Once Upon a Masquerade

by Tamara Hughes

  “By all means,” he offered. Apparently, she wasn’t in the mood to be mollified.

  Rebecca rose from the table and walked to the massive bookshelves that lined the walls, her fingers skimming over the leather bindings as she passed by. “Well, I’d like to give those men the money they’d receive if they…finished their assignment, and hope for the best.”

  He’d already suspected she would argue in that direction. Before he could explain why he didn’t favor the idea, Rebecca continued, “However, since you believe they would likely kill me anyway, I could try to bargain.”

  “Exactly what bargain would you propose?”

  “If I could get one of them alone I could convince him that he would get more money than the others if he helped me.” Pacing before the long line of books, she nodded. “Otto, the portly, unkempt one, would be the best choice. Of the three men, he argued and complained much of the time, eager to get what he could for himself. I think he could be manipulated.”

  While he agreed with her assessment, he would never let her get close enough to Otto to find out if her plan would work. He, too, remembered that slovenly ass who’d been so damned bent on getting whatever he could from Rebecca, no matter if she was willing or not. He’d enjoy interrogating that one himself, with his fist. “No. You’d be easy prey. I don’t think Otto would let you go once he had you to play with.”

  “I don’t have unlimited choices to work with. I’m prepared to do whatever I need to.”

  Like hell. “Well, I’m not.” Tossing his napkin onto the table, he rose from his seat and approached her. “Let me share my plan. I’d like to speak with your father. Maybe he can shed some light on who these men are.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know where he is.”

  “We’ll find him.”

  Her gaze met his, more determined than ever. “Let’s leave him out of this.”

  Leave him out of this? Yes, of course. If he came face-to-face with her sire, her façade of heiress would likely crumble. “He was the one who instigated this mess. He should be the last person left out.”

  “He’s weak and tired. I’ll not have you harassing him when he’s in such a state.”

  “I don’t understand how you can defend the man. He’s left you alone to fend off the men he owes, men who want to kill you.”

  “He’s not a bad person,” she insisted, her green eyes softening. “He’s hurting. When my mother died—”

  “Your mother died a long time ago. He’s had plenty of time to grieve—” Christopher stopped cold when she flinched at his words and rubbed a spot in the middle of her chest. Damn. He hadn’t intended to cause her more pain, but she had to understand… “You’re not responsible for your father’s mistakes.”

  “Those men seem to think differently.”

  “How long have you helped your father like this? How many times have you given him money to pay off his debts?” The question shook him. How often had he given Nathan money? Quite a few. Unfortunately not when it had mattered most.

  Her silence answered his questions all too well. She’d provided for her father for some time. If she failed her father now, would she feel the bite of guilt that plagued him every day? It didn’t matter. Better to feel guilt than be dead. He wouldn’t always be by her side to protect her. Rebecca’s best option would be to let her father handle his own problems and move on.

  Easier said than done he was sure. She obviously cared for her father a great deal. Perhaps she cared too much. “I understand why you feel the need to help him, but he’ll never change if you allow him to lean on you at every turn.” He stepped closer, bending forward to catch her eye. “And what of your life? Is this what you want to contend with year after year?”

  Her chin quivered, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I have no choice.”

  “Of course you do.” He ran a hand down her arm, wishing he could comfort her in some way.

  “No. He’s all that I have left.” A tear escaped the corner of her eye, and she gasped in a breath. “If I lose him, I’ll have no one.”

  Her strangled tone grasped his heart and clenched tight. He reached for her in an attempt to give her some solace, but she pulled back, retreating several steps. He couldn’t blame her. It seemed he only added to her pain. Hadn’t he spurned her affections just this morning?

  She turned away, her hand wiping the moisture from her cheeks. He would fight her on this no more. She’d made her decision and would not be swayed.

  He gave her time to compose herself, then began again. “I believe I mentioned last evening that I’ve been working with the Police Chief. We could meet with him and ask for his help.”

  Like last evening, he watched her closely, trying to gauge her reaction to his suggestion, although he needn’t have bothered.

  “We have no proof other than our word that those men have done anything illegal,” she countered.

  “From the looks of those men, they don’t appear to be law abiding citizens. If we could find out what else they’ve done, we could get the police involved. I know a few men who could help make inquiries,” he told her, his gaze taking in her red-rimmed eyes. He wished she would allow him to console her. His mind flashed back to the feel of her softness against him, and his heart beat faster. Then again, perhaps keeping his distance was for the best.

  He pushed the image aside and strode to one of the tall, narrow windows. Scanning the green lawns, he tried to focus on the subject at hand. In truth, Bryce was already gathering information. But she didn’t need to know that. “Let’s begin with what you remember about those men. You’ve already mentioned Otto. Then there was the big burly man with the long mustache. He seemed familiar to me. Perhaps he’s worked on the docks.”

  “I think his name was Frank. He didn’t speak much, just did as he was told. The one who seemed to be in charge was the older man.”

  Finding nothing of interest outside to compete with the vivacious creature within the room, he turned back. “What was his name?”

  Rebecca stared hard at the floor. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

  “Maybe it will come to you later.”

  Long strands of Rebecca’s hair glowed golden from the morning sun. A slender silky curl had slipped free of the peach-colored ribbon and clung coyly along the smooth shape of her jaw to dangle down her neck. His treasonous body tightened in response.

  “Did you hear what I said?” Rebecca’s exasperated tone broke into his thoughts.

  Damn. What was he doing? Focus. “Continue. I’m listening.”

  She let out a sharp exhale and glared at him. “What do we do in the meantime while your men investigate?”

  “We wait.”

  Impatience flashed in her eyes. “My father is in danger now. I can’t sit and wait. We need to act.”

  Although he admired her spirit and loyalty, it would only lead to trouble. “And do what?”

  “I don’t know. If nothing else, I should be at home in case my father tries to contact me.”

  “Home? The Endicotts’ staff must be treating you well.” He knew it was foolish, but after all they’d been through, it bothered him that she hadn’t confided who she really was.

  Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “Extremely well. I feel completely at home. In fact, I should have never left.” Brushing past him, she headed for the door. “I intend to go back as soon as possible, with or without you.”

  He grasped her elbow before she could reach the closed door. Of all the foolish… Without him, she’d likely get herself killed by nightfall. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “I think that’s for me to decide. You have no hold over me.”

  True, and it exasperated the hell out of him. “How do you think you’ll get back without my help?”

  “I’ll find someone else to take me to the city.”

  His grip tightened, pulling her closer. “Someone else like Westerly?”

  “Perhaps.” She winced, and he relaxed his hold.
Short of tying them together to prevent her escape, he couldn’t force her to stay, to listen to reason.

  As he contemplated his next move, her sweet scent drifted up to him again. His groin ached from the feel of her body so close to his. He had an overwhelming urge to take possession of her lips, silencing any mention of another man’s name. As if sensing the war that raged within him, Rebecca regarded him, her gaze snapping with defiance, daring him to push her too far.

  The heavy door burst open, and Spence swept into the library. Releasing his hold, Christopher jerked away from Rebecca, cursing himself. He’d acted as if he were a schoolboy, letting his body make his decisions for him. Even now he watched her, ready to chase after if she chose to flee.

  Spence glanced between the two of them with an amused smile on his lips. “Here are my early risers. The both of you must come out of the library. You’ve been holed up in here all morning. I insist you join the rest of the gods at Mount Olympus.”

  Christopher groaned as he took in Spence’s long flowing robes and the leather quiver of arrows strapped to his back. At Rebecca’s questioning look, he explained flatly, “Meet Eros, the god of love.”

  An arrow with a heart-shaped tip in hand, Spence strung his crimson bow, ready to shoot as needed. With a wink, he offered, “Let me know if you have need for my services, dear lady.”

  Christopher scowled as Rebecca’s mood lifted before his very eyes. “Forgive me, oh great Eros, but wasn’t Cupid a wee child?” she asked.

  “Who would be so foolish as to leave the matter of love and attraction to a mere child? Why, the prick of one of my arrows is so powerful it can produce uncontrollable desire or insurmountable indifference in the first person the wounded sees. Nay, this is a position that can only be filled by a man fully grown.”

  Rebecca giggled at Spence’s nonsense as if he were the most amusing man she’d ever encountered. Was she trying to annoy him? Knowing her, it was probable.

  “We’re all to be gods for a day,” Christopher interrupted. “It slipped my mind. Otherwise I would have forewarned you.”

  “Pshaw. Don’t listen to him,” Spence insisted. “I’ve arranged to have a special gown made for you, Miss Bailey. You’ll be the great Artemis.”

  “Artemis?” Rebecca questioned.

  “Yes, the courageous, alluring huntswoman. I would have insisted on the goddess of love and beauty, but I’m afraid there are too many of those already. It seems everyone must be Aphrodite. What’s a proper host to do?”

  Her glittering eyes stared into Christopher’s. “That suits me just fine. I’d rather be a huntswoman than the goddess of love at the moment anyway.”

  “Good, good. I’m glad to hear it,” Spence muttered as he ushered her toward the door. “A seamstress will be attending you in your room any time now. So, if you would be so kind.”

  Rebecca gave Christopher another hard look before she turned for the door. Although Spence raised a hand for Christopher to stay, he ignored the gesture and raced after her. He snagged her wrist, stopping her with a tug. “We’re not finished with our discussion here.”

  “I think we are.” She jerked her arm.

  He held firm. “These men are obviously looking for you. You were attacked in New York and possibly again here in the country.”

  She frowned, no doubt annoyed by his poor choice of phrasing regarding last night.

  Hoping to dissuade her from doing anything foolish, he pressed, “They may already know where you’re staying. If you go back now, you may lead them right to your father.”

  Her gaze softened as if she mulled over what he’d said. Not good enough. “Be warned. I’ll have my driver watching to make sure you don’t leave without me.” Everything said that needed saying, he released her. Casting him a glare, she turned away without a word and climbed the staircase leading up to her bedroom, her hips swaying with each step. At the top, she disappeared down the hall, and he turned back to Spence, who watched him, his face set in a rare pensive expression.

  Spence crossed the room and closed the heavy door. He reached into the V-shaped collar of his robe and pulled out an envelope. “This came for you. It’s marked urgent.”

  Christopher opened the letter and skimmed its contents, amazed at how quickly Bryce’s men worked.

  “Well, is our Rebecca the feared murderess?” Spence’s sarcastic tone made light of Christopher’s earlier suspicions.

  “No. In fact, that seems even less likely. A similar murder occurred in Boston several months ago. There’s a chance the two cases are linked.”

  “I thought you said Miss Bailey claimed she was from Boston. Wouldn’t that be a strike against her?”

  “It would if I believed her. For someone who lived there, she knows nothing about the city and its culture. I have my doubts she’s even visited.”

  “So where is the link?”

  “The victim, Dr. Thomas Bellmont, died under mysterious circumstances, stabbed in his bed it seems. Like Nathan, his accounts had been drained, and from the clues at the scene, it’s suspected his killer might have been a woman, although no one has any idea who she might be.”

  He scanned the note again. “Word on the docks is that three men are searching high and low for Richard and Rebecca Bailey. Bryce warns to keep her away from the city to avoid trouble.”

  “Trouble seems to have followed you here,” Spence reminded him.

  “So it seems. Did your staff see anything?”

  “Afraid not. I’ve checked with everyone who was awake at that time and found nothing.” Spence paused briefly, before adding, “The only disturbance last night was the late arrival of Victoria Endicott and her parents.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No. She convinced them to return from Chicago early. Poor thing was bored.”

  “Wonderful.” Rebecca would be even more determined to leave once Miss Endicott made her grand appearance. “Why would you invite that bit of fluff?”

  Spence shrugged. “She’s a little spitfire. She adds spice to most any occasion.”

  “She annoys me,” Christopher growled.

  A wide grin spread across Spence’s lips. “And she annoys you, which is very entertaining.” Taking a seat, Spence sobered. “I should also mention that Patrick Gebhardt is in attendance.”

  “Nathan’s brother? I haven’t seen him in years.” Christopher had never liked the man. He’d been Nathan’s opposite, always foul-tempered and unpredictable.

  “The very same. He came to visit his parents for the funeral and never left. It dawned on me that if he should suspect Miss Bailey of involvement in Nathan’s death…”

  “He could want revenge,” Christopher finished for him. Nathan’s family had never given up on the case. While Christopher didn’t believe Bryce had given names, he knew the Chief had filled them in on what information they had so far. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” Walking toward the door, he folded the letter and stashed it in his pocket. “Thank you for inviting the whole Gebhardt clan. Seeing Adele again has brought back some fine memories.”

  “What should I have done? My father and hers were practically brothers.” Spence sighed. “You can’t avoid her forever, my friend.”

  Christopher strode to the door. He could do without Spence’s sage advice.

  “I’ve added watches for tonight unless, of course, you plan to take it upon yourself once again to personally ensure Rebecca’s safety,” Spence said, his voice cool and distant.

  He didn’t have to ask what Spence referred to. “How did you find out?”

  “I have my sources.”

  “Does anyone else know?” Although she only pretended to be a member of the bon ton, the thought of gossips snickering behind her back repulsed him.

  “No, and no one else will.” Spence met him at the door, his gaze angry, intense. “Did anything happen?”

  Christopher’s hand clutched the door knob. “That’s none of your concern.”

  Spence pressed a hand to the door, hold
ing it shut. “As much as you’d like to deny it, from what I’ve seen she’s a good girl, Chris. I’d hate to see her hurt.”

  “You think that’s all I’m capable of?”

  “No, I think you’ve already decided there can be nothing between the two of you. And even if someday you realize how wrong you were about her, nothing will make you change your mind.”

  Now he was the stubborn bastard using a poor innocent girl for his own means? What the hell did Spence know about his relationship with Rebecca?

  Christopher knocked Spence’s hand from the door. “Stay out of my business. Rebecca is my concern, not yours.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  REBECCA MARCHED INTO HER room, shut the door behind her, and flopped down onto the bed. “He can’t keep me here.” Or could he?

  Mary stirred on the cot. “Hmm?” she asked, her voice groggy.

  “I’m ready to go home.” Her heart turned into a dead weight in her chest, pushing her further into the mattress. She’d been a fool. When she’d awakened in Christopher’s arms she’d thought…she’d thought he’d finally come around.

  “What?” The cot squeaked, and Mary propped herself up on one elbow.

  Dear God. Rebecca scooted to the end of the bed for a closer look. “Your eye. What happened?”

  Mary patted the purple skin around her left eye with her fingertips and winced, then rose and stepped to the vanity mirror.

  Rebecca followed. “Did Philip Westerly do this to you?”

  Sadness seeped into Mary’s features.

  “Oh, Mary.” She brushed a consoling hand down Mary’s arm.

  Heaving a sigh, Mary shook her head. “I’m fine. Now what’s this about going home?”

  “You’re not fine—”

  Mary’s warning look stopped her from saying more. All right. If that’s the way she wanted it. “I was saying that I’d like to go home, but Mr. Black is seeing to it that I can’t, with or without him.”

  Mary’s brow wrinkled. “You’d leave without your Mr. Black?”

  Rebecca’s gaze dropped to the floor, and her heart squeezed tighter. She took a deep breath. She would stay strong. “Yes, and he’s hardly my Mr. Black.”