The Masked Heart (Sweet Deception Regency #2) (9 page)

Blaine wanted to hug him for the hurt confusion she heard in his voice. Since the death of the estate manager Higgins, she had taken over the running of the estate. In the last year or two she had been turning some of the responsibility over to Val so that he would be prepared to handle it when he came of age. She could understand that once he began to show some authority, his relationship with the tenants was bound to change.

"Perhaps it is time that you met other boys in the neighborhood," she said. By the apprehensive look on his face, she realized that he too was well aware of the gossip. "Never fear, halfling. I have heard what is being said and I think I may have a solution. Come along back to the house and I shall tell you of my plan. Besides it is still much too cold for Fatima's dainty constitution to be abroad on such a frosty morning."

Val giggled and lay along the fat pony's neck to stroke her velvety ears. "You must not let her hear you talk so, Blaine, or the dear old thing will bolt back to the stable."

"Bolt? It would be more like a slow waddle."

She laughed happily, turning her horse's head to lead the way. In quiet harmony they cooled down and groomed the animals. After a quick wash they met again in the library where Blaine told him of her proposal to masquerade as Aunt Haydie for the benefit of the callers. When she finished she asked if he would be able to handle one more secret.

"Of course, I can, Blaine," he declared staunchly. "After all, it should be no additional strain to have Aunt Haydie return to life since I have not been clapjawed about her death."

Blaine smiled in remembrance of the boy's words as Tate helped her dress for the reappearance of Lady Yates. The sour face of the old lady indicated her disapproval for this additional impersonation.

"Think of it as a dress rehearsal, Tate," Blaine said. She turned in front of the cheval glass. "You've done a fine job with everything."

"No need to turn me up sweet," the dresser snapped. "I know my job and would never turn you out less than perfect. I cannot like this whole idea and Frau Puffentraub is in agreement. Fleur slumguzzled you if you ask me, which knowing you, I know you won't. You shouldn't give in to the child."

"I'm not really giving in. I just think it might help to allay the talk in the neighborhood. I should have noticed what was happening long before this. It's me own guilt what done me in," she finished cheekily. She threw up her hands as the woman still continued glum. "My whole life is such a lie that it's monstrously hard to cavil at one more."

One look at her mistress' doleful expression and Tate immediately dropped her air of injury. "Never mind, lamb. I'm sure everything will turn out fine. You've the talent to pull it all off. Don't forget to move slowly and keep your hands still so as not to draw attention to them," she admonished.

Blaine studied herself in the mirror amazed at the transformation. She wore a stiff bombazine gown which had been liberally padded so that her figure flowed from neck to waist without a break. A silver-rimmed lorgnette hung from a velvet cord pinned to her imposing bosom. The dress was an unrelieved black so that her skin appeared pale in contrast. To add to the pallor, a white paste, much like the maquillage still worn by some of the old ladies of the court, had been applied to her skin. Rouge stood out starkly on her stiffened cheeks. A fussy, lace cap, edged in black, completely covered her hair and several white ringlets of fake hair hid her ears. All in all she looked a proper old lady, Blaine thought as she pursed her mouth in a prim expression.

"Oh, you look perfect." Fleur clapped her hands in approval as Blaine entered the parlor, leaning heavily on an oak walking stick with an ivory knob. "Just like those high-toned tabbies, I see riding through the village."

"Take a damper, Fleur," Blaine snapped. "This is not a game. 'Tis a far riskier venture than fooling an old man like the solicitor. Just try to remember to treat me like an old lady. Forget that I am your sister and think of me only as Aunt Haydie. Then you will be far less likely to make a slip."

Fleur quieted immediately under her sister's uneasy glance. She helped to pull the curtain to darken the room slightly and then scurried to find a lap rug to throw across Blaine's knees to increase the suggestion of Aunt Haydie's invalid status. They had only just finished their preparations when the sounds from the hall indicated the arrival of callers.

Blaine offered up prayers that Fleur would be up to the challenge. She suspected the girl thought the whole idea a bit of a lark and had no conception of the disaster that would result in the event their duplicity was discovered. As the door to the parlor opened, Blaine took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as she prepared to play her part.

A short stocky man of pleasant looks and warm brown eyes entered, beaming foolishly at Fleur. It was immediately apparent to Blaine that the man and her sister had more than a passing acquaintance and she determined to question Fleur as to the goings on in her absence. The man appeared to be a gentleman with an air of refinement as he bowed over Fleur's hand. When he moved aside Blaine's eyes widened at sight of the other man and she caught back a gasp as she recognized the arrogant features of Lord Andrew Farrington.

A wave of blackness assailed her as she stared in horror at the man. She closed her eyes, terrified that the intentness of her gaze would draw his notice. She breathed deeply, trying to control the pounding of her heartbeats. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she opened her eyes and drew herself up haughtily.

"Auntie dear," Fleur said, her voice a trembling whisper in her nervousness. "I would like to make known to you our neighbor, Lord Robert Farrington, and his brother, Lord Andrew Farrington."

Fingers shaking beneath the lacy mittens, Blaine raised the lorgnette and stared icily at the two men. "Farrington, eh. Any relationship to the Farringtons in Derbyshire?" she asked hoping the quaver in her throaty voice would be mistaken for age.

"Only distantly, ma'am," the younger man answered.

"A flighty bunch at best. Their pockets have been to let since well before you were born, young man." She hoped neither of the men would notice Fleur who had the slack-jawed look of a hooked fish. This was the first time that the girl had been privy to Blaine's impersonation and it was clear she was astonished. Under cover of her lap robe, she nudged the girl who snapped her mouth shut, wincing as if she had bitten her tongue. Blaine returned her concentration to the young man. "Can't abide those who play deep and fritter away their inheritances. And you, are you living on your expectations?"

"No, ma'am," Robbie declared immediately. "Fairhaven is a very prosperous estate. It provides a very comfortable living."

"Humph," was Blaine's answer as she turned as if to take the measure of Drew Farrington. Her hand shook slightly but she surveyed him from artfully curled head to shining booted feet. She almost sighed at the end of her scrutiny. He was truly a magnificent figure; his tall, lean body beneath his buckskins had the taut muscularity of an athlete. Her gaze returned to his face and she blinked at the sardonically raised eyebrow above his amused green gaze.

"Lady Yates. Delighted to see you in such fine twig," he drawled, bending his body in a slight obeisance.

"I can see you ain't sickly," Blaine snapped, then noticing her sister's agitation, she turned to the girl. "Stop fluttering, Fleur. Ring for tea."

With an expression of only mild curiosity, Drew took a seat and looked around the drawing room. It was well appointed despite the fact that it was in sad need of refurbishing. The furnishings themselves bespoke of good taste and genteel background; each piece obviously well chosen to suit the room. It was not at all what he had been expecting.

In fact nothing was quite as it had suspected. He had assumed Fleur Meriweather was a scheming jade of poor, uneducated parentage.

Impoverished the girl might be but it was apparent that her antecedents were impeccable. The girl herself, barely a child out of the schoolroom, was a far cry from the cold, calculating chit he had been prepared to write off as an adventuress. Fleur was an innocently wide-eyed child who was trying out her fledgling wings by flirting with him beneath outrageously long eyelashes as she poured tea.

Two things Drew noted immediately. Robbie was truly in love with the golden blond child and Fleur was not in love with Robbie.

Drew's green eyes glittered as he watched his brother. Although Robbie was busy speaking to Lady Yates, his eyes rarely strayed from Fleur for any length of time. His eyes shone with adoration and his color rose and receded at every glance from the object of his affections. On the other hand, Fleur looked as Robbie with the same enthusiasm one might bestow on a younger brother. Drew suspected that she thought of him as a friend but as yet did not consider him in the role of a suitor, let alone a lover. It would be rough times ahead for Robbie before he could hope to win the hand of this pretty child.

"Will you be staying long with Robbie?" Fleur asked, nervous at the steady gaze trained on her.

"I try to keep my country visits to only brief forays, Miss Meriweather."

"But surely you enjoy riding in the woods. There is much to be admired in the beauty of nature," Fleur said.

For a moment Drew wondered if the girl were quite as ingenuous as she appeared but one look at the guileless violet eyes disabused him of such a base notion. "I do find everything in Wiltshire of singular beauty. But that is not solely reserved for the scenery," he answered.

At his words, Fleur blushed, the color rising in an intriguing wave of pink and she dropped her eyes to the hands in her lap feeling unequal to the sophisticated banter of the man.

Blaine, although she was having a pleasant chat with Robbie, was aware of every movement of Drew. She chided herself for staring at him but found her eyes constantly drawn to his aristocratic features. She was angry at Fleur for making a cake of herself by her attempts to flirt with the man. She had seen the amusement in Drew's eyes at her sister's behavior but she must admit he was being gentle with the girl. Despite his arrogance, he seemed aware that Fleur was not experienced enough to handle even the lightest of flirtations.

"Please say that you and Miss Meriweather will come," Robbie said.

Blaine jumped at the voice beside her. She was embarrassed that she had let her attention wander from the young man at her side. Any more lapses and she would surely give the game away.

"Must have been woolgathering," she snorted, once more firmly back in the role of Aunt Haydie.

"Sorry, Lady Yates, I suspect I did not couch the invitation in clearest terms." Robbie grinned at the raised eyebrow of the old lady. "My brother and I were hoping that you and Miss Meriweather would join us for a small dinner party Friday evening at Fairhaven."

"Oh, Aunt Haydie, may we please?" Fleur chorused with a quick glance at Robbie.

Blaine had seen the shared gaze of the two and suspected that this whole affair had been a well-planned campaign. It was obvious the girl's explanation of a casual acquaintance with Robert Farrington was a clear fabrication. She glared at Fleur who flushed and dropped her gaze to her lap.

"It is, of course, quite neighborly of you to invite us but unfortunately I do not think I am up to such an adventure," Blaine replied dampeningly.

"I trust you are not unwell, Lady Yates."

Blaine's eyes flashed to Drew's interested face. She wondered what it was about the arrangement of his features that she found so compelling. "Thank you for your concern, but I have been in delicate health this winter."

"One would not think it to see the bloom of color in your cheeks," he drawled.

"Cheeky devil," Blaine said, unable to keep the gleam of amusement out of her own eyes at his allusion to her rouged appearance. "More to the point, gentlemen, Fleur is not overused to society."

"It would seem to me, ma'am," Drew offered quietly, "that a family party in the neighborhood might be the very place for a young lady to try out her wings. Unless, of course, you feel that Robbie and myself would be improper influences on your niece."

Drew had to admit the woman intrigued him. She seemed robust enough, although his brother had led him to believe that the woman was prone to ill health. From what little he had observed, the old girl was a real tartar, outspoken and sarcastic. Lord knew there was little enough to amuse him at Fairhaven and in order to push forward Robbie's suit he might as well enjoy himself with the wit and intelligence he saw in Lady Yates' eyes. Nothing in Drew's casual pose indicated that he had thrown down a gauntlet but the keen light in his eyes suggested it as he met the older woman's gaze.

Blaine read the challenge in Drew's eyes and drew herself up straighter in the chair. She wondered if he too were involved in this scheme to launch Fleur on society. One look at the ascetic features and she discarded that thought. Knowing him as little as she did, she still thought he would never sink to devious measures. He might be ruthless in battle, but his attack would always be made directly, never in an oblique fashion.

"It is not that I mistrust your motives, sirrah," Blaine conceded. "I fear the jouncing of our ancient carriage would be unsettling to my constitution."

"Of course, Lady Yates. At last I understand your quandary," Drew smiled benignly at the old woman. "Naturally, I shall place my carriage at your disposal. It is of the latest design and will transport you as if you were flown on the wings of angels. Shall we say, nine o'clock?"

Faced with the amused triumph reflected in Drew's gaze, Blaine could do little more than nod in agreement. Inwardly she raged that she had been placed in such an untenable position. She would comb Fleur's hair with a stool, she thought waspishly at the satisfied look on the girl's face. She might be defeated but she would at least go down fighting.

"Nine o'clock, young man? I am more used to country hours," she said. "However, it will be as you say. Naturally Fleur and I must needs return directly after we eat. Young girls need their proper rest."