Regency Masquerade (21 page)

He
looked down at her, “I was never more certain of anything in my life!  Not
feeling missish are you?” he smiled.  “Did I tell you how beautiful you look
today?”

She
coloured up, “You don’t need to offer me Spanish coin, my lord,” she scolded.

For
answer, he pulled her to him and kissed her lightly on the lips, “Beautiful!”
he insisted.

A
few moments later, Frances Metcalf and Lord Richard Carleton were married in
the same church as Frances parents twenty five years earlier, with Mrs Pearson
crying happy tears into her handkerchief and John Hopgood as witness and self-conscious
groomsman, handing over the two gold rings Carleton had thoughtfully provided
himself with after getting the special licence.

“Where
will you go now?” asked the rector chattily after the service. “Will you travel
to Chatswood this evening?  I am afraid I cannot offer you any hospitality
myself but The Chequers is a fine inn at Sevenoaks, if you would prefer to stay
overnight and set out tomorrow.”

Carleton
looked at his little party, Mrs Pearson in particular appeared rather worn and
it would take at least three hours to reach Chatswood, perhaps a stay in
Sevenoaks would be the best.  “Thank you reverend, I think we shall try The
Chequers if that is acceptable to you Frances?”

She
nodded gratefully, “I think we would all appreciate a good meal and a rest
tonight Richard.”

They
thanked Reverend Thomas again and John drove them to Sevenoaks, where they soon
found The Chequers to be as warm and inviting as the rector had promised,
particularly when John announced they were newlywed.  Carleton and Frances were
shown the best room and promised a small parlour where they could eat their
dinner in private.  Mrs Pearson said a tray in her room would suit her best and
John decided he would eat in the common room so that the couple could have
their first meal as man and wife by themselves. 

Frances
looked at Carleton a little shyly as they sat down to their dinner, “I think
this is the first time we have been alone that I have not been dressed as
Peter.”

He
laughed, “Perhaps when we are at home, you can dress as Peter sometimes for old
times’ sake, if you would like to, that is?”

She
looked at him in pleased surprise, “Yes, I would like that, if you do not think
our neighbours would be too shocked. Especially for riding,” she added darkly,
“I never liked riding with a side saddle, one always feels about to fall off! 
You do not mind seeing me in breeches?”

He
lowered his voice, “I
love
seeing you in breeches, you have beautiful
long legs.  Perhaps you will start a new fashion.”  Frances flushed again and Carleton
lost all interest in food.  He leant across the table and said, “I can hardly
wait to make love to you but I will not rush you, any time you feel
uncomfortable, just tell me to stop and I will.” 

“You
make me fall in love with you all over again when you say things like that.” 
She told him, smiling into his eyes.  “I think I have eaten sufficient, what
about you?”

He
was on his feet and around the table almost before she had finished speaking,
“Let’s go to our room, now!” his voice was hoarse, as he drew back her chair
and ushered her out of the parlour.  As soon as he had shut the bedroom door
they were in each others’ arms, kissing frantically, Carleton holding her
tightly against him.  Eventually he wrenched his mouth away and put his hands
unsteadily on her shoulders, “Do you need help to take off your dress?”  He
tried to calm himself enough so that he could undo the tiny buttons without
ripping them off, that would hardly reassure her he would be a gentle lover nor
did Frances have that many spare clothes to trifle with!  Finally he managed to
undo enough buttons so that she could take the gown off herself, and he hastily
pulled off his boots and stripped off his clothes as fast as he could.  By the
time he was naked, she had slipped under the bed covers and was watching him
wide-eyed.  He slid in next to her and gently drew her towards him.  The feel
of her smooth skin against his side was nearly enough to drive him wild again,
“We will take this slowly,” he whispered, lightly stroking her hair, “Let’s lie
here and get accustomed to the feel of each other. Kiss me, Frances.”  She
leant closer and kissed his mouth, her breasts pressing against his side, she
loved the warm feel of his arm around her and his hand on her back and pressed
harder against him.  His other hand came around to caress the curve of her hip,
then up to her breasts. She reached out to tentatively run her hand over the hard
muscles of his chest then slowly explored lower down to his flat stomach. “Tell
me what to do.”

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Morning
sunlight shining in the window woke Frances to find herself spooned against her
husband, his arm resting lightly across her breast.  She turned to cuddle into
him and looked into delighted brown eyes already widening in arousal, “Good
morning wife” he said before kissing her.  “How do you feel this morning?”

“Hungry!”
came the prosaic answer. He laughed and was about to get reluctantly out of
bed, when she pulled him back down with a teasing smile, “Hungry for you, my
lord.” 

“I
love it when you call me that,” he groaned, taking her in his arms again.  They
were very late downstairs for breakfast that morning but no-one seemed surprised.

Their
two servants and companions had already eaten and were packing their bags, and
John offered to help Carleton with his boots if he wished it.  Frances dressed herself
in a sprigged muslin gown that Mrs Pearson had salvaged from her room at Lady
Murrays, once settled at Chatswood she would require the urgent services of a
dress maker, for the second time in as many weeks. In a short time the party
was on their way again, this time to Chatswood, Carleton riding again to give
the ladies more space in the carriage.  He hoped Fanshaw had already taken Mrs
Madden to Theo.

The
afternoon sun was glinting on the windows of Chatswood when they arrived,
Williams braced on the steps at the front to greet them, a polite, if rather
fixed, smile on his face.  What bumble-broth had his lord got himself into this
time?  He was reassured to see Mrs Pearson’s respectable figure descend from
the carriage, and looked past her with an unexpected degree of optimism that
his new mistress would not be too far beneath his master’s touch.  His first
impression was hopeful, the young woman now descending was elegant and graceful
and then he caught a good look at her face.  He froze.  Surely that wasn’t?  No
of course it could not be, a chance resemblance only.  He gathered himself
together as Carleton came towards him, his wife’s hand on his arm. “Frances,
this is Williams, Williams my wife Lady Frances, and her companion Mrs
Pearson.  I am sure you will assist my wife as well as you have served me.”

“Welcome,
my lady,” he murmured, still staring after her as they all went into the house. 
He had almost convinced himself the resemblance was less strong than he had
thought when he caught sight of Fanshaw who was waiting to greet his new
mistress.  He looked like nothing more than a stuffed fish, his mouth was even
gaping open slightly.  “Ah, Fanshaw,” Carleton greeted him smoothly, “Let me
present my wife to you, as I said earlier she has recently come from abroad.”

Fanshaw
looked blankly at his master for a moment before understanding dawned on him. 
He gulped.  “Of course, my lord.”  He looked at Frances and blushed
involuntarily, “Welcome..er...my lady,” he managed.

Carleton
frowned at him but Frances drew him away to introduce her to the rest of the
staff before he could say anything.  “Richard, you will need to give them time
to grow accustomed to me,” she said quietly.

“I
will dismiss anyone who is insolent to you!” He said angrily under his breath.

“Very
well, but let’s make allowances for a few days, you must admit it is quite a
shock.  Thank goodness we have Mrs Pearson with us to lend us some respectability!”
She added with a wry smile.

The
next few days went better than Frances had expected.  There were numerous
sideways looks when they thought she was unaware but none of the servants was
openly hostile to her as Mrs Madden had been.  She thought the real test for
Richard would be in his relationship with the squire.  If Squire Herbert gave
either of them the direct cut, not only would it bring home to Carleton that he
was now on the outskirts of society, but it would be very uncomfortable for the
whole neighbourhood, forcing the local people to take sides.  She remembered
the squire had been a blunt man, who she thought would appreciate an honest
approach.  She suggested to Richard that they invite the Squire to call on them
one morning by himself to discuss an item of business so that he did not have
to make an immediate decision as to whether he would recognise the new Lady
Carleton socially or to bring his family with him.  “After your business is
concluded, you may introduce me and I shall tell him a little of our story,
then it will be up to him whether he chooses to be our friend or not.”

Carleton
agreed this was a sensible idea and sent off a messenger requesting the squire
to call on him in the next day or so.

When
Squire Herbert had heard the news that there was a mistress at Chatswood he had
been thrown into disarray.  Was it the French girl he had met a few weeks ago
or not?  He was relieved to get the message from Carleton asking him to call,
now he could go and see for himself, he hoped Carleton had not been gulled by a
bit of muslin.  He presented himself the next day and his heart sank when he
recognised the woman with Richard.  However he was pleasantly surprised by her modest
appearance and graceful manners as she invited him to be seated and take some
refreshment while she explained her situation in perfect English. 

“Richard
and I thought we should explain a little of our circumstances to you Squire.
Your suspicions are correct, I
was
here before, masquerading as Peter
Francis.  I had recently arrived in England from abroad and was trying to
establish my identity of which there was some question.  I now know that my
real name was Frances Metcalf and my parents were from Sevenoaks in Kent, my
mother was Lady Amanda Murray and my father her second cousin Henry Metcalf.” 
Squire Herbert was listening, eyes wide.  “My grandmother is Lady Anna Murray
and she is attempting to deny my claim to my mothers’ estate which is the sum
of ten thousand pounds!”  At this he glanced in amazement at Richard for
confirmation and saw him nodding his head.  “Now Richard and I are married, he
will be able to confront my grandmother and insist on my inheritance.  I would
not marry him until I was certain I was legitimate,” she confessed, giving a
reason he could understand for the masquerade.  

“Upon
my word that sounds an astonishing tale!” exclaimed the Squire candidly, not
meaning any insult.

Frances
nodded in agreement, leaning forward, “Yes indeed, I would scarcely believe it
myself, if it had not happened to me!  Mrs Pearson who is staying with us has
letters from my parents announcing my birth.  She is my mother’s old nurse and
was companion to my grandmother before coming to me,” she explained. “My
parents’ marriage of course is recorded in the parish register at St Martin’s
in Brasted.”

“I
realise our earlier conduct must seem rather ... unconventional,” Carleton
ventured earnestly, “But I can assure you-”  He broke off as the Squire hastily
put out a hand to stop him, “Not my business!” he said quickly, going slightly
red in the face. “No need to explain anything to me, Carleton.”

“Very
well,” conceded the other man.  He did not want to put the Squire on the spot
but he also wished to start as he meant to go on, to let people know that he
and his wife would not be shunning society.  “Frances and I will hold a dinner
party in a couple of weeks to introduce her to our local society, I do hope you
and Marianne will be free to attend, but I will send an invitation once we are
more settled.” 

Will
Herbert murmured something non-committal and took his leave of them both
politely.

“I
think that went well, for the most part,” offered Frances.

Carleton
was frowning, still uncertain whether he should have insisted on telling the
Squire he had not laid a hand on Frances until they were wed.  Frances stepped
close to him and whispered in his ear, “Don’t let it worry you, no one with
eyes in their head is going to believe I didn’t have my way with you as soon as
I had the chance.”  Carleton gave a startled laugh, then kissed her, “Now that
you mention it, perhaps you could have your way with me again,” he said suggestively.

Lady
Murray was fuming.  Her plan to control Frances had gone terribly astray, and
not only that but she had been forced to dismiss Mrs Pearson, her sole
companion for the last twenty five years.  Mr Pilkington, standing gravely
before her, had been unable to offer any real solution to her difficulties. “There
is little we can do my lady,” he told her, with a long face. “Lord Carleton is
obviously prepared to put her under his protection, and if he marries her as
Mrs Pearson seemed to think, she will be quite beyond our reach.  I assume
there is no possibility of a reconciliation between the two of you?”