Once Upon a Masquerade (12 page)

Both men took seats across from Rebecca. Spence flipped open the humidor perched on the table at his side. “What did the old man have to say?” he asked.

Sipping the brandy, Christopher studied her. She’d slumped lower in her chair, her lids so heavy her eyes blinked slowly. Bryce had agreed that she had to be somehow linked to the case. She was now officially their prime suspect.

“Come now. You can tell me.” Spence lifted a thick cigar from the box. “Would you like one?”

“No thanks.” He inclined his head toward Rebecca. The last thing he needed was for her to overhear.

With a sideways glance and a smile, Spence closed the lid and clipped a cigar tip. “Miss Bailey, forgive me. You look exhausted. Would you like to be shown to your room?”

She mumbled a reply before her head lolled forward in sleep, the late hour getting the best of her. And proof that they could speak freely.

Spence let out a chuckle. “Apparently, she’d like to stay.” He struck a match and puffed the cigar to life. Blowing a cloud of aromatic smoke, he nodded to Rebecca. “Regardless of what dear Bryce thinks, I’m pleased you’ve brought her along. I suspect she’s just what you need.”

“Even if that’s true, she was Nathan’s.” That fact had scorched a whole in his chest, creating an ache he couldn’t dispel.

“
Was
being the operable word,” Spence pointed out. “Nathan is long gone, and the rest of us poor fools have to live on.”

True, although Spence’s blessing did little to ease the ache. Christopher sat forward in his chair and stared at the snifter he held. He tilted its edge from one side to the other, watching the amber liquid flow with his movements. “Someone wants Rebecca dead.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Three men tried to do the job last night.” He tossed back the rest of his brandy, feeling the slight burn down his throat. “She almost didn’t escape.”

“Ah, intrigue,” Spence proclaimed in typical dramatic fashion as he rolled the cigar in his fingers. “Are you expecting more trouble?”

With a long exhale, Christopher set aside his empty cup. “No, I don’t anticipate we’ve been followed. Even so, I’m not taking any chances.” He usually enjoyed Spence’s devil-may-care attitude. Spence had been the only one who could loosen Christopher’s sometimes overly serious nature. Tonight the subject cut too close. He could see nothing lighthearted when it came to Rebecca’s safety, even though she sat here before him, unharmed.

A comforting hand came to rest on his shoulder, and his friend’s next words were oddly serious. “You look tired. Get some rest. Between the two of us, we’ll keep her safe.”

Christopher rose from his chair, ready to retire and put this long day behind him. “Did you receive the message I sent before we left?”

“I did, and just as you requested, your room will be across from hers. Go to the west wing. Hers is the last door on the left.”

“The proximity of our rooms may cause a stir with your guests.”

The usual mischievous glimmer returned to Spence’s eyes. “Good. You know how I relish a tasty scandal. My guests have come to expect nothing less.”

Christopher stopped just in front of Rebecca’s chair. He loved watching her sleep. Her head rested to the side as if her cheek perched on her shoulder. Even in this awkward position, she looked peaceful, content.

He lifted her in his arms, and she didn’t so much as flinch. Her heavenly spicy scent filled his nostrils, and heat shot through his veins, jarring the memory of last night when he’d carried her to his bed. He muttered a curse and tamped back the visions of her creamy skin, her full breasts.

Leaving the parlor behind, he climbed the staircase to the west wing. Her shapely lips parted with a sigh, and he fought the urge to lower his mouth to hers.

By the time he reached the end of the long hallway, his arms shook, not from exertion but from the battle raging within himself.

He opened her door and hurried to the bed, spying her maid, Mary, asleep on the cot at its foot. A taper on the mantle cast a dancing glow throughout the room. Gently, he laid Rebecca on the mattress and stepped back, eager to leave.

Her whimper stopped him cold.

When a slight frown marred her lips and her body tensed, he returned to her side. Easing onto the bed next to her, he smoothed his palm over her forehead, brushing back the curls that lay there. His hand repeated the motion, and she relaxed once more.

“What spell have you cast over me?” he whispered, now touching her more for himself than to ease her discomfort.

His fingers wandered further back and grazed a hair pin. He tugged it from her coiffure. Sifting through the soft strands, he found what he could until her hair became a mess of long drooping tresses and half-pinned curls. With a frustrated growl, he eased her to her side and searched for more until her hair hung loose and flowing. Pleased, he stroked her long locks.

She rolled to her back as if to ward off his touch. Her bodice stretched taut over her chest, and she adjusted her position with a frown. He unbuttoned the thick fabric to ease the constriction, and brushed past her stiff corset in the process. He groaned and raised his eyes heavenward. No doubt the contraption was the true source of her discomfort.

Lord, are you punishing me?

As Christopher unhooked the corset, the swell of her breasts beneath her chemise tortured him. The last clasp released, he bolted from the bed and stood back. He debated awakening Mary. Instead, impatient to be away, he grabbed for a quilt at the end of the bed and draped it over Rebecca’s body.

He strode from the room, shut the door, and leaned back against the hard wood, rubbing his face with a trembling hand. Rebecca’s presence beyond the door drove him mad. Even in sleep she haunted him. Of its own will, his mind conjured her image, her eyes glassy with desire, her long hair tumbled around her. He groaned and crossed to his room, already dreading the long night ahead.

Chapter Ten

REBECCA AWAKENED SLOWLY, A soft mattress cradling her body. She snuggled deeper under the downy quilt and wiggled her toes within the stiff confines of her boots. Her boots?

Both eyes closed, she swept a hand along her body. She still wore her dress and evidently her petticoats. Her hand brushed over her exposed chemise, and Rebecca’s eyes sprang wide. She lifted the quilt. Her bodice gaped open, and her corset had been unclasped.

The last she remembered, she’d been ushered into Mr. Henley’s parlor and sat down in a comfortable chair. Had she stumbled to bed half-asleep? How odd. She relaxed back into the mattress and let the troublesome thought float away.

For the first time in years, she allowed herself to enjoy the peace and comfort of bed. Her gaze wandered about the elegant room. The yellow décor warmed the space, like the early morning rays of the sun bathing the landscape with its golden glow. Light blue accents on the drapes, bedding, and pillows added just the right touch of contrast.

Not quite ready to leave her pleasant cocoon, she stretched out, detecting, with a heated blush, a slight soreness between her thighs. She didn’t mourn the loss of her innocence. Right or wrong, her actions had been born out of affection. Perhaps even love. Love. That fiendish emotion just might become her downfall. Still, she would enjoy Christopher’s company while it lasted. Life was too short to hold back.

A chime thrummed, drawing her attention to a clock atop the mantle. Already one o’clock? She leapt out of bed and raced to Mary, asleep in a rumpled heap on a cot at the foot of the bed.

She nudged Mary’s shoulder and hastened to her luggage in search of something to wear. Mary stirred behind her as she pulled out a white lace gown. “Did you help me undress last evening?” She turned back toward the cot, removing the dress that had been mysteriously unfastened in the night.

Mary flipped to her other side. “No. And I’d rather not help you get dressed either.”

“Please. I’m already late.”

With Mary’s grudging assistance, she rushed through her toilette, anxious not to make a bad impression on Christopher’s friend. For goodness sake. She’d already fallen asleep in the man’s presence.

As Mary collapsed back onto her cot, Rebecca hurried into the hallway and closed the door. She turned, and her pulse skipped a beat.

Christopher waited for her in the hall, dressed in a light fawn suit, exquisitely tailored. Uncrossing his arms, he straightened to his full height, several inches over her head. His piercing eyes regarded her a moment as if searching for answers to some silent question. “Good morning. Or should I say good afternoon?” he said pleasantly enough, although his tone hinted at something else she couldn’t quite define.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked, noticing the shadows beneath his eyes.

“Well enough.” As he spoke another door opened not far from where they stood. A middle-aged woman entered the hallway wearing a mass of pearls so thick they masked the bodice of her gown. Her nose upturned, she glared at them both before turning her back and strolling away.

“Shall we?” Christopher asked, taking her elbow as if the snub hadn’t occurred.

Rebecca walked with him down the hall, still dazed by the blatant insult. “You don’t have to wait for me outside my room. You said yourself I should be safe enough here.”

“It’s no trouble. My door is across from yours.”

Had she heard him correctly? Were the other guests aware of the sleeping arrangements? If they weren’t now, they soon would be. “I appreciate your concern for my safety, but you can’t stay there. It’s not proper for a bachelor to room so close.”

“It’s merely a precaution,” he muttered, and again she sensed his thoughts were elsewhere.

She bit her lower lip, an unwelcome thought blooming in her mind. “Did you escort me to my room last evening?”

His penetrating stare spoke volumes. “I did.”

Heat crept up her neck and tingled down her spine as she envisioned his strong hands unbuttoning her bodice. She simply couldn’t bring herself to ask.

Christopher escorted her down the main staircase and out to the brick patio behind the immense castle. The smell of roses from the bushes surrounding the raised terrace wafted on a light breeze.

It appeared most everyone was already up and about. Many sat on blankets spread out in the lush grass enjoying a midday repast in the sun. On one side of the yard a crowd of men tested their archery skills. A much quieter game of croquet played out on the opposite side of the lawns. Some distance off, she spied horseback riders enjoying the groomed trails through the wooded area beyond.

They strolled to a buffet table overflowing with delectable summer dishes. The spread before her looked and smelled remarkable. After fixing herself a plate of food, she sat down at a table shaded by an oak tree. When Christopher joined her, she sampled the cold salmon and smoked pheasant she’d taken, savoring their subtle flavors.

An odd silence enveloped them. She sipped her lemonade and glanced at the man beside her, wondering at his subdued, almost sullen, behavior. Christopher met her gaze, paused as if to say something, then turned his attention back to his plate. Peculiar.

“Do you have something you’d like to discuss?” she asked, regretting the words as soon as she’d said them.

As she feared, he jumped at the opportunity. “Yes, there is.” He pushed his half-eaten lunch away. “I’ve given a lot of thought to what happened between us in my cabin.”

Lord, what had she started? She really wasn’t prepared for this conversation. What would she say if he asked her why she’d given him her virtue? That she loved him? Her pride would never allow her to admit it. Nervously, she sipped her lemonade.

“I was going to let what happened pass without further ado—”

“Yes, please do. That sounds like a splendid idea,” she agreed, knowing her suggestion would go unheeded.

He gave her an irritated look. “Except I would be remiss if I didn’t address the potential consequences that could result.”

Consequences? Like a broken heart. Her hand trembled as she took another swallow of her lemonade, willing this conversation away.

As she stared off toward the activities on the lawns, he exhaled a long sigh. “Rebecca, I want you to know, I’ll support you if you should find yourself with child.”

Expecting almost anything else but that, she inhaled mid-swallow and choked, sputtering and coughing. It took several moments before she caught her breath. “What?” she croaked. She couldn’t have heard him correctly.

Christopher looked around as if to make sure they weren’t overheard and began again. “If you’re carrying my child, I’ll pay for whatever you and the baby should need.”

Rebecca bristled, and pain flooded her. “Tell me. How much are children worth?” Her anger made her voice much louder than she’d intended.

He studied the table, and his hands flexed. “I don’t wish to offend you. I only want to reach an understanding should you find yourself in that situation.”

Undoubtedly he thought he did the honorable thing, that she was merely overreacting. “No, not at all. It’s a most generous offer,” she said, her voice heavy with resentment. “After all, it’s not as if I should expect more from you, the father.”

“I think you know I can’t offer you marriage.”

His words stung despite their truth. “What of your child? All you can offer is money?”

“That’s not what I… It wouldn’t be like that,” he muttered. “I’ll be off at sea.”

What rubbish. He couldn’t even look at her. She rose from her seat, her spine stiff, and her indignation soaring high. “How would it be exactly? Explain it to me.”

“Lower your voice,” he urged, before staring down at his hands resting on the table. “I’m sorry I’ve upset you. That wasn’t my intent.”

To his credit, he didn’t bother to look at all of the curious faces turned their way. Unfortunately, she did. All activity around them had ceased. With a mixture of embarrassment and vexation, she strode past the other tables and down to the grass. From a distance, she saw a path leading to a garden maze. A sudden purpose in her stride, she marched to the trail.

How dare he? He’d have her raise their child alone? And why was it so obvious he couldn’t marry her? As far as he knew she was an heiress from Boston. All right, not an heiress—more like impoverished gentry. Still, if she was so undesirable, why didn’t he reject her attentions before anything had happened between them?

Once in the maze, she wound through the tall shrubbery as if racing to a finish line, thoughtlessly veering one direction and another as she came to forks in the trail. She’d reached a few path ends before her pace slowed and her anger cooled.

Was it her father’s situation that made her so unacceptable? Obviously, she didn’t have enough to cover his debt. In truth, if they married Christopher’s status in society would suffer greatly because of her.

The stone path soon led to a small clearing where a circular fountain bubbled. She stepped toward the stone benches surrounding the spring and stared up at the marble statue of a barefoot peasant woman holding a simple pitcher that endlessly refilled the pool with clear water.

How ironic. Days ago he’d been pursuing her, and now she wasn’t fit to be his wife under any conditions. The cruel irony was there would be no child. If Christopher’s insults hadn’t made her lose her temper she could have ended the whole absurd argument. Already she felt the symptoms of her coming monthly curse. The telltale backache and the swelling of her fingers always appeared the week prior to her flow.

Standing some feet from the fountain, she caught a movement on the far side of the pool. Two figures deep in conversation stood in the shadows, so quiet the tinkling of the fountain masked their voices. She recognized Mary’s long blond hair and classic profile. One of Mary’s hands rested on the front of a man’s jacket before it crept up around his neck and pulled his head down for a heated kiss.

As the man’s face came into the sunlight, Rebecca made out Philip Westerly’s aristocratic features. How could that be? Stunned, she stood and watched the pair for a moment before realizing she stared. Heat rose to her cheeks. Relieved they hadn’t detected her presence, she backed away into the seclusion of the hedge, and took a minute to absorb what she’d witnessed.

She’d thought Mary already had a beau. If they’d first met while coaching in the park, had their romance begun then? Mr. Westerly’s attentions to Rebecca had waned shortly afterward.

No. Stop.
Their relationship was none of her business. She retraced her steps, hoping she would remember her way out of the intricate web.

She walked through several turns in the maze when she reached another split in the path. Unsure which way she’d come, she randomly chose a direction, rounding the corner, and collided with a broad male chest blocking her path. Her pulse stuttered as she peered up into Christopher’s stern face, and she stumbled back a step.

“I know this is difficult for you. After all that has happened, I don’t blame you for wanting some time to think, but under no circumstances can you leave my sight. Do you understand?” Although his voice sounded calm and controlled, his muscles were tense as if he prepared for a fight.

The tiny hairs at the nape of her neck rose. How quickly she’d forgotten. She’d been so angry, she hadn’t thought… “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his features. “About what I said before,” he began. “Nothing came out as I intended.”

With an exasperated shake of her head, she walked past him, certain she now moved in the right direction. “Let it pass. I’m sure it won’t be an issue.”

He followed along behind her. “You don’t know that.”

Yes, she did. Still, out of spite, she ignored him. A defiant voice inside of her demanded she let him worry for a while. It would serve him right to suffer a bit as she suffered now.

Christopher scowled. “You would rather I tell you that you’re on your own.”

“I would prefer you say nothing.”

“I see, ignorance is bliss.”

Her heart twisted. “It really isn’t necessary to belabor the point that you regret what happened between us. I understand, I truly do,” she muttered, wanting nothing more than to run away from him.

He reached out and grasped her arm, preventing her from going any further. “I take full responsibility for my actions, both in bed and out of it.” His hard stare dared her to argue further.

She considered herself a levelheaded, sensible woman who gave everyone the benefit of the doubt whenever she could. Still, even she had her limits. Hurt and anger rose up within her until she snapped. “No one forced you to participate. You could have pushed me away before anything happened. I may have started the act, but you certainly finished it. So you can stop with your injured sensibilities and accept the fact that for one moment you wanted me.”

She ripped her arm away from his grip. Staring at the path, she tried to hold back the tears as the smooth stones blurred below her. This wasn’t all her fault. She’d done what she had out of affection. What was his excuse?

“It’s not a matter of wanting or not wanting. I’ve desired you from the moment we met. Hell, I could take you right now, here in the soft grass.”

His admission sent a shiver through her, knotting her insides and draining her indignation away. “Then what is it?”

When she met his gaze, his eyes glowed despite his final words. “We aren’t meant to be together.” Turning away, he walked back down the trail, leaving her to stare at his broad back.

What did that mean? She assumed he didn’t want to associate himself with someone caught up in such a mess. Could she blame him? He’d been shot at because of her. And she’d confessed that her father was a habitual gambler, not the father-in-law one would aspire to bring into the family. He had much to lose from a relationship with her.

Christopher waited at the next bend in the maze, and they walked back in silence.