A Ravishing Beauty in Disguise: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Emily Honeyfield

  William bowed his head. Harriet slipped her hand across his chest, feeling his heart bursting beneath.

  “William,” she murmured. “When we’re married, when we’re together in our bed and sleeping soundly, this will all be a nightmare. But we have to fight through this last part. I need to know you’re with me.”

  William’s thick eyelashes rose. “Harriet, I’ve been with you since this all began, whether you knew it or not. I won’t leave you alone in this. I love you.”

  Again, he reached forward and kissed her. Harriet’s spine shivered with apprehension. Just before turning back towards her horse, she whispered, “Don’t wait too long. I don’t know how much intelligence lurks behind that man’s eyes, but he could surely track me down eventually. Someone might let it slip that they didn’t see me at the ball for a while. I don’t want to take a chance.”

  William nodded. As Harriet spun down the steps, he clicked the door closed, leaving her alone in the sunlight. Unsure of what else to do, in the wake of this enormous decision—a rift in time that could alter the course of everything—Harriet lifted herself onto her horse and directed it towards Zelda and Renata’s estate. She needed to pretend everything was normal, to laugh with her closest friends beneath the deep blue sky. There were no guarantees in this life. She had to be grateful.

  Chapter 33

  When William appeared back in the parlour, Thomas was halfway through his platter of biscuits, speaking with his mouth full at William’s poor housemaid, a woman who’d made it possible for William to speak in secret to Harriet. The maid lent him a knowing expression, and he mouthed, “Thank you,” before returning to his seat. Thomas turned his head quick, like a bird, directing his eyes towards him.

  “I thought you’d never come back,” he said. “What kind of package was it?”

  “It actually wasn’t for me,” William said. He popped forward and collected a biscuit, holding it aloft for a moment. He hadn’t a single desire to eat it.

  “That’s strange,” Thomas said.

  “Just a mistake,” William said, shrugging. He paused for a moment, his mind racing. “But Thomas, I really hate to be rude. I have to run some errands this afternoon before it grows too late.”

  Thomas stabbed another biscuit between his teeth and chomped down. He matched William’s shrug. “All the ever-important things you must do every day, William. I don’t know how you still have time to spend a moment with me. Shall I see myself out?”

  “I dare say you know where the door is,” William said, mocking him like a brother.

  When Thomas disappeared, the maid reappeared in the parlour, gazing down at him. She looked at him as his mother had when he’d been younger, filled with whizzing thoughts that he couldn’t pin down. “She really is quite beautiful,” were the words that crumbled from her mouth, as though this was the be-all, end-all of who Harriet Arnold was.

  “And so much more than that,” William returned, rising from his chair. “I’ll be off for the afternoon and perhaps for much of the evening. Do not worry about having dinner prepared for me.”

  William took his horse from the stables and rode out to the Arnold estate, his heart hammering. He’d had little contact with Lord Arnold that summer, despite having seen Harriet many times.

  Although it had been his pleasure, a hobby, almost, to sneak into people’s homes and rob them of their finery, for reasons he couldn’t fully comprehend, seeing Harriet’s father alone, man to man, filled him with apprehension. He supposed it was because, at the core of it all, he was taking the man’s daughter away. No matter how much either of them wanted it, the passage of time was a difficult thing to face.

  When William appeared at the door, the Arnolds’ butler informed him that Harriet was away for the afternoon.

  “I’ve arrived to speak with Lord Arnold,” William said, his voice booming. It seemed he was putting on an overzealous, overly confident act, in the wake of his fear. He detested it.

  The butler disappeared and then came back into the foyer, saying that Lord Arnold would see William in his study. William felt he was walking through a dream as he embarked towards the study, inhaling the familiar scents of the Arnolds’ home. When he appeared in the doorway, Lord Arnold rose from his chair and waved William in, stretching a smile that William perceived as being false between his cheeks.

  “Come in, Lord Abernale! You know you’re always welcome here.”

  “Thank you, Lord Arnold. I don’t suppose it would bother you if I close the door?”

  “Not at all.”

  William did just this, latching them in together, as though in a kind of trap. He sat in the chair before the enormous, gleaming wooden desk and crossed and uncrossed his ankles. After a pause, he removed his hat, feeling like a timid schoolboy.

  “Lord Arnold, it’s come to my attention that the Marquess has been making the rounds this afternoon. Hunting for the person who broke into his home on the night of your ball,” William began.

  Lord Arnold grumbled. “It’s just that. You should have seen the horrendous manner in which his manservant, some reeking Sir Morris, spun around Harriet. I nearly punched him myself, although I had to uphold some sense of propriety in my own home.” He bowed his head. “To tell you the truth, the Marquess has never been a favourite of mine. The way he operates business turns my stomach. He gives a bad name to the top men of London. And yet, he gets away with it. I can’t imagine how he sleeps at night.”

  “That’s precisely why I’m here,” William said. “It’s come to my attention that the Marquess isn’t just receiving wealth from his dishonest business propositions. Rather, it seems he’s sending his co-conspirators south of the Thames to rob from young boys and other poor people, those who can hardly stitch together a proper existence to begin with.”

  Lord Arnold furrowed his brow. “What makes you suspicious of this?”

  “I spent a bit of time south of the Thames recently and saw some rather suspicious activity,” William lied. “I believe it’s up to us to expose this behaviour. And I think I have a plan to do it if you feel up to such a task.”

  “I dare say my wife will not be pleased with such a proposition,” Lord Arnold said. “She wants me home at a certain time and sleep thereafter, otherwise she worries.”

  At this, William paused to smile inwardly, knowing that Harriet had been sneaking out in the middle of the night all summer long without causing attention to herself. What a remarkable woman.

  “I have to assure you, Lord Arnold, that this is a task that I feel only we can operate,” William said. “If we discover nothing in the wake of our hunt south of the Thames, then I promise I will never bring this up again. We can all move forward.”

  Finally, Lord Arnold agreed. William suggested that they meet late the following evening, just after ten, and ride south of the Thames together. “I know the area in which these people operate. If we stake it out and remain in hiding, I feel certain we’ll discover them,” he said.

  William rose and shook Lord Arnold’s hand.

  “You’re a fine man, Lord Abernale,” Lord Arnold said, almost stammering it. “You’ve got this incredible moral compass, don’t you? My daughter has it, too. I imagine it’s the reason you wish to join your lives together. You see within the other a goodness that the rest of the world lacks. And I’ll admit it. Sometimes, I find myself struggling with such goodness. I pray that you and Harriet will help me on my quest to become better.”

  “We’re all fighting to become better all the time,” William returned. “We’ll help one another.”

  When William left the study, he heard a scuffle in the foyer. Glancing to the right, he found himself in full view of Harriet once more, having returned from wherever it was she’d been after she’d left him. She beamed at him, seemingly knowing that he’d just asked her father to continue with her plan. His heart burst with love for her.

  As he walked towards her, she drew a small slip of paper into the air and then placed it in the palm
of his hand. He clenched his fist, fully hiding it.

  “There you are,” she said, giving an enormous smile.

  “And here you are. Surprise, surprise.”

  “I do live here, I suppose,” she said.

  “Not for long, I hope,” William said. He winked at her and took the remaining steps towards the front door. Her eyes followed him until the final moment when he disappeared through the crack. He still felt her presence like a shadow, lurking just beyond his line of sight. How he wished he never had to say goodbye.

  Once back at his horse, he unfolded the slip of paper to discover the address of the alleyway in which he was meant to track down the Marquess’ men. Of course. She’d thought of everything. He would have expected nothing else.

  **

  The following evening, William met Lord Arnold south of the Thames just after ten. The moon scuttled beneath flickering clouds, and the air hinted at chill, a reminder that summer would soon come to a close. Lord Arnold looked at William with fearful, rodent-like eyes. It was clear he hadn’t taken such a risk as this in years, or perhaps ever.

  “Good evening, Lord Arnold,” William murmured as they tied their horses in the alley. “What a marvellous night for a stroll, hmm?”

  Lord Arnold seemed a bit too flustered for such banter. He followed William through the shadows of the alleyway, nearly stumbling on a few poorly-laid cobblestones. Once in the centre of the alley, the pair of them ducked behind a pile of debris. William pointed at a collection of bags across the alley, all of which resembled the ones he’d seen in the attic of the Marquess.

  “If I’m not mistaken, the men will come for those bags,” William murmured, echoing what he knew from Harriet. “And then bring the bags back to the Marquess.”

  “But … but why?” Lord Arnold whispered, his cheeks shaking. “The man already has more than enough …”

  “The best I can deduce is, he thinks it’s a kind of game,” William said. “He wants these people to experience any level of misery possible. He can’t see beyond it.”

  As he spoke, they heard footsteps in the larger street, echoing from brick wall to brick wall. William laced his fingers across his throat, watching as the shadow drew long and thin through their own alley. Whoever the man was, he was approaching them.

  William prayed they’d hidden themselves enough. Beside him, he felt Lord Arnold grow stiff with panic. He yearned to tell him it would be all right, that they would surely get through this. But William hadn’t a clue what would happen next. He hadn’t the sort of bravery of Harriet. That was sure.

  The man lurched along, six foot something with biceps that bulged from his torn shirt, and paused at the selection of bags across the way. He grunted to himself, running his dirty fingers through his hair, and then tugged the bags over his shoulders. He glanced backwards, towards the light that glowed from the yonder street lamps, but then proceeded through the alley, in the direction of the Marquess’ estate.

  “That’s him,” William murmured, breathless. “We have to catch him.”

  Lord Arnold swallowed hard enough to make his Adam’s apple bulge out. He snuck out from their hiding place, allowing William in front of him. It was essential that they keep themselves hidden and quiet until the very last moment.

  The man trotted along, looking as though he operated this route nearly every day. William matched his steps just behind, grateful that Lord Arnold had seemingly decided on the same tactic. Together, they operated like a kind of greater machine, making no more noise than one man alone.

  Finally, William spotted his chance. As the man turned the corner into another, tighter alleyway, William burst forward, gripping one of the bags from behind. The man let out a wild yelp, gripping the bag tightly. He spun his head quickly, staring at William with shock.

  “Hey! Lemme go!” he hollered.

  But William brought his foot forward, tripping the man up. The man cast forward, blasting his head against the brick wall beside them. He let out another yelp as William took full control of him, spreading his shoulders against the brick wall. The man allowed all bags to drop to the ground.

  Behind William, Lord Arnold gasped, saying, “It’s you! Sir—Sir Morris, wasn’t it?”

  William blinked at him again, recognising the man as the one he’d knocked out the previous week. As William had been behind him the entire time, he knew Sir Morris wouldn’t recognise him for who he was.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Sir Morris demanded, spitting angrily, looking like a wild dog.

  William chuckled. “You’re really going to make up some sort of sad tale right now, when we’ve caught you red-handed?”

  The man grumbled. “It’s nothing. This—these bags …”

  Lord Arnold knelt down and untied one of them, revealing piles and piles of money. He clucked his tongue. It was as though, prior to this, he hadn’t fully believed what William had told him. He turned to Sir Morris, his voice grave.

  “Do you mind telling me who owns this money?” he asked.

  Sir Morris tried to pull out of William’s grip, but William held tight. Sweat billowed on his forehead and throat, dripping.

  “It’s certainly not your money, Sir Morris,” Lord Arnold continued. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be lifting it up from the street. No. Someone left you this money to pick up. And now, you’re taking it somewhere else. Why?” He stepped towards the now-quivering man, his chin set. “If you don’t mind, I think William and I need to hear everything.”

  “You know what they do to men who steal and lie,” William tried now.

  Sir Morris’ eyes flashed with panic. It was true that men like him, caught red-handed stealing on the streets, often ended up in jail, or far worse. William had heard of men doing much less, finding themselves on the chopping block or hanging. The man seemed fully aware of this possibility.

  “It wasn’t my idea,” he said, coughing.

  “What wasn’t your idea?” William demanded.

  “The stealing. From the poor people …” Sir Morris said. “Can you just—just release me just a bit … I can hardly breathe.”

  “Absolutely not,” William returned. “Keep going. Then, we’ll consider letting you go.”

  Sir Morris sighed heavily, shivering. “I refuse to allow this to put me in my grave. The two of you, you don’t know what it’s like to grow up on the wrong side of the streets. I struggled every single day to get food for myself, for my family. And when he approached me—acting like this was all some sort of game …”

  “Who? Who approached you?” Lord Arnold demanded.

  “Dammit, you know who,” Sir Morris said. “The man I came around your house with. The Marquess. He acts like all of us should be thanking him non-stop for all this work he’s been giving us. But really, we’re robbing from our own kind for the likes of him, for middling amounts in return. Sure, it’s a job like any other. But a man can hardly sit with himself, knowing this. I been robbing from little kids. From women. From people who don’t have a thing to eat when they go home at night. I’m sick about it. I need it to end.”

  Slowly, William allowed his grip on the sorry man to loosen. Instead of the villain he’d seen upstairs in the attic, he now saw a man who was tired, hungry, aching to feed his family in whatever way he could.

  “You should see him counting his money,” Sir Morris continued, dropping the bags on either side of him. “He does it as though he’s collecting it. He keeps it all upstairs, still unwashed, still reeking of the children I stole it from. It’s all him. And I simply can’t do it any longer.”

  William and Lord Arnold turned to one another, both aghast. Nothing felt clear: not next steps, or what to say. It was obvious they needed to keep this man, as he was witness to all the wrong-doings.

  “The police,” Lord Arnold said slowly, turning the words over his tongue. “We need to take them to the Marquess. Immediately.”