A Masked Deception

Chapter 8

In the following week it seemed to Margaret as if her hopes for an attachment between Charlotte and Captain Charles Adair were to be realized. He visited daily, always claiming that he came to see both ladies, but he usually ended up near Charlotte, talking to her almost exclusively, while Margaret entertained any other visitors who happened to be there, or sat quietly at her embroidery if there were none. On several afternoons Charlotte was invited to drive in the park with the captain. Margaret was asked to join them too, on each occasion, but each time she felt as if she had been invited as a polite afterthought. Each time she declined.

One evening they spent at Almack's, the famous Marriage Mart, where guests danced and socialized by strict invitation only, in the form of vouchers granted by one of four patronesses. Charlotte's pretty face and figure and her bubbly personality ensured her plenty of partners. But Margaret was especially pleased to see her dance twice with Charles. It would have been improper for her to dance more times with him than that, but she sat with him during a few more dances, talking and laughing and fanning herself.

Margaret was pleased. She herself danced absent-mindedly with several of her husband's friends, and she chattered with her female acquaintances. But she was not bent on her own amusement. All her interest was pinned on her sister and her brother-in-law. And her heart was at the opposite side of the ballroom, where Brampton stood conversing with a small knot of men, looking resplendent in a tight-fitting mulberry-colored velvet coat and gray silk knee breeches, with his usual pure white linen and lace. He had escorted her in one country dance after their arrival, and then had moved on to a more congenial pastime, his duty done.

"Lady Brampton, may I have the honor?" The languid voice and the lace-covered hand belonged to Devin Northcott.

She smiled, laid her hand in his, and allowed him to lead her onto the floor. As the orchestra began to play, she realized with a feeling of disappointment that it was a waltz. She had hoped that Richard would waltz with her once. She smiled calmly up at Devin as she placed a small, gloved hand on his shoulder and followed him into the rhythm of the dance. A quick glance showed her that Brampton was still deep in conversation, his back to the dance floor. Charlotte and Charles, who was looking unexpectedly magnificent in blue satin civilian clothes, were seated together in an alcove of the large ballroom, seemingly with eyes only for each other. This was the second dance she had sat out with him. Margaret made a mental note to make sure that they were separated for the next set. It would not do to allow gossip to develop, at Almack's of all places.

"You dance very daintily, ma'am. Feel as if I had a feather in m' arms," commented Devin.

"Thank you, sir," Margaret replied, "but a woman can only be as good a dancer as her partner, you know." She smiled again as he turned her in the dance, and caught Brampton's eye as he faced around and lazily scanned the room.

"Is Captain Adair feeling better?" asked Devin conversationally. "Notice he don't wear his arm in a sling anymore."

"I believe he wore it that first night only to put his mama's mind at rest," Margaret said with a chuckle. "Maybe he also knew that it gave him a very romantical look."

"Wouldn't know about that, ma'am," he said with a cough.

"Oh, ask any of the ladies," she said airily.

"Very close family, the Adairs," said Devin. "He spends a lot of time with Bram?"

"Not really," said Margaret. "He visits our house every day, but Richard is usually away in the afternoons."

There was silence for a while. Margaret felt a little uncomfortable. Devin knew that Charles spent most afternoons with her and her sister. He had been there himself on a few of those occasions. And he had excused himself early, without any of his usual invitations for Charlotte to drive out with him. Margaret felt a little sorry for him. She did not wish to see him hurt, but she could not really think him a suitable partner for her very young sister.

Devin coughed again. "Really not my business, Lady Bram," he said, forgetting for the moment that he had never before called her by the shortened form of her name, "but should Miss Wells be so long with the same partner? All the same to me, but the old tabbies can be pretty vicious, y'know."

Margaret raised her eyebrows. "Indeed, Mr. Northcott," she said rather frostily, "I have been observing her carefully and had planned to have her partnered with someone else for the next set. Maybe you would like to rescue her from the scandal that seems to be brewing."

Devin blushed rather painfully and opened his mouth to speak.

"May I claim a husband's privilege and cut in on you, Dev?" asked a pleasant and dearly familiar voice from behind Margaret, and before she knew it, she had changed partners and was being twirled into the waltz by a much more confident and competent partner. Although the tempo of the dance had not changed, Margaret was having difficultly catching her breath. She fixed her eyes on the complicated folds of Brampton's neckcloth. Only once did she look up into his face, but she immediately looked down again-and momentarily stumbled-when she found his eyes fixed steadily on her, their expression quite unreadable. His hand tightened reassuringly against the small of her back. She smiled fleetingly in the general direction of his chin.

"Pardon me, Richard," she said. She was feeling a growing ball of tension building inside her. Only a few evenings before he had danced with her at Vaux-hall. Surely he would recognize at any moment that he was holding the same woman.

"You will be making me jealous, my dear," he said very quietly, "if you smile so sweetly at all your dancing partners."

Margaret's eyes shot up to his. His eyes were gleaming, but she was not sure if it was with amusement or not. Before she could respond, he spoke again.

"I see that Dev is performing our duty," he said, and Margaret looked to the alcove where she had last seen Charlotte and Charles tete-a-tete. Now they were standing, and Devin was talking to them in his languid manner.

"We must watch the proprieties more carefully where Charlotte is concerned," Brampton said, looking back to his wife, the gleam now gone from his eyes. She had the feeling that she was being scolded, that he had really meant "You must watch…"

Brampton was not sure himself whether his words to his wife had been meant teasingly or not. He had felt unaccountably irritated a few minutes before to see her looking so happy in Northcott's arms. His hand splayed on her back had looked too intimate; her hand on his shoulder had seemed too close to his neck. Yet he had caught himself up in the thoughts with a grimace of self-mockery. Was he jealous of his little mouse of a wife?

He could not at all understand his feelings. A few nights before, when he had made such passionate love to the other woman, he had been convinced that only she meant anything in his life. He was almost prepared to cast everything he owned and everything he was over the moon in order to be with her for the rest of his life. And he still longed with all his being for the rest of the week to pass in order to see her again.

He had not visited his wife's room since that other night because, he had told himself, it would be tedious and distasteful to be with her after the other passionate encounter. But as he watched her dance and talk with Northcott, he admitted that his reason was perhaps that he felt unworthy of her. She was always so sweet, so composed, so unassuming. He realized, with something like shock, that he was missing her. He drew peace and sanity from contact with her quiet little body.

His feet carried him, without conscious will, across the ballroom to perform the not quite socially acceptable action of cutting in on another man's dance.

Brampton felt an almost disturbing surge of relief as he held his wife in a gentle hold and felt her respond to his lead in the dance. His reactions annoyed himself. He covered them by criticizing her for allowing her sister to spend a little too much of the evening with his brother. He watched a faint blush of color mount her cheeks, the only sign of emotion, as she replied calmly to his words.

"I shall make sure that Charlotte has another partner for the next set, Richard," she said.

Charlotte was up unusually early the next morning. In fact, she was dressed, had breakfasted, and was ready to leave when Captain Charles Adair called for her before noon. He had discovered the night before that she could ride, and they had arranged to ride together in the park the next morning. Jem had had a quiet mare from the stables saddled for her; the horse was waiting outside, beside Charles' black stallion.

"You look very dashing this morning, Charlotte," Charles said with a grin, holding out his hands to form a step for her foot and tossing her up into the sidesaddle.

"Thank you, kind sir," she replied jauntily, and grinned back down at him. She knew she looked well. The jonquil riding dress and daring little hat that tilted over one eye, with a curled brown feather that circled an ear, had been carefully chosen to accentuate her youthful high spirits and auburn hair. She had had the outfit made with someone else's admiration in mind, but that did not matter now. She was not going to spoil such a morning.

"You suit the morning," Charles continued gallantly, "bright and gay. And especially bright to me. I had a letter from Juana this morning."

"Did you indeed!" Charlotte flashed him a bright smile before turning back to watch her horse's step on the street. "And does she still love you, Charles?"

"But of course," he answered, eyebrows raised. "How could she resist?"

"How, indeed," she responded. "I have observed nothing but swooning females in your wake wherever you go."

He laughed aloud. "Wretch! And how is it that you have been able to resist my fatal charm?"

"Perhaps because I have an instinct for self-preservation, sir," she replied. "When a gentleman confides in me his undying love for 'the most lovely lady in the world,' during our first conversation together, I have the common sense to know it would be unwise to develope a tendre for that gentleman."

He laughed again. "Charlotte, my love," he said, "I wish you were my younger sister."

"Goodness!" she responded. "Is that meant to be a compliment?"

They turned into the park and were able to relax their vigilance over the horses, which broke simultaneously into a trot.

"And what does your Juana have to say?" Charlotte asked after a few minutes of easy silence.

"She has hopes of her brother soon agreeing to her coming here to England," he said.

"Charles, that's wonderful! And you will marry her?"

"Of course!"

"Yet you have still said nothing about her to your mother or any other member of your family?"

"Juana is nobly born," Charles explained, "but her family has lost most of their possessions in the wars.When I met her, she was living in near-poverty with her brother and his family in a five-room apartment in Madrid. Mama and Dick are very high in the instep, not to mention Rosalind and the other girls. I fear they would throw all kinds of objections in the way if I were to announce my secret betrothal. No, I still feel it better to wait until she arrives in England. I know they will not be able to resist her when they see her. Oh, Charlotte, you should see her dark hair and flashing black eyes. She flies up into the boughs at the slightest provocation." He chuckled at some private memories.

"Yes, it will be most exciting to meet her," agreed Charlotte.

"In the meantime," he continued, "Mama is pushing in my direction all the insipid and simpering misses the Season has to offer."

"Of which number I am one," Charlotte said tartly.

"You? Insipid and simpering? Never!" he said. "You have perhaps too much spirit for your own good. But I am grateful to you for agreeing to spend so much time with me. It gives me breathing space. I hope I am not keeping you away from any particular admirer. Am I, Charlotte?"

"Oh, indeed not," she assured him brightly. "I have no intention of fixing my choice yet."

He looked searchingly into her face and grinned. "It sounds as if I have touched you on the raw."

Charlotte kicked the side of the horse. "I'll race you to that large oak!" she shouted, pointing ahead about half a mile. The mare, unused to such treatment and startled out of a steady trot, broke into a sudden and panicked gallop. Charlotte leaned forward and clung to the reins. She gave herself up to a feeling of exhilaration. It seemed an age since she had last enjoyed a clandestine gallop with Meg at home.

Devin Northcott and the Earl of Brampton were riding slowly in the opposite direction, discussing the issues of a morning debate in the House.

"By Jove, it's Miss Wells!" Devin suddenly exclaimed, paling noticeably. The next moment his horse sprang into a gallop, responding to the vicious prod of Devin's spurs.

A startled Brampton took in the scene at a glance. Charlotte was indeed flying in his direction, bent low over her horse's neck. Charles was in hot pursuit, and Northcott was now approaching at an angle designed to cut her off. Brampton could not decide on the instant if Charlotte was in danger or not, but he also spurred his horse ahead.

Charlotte was suddenly made aware of another horseman-Mr. Northcott!-galloping toward her, wheeling his horse sharply about, and bringing it in close to hers. The race took on a new thrill. She felt sudden indignation, though, when his hand reached out and caught her horse's bridle just above the bit and hung grimly on until the mare slowed to a trot and then stopped altogether.

Devin dismounted quickly, grasped Charlotte firmly by the waist, and lifted her to the ground. He held her against his fast-beating heart for a few moments until he became aware of the impropriety of such a situation.

"Quite safe now, my dear," he muttered soothingly to the feather of her riding hat. "Must tell Bram to find you a quieter mount."

Charlotte, who had been furious at being so effectively prevented from completing the race, was by now unaccountably demure. "Mr. Northcott, whatever would I have done without you?" she said breathlessly.

He coughed. "Glad to be of service," he said.

"Were you really in danger, Charlotte, my love?" Charles asked with concern, dismounting beside them and breaking a certain spell.

"I have not much experience at riding," she lied meekly.

"I suggest that you take Charlotte home at once and let my wife tend to her, Charles," Brampton said from his horse's back.

Charlotte held out a timid right hand. "Thank you, sir," she said, smiling shyly up at Devin, "for saving me from a nasty tumble."

"M' pleasure," he mumbled, bowing over her hand.

"Charlotte, you fraud," was Charles' sympathetic comment as they rode away in the direction of the park entrance. "You were not in danger for one moment. That fellow has a tendre for you. Were you teasing him?"

"Mr. Northcott?" asked Charlotte, her eyes wide with innocence. "You mistake, sir. He is so old!"

He laughed. "All of thirty, I believe."

Back near the oak tree, Devin Northcott was mounting his horse again, muttering to himself. "Charlotte, my love!" he was saying in disgust.

On the following day Brampton announced that he was moving his household to the country for at least a couple of weeks. He had estate business at Brampton Court that had been needing his attention for some time. He had intended to travel down alone and stay for a few days, but had found himself making several excuses for not doing so. He and his wife had taken on the responsibility of chaperoning Charlotte during her come-out Season. Although he had every confidence in his wife's wisdom and discretion, and knew that she could control her sister's more impulsive nature, he still felt that they needed him to lend support as an escort to various social functions. He knew that he could rely on his brother and his best friend to escort the ladies in his absence, but somehow he found the thought distasteful.

Then, of course, there was his budding romance with the mysterious lady whom he could call only his angel. He hated to leave just at a time when he had established contact with her again, and just when it seemed that a very satisfactory affair was developing. But then again, he found that the situation was not really bringing him much joy. He did not want an affair with her; he wanted a relationship. And, even more confusing, there was the fact that he wanted to be faithful to his wife; he wanted to build an affectionate relationship with her, too.

Finally Brampton had to admit that his real reluctance to leave had entirely to do with his own comfort. Who, at Brampton Court, would remember to order his favorite meals? Who would listen quietly and with interest to his political theories and his various concerns over his estates, his horses, and other personal matters? And who would screen his visitors so that he saw only persons he would find interesting, while she sat patiently conversing with all the bores? Brampton did not love his wife as he loved his angel, he did not desire her as passionately, but he was beginning to find the thought of being away from her deuced uncomfortable.

There were only a few weeks of the Season left, and Brampton did not want to cut it short, for Charlotte's sake. On the other hand, some of the business he had to attend to would not wait. Brampton hit on the happy solution of organizing a house party at Brampton Court, so that his sister-in-law could have all the social activities that she could possibly want.

He summoned his wife to the library after breakfast and put the suggestion to her.

"Well, what do you think, my dear?" he asked, leaning back in the chair behind his desk and steepling his fingers as he watched her sitting quiet and straight-backed in the chair across from his. "Will you be bored in the country? Will Charlotte be disappointed to miss the vast whirl of balls and breakfasts and such?"

"I cannot speak for Charlotte, Richard," she answered earnestly, "but I should like it of all things. It is turning so hot and dusty in the city now. It will be perfectly splendid to be back at Brampton Court with its lawns and trees. And the lake," she added. She gazed eagerly across the desk at him so that he sat dazed by the life that had welled up in her.

"Do you prefer the country to the city?" he asked with curiosity.

"Yes, indeed I do, Richard," she replied. "But of course," she added, suddenly aware of her own enthusiasm and covering it for fear he would think her childish, "I am happy to be wherever you wish to be."

"Now that we have Charlotte launched," he said, gazing at her so intently that she lowered her eyes to the hands clasped in her lap, "we shall be able to spend more time at home. My father always preferred to live there, and live there we did until his death when I was sixteen. It is a good place for children."

Margaret tried to stop herself from blushing as her hands clasped together more tightly. She wondered if her husband's absence from her room since the night of Vauxhall had solely to do with what had happened that night or if he had been counting weeks and had assumed this was the time when he could not touch her. But nothing had happened in its regular cycle, and she had been living from hour to hour in painful hope.

Brampton broke into her thoughts. "Do you think we can arrange a house party at such short notice?"

"If we begin today, yes," she answered calmly. "How many guests did you have in mind, Richard?"

"About twelve?"

"And whom do you wish to invite?"

"Mother and Charles, certainly. Northcott will come, though I am sure he will stay at his own home, since it is only three miles away. Lucy and Henry have been angling for an invitation this twelvemonth or more. You may choose the others, my dear. May I suggest choosing young people who will be congenial to Charlotte?"

And that was almost the full extent of the plans that Brampton made himself. It was Margaret who, for the next week, worked almost nonstop writing invitations, sending notice of their arrival to Brampton Court, deciding what possessions were to be packed and taken and which staff members were to accompany the family, and trying to ensure that Charlotte still had a full social life.

Charlotte was quite happy with the new arrangements. Although she was a high-spirited girl, she was not silly. She was beginning to find the almost constant round of social activities rather boring. One tended to see the same faces wherever one went. One learned what compliments to expect from which gallants, what confidences to expect from which girls, and what invitations one was likely to receive from which members of the ton. She had her regular circle of admirers, but had found that only one of them had the power to increase her heartbeat, and he seemed to have lost interest in the last few weeks. She had been thankful for Charles' company. He was fun and easy to be with, and since everyone seemed to assume that he was a front-runner for her affections, she was not so constantly pestered by boring and languishing young men.

Charlotte helped Margaret pick out the guests for the house party. Her two close friends, Annabelle Frazer and Susanna Kemp, were to come with Susanna's amiable brother Ted; the twins, Rodney and Kenneth Langford, and Miss Faith Axton, betrothed to the latter, were invited. The dowager countess, on hearing of the party, also requested that her friends. Lord and Lady Romley, be included. All were able to come, even at such short notice.

Only one thing was allowed to take Margaret's mind off the impending house party, and that was her appointment to meet her husband again at Vauxhall. Charlotte was worried about the event, too.

"Meg, you must go," she pleaded when Margaret claimed for at least the twentieth time that week that the original plan had been rather childish and must be forgotten.

"We did not think further than the first meeting, Lottie," she explained. "There is nothing left to prove. Yes, he did find me attractive at the Hetherington ball six years ago, and yes, he does find me attractive now in the same disguise." Margaret did not explain just how attractive he was finding her. "But I cannot go on with the deception. He will find me out sooner or later. And even if he does not, what is to be gained?" Except a lot of wild, uninhibited happiness, she added silently.

"But we cannot give up now, Meg," Charlotte argued. "He loves you. But he does not know that it is you he loves. You will still insist on behaving so primly all the time. And you still wear your hair in those old-maidenly braids. You have to tell him, Meg."

"Impossible, Lottie! Such an interview would be horribly embarrassing and a terrible blow to Richard's dignity."

"Phooey!" Charlotte exploded. "Is it undignified to have a wife that loves one?"

Margaret sighed. "However," she said, chiding herself for a weakening resolve, "perhaps I should don the disguise and meet him one more time. It will surely be the last time, if we are to spend some weeks in the country."

Charlotte jumped to her feet, clapping her hands. "Oh, Meg," she said, bending over her sister and hugging her, "it will all turn out, you will see. I never knew of such a stupid situation as this, where two people love each other so much and cannot say so."

"You have so much experience," Margaret teased affectionately.