A Ravishing Beauty in Disguise: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Emily Honeyfield

  “My goodness, darling, you’re filthy!” Zelda cried. She stomped towards the corner, reaching for a cloth and dipping it into the water basin. “I don’t suppose you worried about that when we returned from the ball? What sort of woman will you be for your husband, if you can’t even think to do the bare minimum …”

  Harriet accepted the damp cloth and rolled it over the dried balls of mud, leaping up so as not to soil her sheets. Her feet dropped upon the chilly hardwood. “What time is it?” she asked, her voice foggy. She felt as though she still lingered in the chaos of her dream.

  “It’s nearly eleven, darling,” Renata said, tittering. “Your mother forced us up here. Told us that it wasn’t necessary for you to sleep another wink. Are you ill?”

  Harriet had had very little sleep after her night rendezvous. She pressed her lips together, sanding out the last of the little mud droplets. “I struggled sleeping when I first returned home,” she offered.

  “Perhaps you are sick, then,” Zelda said. She clucked her tongue. “Nothing a bit of tea and a walk outside won’t help.”

  Harriet hurriedly dressed, feeling as though she was continually trying to catch up to her own fatigue. She smacked her hands across her cheek, listening as her cousins swapped stories from the previous evening. It seemed they remained on other people’s gossip, rather than their own.

  Harriet was grateful they hadn’t mentioned anything regarding William Abernale, although she knew it was only a matter of time. It was as yet unclear if they’d noted that she’d danced with him—and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted their opinion on the matter.

  This was a bizarre thing for Harriet, who felt accustomed to telling her cousins everything she felt, everything she’d done. Now, in the matter of just a few hours, she’d danced with someone she probably shouldn’t have, had feelings about that man, and—worst of all—stolen a great deal of priceless jewellery and hand-delivered it to a homeless woman.

  No. The time for secrecy was now. Yet it filled her with panic, making her heart leap up into her throat. She strung her comb through her hair, then smacked it back on the wardrobe. “I think tea is in order.”

  Harriet ate very little downstairs. She felt if she chewed on anything, her stomach might empty itself of its own accord. Her mother entered midway through tea and spoke with her cousins, each of them telling her a bit of gossip from the previous evening. Harriet felt unable to contribute.

  “It was quite funny, watching Thomas follow Tatiana around all evening.” Renata giggled. “The man thinks he can win her back after dumping her in such a manner? And perhaps he can. He’s going to have to work for it.”

  “Oh, Thomas? He’s William Abernale’s good friend, is he not?” Lady Arnold asked.

  “Yes. I believe they were quite good friends before William left,” Renata said. “Although Zelda could probably state this better than I.”

  Zelda shifted in her seat. Her face was stony. “I suppose so.”

  “Well, I do hope Tatiana considers giving him a second chance,” Lady Arnold said. “The girl can be wretched at times if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “That doesn’t mean she deserves what Thomas put her through,” Zelda affirmed.

  The women agreed. Harriet swallowed the last of her tea and turned her eyes to the window. “I really can’t imagine a better time to retreat outdoors. Can either of you?”

  “Excuse Harriet, Auntie,” Renata said. “She’s been terribly grumpy since we woke her at eleven. I don’t know what on earth she was doing all night.”

  Lady Arnold gave Harriet a strained smile, one that held within it a string of many questions. “I hope you’re feeling yourself, darling?”

  “Of course,” Harriet said, feeling her tongue scrape itself against the top of her mouth. “It’s only that I’m anxious to go outside. I don’t suppose that’s a crime?”

  The moment Harriet tried the word “crime,” she regretted it. It felt far too close to what she’d done. She stood to her feet, nearly toppling the tray of tea and biscuits. “Pardon me. I really need to stretch my legs.”

  Moments later, Zelda and Renata followed her into the back garden. Lady Arnold called to them from the door, telling them to have a marvellous time. Her voice echoed against the old stone walls which divided the different gardens from one another—the roses from the vegetables, the inner garden which had belonged to Harriet’s father’s mother, and another further back, which held the rickety wooden swing.

  Harriet surged forward, her mind racing. She tried to talk herself down, to remind herself that she’d done the proper thing the previous evening. In the brightness of daylight, she felt like an alien, a creature dropped down from a far different land. She felt almost no relation to her cousins. They continued to titter and swap stories, seemingly chalking Harriet’s strangeness up to her “occasionally bizarre” personality.

  As Harriet and her cousins raced out from the gardens and towards the moors, the conversation tilted towards William Abernale once more. At this, Harriet’s ears perked up.

  “You must tell us, Zelda. What did you feel when you first saw him? If you don’t mind me saying so, he’s even more handsome than he was before. Scotland made him into quite the man. Harriet, you must agree!”

  Harriet kept her lips tightly closed.

  Zelda, too, remained pensive. Renata shoved her finger into her sister’s upper arm, crinkling her brow. “Come now, darling sister. You really must have something to say about the only man you’ve ever loved returning to London! Your heart must be a chaotic jumble. Mine would be.”

  Zelda shrugged her shoulders. They burned towards her ears. The movement was almost volatile, entirely unlike Zelda.

  “Come ON, Zelda. What’s wrong?” Renata demanded.

  “It’s only that it’s a silly conversation,” Zelda returned. “William and I hardly know one another any longer …”

  “Oh, the sorts of things we learn about one another as children never really go away.” Renata sighed. “Isn’t that so, Harriet? Case in point is yourself. I heard you were pestering the butler last night. Demanding to know more about the wretched things the Marquess had done.”

  Harriet’s heart pounded harder. “Oh?” She hadn’t thought anyone had heard her, besides William.

  “Sure. Always so eager to peg someone as good or bad. Right or wrong. Evil or—” Renata continued.

  “Come now.” Zelda sighed. “The Marquess is rather evil, isn’t he? Do you think that’s good enough reason that someone robbed him?”

  “I can’t imagine who might have done it,” Renata said. “Who could have snuck up, in the midst of everyone, without being spotted?”

  “Everyone was quite drunk,” Zelda offered.

  The girls reached the edge of a clearing and stood beneath a willow. The willow’s branches swept across the ground before it, seemingly crafting a kind of dance. One of the leaves drew a line across Harriet’s cheek.

  “What did you think of seeing William Abernale again, then, Harriet?” Renata asked.

  The question felt like a punch. Harriet blinked several times at her cousin, trying to gauge if there was any sort of weight to it. But Renata’s eyes echoed back pure innocence.

  “What do you mean?” Harriet finally said, her voice scratchy and thick.

  “I just mean—he was a good friend of ours growing up,” Renata said. “Was it good to see him?”

  Harriet shrugged, feeling her cheeks waft to pink, or even red. When Harriet was much younger, she ached with the desire to tell one of her cousins about her youthful affection for William Abernale. At the time, she knew she would have been laughed from the premises, told she was far too young for him. How silly she was, thinking she could possibly deliver any element of truth to her older cousins without being thought of as idiotic.

  “Of course it was good to see him,” Harriet tried. How generic she sounded! “It’s surely remarkable what he’s learned since he was away.”

  “You s
ound just like our parents,” Renata scoffed.

  “What did you expect me to sound like?” Harriet asked, a wave of volatility rising up within her. She pressed it down immediately, knowing it was merely a result of her own fatigue. “I only mean that … I have very little to say of William. I hope we see more of him. Especially if … if he and Zelda decide to reignite …”

  “Please. Let’s discuss anything else.” Zelda sighed. “Like the wretched wife of the Marquess, for example. Didn’t you hear her prior to the robbery, bragging about the ways in which the Marquess was operating his schemes in Paris? She was telling very nearly everyone about it. I thought I was going to vomit.”

  “And it’s not as though the money he bought the jewels with was earned in a decent manner,” Renata said, leaping over Zelda’s words. She always had to win.

  “And you know what else I heard last night?” Renata continued. “Regarding that rich Baron, you must have seen him? The rather dapper one who was chatting with Ursula part of the evening?”

  “Quite handsome,” Zelda said, her words thoughtful.

  “Well, he’s going the way of the Marquess,” Renata said. “According to …”

  “Are you really going to bring him into this?” Zelda sighed.

  “What do you mean?” Harriet asked, her ears perking up. She stopped walking, nearly staggering forward with the switch of her weight.

  Renata looked conspiratorial and powerful, her eyes shimmering. “The Baron is our age, yet he’s already cultivated quite a ridiculous pastime of stealing from his colleagues and friends. He purports himself to be a businessman, and yet every single man he’s worked with, he’s wronged in some manner.”

  “How does he get away with it?” Zelda demanded. She strung her fingers through her blonde hair, wafting it across her shoulders.

  “The same way they all do.” Renata shrugged. “He will always have more money than these men he works alongside. Thusly, as he works his way up the ladder of wealth, he grows increasingly powerful. No one will cross him. I heard a good friend of his—his cousin, in fact—worked alongside him for years. The Baron reported that he would bring his cousin to equal wealth; that he would care for him and guide him … give him advice in the business realm. Yet the moment the Baron noted a hole in the contract, he was able to rob his cousin of nearly a quarter of his earnings. The cousin hadn’t the energy nor the insight to fight the Baron, especially as fighting him meant that he could lose every penny he’d earned thus far.”

  “My goodness!” Harriet whispered. “He essentially traps them.”

  “Like animals,” Renata agreed. “They rely on him totally, and thus he can do whatever he wants with them.”

  Zelda draped her head back, her face growing slack. “Oh, darling Renata. You truly do love to gossip, don’t you?”

  “It’s not gossip,” Renata blurted. “It’s simply carrying the truth forward. It’s essential to keep mind of the evils of the men around us, just in case …”

  “In case of what?” Zelda demanded.

  Renata shrugged. “I know you and William will find your way back to one another. I just pray that you won’t entangle yourself with anyone wretched in the interim.”

  “I would do well with the Baron’s rich cousin,” Zelda said, her voice teasing. “He sounds like he’s easy to boss around.”

  “Where does this Baron live?” Harriet asked. “Have you ever attended one of his events?”

  “Why, so I have. And so have you, Harriet!” Renata said, feigning surprise. “Remember last season. You danced with that dreadful man. Everett Peterson. Don’t you remember? You were mouthing at me the entire time, hoping I would step in and save you …”

  Harriet’s cheeks burned at the memory. It had been a far different time, a time when her heart had been hungry for love, rather than justice. “Of course. Father suggested we shouldn’t attend again. Even he seemed to spark at the idea of the Baron …”

  “Our families have very little to do with this man,” Renata agreed, sounding haughty. “As I said, he’s incredibly handsome, certainly refined at the art of performance in front of women like us.”

  “Now that you mention it,” Zelda said, arching her brow, “I heard him in conversation with one of the men last night. A friend of Father’s. He mentioned that he was heading out of town, to Bristol. Something about taking up another business partner, as his recent one has let him down.”

  “Ah! So, perhaps the cousin has decided to step out before he’s robbed even more,” Renata said. “That’s marvellous. I do hope these men get wind of how wretched they’re being, somewhere down the line. Certainly, the Marquess has received his deserved punishment in the wake of the robbery.”

  “You’re getting high on the gossip of it, now,” Zelda said. “Take a deep breath, Renata. You can’t fix the world from out here on the moors.”

  “No, but I can certainly have opinions about it,” Renata returned.

  “You’re saying that the Baron is out of town, then?” Harriet said. She swept her fingers across her throat, feeling the tender smoothness of her own skin.

  “As I said, he’s gone out of town to scam yet another business partner,” Renata said, her words impatient. “It’s only a matter of time before it crumbles.”

  “Certainly,” Harriet whispered. She cast her eyes back towards the estate. Black clouds rumbled over the top of it, creating an ominous contrast against the glowing white paint of the house. She wrapped her hands along her opposite elbows, holding herself against the sudden, whipping winds.

  Conversation halted, as it felt impossible to penetrate the approaching storm. They hustled towards the stone walls of the very last garden, ducking between the thorns of the approaching roses as chunky raindrops flung upon their heads. Once inside, Zelda and Renata struck up a far different topic, words that fell in a stream around Harriet’s ears. She was far too focused on her next plot to care.

  It would be yet another sleepless night.

  Chapter 14

  Fatigue forced Harriet to bed immediately after dinner. She informed her mother and father that she felt a bit ill after her walk with her cousins, and they gave nothing more than two shrugs before carrying on with their own conversation.

  Gripping her skirts, Harriet hustled up the staircase, nearly tumbling with excitement at the top. She paused, shaking her head. Calm down, she told herself. She would be no good to anyone—or to herself—if her anxiety caused her to lose control of her body.

  That morning, the pleasure of stealing from the Marquess and giving back to the beggar woman had rippled through her for hours, until she’d demanded of herself: what was next? The question had seemed an impenetrable one. How lucky she’d been, placed in precisely the correct location to right the wrongs of the Marquess.

  But now, Renata had revealed another level in the hierarchy of Harriet’s plan.

  She stretched herself beneath the cool sheets of her bed, thrusting her toes out of the end. Her eyelashes curved over her cheeks. Something in the back of her mind kept on ticking, forcing her eyes to open every half-hour or so, until night cast its darkness over the moors. Every muscle in her body grew rigid.

  Harriet swept the sheets to the side and drew her legs to the right, plopping her feet on the hardwood. Her ears craned for any sound from down below. Her parents’ general schedule of putting themselves to bed by nine-thirty was trustworthy. Harriet was grateful for it.

  She took tender steps towards the wardrobe, sneaking a hand all the way to the back and pulling her black cape out from its hiding place. With a dramatic flourish, she drew it over her shoulders. After a pause, she added the black mask over her cheeks, blinking at herself in the mirror. She looked formidable, nothing like the docile and sweet daughter of the Duke.