A Ravishing Beauty in Disguise: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Emily Honeyfield

  “You have to make people listen to you however you can,” William agreed, finding his smile stretch still wider. “Although I imagine they teach the same sort of thing to debutantes.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Harriet said, sounding contemplative, her voice far away.

  The dance concluded far too quickly. William was aware they’d opted for one of the shorter rounds, one that cast them apart to opposite sides of the ballroom with only a, “Quite wonderful dancing with you. I hope to do it again,” which sounded terribly formal in his ears. His heart thudded as he walked towards Thomas, who looked strangely defeated, his cheeks sagging.

  Thomas stretched his fingers over his face, muttering to himself. When William arrived, Thomas murmured, “I’m an idiot to think she wouldn’t just belittle me throughout the entire dance. She looked at me like I ruined her entire life. And you know what? I probably did. There’s no fighting back from this one. I’m an idiot. I thought I saw something better, and I went for it. Why couldn’t I just leave well enough alone?”

  Still, William’s eyes traced towards Harriet, finding refuge in the small of her back, her shaking brunette curls. She strode towards a woman who looked like an older version of herself—surely her mother, and began to mutter in her ear. William half-prayed that he had created some sort of arena in her brain for thoughts of him, but he couldn’t be sure. The girl seemed to flit from one idea to the next, without pause. Perhaps she’d already forgotten about him.

  Chapter 9

  Harriet reached her mother out of breath. She felt jittery with glee, as though she and William had just run circles around one another speaking impossible and beautiful truths. Ordinarily, when dancing with a partner, she felt an aching dread, a boredom she could hardly translate with words.

  Yet the way William’s dark eyes had sparkled towards her had filled her with a sense of longing, a feeling of hope. Of course, she couldn’t possibly dream of courting him—not after all that had happened with Zelda (and assuredly, they would find a way to return together, as it was what Zelda’s mother and father wanted so desperately). However, if anything, she yearned to learn from William, to uphold his sense of justice and honour in the world.

  Of course, she couldn’t do that by going to law school.

  Her mother arched her brow when she spotted her. “You’re looking like you just learned some incredible news,” her mother said. “What is it? Have you been crowned queen?”

  “That humour, Mother,” Harriet sighed. “It will get you far in this life.”

  “I suppose it already has,” her mother returned. After a pause, she nodded to her left, towards a regal-looking woman, perhaps five years younger than Lady Arnold herself, dressed in a gown with far more flounces, far more jewels than the other women.

  The woman scowled at Harriet, sucking her cheeks in tight.

  “Harriet, I’d like to introduce you to the lady of the house. The Marquess’ wife.”

  Harriet’s stomach felt chilled. She bowed instinctively, paying attention to the rules that had been instilled in her as a young girl. Then, she forced her lips open and said, “It’s been such a splendid party, Madame. Thank you for hosting us.”

  The Marquess’ wife, whose first name was Genevieve, gave her a half-smirk. “It really is quite grand, isn’t it?” Her long fingers, heavy with rings, traced her pearls. “My husband likes to throw the sort of affair that impresses the entire city. He’s up nights thinking about it. Every single item in the room has been considered for hours at a time, that I can assure you.”

  There was a pause. Harriet felt she was meant to speak, but her throat tightened over her words, disallowing them to exit.

  “Those really are spectacular pearls, Madame,” Lady Arnold said, using a voice Harriet knew very much to be fake.

  “Oh? You like them?” the wife of the Marquess said, her eyes glowing ominously. “My husband is really quite a thief, isn’t he? Well, he was recently in Paris and spotted a selection of jewels that were particularly extraordinary, with these pearls in their midst. He knew I would just die to have them.”

  “Absolutely. I would die to have them, as well,” Lady Arnold echoed.

  “But apparently, the man’s price was absolutely atrocious. Certainly fair, but nothing that my husband would stand for. He ultimately deceived the poor jeweller, buying all the jewels for round-about a quarter of the price they’re meant for. He’s been bragging about it endlessly. And now, here I am, doing the same. But you really can’t beat a fine necklace of pearls, don’t you agree?”

  Harriet felt her tongue grow heavy. Her mother brought her hands to the pearls and slipped a single finger over one of the glowing orbs, clearly impressed. Harriet felt she might vomit all over the fine Marquess’ wife’s gown. She shivered against her mother.

  “It’s remarkable what people will part with when they don’t know what they have,” her mother said. “You really were lucky. And the Parisians, in fact! I thought they were unable to be tricked.”

  “As I said, my husband is truly a master,” Genevieve said.

  “I don’t suppose the two of you would excuse me for a moment?” Harriet said, her words so thin she could hardly hear them herself.

  “Of course, darling. Are you feeling ill?” Genevieve asked. She turned her eyes back toward Lady Arnold, murmuring, “You know, it really isn’t good for these girls to drink this champagne along with everyone else. All their thin frames, so tight in their corsets. I, myself, haven’t worn a corset in years. The weight just falls from me. My husband doesn’t know what to do with me. I try to explain, darling, I simply just don’t have an appetite! But he likes it better this way. It’s better to show off the jewels when you have a bit of bone poking through.”

  “Excuse me,” Harriet uttered. She whirled around from the conversation, drawing her hands across her stomach. She nearly lurched forward, stumbling across her own two feet. Again, she felt an inner rage she couldn’t fully name.

  The wife of the Marquess had lived precisely this way her entire life. It wasn’t as though she had the ability to question it—this thieving from the poor for her own personal gain. Harriet tried and failed to explain this to herself, to lend a bit of compassion for the older woman. But as she staggered for the steps, she felt entrenched in a far different mood.

  Something had to be done.

  As she stalked past various crowds, she heard the twinkling laughter of her cousin Zelda. Harriet turned fast to see Zelda again with the older gentleman, her lips drawing over the edge of her champagne glass. There was a look of passion in Zelda’s eyes that reminded Harriet only of herself, moments before, when she’d been wrapped in the strong arms of William Abernale.

  Had Zelda found a suitor for herself? Someone who wasn’t William Abernale?

  These were questions for a far different time. Harriet drew her hands into firm firsts and stalked towards the hallway, squaring her shoulders. She felt like a woman at war, like a relative Joan of Arc of London, a woman carrying a cross across her shoulders. The room faded away, grew into a blurry mass of gooey faces, of colours. Harriet lost all comprehension of what was real, what wasn’t. She faded into herself. All grew black.

  Chapter 10

  William lurched forward, nearly spilling his drunk. Thomas appeared around him, having frightened him from his reverie with a firm hand upon his shoulder. He chuckled at William, his eyes glittering. “What’s gotten into you, Will?” he asked. “You seem about as frightened as a child.”

  William rebounded quickly. He pressed his lips into a smile. Another song had kicked off without him. In the wake of his dance with Harriet, he’d danced with only one other woman—one named Alice, who’d had some sort of unknown bad-breath disorder. He couldn’t void the scent from his nostrils.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to creep up behind me,” William said, trying to push the blame upon his friend. “Where’s Tatiana?”

  Thomas’ cheeks blushed pink. “It’s difficult to say what
’s happening with that. Only that I know it’s easy to get caught up in the beauty of the night. There’s nothing that says she’ll stick with me after this. A man must draw his own boundaries.”

  “How dramatic you are, Thomas,” William said, half-smirking.

  Perhaps to overrule Thomas’ current mindset, Tatiana appeared, stretching her fingers over Thomas’ shoulder and ushering both him and William towards a small, yet growing group towards the side of the ballroom floor. They tucked themselves between two mighty pillars. William was reminded of the Grecian philosophers, holding court.

  Someone whispered loud enough to inform him that the woman speaking was the wife of the Marquess. Indeed, she was a beautiful woman, her cheekbones featured prominently on her porcelain face. Her long fingers spaced themselves across her pearls as she spoke regally towards the rest of them.

  “You really can’t understand what it’s like to be married to such a man,” she said with a sigh, using a dramatic, dream-like tone.

  “You mentioned you have other things? Other jewels he took from Paris?” one of the other women asked, her voice coaxing.

  “Of course,” the wife of the Marquess tittered. She snapped two of those spindly fingers together, a motion that immediately led a maid to leap towards her. “Darling, won’t you go to the bedroom? I wish to show off a few more items to this clearly enthralled crowd. It’s essential to give the people what they want, don’t you agree?”

  After years at law school, William forced his eyes to remain firmly forward, without flickering away with resentment and anger towards this impossibly higher class. The maid swirled away, needling herself through the crowd and then rushing up the steps.

  The wife of the Marquess turned once more to the woman beside her, a woman William now recognised to be the mother of Harriet herself. He took a slight step back, noting the grey strands that swirled down the woman’s hairline. How funny that he’d become a man in the years he’d been away, whilst she’d transitioned into becoming an older woman.

  Thomas’ eyes were filled with light as he watched Tatiana. It was clear Tatiana was putting on some sort of show for him, all-but flirting with a man William didn’t recognise beside her. Thomas was visibly sweating, little wet balls falling down his neck.

  William crossed his arms over his chest, turning his eyes towards the ballroom crowd. With the lateness of the hour, it had begun to deplete, people gathering in the corners, exhausted and aching for the night to end. This was the nature of these sorts of events. There was so much build-up, so much hunger for what would be—only to end it at the soonest-possible moment and return home.

  Again, William searched for Harriet yet couldn’t find her in the madness. He wondered if she’d cosied up alongside another man, using her electric talent for conversation and intrigue with someone else. The root of his spine shivered.

  “This is quite boring, isn’t it?” William muttered to Thomas, trying to draw his attention back towards him.

  “Hmm?” Thomas asked.

  “The maid? Going to get the jewels? I couldn’t care less. Seeing someone’s wealth on display. Hasn’t that been the theme of the entire night?”

  “It’s only just some jewels, William.” Thomas shrugged. “All you have to do is fake how impressed you are and then leave with the rest of us. You’ll forget it within the hour.”

  “If I live through the hour, that is.” William shrugged.

  “Terribly dramatic. It’s your biggest problem,” Thomas returned.

  Suddenly, a shriek rattled out from the foyer. William whipped his head in the direction, his eyes scanning the tops of heads. Due to the lateness of the hour, several of the candles in the foyer had already burned out, casting everything in darkness. Again, another shriek echoed from the foyer, seeming to arrive from up and to the left. William took a slight step towards the noise. Everything within him felt tight, as though he expected a sudden storm.

  In response to the shrieks, the crowd had hushed. Their eyes turned to one another, burning with questions. The Marquess marched through the crowd, all-but shoving people out of his way as he reached the foyer.

  “Not to worry, everyone,” he uttered, his tone regal and booming. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s just a nasty misunderstanding.”

  The scream grew closer. It seemed that no one around William had taken a breath in over a minute. The wife of the Marquess pressed between William and Thomas, skirting after her husband. Just as she reached her long white fingers towards his elbow, the maid appeared from the foyer—the very one the wife of the Marquess had sent upstairs. She thrust herself to the ground upon her knees, and then swiped her fingers across her cheeks.

  Now, the ballroom was horribly quiet, as though they’d just witnessed a death. All eyes landed heavily on the maid. Her body quaked with panic. She looked akin to a schoolgirl, far younger than her perhaps 20 years of age, blinking wildly at the masters before her.

  “I don’t understand what’s gotten into you!” the wife of the Marquess hissed. She flashed her eyes towards the group that included William and Lady Arnold, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “What sort of girl does something like this? Causes such a scene—”

  But the Marquess sensed there was something wretchedly off. He thrust his arm through the air and pressed it over his wife, shoving her back. His wife staggered a bit, folding her body forward so that her nose pointed towards the floor.

  “What’s happened, my darling?” the Marquess asked the maid.

  “All the jewellery, My Lord,” the maid whispered, just barely loud enough for William to hear. “It’s all gone.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” the Marquess demanded, his voice more like a bark.

  Again, the maid tried to string her fingers over her cheeks. But the Marquess surged towards her, gripping her slight wrist and tugging her up.

  “The jewels, My Lord. The jewels from Paris. I planned to bring them down—to show them—”

  The Marquess turned bright green eyes towards his wife. They seemed to sizzle. “You sent her to bring the jewels here?”

  “To show them off—” his wife uttered.

  “In front of everyone?” the Marquess demanded. It seemed he was willing to toss his anger in any direction.

  “It’s not as though it mattered!” his wife returned. “The maid reports that—that they’ve been stolen!” Genevieve gripped her mighty skirts and swirled to and fro, casting evil eyes towards those around her. “And they must have been stolen by someone in our midst! Darling, someone here is a traitor!”

  The Marquess spoke through clenched teeth. “It’s not as though they would have known about the jewels, darling, if you hadn’t opened your enormous mouth—”

  “I was only telling the women of your incredible practices in Paris—” his wife spat back, with a tone far darker than William would have thought capable.

  The husband and wife pressed their lips together, both seeming to make the decision to table the discussion for another time, when they weren’t performing it in front of three hundred of their closest friends. The Marquess brought his flat palms together and acknowledged them, then, making his face as serene and soft as possible.

  “Ladies. Gentlemen. You must excuse my wife and I for this wretched event,” he began. “As you’ve probably heard, some thieving has come into our midst—a fact that very much fills my heart with darkness. I assumed that everyone who walked through my doors this evening I could count as a friend. It’s now clear that that isn’t so.”

  “We must conduct a thorough investigation!” his wife shrieked, drawing herself to her full height. She snuck her arm through her husband’s. Her eyes were like daggers, slicing through the various women in her immediate vicinity.