Dangerous Masquerade

by Peta Lee Rose

  Upon arrival in Little Bridgeton, Luc decided to ride the rest of his way. It seemed a pity to remain confined in a carriage when there was clear blue sky and no hint of wind.

  Giving instructions to his coachman to follow at his own pace, he mounted his horse that had been tethered behind the carriage and set out.

  As Luc cantered up Devon’s long drive, he saw his host at the front steps. When the horse stopped, the marquess reached up to grab hold of the bridle. “Back from London so soon? You’ve only been gone a week.”

  Luc dismounted and handed his horse’s reins to the waiting groom. Shrugging, he told his friend, “After I finished my business, I found the city began to pall very quickly. It’s dull this time of year.”

  Devon slapped him on the back, “It’s good to see you.” Walking side by side, they entered the house.

  Before he gave the footman his coat, Luc removed a small package from a pocket. Together the two friends entered the study, their favorite room. He placed the package on a small side table. He saw Devon eyeing it and knew he was making an effort not to ask about it.

  Devon handed him a glass of wine and instead asked, “How was London? Anything interesting happening?”

  After discussing the latest events, he saw his friend once again eyeing the package on the table near the sofa. Smiling, he decided to put him out of his misery.

  Aware of Devon watching him, he reached for the package and ripped the wrapper off, exposing a small, dark blue box. Opening it, he showed him a delicate diamond ring, shaped like a flower.

  “I’m giving this to Mrs. St. James.”

  Devon frowned. “Isn’t that your grandmother’s?”

  When Luc nodded, his friend continued, “That’s a very personal gift…”

  Luc held up a hand before he could continue. “Yes, I know. I wanted to give her something meaningful, something personal. I am going to ask her to marry me.”

  He watched Devon closely for his reaction and smiled when his friend congratulated him. Though his smile became rueful when the marquess continued.

  “And you said you weren’t going to get caught in the parson’s trap! In fact, last time you also said you’d rather single-handedly fight the French. Though I never believed you.”

  Devon grinned. “Don’t look so surprised. You do need an heir. It would be criminal to let that fop Albert inherit. And when you said it, you’d always just spent time with your parents, especially your mother. Speaking of which, I assume the future Lady Arden has nothing in common with Queen Beatrice?”

  “They are total opposites. If I thought for one moment she was anything like her, I’d…” Luc broke off, his face hardening as he considered what he would do.

  “So how was your beloved mother?” There was so much irony in Devon’s tone the weight would sink a ship. “I assume you saw her?”

  “She appeared in good health.”

  “Who is her latest paramour?”

  “She has been seen with one of Banbridge’s whelps quite often.”

  “One of Mortimer Banbridge’s sons?”

  At Luc’s nod, Devon shook his head.

  Luc responded to his unspoken comment by shrugging. “I find it doesn’t bother me.” When his friend looked at him, eyebrow raised, he smiled ruefully. “She is an adult and entitled to her life. How she lives it is up to her.”

  To himself he added, and how I live mine is equally my choice. I will no longer allow my parents behavior to influence me. I am not my father, and Ria is not my mother. She is caring, thoughtful, and above all honest and incapable of dissembling.

  22

  He was back.

  Mrs. Smith, Devon’s housekeeper, had told Mr. Birch, the fishmonger, who told Mrs. Clover, the St. James cook, who told Flowerday who told Ria.

  He would be coming to visit this afternoon. The housekeeper had also mentioned that to the fishmonger who told her cook who told Flowerday who told Ria.

  Sometimes, just sometimes, village gossip was a good thing.

  Ria looked across the morning room at Aunt Charity who, as usual, was busy embroidering. Unable to sit still, Ria put down her own embroidery and wandered over to the pianoforte. Idly she began to play the Turkish March from a Mozart sonata. The music was a perfect match to the bubbles of excitement cascading through her body.

  As she waited for Luc, she tried to ignore the feelings of disquiet mixed with anticipation.

  Since the accident, she had given in and let their situation unfold, deciding it would either flourish or wither but she would no longer try to resist him.

  To her surprise, it had flourished even though, apart from one kiss, she had avoided any physical intimacy.

  Luc hadn’t objected. He seemed to have changed since the accident and become more interested in just spending time with her and getting to know her. This, in turn, meant she had come to know him.

  To know him and to care for him. As Ria began playing the second movement of Beethoven’s Pathetique Sonata, the expression and tempo became amoroso, and her fingers lovingly caressed the keys. She’d missed him while he was in London. A great deal.

  He hadn’t mentioned the attempts on her life since finding Geoffrey at the manor. Before he left for London, she had decided to tell him everything, but once she resolved to do so, he had gone.

  She needed to spend time with him alone. Which these days didn’t happen often as the ladies of the manor were being more assiduous in their chaperone duties. And if the ladies were not around, then Monty was or one of the servants—sometimes all of them.

  Ria switched to playing Beethoven’s Turkish March, her fingers flying faster over the keys with a heavier touch. It seemed a bit late to observe the proprieties—she wasn’t sure why they were so diligent now, but she did know it was most inconvenient.

  It was most likely because of Geoffrey. Her fingers hammered on the piano as she reached a crescendo.

  Had Geoffrey meant to kill her? Her fingers slipped, then she picked up the melody again, playing loudly.

  Throat tight, she saw again the scene in the village. She had been sure Mary was going to be killed. Then when the horse was rearing above them both, she’d thought they were going to die.

  Geoffrey must have meant to kill her. Had he planned it or taken advantage of the opportunity presented? Would he try again? This time with a proper plan? Surely not. It would be too suspicious.

  Nevertheless Ria was taking extra precautions. She hadn’t visited the village since the accident, and wherever she went on the estate, even to visit tenants, she was accompanied. And Matthews was being very careful about checking the horses and their tack.

  Still, she couldn’t live as a prisoner. Her fingers flew rapidly over the keys, the expression and tempo now agitato as she played the third movement of Beethoven’s Pathetique Sonata. It was frustrating always having to take such precautions, and this couldn’t carry on indefinitely.

  Perwick, her solicitor, had visited, and Ria had checked to make sure her will was watertight and the trust couldn’t be overturned in court, so even if Geoffrey succeeded, he would not get his hands on the estate. Ria had also ensured Geoffrey found out about all this.

  Village gossip really did have benefits.

  Hearing a noise in the hall, Ria stopped playing. She looked toward the doorway in time to see Flowerday enter the morning room. His face was barely visible behind the large arrangement of hothouse flowers he carried, but his sneezes were perfectly audible.

  Avoiding the petals of a lily that was trying to tickle his nose and threatened to set off another barrage of sneezes, he peered around the large blooms at her and announced, “With the compliments of Lord Arden, madam. He asked if you were at home to visitors.”

  Aunt Charity smiled archly as she said to Ria. “He’s barely returned to Little Bridgeton and is already calling on you. He has certainly become quite a fixture here these last few weeks. Perhaps you will soon have something to tell us, dear?”

  Ria laughed. �
��I think he likes your company, Aunt, not mine.” Smiling, she advised the butler. “Yes, we are at home, thank you. Please show him in.”

  As she waited, Ria began playing her favorite piece by Boccherini, a piano minuet, and its light and happy notes floated through the air.

  As Luc neared the morning room, he heard a familiar tune, music that would always remind him of the masquerade and his mystery lady.

  At that thought, he shook his head. Persephone was not his. He now had Ria, and she was more than enough.

  But hearing the tune, he couldn’t help think about Persephone. She had excited and captivated him in a way no other woman had—until he met Ria. He hoped she was happy, well, and flourishing.

  On entering the room, he glanced over at the pianoforte.

  It was late in the afternoon, and the day was overcast. The candles had been lit, and the fire was flickering in the hearth. It was reminiscent of another place and occasion. In a rush, time seemed to travel backward. Ria was sitting in the same pose as his mystery lady, head tilted to one side as her fingers caressed the keys. For a brief moment, he wondered if…

  Before he could finish his thought she glanced at the door. Seeing him standing there, she sprang up from the piano stool and walked toward him, hands outstretched, and the spell was broken.

  “My lord, it is good to have you back with us.” Her smile was wide and open, and her eyes danced with obvious delight.

  He took her outstretched hands, raised them to his lips, and kissed the back of each one. Reveling in the feel and aroma of her silken skin, his lips lingered.

  Next Luc greeted Aunt Charity. Ria could not hear what he murmured, but to her surprise Aunt Charity smiled and quickly left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Ria watched as Luc reached into his pocket and drew out a small blue box. “One of the reasons I went to London was to get this. I would like you to have it.” Opening the box, he showed her the contents.

  She gasped with delight at the sight of the ring in the box. It was exquisite. A pretty, delicate, diamond flower.

  Luc reached for her hand. Sliding the ring onto her finger he told her, “It was my grandmother’s. She was a lovely lady. In some ways you remind me of her. I’m sure she would be happy for you to have it.” The deep affection he felt for his grandmother was evident in his voice.

  Before she could say anything more, he added, somewhat diffidently, “Of course if you would prefer something more modern…”

  Before he could complete his sentence, Ria pulled her hand toward her, covering the ring with the other protectively. “No. I think it’s beautiful. I couldn’t possibly imagine having any other ring.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way. He took a deep breath. “Ria, will you be my wife, my companion, my lover?”

  Emotion trapped in her throat, she could only nod mutely.

  Luc pulled her toward him, bent his head, and kissed her tenderly.

  Pulling away he told her, “I wanted you to have my grandmother’s ring because I want our marriage to be like theirs. Open, honest, and loving.”

  At his words Ria’s, happiness turned to ice. A deep chill ran down her spine. Looking down at the ring, she took a deep breath to calm herself, raised her chin, and straightened her shoulders. “Luc, I…”

  A knock at the door interrupted her. Ria felt ready to scream but suppressed the feeling, though she was unable to hide the aggravation in her voice as she called out, “Come in.”

  Flowerday entered the room carrying a tray. On it were two glasses and a bottle of champagne.

  “Refreshments, madam.” Stooping slightly, he placed the tray on a rosewood table. As he rose, Flowerday glanced at Ria’s hand, smiled, and bowed. “May I be the first to offer you my heartfelt congratulations?”

  “Thank you, Flowerday.”

  When the butler left, Luc put his arm around Ria’s waist, drew her to him, and leaned down slightly to kiss her.

  She put her hands against his chest to prevent him. “Luc, I really need to tell you something.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s been a long time since I kissed you. Nothing right now could be as important as this.” When she didn’t move her hands, he added roughly, “I need this.”

  The combination of his words and the expression on his face, yearning, wistful, hungry, turned her muscles to silk ribbon, her hands dropped to her side, and she leaned into him.

  She too needed this. With a groan Luc pulled her even closer and kissed her deeply.

  All of a sudden, they heard noises at the door. With a muttered curse, he released her moments before the door opened.

  All the ladies of the house stood in the doorway. They entered and surrounded Ria and Luc, chattering excitedly. Agatha and Agnes were so excited they were bouncing from foot to foot. Even Monty was there, beaming at them.

  Ria wished she could be as carefree. Tomorrow. She would tell him tomorrow.

  Ria bit her lip as she watched Luc’s mahogany bay horse canter up the drive. She left the side of the house where she had been waiting and walked toward him before he could enter the manor house. She didn’t want the ladies to interrupt them.

  A brown leaf, wizened and lifeless, floated down from a tree as she walked underneath it. Brushing it off her shoulder, she noticed her hand trembled slightly. Clenching her fists, she hid her hands in the folds of her pelisse.

  She looked at the sky; the pale winter sun was weak, but the sky was blue and cloudless. On such a clear day, surely nothing bad could happen?

  As Luc dismounted, she studied him. He looked elegant as usual, though the ride in the chilly winter air had ruffled his hair. She thought the disarray suited him—it made him appear more approachable.

  When he turned from handing the reins to a groom, he saw her, and she watched his face light up with pleasure.

  Reaching his side, she suggested, “I thought as it was such a lovely day we could take a walk in the grounds.”

  Smiling, he agreed. Together they walked along the side of the house to the terrace and down to the shrubbery walk.

  As they walked along a gravel path, she became conscious of how many of the statues in the shrubbery were of naked men and women. She’d never noticed until today how obsessed the carvers seemed with certain elements of the male and female anatomy. Tearing her gaze away from one male statue, she realized Luc was watching her, a small knowing smile curving his lips.

  He stopped walking and took her hand in his. Looking into her eyes, he slipped her glove down slightly to reveal her wrist. Tenderly he kissed it, his lips warm and soft.

  Ria shivered. It was so long since they had made love in the orangery. The sparks he had ignited were still there, lying dormant, but it didn’t take much for them to be reignited. A look, a kiss, was all that was needed.

  This was the first time they had been alone for an age, except for the brief incident in the morning room yesterday. That encounter hadn’t been enough, not nearly enough to satisfy either of them. She ached for more.

  She glanced at the windows of the house. Pulling back her hand, she said, “I am afraid we may be seen. Let’s go to the temple.” She gestured toward the small structure at the end of the path, partially hidden from view by shrubs.

  His voice husky, he said, “Not the orangery?”

  Not wanting to meet his eyes, she began walking toward the temple. “The ladies have been quite assiduous in their duties lately. I am concerned they may interrupt us.”

  “We certainly don’t want to be interrupted.”

  She bit her lip. He obviously thought she had invited him to walk with her so they could make love. Her eyes briefly closed at the thought. There was nothing more she would rather do, but she couldn’t put this moment off any longer. She must tell him the truth.

  To distract him she asked, “You haven’t said much about your visit to London. What did you do?”

  “I had estate business to conduct.”

  Remembering what the ladies had said about his pa
rents, she asked, “Agnes saw in the society pages that your mother was at the theater recently. Do you see much of her when you are in town?”

  “I only see my mother when she wants money.”

  At this abrupt statement, she stopped at the entrance to the temple and stared at him.

  He saw her reaction to his comment and smiled wryly. “I believe I have mentioned previously that my mother and I have a…” He paused, obviously hunting for the appropriate word. “Difficult relationship.”

  “Beginning with her calling you Lucifer.”

  He bowed in response.

  “I am sorry to hear that,” she said softly.

  He shrugged. “It is all I have known.”

  “But it must have had an effect on you.”

  He entered the temple, strolled across the stone floor to the far side, and surveyed the view. She wondered how much of the vista he was actually seeing.

  When he turned to face her, she saw a hint of pain in his eyes. “Yes. In the past it did have an effect, but recently I have come to terms with it.” Taking her hands in his, he told her, “Because of you. Meeting someone as trustworthy as you has helped me.”

  Oh God. She felt her eyes begin to sting. She blinked to stem the tears. She had to tell him, but how could she after what he had just said?

  Before she could say a word, he bent and kissed her. It was sweeter than any kiss he had ever given her. Soft. Tender. Luscious. When their lips parted, he held her in his arms, resting his head on the top of hers.

  Reluctantly she broke free of his embrace. Taking a deep breath, she gestured to the view of the estate from the temple. “There is something I need to tell you.”

  He raised an eyebrow in query. Gathering her courage, she looked at the stream that ran below the temple and wound its way across the park to disappear in the wood. “I have put the St. James estate into a trust, a fund for destitute ladies like my aunts and cousins.”

  As he went to say something, she held up her hand. “I don’t believe you are after my fortune, but I thought you should know.” She paused and then continued, “I also want to tell you about Monty and how we came to be married. He was a good friend of my father.”