A Ravishing Beauty in Disguise: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Emily Honeyfield

  The light from the mansion beamed down upon them, and the music from the orchestra filled the air, making it thick with expectation. It was ridiculous to Harriet that so little time had passed since she’d snuck from her parents’ party. In that time, she’d nearly died; she’d nearly lost her standing in society; and—beyond that—she’d been told, for the very first time—that she was loved.

  It was a wild series of events, none of which could ever be told to another living soul. Perhaps this was a lonely feeling. Yet William reflected back this experience, holding onto her and her thoughts and her mind in a way that she knew was fully empathetic.

  “Shall we?” she murmured, her heart bumping in her throat.

  “I suppose it’s now or never,” William returned.

  Moments later, the pair stepped into the ballroom, standing side by side. Harriet hadn’t the inclination to move away from him, despite what it surely looked like. Rather, she clung close to him, feeling that he was her gravity.

  The ball looked precisely as they’d left it. Skirts swirled beneath the candlelight; men and women whispered secrets to one another, and collections of women and collections of men lurked in opposite corners, swapping those secrets as though they were currency.

  Harriet felt she burned with a far separate knowledge, that she could never again join their ranks. But just as she stepped across the marble floor, she spotted both Zelda and Renata, ogling her. An enormous smile spread across her lips. These women. No matter how little she could ever tell them about what had just happened, they were her entire world. They had her heart.

  “There they are,” William said, his voice low. “Zelda’s almost growling at you to go over there. I’m sure they have so many questions.”

  “Such nosy girls.” Harriet sighed, her smile widening. “What shall I tell them?”

  “Terribly sorry, but it seems I have my own story to make up,” William said, nodding in the direction of Thomas. He strode towards them with a different girl on his arm, a girl with long, bouncy blonde curls and eyes that wouldn’t remove themselves from Thomas’ face. She beamed at him as though the sun lurked within her cheeks.

  “Oh, dear …”

  But suddenly, Lady Arnold burst between Thomas and Harriet and William, her eyebrows low. Before William and Harriet could respond, she drew her hand over their wrists and pulled them away, as though they were children who’d been caught scheming. Harriet and William held eye contact for a moment, hustling behind Lady Arnold as she dragged them to the far end of the ballroom. The dragging was a bit lopsided, admittedly, as it seemed Lady Arnold had continued on her ravenous wine intake.

  Once out of earshot of the others, Lady Arnold swirled around and stared at Harriet, aghast. William remained beside her, shifting his weight.

  “What on earth are the two of you up to?” she demanded.

  Harriet just blinked at her, hoping to play dumb. But her mother clucked her tongue and tipped her head towards her, whispering, “You’ve been gone for ages, Harriet. People were starting to ask me where you were.”

  “I just stepped out for a moment,” Harriet said. “You must have missed me. I’ve been dancing the night away …”

  “Please don’t lie. Don’t lie to me anymore,” her mother returned. “I know you’ve felt me to be a lesser human as of late, as though I can’t keep up with your reckless and brave decisions. But I know you’re up to something.”

  Harriet’s lower lip bubbled. Why was she suddenly almost as afraid of her mother as she’d been of the man back at the home of the Marquess? “I’m not up to anything. I promise, Mother. It’s only just …”

  “And both of you!” Lady Arnold continued. “Don’t you understand? If anyone saw you coming in, there will surely be a scandal. I cannot afford such a thing. Not in my own house! And what will your father say, Harriet?”

  William stepped closer to Lady Arnold, towering over both of them. Harriet inhaled sharply, her nose filling with his scent. Her mind filled with images of his naked body over hers; her body spasming with pleasure beneath his. How she yearned for that again. Again and again, and for the rest of her life.

  “There is no need for a scandal, Lady Arnold,” he said, his voice booming. “The ton needn’t worry itself with it, anyway. I’m sure there are other scandals to craft.”

  “What do you mean?” Lady Arnold asked, stitching her brows together.

  “I want to ask permission to officially begin courting your daughter, Lady Arnold,” William continued. “It’s long overdue, of course. I should have asked well over a month ago. But better late than never, I suppose.”

  “I’m sorry?” Lady Arnold asked, her lips parting. It seemed she felt a bit too drunk to comprehend the entire meaning of the sentence.

  “Mother, he wishes to …”

  “I heard him!” Lady Arnold snapped, her eyes flashing. “My goodness. My goodness!” She spun quickly towards the far corner, where Lord Arnold was holding court with several bored-looking men. She waved a hand towards him, grabbing his attention. He lifted a finger towards her, as though to suggest he needed one more moment. But she waved her hand faster, telling him—in marital language, surely—that if he didn’t get over there that instant, he would be in enormous trouble.

  Harriet slipped her hand across William’s arm, beaming up at him. “Are you sure about this?” she murmured.

  “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life,” William returned. “And after the night we had? I think we’re stuck to one another. For better or for worse.”

  Lord Arnold ambled towards his wife, who grabbed his collar and dragged his ear towards her lips. She whispered the news, which made his eyes grow bulbous and egg-like. He stared at William as though he was a specimen in a lab. “Are you sure?” he mouthed, as though this news was altogether too difficult to comprehend.

  Admittedly, Harriet hadn’t ever had much of a suitor before. She imagined it was a strange fact, learning that one’s daughter wasn’t entirely too wretched to have an admirer.

  Her father and mother tapped back to William and Harriet, both beaming at William. Harriet longed to joke that they didn’t need her any longer—that they finally had the son they’d always craved.

  “Son, I’ve just heard the marvellous news,” her father said, his voice booming.

  “Perhaps I should ask again?” William said. “To make it official.”

  “No, no. Son, if you wish to begin courting my daughter, you have my complete and total permission. In fact, throughout this night, I’ve been looking for Harriet everywhere, wondering why she isn’t dancing with so many of the handsome men at the party! Admittedly, I put this ball together as a sort of, shall we say, push for Harriet …”

  “Father!” Harriet said, clucking her tongue. “A trap?”

  How funny that, in fact, she’d hardly been in attendance at all.

  “I only want the best for you, darling,” her father said. He drew his lips towards her forehead and tapped a soft kiss before turning back. “I must announce the news to my friends! I will see all of you later. And–” At this, he paused, tapping his nose, “If the pair of you don’t dance the night away, then I don’t know what I’ll do. Surely, youth is wasted on the young.”

  Now, William spread his palm out towards Harriet, bowing his head towards it. As he did, Harriet’s mother reached forward and swept her hand through Harriet’s curls. “You really do look quite a mess, Harriet! Did you not take care to do yourself up? You look as though you’ve been on horseback …”

  “I think she looks splendid,” William said, arching his brow. “I would want nothing more than this.”

  Harriet slipped her hand across his and they dove into the familiar dance steps, striding towards the centre of the ballroom. Harriet felt she was floating on a cloud. For a moment, she allowed herself not to think of the people south of the Thames, nor of the Marquess, nor of the Baron, nor of anyone wronging anyone else across the world. Normally, she stayed wide awake nights,
worrying, praying for a better solution. Yet now, she dove purely into the brand-new love she and William shared.

  As the dance ended, William tilted his head to the left, directing her eyes towards the Marquess. Just as he’d been before, he still held court with a variety of men who ogled him for his wealth and his grand clothing. It seemed he’d grown progressively drunker through the night, and as a result, his voice boomed out louder and stronger.

  “That’s right,” he blared. “I have a man lying in wait even now. I know he’ll catch this thief. I declare to all of you, that I will have that thief strung up before the morning light. We will all know his name. And he will meet his maker.”

  William and Harriet stepped closer, sidling against the others. “Who do you think it is?” William asked.

  The Marquess’ eyes glowed with drink. “As I mentioned to you earlier, my boy, I know it’s a man who is incredibly jealous of all I have. A man who wants to wrong me. A man who …”

  “And what if it’s a woman?” William said.

  Harriet drew her elbow into his side. Why did he wish to tempt this man into any sort of curiosity? Of course, she recognised William’s desire to tease the great tiger.

  “A woman?” the Marquess scoffed. “Who here really thinks a woman could be capable of such a thing?”

  No one responded. He rolled his eyes. “That’s precisely what I thought. A woman is far too sweet, too sincere to conduct such evils. This woman you have beside you, Lord—Abernale, is it? She has nothing on her mind beyond the children she hopes to raise for you. She has nothing on her mind but how she plans to care for you for the rest of her life. I see it in her eyes.”

  “How wonderful to be seen so clearly,” Harriet said, hoping she didn’t reveal too much sarcasm.

  “That’s right,” the Marquess said, clearly pleased with himself. “Your questions are wastes of our time, Lord Abernale. And you’ll see before dawn. As I said, I’ll string the man up myself. He’ll rue the day he ever graced my doorstep …”

  The ball went on in a familiar pattern after that. As the night grew more textured and dark; as the stars peppered themselves above, people began to stride to their carriages, riding home for the night. As the crowd thinned, Harriet found Zelda and Renata once more, both gossiping in the corner.

  Hayward and the man Renata fancied were nowhere in sight. Harriet told William it was time for her to return to her “girls,” if only for a moment. He informed her how greatly he would miss her, but that he understood.

  “Where have you been!” Renata chirped.

  “What are you talking about?” Harriet asked. “I’ve seen you so frequently. Dancing endlessly with Hayward …”

  “Oh, if only he was a better dancer,” Renata tittered. “Stepping on my feet during every trot—”

  “But truly, you did escape the ball for quite a time. I feel certain you weren’t here,” Zelda said, burrowing her eyebrows low. “We had a bit of a situation and wanted your opinion. Tatiana—she all-but abandoned Thomas. We think it was a sort of scheme she had all along to get back at him for what he did last summer.”

  “Oh?” Harriet said. For a moment, she could hardly remember what it was Thomas had done to Tatiana, or even who Tatiana was. After all that had happened, “playing the game” of the ton felt rather ridiculous.

  “But it seems Thomas has found another suitor!” Renata screeched.

  “I think we’re skipping out on the most important topic at hand,” Zelda said, again interrupting her sister. “I heard tell that William Abernale has officially asked your father to court you. Is that so?”

  Harriet nodded. She gave Zelda a meaningful look, knowing that Zelda assumed that it had been because of her scheming, and that alone, that William and Harriet had been brought together. It was better this way.

  “Thank you for telling me what was on his mind,” Harriet said, giving Zelda’s hand a squeeze. “Perhaps we never would have had a chance.”

  “I could see this happening from miles away,” Renata offered, her voice boastful. “The pair of you was meant to be together. Everyone knows it’s true.”

  “I’m glad you think so, too,” Harriet said.

  When the crowd filtered out, Harriet walked Zelda and Renata to the front steps, watching as they climbed into their own carriage. Their mother and father had already returned home. Harriet waved her hand wildly, feeling a presence approach her from the side. She knew already it was William, come to say goodbye.

  “I can’t wait to see the Marquess string up that thief before dawn,” he muttered, waving to Renata and Zelda as well.

  “It really will be a sight,” Harriet offered. “How marvellous that he’ll end the thief’s run, once and for all.”

  They paused for a moment. Harriet heard her mother and father approaching from behind. Just before William needed to climb into his own carriage, she turned towards him and gripped his upper arms. Her eyes bulged out as she whispered, “There’s still so much we need to do, William. The journey isn’t over. I need you to promise that you’ll follow my lead.”

  William hadn’t time to do anything else but nod. Harriet squeezed his arm still harder and then dropped back, saying, “I love you, William,” before hustling back inside, gripping her skirts. Her heart bulged with passion.

  Chapter 32

  The following days, Harriet was awash in a glow that she knew was derived only from her knowledge that William loved her, and she loved him back. She couldn’t have imagined it to be so powerful. Everywhere she walked throughout the estate, she felt she was atop a cloud, hovering over everything else, everything she’d ever known.

  In the midst of eating dinner three days after the ball, she paused with her fork in the middle of the air, nearly forgetting what she was doing. Her mother and father recognised this for what it was and teased her good-naturedly.

  “When I first fell in love with your father,” her mother said sighing, “I could hardly speak. My sisters all told me they thought I was ill. And I suppose it was a kind of illness, wasn’t it?”

  “They call it lovesickness for a reason,” Lord Arnold offered, stuffing an enormous potato into his mouth, glossy with butter. He chewed slowly, clearly regretting the action. The potato was surely scalding his tongue. “I reacted similarly, I think, although I couldn’t truly show it. My brothers would have had my head. Plus, being the eldest, I had to uphold a certain level of … strength.”

  “And yet, you couldn’t fully resist me,” Lady Arnold said.

  “Absolutely not, my dear.”

  Harriet dropped her fork to her platter with a clank. Her eyes danced towards the summer rain outside the window. It had drummed up a blanket of thick clouds overhead, something that kept the majority of London inside their homes throughout that week, avoiding the spontaneous, torrential downpour.

  “Did you hear what happened at the home of the Marquess?” her father said then, finally swallowing the last of his potatoes.

  Harriet’s ears perked up. She hadn’t heard anything regarding the Marquess after his departure from the ball. Only her father had mentioned something the following day, regarding the Marquess’ clear arrogance.

  “Was he robbed?” Harriet asked. “I heard him telling some story about—about setting up someone to catch the thief. He felt sure he would be robbed on the night of the party.”

  “Yes. And he told anyone he could that he wouldn’t have been at the likes of MY party were it not for that,” her father said, rolling his eyes. “But it seems that the man he’d hired to apprehend the thief didn’t succeed.”

  “No one showed up?” Harriet asked.

  “The Marquess reports that the man discovered a thief in the attic—describing a woman in a dress,” her father continued, half-chortling. “The Marquess demanded why the man didn’t apprehend the woman if it was clear that this woman was the thief. And the man didn’t have an answer for him. It seems that somehow, some way, this woman actually attacked him, leading him to become
unconscious! Remarkable story, really. Of course, the Marquess is incredibly embarrassed, having said he’d hired the perfect person to meet the thief. It’s clear he’s watching his words from now on, trying his best not to count his chickens before they hatch. But the man is so arrogant, I’m sure that sort of mentality won’t stick around for long.”