Daring Masquerade

by Mary Balogh

  That decision had raised another problem, though, one she felt foolish not to have foreseen. How was she to send the letter to Nicholas? Was she to address it to Mr. Nicholas Seyton, Shropshire, England? And expect it to reach him? Of course, she did not know his address. And how was she to find it? She could hardly ask Lord Barton for it, and she could think of no story that would explain to Mr. Dalrymple why she desired the information. The servants? Despite what Nicholas had said about them, Kate had never quite trusted any of them except the Pickerings. And they could not read. Was it likely that they would have the address she needed? She would ask, but she did not expect any success.

  She had decided that she must go back to the Evanses’ cottage. Surely Nicholas would have left his direction with them. She was going to play it safe this afternoon even though she had seen Lord Uppington leave with her own eyes. She was going to take Audrey with her and have the gig prepared for them.

  When they reached the lodge, Kate had the coachman wait while she ran inside. She stopped in her tracks when she knocked lightly on the open door and peered into the darkness within. Sir Harry was sitting there looking quite at home, his legs stretched out before him, a tankard of something on the table beside his elbow. His eyelids came down to half-cover his eyes, and his hand sought and found the ribbon of his quizzing glass when he saw Kate.

  “Ah, Mrs. Mannering,” he said in such a heavy drawl that his behavior of the afternoon before suddenly seemed like a dream that had played her false, “have you come to sample Pickering’s excellent ale too?’

  “I . . . I came to see Josh,” she said, “and to thank him for his assistance yesterday afternoon.”

  “He is out back, missus,” Mrs. Pickering said, standing behind Sir Harry and bobbing a curtsy. She looked as if she had been crying, Kate noted in the half-light.

  “Thank you,” she said, and turned to go.

  “Are you planning to go any farther, Mrs. Mannering?” Sir Harry asked. “If so, perhaps I shall impose my company on you. I despise unnecessary exercise, but sometimes staying still is quite as tedious.” He yawned.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, “but I have Audrey with me in the gig and Jim to drive us. You need not feel obliged to exert yourself.”

  “Ah,” he said with a dismissive gesture, “no trouble at all, ma’am. If we are to ride in the gig, the outing suddenly seems the more attractive. You run along and have your word with Josh. I shall entertain Audrey while she waits.”

  Chapter 20

  “My dear Mrs. Mannering,” Sir Harry said, climbing out of the gig in order to hand her in, “Audrey and I have already been from A to Z through all the possible topics of conversation and were about to start again. Jim has declined to be drawn in at all. I thought perhaps you had left us to our own devices and gone walking alone.”

  “No,” she said, “I was merely talking to Josh. And I would apologize for keeping you waiting, but I did not invite you to come along, sir. On this occasion your boredom has been of your own choosing.” She placed a hand in his and stepped nimbly into the gig.

  “Now, did I say I had been bored?” he asked. “Did I say that? Audrey? Jim? You malign me, ma’am, and before witnesses too.”

  “Then you may continue with your conversation,” Kate said lightly, “while I commune with my own thoughts.”

  In truth, she wanted nothing better. Her thoughts were buzzing with such excitement that she thought she would probably give herself a headache. She did think fleetingly of telling Jim to turn the gig back to the house so that she could rush to her room and be alone with her new discovery. But now, of course, it was even more imperative that she make that visit to the Evanses’ cottage.

  “Now, that is definitely not fair,” Sir Harry said, wondering where on earth they were going when the gig turned away from the direction of the village. “I voluntarily left a whole inch of excellent ale on the table at the lodge so that I might offer you the pleasure of my superior conversation, ma’am, and you quite blatantly declare that you find your own thoughts more stimulating. Was ever man more openly insulted, Audrey?”

  The maid giggled and blushed.

  It was really most awkward that he had insisted on coming along, Kate thought. How was she to explain the visit she was about to make? But she mentally shrugged off the problem. She did not have to offer any explanation at all. It was none of his business whom she visited. She also forced the new excitement to the back of her mind. She would wait until she returned home. She resigned herself to an exchange of light banter with Sir Harry. She must consciously enjoy it too. There would be only a few days more and then she would never see him again.

  What the devil? Nicholas thought as the gig drew to a halt outside Evans’ cottage. Jim half-turned in his seat and gave him a conscious glance, as did Audrey from the seat opposite. But he showed no reaction beyond raising his quizzing glass to his eye and surveying the cottage languidly through it.

  “Quite a pleasant retreat,” he commented. “Are you thinking of buying it, Mrs. Mannering?”

  “Not by any means,” she said. “I must pay a call inside, that is all. I shall be no longer than a few minutes. I hope you do not mind waiting, sir.”

  Sir Harry sighed. “I suppose waiting is preferable to walking back home,” he said. “I imagine the distance must be all of three miles, if not more. Well, Jim, we must have your contribution to the conversation this time or Audrey and I will suffer the severe embarrassment of having to stare dumbly at each other, our jaws hanging. Ma’am?” This last was said to Kate as he offered his hand to help her descend from the gig.

  “Now, does either of you know,” Nicholas Seyton asked a couple of minutes later, after Kate had disappeared inside the cottage, “why Mrs. Mannering has seen fit to pay a call on Russ Evans this afternoon?”

  “Not I, Master Nick,” Jim said fervently, “I am just driving where I am told to go.”

  “No, sir,” Audrey said.

  “Hm,” Nicholas commented, giving his quizzing glass one energetic twirl on its ribbon before letting it drop from his hand, “perhaps she is considering applying for the position of apprentice smuggler.”

  Jim guffawed and Audrey giggled. Nicholas lapsed into silence. But search his mind as he would, he could not fathom the mystery. He would have to satisfy his curiosity by coming back and interrogating Evans later, he supposed.

  Meanwhile Kate was experiencing one more frustration. Mrs. Evans had answered the door and peered out curiously at the gentleman and maid waiting in the gig at the gate. She had invited Kate inside, where her husband immediately scrambled to his feet from his chair at the kitchen table. When Kate asked them if they knew how to reach Nicholas Seyton, they stared at her with gaping mouths as if she had two heads, she thought. Persistence drew no better answer. No, he had not left any address with them. And no, he had not told them how they might contact him if the need arose. And no again, they did not know who might know Mr. Seyton’s direction.

  Sir Harry was standing beside the gig when Russ Evans showed Kate to the door and accompanied her across the cobbled yard to the gate. Sir Harry nodded. “Good day,” he said. “You are situated in a fine spot here.”

  “Yes indeed, sir,” Evans said, bobbing his head and looking somewhat uncomfortable.

  “Did I not encounter you on another occasion?” Sir Harry asked. “One evening when I had been led to believe that Mr. Nicholas Seyton was residing here?”

  “Ah, yes, sir,” Evans said. “I thought I knew you, sir.”

  “And do you know Jim and Audrey?” Sir Harry continued. “I am sure they would not refuse a cup of tea, or perhaps something stronger for Jim, while Mrs. Mannering and I stretch our legs in a turn along the clifftop.”

  It had really been very nicely done, Kate thought a few minutes later when she was being led away on Sir Harry’s arm, Jim and Audrey having disappeared inside the cottage. It was a blessing that she did not have anything to fear from this particular man. As it was, she was q
uite delighted to spend an unexpected few minutes alone with him.

  “Do you have any fear of heights, Mrs. Mannering?” he asked. “If so, a cliff walk will not be the most comfortable of experiences for you. Just say the word and we shall find a cliff path to take us down to one of the beaches.”

  “I love it up here,” Kate said, turning her face into the brisk sea breeze. “I do believe I would have been a sailor if I had been a man. And do look at the sun sparkling on the water.”

  “And do look at the height of the breakers down there,” he said, taking her close to the edge of the grass, close to the sheer drop to rocks below. “I fear you would have no energy to watch sparkling water if you were a sailor today, ma’am. You would be too busy being seasick over the side of the boat.”

  Kate laughed.

  “What?” he said, turning to look down at her. “No sharp retort to that, Mrs. Mannering? I must be losing my touch. How are your hands today? I notice that you have them safely hidden inside gloves.”

  “Thank you,” she said, embarrassed, “better.”

  “You did not speak to Lord Barton?” he asked.

  “No,” Kate said. “I think it better to let the matter drop.”

  “Did you know that the Pickerings have been ordered to leave?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said hesitantly. “Yes. That is the worst result of all this. I do not know what they will do.”

  “Neither do they,” he said dryly. “Do you realize that you could prevent it?”

  She glanced at him quickly. “Oh, no,” she said, “I think not. My story would not be believed.”

  “With whip marks to prove it?” he asked. That sneer she had not heard in his voice for a few days was back. “You would not even try, Mrs. Mannering, for the sake of servants?”

  “It would not help,” she said, turning her face to look out to sea. She could not tell him what had happened that morning. So many times in the last couple of weeks he had seen her at her weakest. Must she admit now that she had stood meekly in the earl’s cabinet that morning listening to the accusations of two men and realizing all the futility of trying to defend herself? Her own weakness, her inability to control her own life appalled her. She would not confide in this man and have more of his pity. She wanted his admiration, his love.

  “I see,” he said, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “The Pickerings are to be sacrificed, then. They do not matter, of course. They are only servants. And Josh matters even less. He is merely an imbecile who does not need to be treated as a human being.”

  Kate jerked her hand from his arm and rounded on him. “Don’t say that,” she said, “and don’t imply that that is my attitude. Josh may not have all his wits about him, but he is twice the man that you are or Lord Uppington or . . . or . . . He is dear and sweet and loyal, and he saved me perhaps from rape yesterday. Do you think I would willingly repay him by having him and his parents thrown out? Do you think I have a choice? Do not talk to me of servants, sir. I know all about being a servant. You have no idea, you with your life of aristocratic privilege.”

  “Well, well,” he said, infuriatingly cool, one eyebrow raised, his eyelids half-covering his eyes, “It seems that Mrs. Mannering still has feelings. I thought maybe the whip had deadened them, my dear ma’am.”

  “Don’t blame me,” Kate said, wincing as she tried to clench her fists, still unable to get herself under control. “Don’t blame me that the Pickerings have to go. It is not my fault. Not in any way. Ohhh! Do you think I have not blamed and blamed myself since I heard this morning? Of course it is my fault. It is my fault that I have been making eyes at Lord Uppington since he came here, leading him on to madness. It is my fault that he has been pursuing me with such persistence. It is my fault that we chose that particular spot yesterday for our lovemaking, within earshot of the lodge. And it is my fault that I screamed so loudly with ecstasy that Josh came running. Of course it is my fault. If I had not taken this employment, all this would not have happened and Lord Barton would not have decided to get rid of the Pickerings. I know it is my fault. I do not need you to arouse my conscience. And I am not your dear ma’am.”

  “And those are not tears in your eyes either,” he said, his own eyes holding hers.

  “Yes, they are,” she said defiantly, turning from him and beginning to walk again along the clifftop. The wind felt good in her hot face. “But they are tears of anger, not of weakness.”

  “Your greatest fear is of appearing weak, is it not, Kate?” he asked, walking beside her, his hands clasped behind his back. “Would it be so weak to admit to Lord Barton that you have become the target of the vicious attentions of a rake?”

  “No,” she said with a bitter laugh, “not weak, sir. Stupid. The man is a marquess. And he wishes to marry Lady Thelma, daughter of a mere earl. Do you seriously imagine that Lord Barton would pay any attention to my complaints?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps not,” he said.

  Kate stopped again suddenly. “Did you do that to Lord Uppington’s face?” she asked.

  “The slight rearrangement of features?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Yes, actually. I rather admire my own artistry now that I have had a chance to have a good look at it today. Do you?”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Why? Because the new features are so much more in keeping with his character,” he said.

  “I meant why did you do it?” Kate said.

  “Ah. Well, Kate, I have always felt that I should have been born in the Dark Ages, when I might have been a knight-errant, traveling from one distressed damsel to another, rescuing them from the jaws of dragons and such. I think such a calling would have suited me to perfection. Alas, we have no dragons in our age. Only Uppingtons. We live in a very dull world, would you not agree with me?”

  “You fought him for me?” Kate asked.

  “Did I?” he said, looking across at her in some surprise. “Yes, I suppose in one way I did. I happen not to think it sporting of a strapping great fellow to take a whip to a little dab of a female, no matter how strong a knee or sharp a tongue she might possess. But I believe I fought him more for me, my dear. It gave me enormous satisfaction to do so, you know.”

  “And you did not have any other men hold him while you hit him?” Kate asked,

  “The mythical thugs?” he asked. “I am mortally offended that you would even suggest such a thing, my dear Mrs. Mannering—pardon me: my not dear Mrs. Mannering. Do I appear too weak to have accomplished the task single-handed? I am far too selfish to have done such a cowardly thing, besides. I would not have had nearly the pleasure out of pummeling a victim who had no chance to defend himself.”

  “Thank you,” Kate said. “But you need not have done that for me, you know.”

  “No, I know,” he agreed. “You would have far preferred to do it yourself. Would it be any comfort to you if I assured you that the single blow to the, ah, vitals that you delivered was probably far and away more painful than all the dozen or two that I delivered to the head? I must confess that I did not have your ruthless courage, my dear Kate.”

  “I shall be leaving here the day after the ball,” Kate said abruptly.

  “Ah,” he said. “You are going to quit the field and admit yourself vanquished? I thought you had more backbone, ma’am.”

  “I shall return to my father’s home or to my aunt in London,” she said, “and try again. Perhaps next time I can find some quiet employment as a governess.”

  “And maybe your employer’s good wife will find you a disguise that will more effectively mask your beauty than this hideous gray does too, Mrs. Mannering,” said Sir Harry. “It is useless to run, my dear, for wherever you go, your beautiful and desirable self runs too.”

  “It is not fair,” Kate protested, turning away from him and gazing out over the rough, sparkling waves below.

  “Plain and ugly wenches doubtless are in the habit of uttering exactly the same sentiments,” he said. “Life, Mrs. Mannering. Life. Shall
we stroll back? If Jim is as talkative with the Evanses as he was with me earlier, poor Audrey has probably been milked dry of all conversation long since.”

  Kate took his offered arm and they walked back in silence.

  And now, Kate thought, flinging herself facedown across her bed and propping her chin on her hands, not even noticing any pain. Now. It was just too exciting to be thought of all at once. She must let it flow gradually into her mind.

  Josh. Josh sitting on a fence at the back of the lodge, swinging his legs disconsolately, and not getting down or looking up even when she appeared around the side of the house and called his name. Josh looking up eventually with tearful eyes and pouting mouth.

  Poor Josh. Knowing that something was very wrong. Knowing that they were going to have to leave, when he had spent all his life at the lodge of Barton Abbey and when his parents were far too old to seek employment elsewhere. And knowing that somehow it was all on account of him. Not that anyone had said so or blamed him. But there had been that bad man and the new man he had known long ago and must now call earl. And there was the knowledge, clear even to a mind not of the swiftest, that there was a link between events. He had tried to tell about the bad man and the young, pretty missus, but the bad man had said yes and gone on talking about another bad man. But Josh had not seen that one. They had said to go and then his father had said they must leave.

  Josh rocking back and forth on the fence, crying finally, telling Kate that he could not go till Master Jonathan came. Master Jonathan would not know where to find him.

  “Do you mean Master Nicholas?” she had asked gently.

  No, Master Nick knew where to find him. Master Nick hadn’t told him he would come back.

  “Did Master Jonathan tell you that, Josh?” she had asked.

  Yes, Master Jonathan had said to wait, he would be back.

  Kate crossed to the fence and rested a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “Did you not know that he cannot come back, Josh?” she asked. “He has gone forever. He would come if he could. I am sure he loved you. But you have other friends. Master Nicholas will come to see you when he returns. And he likes you a great deal. So do I.”