure to Hawkstone. Megan playacted mostly with the father doll who, through Megan’s handling, showed a great deal of affection toward the smallest doll, the child. To Alissa, it seemed a bit odd that the mother doll, again through Megan’s actions, virtually ignored her offspring, always brushing the child aside whenever approached.

  Disturbed by this continuous play, which she’d observed almost daily, Alissa stood. “Come, Megan. Let’s go into the gardens for some fresh air. The sunshine will do us good.”

  Megan glanced at Alissa, then back to the dolls. Finally, she laid them in their respective beds, each in a separate room, but not before the father doll had kissed the child good night.

  With hopes the change of scenery would lighten both their moods, Alissa led Megan from the playroom, which was directly opposite Alissa’s bedroom. As they headed toward the stairs, another door swung open. Leona Dugan stepped from inside.

  “Megan, it’s time for your nap,” the housekeeper stated and reached for Megan’s hand. “You’ll need a quick wash.”

  “Her playtime isn’t over,” Alissa countered, weary of the woman’s interference. “We are headed for the gardens and some fresh air.”

  An angry light speared Alissa. “Not in that dress,” the woman hissed. “She’ll soil it.”

  Alissa unconsciously hugged Megan to the folds of her skirt. “We’ll take extreme care she doesn’t.”

  “You’ll not leave this house!” Leona said, her voice rising as she again reached for Megan’s hand. “And that’s my final word.”

  Her control snapping like a dried twig, Alissa blocked Leona’s hand, then gripped her wrist. “Your final—I beg your pardon. She’s still under my supervision, and we have twenty minutes of playtime left. And play we shall, dress or no dress!”

  Suddenly, Leona’s free hand poised, ready to strike; Alissa braced herself for the blow. If the woman wanted a cat fight, she thought, her eyes daring the housekeeper to follow through, she’d have one!

  “Cease!”

  Jared’s thunderous outburst echoed down the hallway, and Leona’s hand instantly dropped to her side. Alissa drew a steadying breath, but her eyes never faltered from Leona’s. Not until she heard Jared’s hard footsteps.

  From the spot where he stood just outside his bedroom door, he bore down on the two women; a rolled newspaper swatted against his thigh, his eyes spewing green fire. To Alissa it seemed as though he were ready to reprimand a pair of errant pups. If she had any sense, she’d tuck tail and run! As she released Megan from the protective folds of her skirt, she felt her knees begin to quake, but she gathered what courage she could find and stood her ground.

  “Ladies,” Jared greeted them on a calmer note when he’d reached them, “that’s if I may be so bold as to call you such.” His gaze shifted from one woman to the other, making his displeasure known. As he squatted, he immediately noted Megan was visibly shaken by the sudden hostile display. “Sweet,” he said gently, “there’s a present for you in my room. If you’re quick about it, I’ll wager you can find it. But wait for my return to open it, okay?” Megan nodded with excitement. “Then I’ll be but a moment.”

  Megan hugged her father’s neck, then rushed down the hallway, eager to find her gift. When she was out of sight, Jared stretched to his full height. “Now,” he said in a tone that could freeze a volcano’s flow, “explain yourself.”

  Alissa noticed there was no plural to it and wondered if his fury was aimed only at her. Unable to hold his blistering gaze, her own dropped to his chest and the deep V created by the opening in his shirt, which dived almost to his waist. Blankly, she stared at the exposed chest while her mind raced, frantically searching for an answer.

  Jared noticed the path her eyes had taken. He cared little if she was offended. His only concern was Megan’s emotional state, and not this dim-witted woman’s sensibilities. “Miss Pembroke,” he commanded in a harsh whisper, “answer me!”

  Alissa jumped. Amazingly, she found her voice. “Mrs. Dugan and I have had a difference of opinion on how Megan should spend her time.” She fell silent.

  “And?”

  “That’s all.”

  Through narrowed eyes, Jared studied her, then shifted his gaze. “And you, Mrs. Dugan? What’s your side?”

  Her hands clasped in their usual superior position at her waist, she looked her employer in the eye. “It was time for Megan’s nap. I simply reminded Miss Pembroke of such.”

  “This display was precipitated by a nap?”

  Before Alissa could respond, Leona defended herself. “This woman has disrupted Megan’s schedule continuously. I cannot abide her interference a moment longer.”

  The dam burst. “My interference!” Alissa exploded in a low, controlled voice, so Megan would not overhear. “You’re the one who’s constantly interfered! You have no idea what the child needs—”

  “Me!” Leona cut in. “You uppity old spinster, how—”

  “Spinster? Uppity!” Alissa sliced back, forgetting whom she portrayed. “Why, you old stiff-necked—”

  “Silence!” Jared commanded through his teeth. “I have little time for name-calling. I’m already late for an appointment in Selkirk.” He glanced from one to the other. “And by my own admission, my temper is sorely pressed to contend with either of yours right now. So to prevent an out and out brawl among the three of us, I suggest we adjourn this little conference until I’ve returned from my meeting. Is that acceptable?”

  Alissa looked to the carpet and nodded. However, Leona did not. “She’s not helping Megan,” the housekeeper argued. “The child is no better off than before she came. I doubt seriously—”

  “Mrs. Dugan,” Jared interrupted, his hard eyes upon her. “Is my suggestion acceptable?”

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nbsp; Leona’s lips pressed together in a tight line; annoyance showed in her dark eyes, but she finally agreed with a quick nod. Alissa was astounded the woman hadn’t been immediately discharged for her impertinence. Since Jared did not do so, it only reaffirmed her fear that he’d side with his housekeeper over her.

  “Good,” Jared said. “And to prevent any further disturbances, Mary will be in charge of Megan for the rest of the day. At seven, I want both of you in my study. We will settle this disagreement then. For now, I suggest you both keep to opposite sides of the house.”

  Leona turned cold eyes toward Alissa, then looked back to Jared. “As you wish. I will tell Mary she is to watch Megan.” Then she turned and disappeared into the alcove.

  “I hope, Miss Pembroke,” Jared said when they were finally alone, “that in the future, you will not try to settle your differences with any of my staff by yourself, and especially in front of my daughter. Had you come to me first, it might have saved you the worry of this altercation and Megan the upset of witnessing it.”

  “I apologize, Mr. Braxton,” Alissa whispered, hoping to smooth the waters, wondering whether she should try to explain why the incident had happened. If she botched it, he might very well decide to boot her out on her ear. As she thought about it, the scent of spicy cologne filled her senses; her eyes finally focused on his exposed chest. He’s more perfect than Michelangelo’s David, she thought, gazing at the finely honed muscle covered with sleek, tanned flesh, generously sprinkled with dark, springy hair. Embarrassed by her wild meanderings, she felt herself flush pink. “It will never happen again,” she stated, but to her own ears, her voice sounded oddly hoarse. Was she speaking of her confrontation with Mrs. Dugan, or was it that she was enjoying the sight of his masculinity? Then in a rush, she breathed, “I promise.”

  Jared noted how her gaze skittered from his chest to the ceiling, then to the wall. He smiled to himself. He’d been none too pleased with her earlier display, just as she seemed none too happy with his present one. Wickedly, he felt tempted to punish her and considered what she would do if he were to press himself upon her and back her to the very wall she’d been surveying. No doubt, he concluded, his roguish eyes traveling the length of her, she’d faint!

  Alissa remained on guard. She’d seen the glint in his eyes. She hadn’t imagined it! It was the same cunning look that Charles Rhodes had bestowed upon her before he’d attacked! “I’m not a schoolgirl, Mr. Braxton, nor am I an imbecile. Henceforth, you should learn to mask your thoughts a bit better.”

  Not about to admit his dark intentions, especially when they were meant only in jest, he said falsely, “My apologies, Miss Pembroke, but I think you’ve misinterpreted what’s in my mind. My only thoughts lay with the episode I’ve just witnessed. Until I’m assured which of you is in the right, I must assume both you and Mrs. Dugan are guilty. At seven, I’ll hear your defense. Until then, Miss Pembroke.” He nodded his dismissal.

  Alissa turned in a flurry of skirt and rushed to her door several yards away. Had she misread him? she wondered, her hand shaking with a violent tic as she worked the latch. Stubbornly, it wouldn’t open.

  Jared chuckled beneath his breath. The dear woman was, no doubt, about to swoon, he thought, then noticed the small book at his foot. Retrieving it, he shoved the folded paper that had escaped it back between the pages. On silent feet, he came up behind her.

  “Allow me,” he said as he reached around her, his arm brushing Alissa’s shoulder, and she felt herself on the verge of an hysterical scream. With a quick flick of his wrist, he turned the handle and pushed the door wide. He handed her the book of sonnets. “This, I believe, is yours.”

  Nervous fingers reached for it, but when her hand accidentally touched his, the volume fell to her feet, the letter spilling from between the book’s leaves. Her stomach churned with fear as Jared stooped to retrieve the pair a second time, and she prayed, silently: Please don’t let him see the contents.

  “I see you’re wearing your new shoes,” Jared commented when he rose from the vicinity of her hem. He handed her the book with the letter on top.

  Relief surged through her as she took them, tightly gripping both as though her life depended on it.

  “They look, uh … quite, uh”—should he speak the truth about the shoes?—“comfortable,” he supplied. “Are they to your liking?”

  “They squeak.” Alissa shut the door in Jared’s face, only to hear his deep chuckle filter through the wood.

  “A suitable match, dear lady,” he countered in a low voice to the locked panel. “You’re both as stiff as the unfortunate animal that supplied the leather.”

  With a mock bow at the door, Jared turned on his heel and strode toward his own rooms. Although he was late for his appointment, he intended to speak with Megan. Through a series of hand signs, which the two had devised so Megan could communicate, he hoped to gain some insight on why the two women had been butting heads. He could not afford to dismiss either woman from his employ, but neither would he allow such a display of temper again.

  As Jared entered his chambers, decorated in gold, white, and black, he placed the newspaper he still held on a side table. Again, the headline captured his eye: Substantial Reward Offered for Capture of Covent Garden Actress. Although he was eager to read it, he knew the brief article would have to wait. He had more important things to do at the moment. Placing a smile on his face, he strode from the small sitting room into his bedchamber. “Ah, sweet, I see you’ve found the present. Let’s have a look at what’s inside, shall we?”

  Two doors down, Alissa weakly sank to the settee, the letter she’d feared Jared would see held tightly in her hand. Unfolding it, she read again the first line that was written in Eudora’s expert hand: Charles Rhodes is alive!

  Upon reading it the first time, Alissa had felt elation riot through her. In a quick series of thoughts, she’d packed her bags, said her farewells to all at Hawkstone, and was well on her way back to London and to those she cared for most. But, with the very next sentence, her hopes had plummeted into the depths of despair.

  … I fear you cannot return, Alissa dearest, for you’ve been charged with attempted murder and theft. His father, the Earl of Creighton, has placed a large reward on your head. By reports, the rogue sports an ugly scar at his temple and is spreading the story you lured him to your dressing room with the promise of certain favors. Once alone, you bashed his skull and stole his purse, which was supposed to contain a tidy sum. He still lurks about Covent Garden, possibly lying in wait for another young actress. One would think that that alone would give him away for what he is, especially since the upper classes attend the opera these days. As you know, the Garden is not the most suitable of areas with the throng of pickpockets and prostitutes who gather inside and out. We can only pray Rhodes turns his hand with the next poor female he accosts. Then he will be exposed for what he really is. God keep you safe, dearest, and write.

  Alissa refolded the letter and hid it in the book. Depression settled around her as she thought of Eudora’s words. Surely, there had to be some way to free herself from this debacle. What she needed was a champion, a Lancelot, a knight of old, she decided, then scoffed at the thought. She knew not a soul who held such power, such status. Indeed, who’d be willing to wear her ribbon and slay the dragon which had entrapped her with his fiery lies?

  Jared Braxton.

  Alissa rolled her eyes and shook her head to clear it. She must be suffering from delusions. The man would never assist her, especially once she’d confessed all her deceptions. The truth discovered, he’d no doubt lock her in chains and deliver her to the dragon’s lair as a sacrifice. It was hopeless.

  A thought occurred to her. If she were to help Megan regain her voice, surely Jared would help clear her name in return. Although she’d willingly help the girl without any thought of monetary reward, she would not be opposed to an exchange of favors. Through a sense of gratitude, he might feel obligated to repay her. But she was cert
ain, once he’d settled his debt, he’d wash his hands of her. He wasn’t a man to condone lies, especially from a woman.

  Knowing now, more than ever, the importance of remaining at Hawkstone, Alissa wished she’d held her temper in check earlier. Although she hated to admit it, Jared Braxton seemed to be her only hope. And to receive his help, she, in turn, had to help Megan.

  Fretting over it did little good, she knew. Yet, somehow, she had to convince Jared to place Megan in her complete care, and she spent the rest of the afternoon constructing an argument that would sway him to that very end.

  At five minutes to seven, Alissa headed toward Jared’s study and their appointed meeting. Halting outside the library doors, she quickly rubbed her perspiring palms against the worn skirt of Agatha’s gray gown. A bad case of nerves, she decided, then wished she were anywhere but here. Voices drifted from the small room inside, and she realized suddenly that Mrs. Dugan had already arrived. Perhaps the woman hoped to gain the upper hand by having a private discussion with Jared, Alissa thought, fearing the worst. But more to the point, Jared might have come to a decision before she’d even been given the chance to speak. Squaring her shoulders, she marched toward the door, praying for a reprieve.

  “Miss Pembroke.” Jared addressed her while he rose from his seat. “Please join us.” He motioned to the chair next to Leona.

  Despite her outward show of self-assurance, Alissa felt her courage falter. Don’t fall apart now! she warned herself, then flopped into her seat as her wobbly legs gave way.

  Noting her sudden descent, Jared raised a curious brow but held his tongue. As his gaze ran over her, he frowned at the ridiculous hairnet, which was perpetually worn to the middle of her forehead. Another inch and she’d snare her eyebrows, as well! Didn’t the woman realize that that was not the way the thing was worn? he wondered, then whisked the annoying thought aside and took his own seat. “I was just telling Mrs. Dugan I’ve received a letter from my cousin, Robert Hamilton. He’ll be arriving at Hawkstone in two days. Since he is my business agent and there is much to discuss, I’ll be spending most of my time with him during his stay. Therefore, it is important we settle this matter, here and now.”

 

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