Dangerous Masquerade Read online

  He wasn’t sure why he’d looked for Persephone for so long. It certainly wasn’t because she’d been experienced. He had known very quickly she was not.

  It wasn’t her passion either, though that had been considerable and a delight. But there were more experienced, passionate women waiting for him in London.

  It wasn’t her generous curves, those of a woman, not a young girl. It wasn’t even because her breasts, ripe and full, fit perfectly into his hand.

  It was because from the moment he saw her across the room he’d felt compelled to claim her.

  Luc had felt a similar compulsion when he spied the widow in the cemetery. A need, pressing and urgent, to seek her out.

  That was no doubt why he’d behaved as he did. He winced. Perhaps he’d been a little indelicate given they were standing by her husband’s grave. Though that wouldn’t have concerned the merry London widows he knew.

  As he strolled back to the village inn to meet Devon, his smile grew wolfish. He liked widows. Those of his acquaintance in London understood the rules of engagement and knew how the game was played.

  So now he had a new reason to stay. A fresh, young, very attractive lady in mourning. A widow.

  As an afterthought, he realized he could also use the time to search for Persephone. But tomorrow he would pay Mrs. St. James a visit.

  Let the games begin.

  4

  Jaw tight, Luc dismounted from his horse in front of Lyons House, tossing the reins to the waiting groom.

  He stalked into the old Elizabethan hall, mentally reviewing his so-far fruitless campaign. Each time he visited St. James Manor, the widow was never at home to visitors. Mourning gave her the perfect excuse to refuse him, and it was one he could hardly protest. But it was hard to seduce a lady when he could never get to see her, damn it!

  As he strode across the fine oak floor of the study, his host turned toward him. After one look, Devon walked over to the brandy decanter and poured two glasses. Silently he passed one to Luc, now sprawled on a dark red velvet sofa before the black marble fireplace.

  Taking a seat in a leather chair by the fire, his host studied him as he sipped his brandy. “No luck?”

  Luc shook his head.

  His friend slowly smiled. “Have I introduced you to my footman?”

  Luc frowned. He shook his head and then sipped his brandy. He assumed Devon had a reason for asking the exceedingly odd question and would get to the point eventually.

  Obviously realizing he wasn’t going to play, Devon got to it more rapidly than he’d expected. “His name is Paul Flowerday.”

  Luc knew there was more to come. Patiently he waited and was rewarded with further information.

  “Flowerday used to be a hall boy at St. James Manor. He has kept in touch with his uncle, the butler, and the other manor servants. He seems to know quite a bit about the household routine.” Devon paused to take a sip of brandy. “Such as when the lady of the manor visits her tenants.”

  Luc sat up straight and looked at him, but from the expression on his friend’s face it was clear he had no intention of saying any more. He was waiting for him to make the next move. Not in the mood for games, Luc baldly asked, “What do you want?”

  The marquess looked thoughtful for all of two seconds before saying, “I’d like a new horse. That gray gelding you bought at Tattersall’s last month, care to sell it?”

  Without hesitation Luc responded, “It’s yours. Now tell me everything.”

  Ria glanced up from the letter she was reading as her estate agent, John Black, entered the office.

  Waving the letter she told him, “This is from the estate solicitor. Perwick wants to meet with me to discuss a farm north of York left me by a cousin of my father’s. It’s good timing as I want to discuss with him putting the estate into a trust.”

  She looked back down at the letter and in a wistful tone added, “I didn’t know Father had a cousin. I wish I had known. I would have liked to have met him.”

  Ria looked back up at her agent as he curtly asked, “What sort of trust?”

  The sharp note in his tone surprised her—as did the hard look in his eyes.

  “A trust for ladies like my aunts and cousins who, through no fault of their own, have fallen upon hard times.”

  Up until this moment she had not really understood what was meant when a person was described as being so surprised his jaw dropped. Now before her was a clear example. John’s jaw definitely fell, and though his mouth kept moving, no sounds came forth. A refreshing change.

  Rising from her chair before he could find his elusive voice, she gestured to the papers on the desk and told him, “We can discuss the remainder of this later. I am going to visit Mrs. Eltham as she is ill.”

  Just as she reached the door, the estate agent got enough of his voice back to roughly mutter, “You spoil the damn tenants.”

  Ignoring his comment, she left and walked down the corridor to the entry hall where the butler was waiting with her pelisse and bonnet.

  Outside, she reached the gig just in time to watch as two footmen struggled to lift a large food basket into it. She climbed onto the seat and took the horse’s reins from the waiting groom.

  As she set out down the tree-lined drive, her mounted groom following behind, the pale winter sun played among the gray clouds, darting in and out. With no wind to bring a winter chill, she basked in the sunshine, unusually warm for December.

  The drive was designed to give views over different parts of the estate. It wound back on itself at one point so that, even while traveling away from the manor, it was possible to admire the house. Ria always enjoyed this sight of the manor and as usual stopped to admire the elegant two-story, red brick Georgian with its regularly spaced white sash windows.

  It was not as large and grand as the mansion the masquerade had been held in, but it was larger than the old stone vicarage that had been her home until her parents died. Since that dark time, St. James Manor had come to represent home.

  Casting an eye over the tranquil park surrounding the house, she considered her brief conversation with the estate agent. Since her husband’s death, the estate was her responsibility, and she would do whatever she must to protect it and its inhabitants. That included putting the estate into a trust—even if John Blackwell disapproved. It would provide protection for the ladies, the land and the tenants.

  When the idea first occurred to her, she had discarded it, but it kept coming back into her mind. It made sense. Although Ria was certain her husband had wanted her to inherit, she was still uncomfortable with the deception. This way she had a home for as long as she wished but need not worry about what might happen if she were to die or even marry. Under normal circumstances, all her property would pass to her husband; however, with it in trust that would not be possible.

  When she discussed the idea with Monty, he was initially very surprised, although once he thought it over he too saw the merit in her plan.

  Ria continued on her way, only to find her good humor disappear as she rounded a bend. Geoffrey Danielson was riding over a curved, moss-covered stone bridge toward her.

  Her hands tightened on the reins. She was very glad her groom was accompanying her. Even so, what might he say? Or do?

  Vivid memories of the last time she saw him, the look on his face, what he said, were still with her. Just seeing him was enough to make her feel slightly ill, but she had to face him. She couldn’t run away.

  Anyway, even if she’d wanted to, there was no time to turn around. He had seen her and would be upon her before she had completed the turn. The only thing for it was to drive past him.

  Her plan was thwarted when he positioned his horse in the middle of the drive just before the bridge, giving her no choice but to stop.

  Poised on her seat, hands tense on the reins and ready to push past him if necessary, she waited for the inevitable tirade.

  “Ria, how are you today?”

  Ria frowned, puzzled by his
light and pleasant tone. Warily she replied, “Well, thank you, Mr. Danielson.”

  He winced, then smiled at her. “So formal, and I detect a hint of reserve in your voice. But who could blame you? Certainly not I.”

  Danielson kicked his horse into motion and came alongside the gig. “I have come to beg forgiveness for the way I have behaved lately. It was the shock, you see. The shock of my beloved uncle’s passing. I believe it bedeviled my mind, and I went a bit queer in the attic there for a while, but I am over it now.”

  She could almost believe him. He seemed sincere. His words and tone were sweet, his expression amiable. She searched his face but could see no trace of the malevolence she had seen the last time he was at the manor.

  Seemingly uncomfortable at her continued silence, he shifted in the saddle. “Please excuse my behavior. I know it was probably unforgivable. Nonetheless, I hope you can find it in your heart to pardon me.”

  “Well, I…” Ria’s voice trailed off, she was unsure what to say. Having good relations with her husband’s nephew would make life more comfortable, but was he sincere in his apology? Her hands relaxed slightly on the reins.

  He shrugged. “I will understand if you never wish to see me again, yet I couldn’t rest without trying to make peace between us. We have a bond, the love of my uncle. I truly hope you can forgive me.”

  She considered his earnest face, not quite ready to trust him, but not wishing their enmity to continue. “Thank you. Your apology means a lot to me.”

  He bowed his head in response. “Uncle often spoke of your goodness and generosity. I see everything he said was true.”

  She gave him a small smile. “Like you, I wish there to be peace between us. You are Monty’s nephew, and I want you to be a part of my family.”

  “Thank you so much for your understanding.”

  There were his plans for the estate. Were they also due to his brain fever? Hesitantly she said, “There is one thing I would like to ask you. When you left here the other day you dropped a paper that listed items such as raising rents, evicting tenants…”

  “Oh, that,” he replied carelessly. “It was not mine. It was suggested—I prefer not to say by whom—that the estate could benefit from such actions. But I would not have done it, any of it.” A look of horror crossed his face as he added, “Why, it included the eviction of the aunts and cousins! The mere suggestion is abhorrent to me! Never would I do that.”

  What he was saying did not quite ring true—not least because the note was in his hand. Could the words have been someone else’s? Whose?

  As though reading her mind he continued, “Naturally, I took notes as he was kind enough to give his time and had obviously given the matter much thought. Though I never had the intention of doing any of it.”

  It sounded very plausible, but…

  There was an awkward pause. Ria wasn’t sure what to say.

  With a slight bow, he took his leave. “If you should need my assistance please call upon me. I will help in any way I can.”

  “Thank you. You are very kind.”

  Watching him ride off, she wondered who had devised those plans for the estate if it wasn’t Danielson?

  It was difficult to believe he was sincere when he’d taken such delight in telling her about contesting the will. Later, when he found his claim would not be successful, he’d been apoplectic with rage.

  Now she was to believe it was due to grief? Dare she believe he was sincere? She supposed time would show if he could be trusted.

  Returning from Mrs. Eltham’s cottage, Ria was about to recross the bridge that spanned a stream swollen with winter rain, only to see the Earl of Arden riding toward her.

  Could the day get any worse?

  Briefly closing her eyes, she answered her own question. Yes, it could! Today, in the privacy of her own estate, she’d worn a bonnet with no veil. With the full mask she’d worn as Persephone and her hair covered by a silk medieval headdress, she was fairly confident he didn’t know what she looked like, but she’d still be more comfortable with a veil to hide behind.

  Especially as she hoped he wouldn’t realize she was Honey. It would make it more difficult to avoid him if he knew she was his childhood friend, though would he even remember her after eight years?

  This part of the narrow lane was bordered on one side by the stream, and on the other a high brick wall connected to the entrance lodge, so there was no possibility of her being able to escape. She flicked her horse’s reins, and Rose Kate’s pace changed from a leisurely amble to a trot.

  Resigned, she watched as he came closer. Unlike her encounter with Geoffrey, this time she would not stop, which at best would make him move on quickly, and at worst should help limit conversation.

  What was he still doing in Little Bridgeton? He should have left the area by now. The other attendees at the masquerade had departed long since. He and Devon were the only ones left. Even their host had gone.

  As he came abreast of the gig, he turned his horse and trotted beside her. “Good afternoon, Mrs. St. James.”

  Well, that certainly confirmed he had seen her in the cemetery without her veil.

  Ria replied coolly, “Good afternoon, Lord Arden.”

  “Are you visiting your tenants today?”

  She nodded in confirmation. “One tenant.”

  He smiled at her and suggested, “I was out for a ride. Perhaps I might accompany you?”

  She smiled sweetly. “Thank you, but I am just returning home. Such a shame.”

  “Then I shall accompany you home.”

  She noticed that this time he’d not asked.

  Good manners dictated she could not refuse outright, though, unsmiling, Ria tried to discourage him. “Thank you Lord Arden. However, it is not necessary.” She added hopefully, “I am sure you have other things to do.”

  “No, not at all. I was just out for a ride.”

  Ria flicked the reins once more, encouraging Rose Kate to move faster.

  The earl urged his horse to match the gig’s pace. “Do you visit your tenants often?”

  “Quite regularly, yes,” She said, speaking more loudly so he could hear her over the clatter of the wheels as they sped along the drive.

  “That must have been where you were when I called this week.”

  She tossed a quick look at him then turned her attention back to the lane ahead. His expression was genial, in contrast to his pointed comment.

  He had visited the manor a number of times, but she’d instructed her butler to say she was not at home to visitors.

  Coolly she told him, “The estate does take up a lot of my time.”

  “I would be happy to be of assistance.”

  Ria cast another glance at him. Although not a fop with a high collar and garish waistcoat such as worn by Geoffrey, he still didn’t look like the sort of gentleman who would know the difference between wheat and clover, let alone actually dirty his hands. “Thank you, but I have an excellent estate agent.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it. Of course it does still pay to keep an eye on things and not rely too much on your agent.”

  She stiffened. Maybe he meant nothing by it, but she thought there was a reprimand in his comment. This was rich, considering he was here in Little Bridgeton so clearly wasn’t looking after his own estates or keeping an eye on his agent.

  Though if she were honest, perhaps there was some truth in what he was saying. Her agent was used to doing things his way and sometimes ignored her instructions.

  Perhaps Luc wasn’t such a fop after all. And if he did supervise his agent, then surely by now he must have estate matters to attend to. Optimistically she asked, “Does that mean you will be leaving us soon?”

  He shook his head. “Lyons and I have decided this is a good place to rusticate and enjoy the peace and quiet of the country. He hasn’t stayed in his shooting box for years and has found a lot to do. A good example of how agents need close supervision. To that end, I’ve ensured that I r
eceive regular reports on all my estates, even here.” Looking directly at her, he added smoothly, “I haven’t been to this part of the country for a long time and am surprised at the delightful hunting opportunities it has to offer.”

  Ria frowned. He surely meant hunting animals, but the way he looked at her… She shivered, feeling sympathy for any fox or pheasant he set his eyes on.

  At that moment they reached St. James Manor, saving her the trouble of coming up with a polite response.

  She drew the horse to a halt in front of the manor and prepared to get down from the gig. Both Luc and groom reached her at the same time. However, one look from Lord Arden was enough to make her groom step back with a stammered apology.

  Ria gazed down at the earl. What was it about him that had that effect on people? Whatever it was had the opposite effect on her.

  Luc, instead of offering his hand, reached up and lifted her down. As he set her gently on the ground, he looked into her eyes, his warm hands lingering on her waist.

  Finding herself leaning toward him, she quickly averted her gaze. Keeping her eyes lowered, she walked briskly into the oval entrance hall of the manor, her quick footsteps tapping out an echo on the cream stone floor with its black marble inlays.

  The entrance hall usually had a soothing effect on her. The graceful cream walls and the ceiling with its delicate plasterwork and roundels painted with scenes from classical mythology created a sense of tranquility.

  It was not soothing today. She had her unwelcome guest to thank for that.

  Politeness dictated she offer him refreshments.

  Handing her bonnet and pelisse to Flowerday, Ria was about to lead her unwelcome guest into the drawing room when she paused.

  She needed reinforcements.

  Turning back to Flowerday, she asked, “Where are the ladies at the moment?”

  As he took Lord Arden’s coat and hat, Flowerday replied, “In the library, madam.”