Masked Love (A Christmas Regency Novella) (8 page)

Light shining on her face woke Isabelle early on Christmas morning. She stretched her arms above her head and sat up. Her stomach rumbled. She had too many chores to do before she could think about eating.

Isabelle made her way to her lady’s room and saw another maid duck inside. Her appetite fled. There were plenty of other activities and preparations she could take care of, but she lingered there, amazed at how solidly her position had been lowered. Within the hierarchy of servants, she had most obviously been demoted.

She had no one to blame but herself, and her own foolishness.

Do not dwell on it.

A faux cheery hum flittered through her pursed lips, and she set about her tasks with unabashed determination. Soon enough, she felt somewhat better as the Christmas spirit filled her, and she concentrated on things much bigger than employment and happiness and instead, the true reason for the season.

She, along with the other servants, walked to the church service. The priest gave a wonderful homily that concentrated on family and togetherness. And although she was alone in the world, she felt as if her mother stood beside her, holding onto her shoulder as she often had when they went to religious services.

Would Mother be proud of me? Or scold me for my actions?

Isabelle wasn’t certain. Her mother had luckily fallen for another servant, and they had married a week after they first met. Her father had died shortly after Isabelle was born, and she and her mother had been closer than jam and rolls. From an early age, Isabelle had done all she could to help her mother, and the household they served. A few years later, they had new masters, and the lord of the house had an eye for her mother. Her mother had refused him, and she had been beaten, and the two tossed out.

Finding new employers took some time. Unfortunately, the nights had been bitterly cold, and her mother got sick. Isabelle, by then, had been old enough to find employment as a maid and used all of her earnings to pay for a physician, but her mother had been too sick and before spring warmed the earth, she had been buried within it.

Remembering her mother’s death brought tears to her eyes, and she wiped them away. One thing she did know was that her mother would not want her to be sad. Not today. Christmas had been her mother’s favorite holiday. Isabelle’s too.

Her mother, despite her position, had been rather educated and had instilled her love of learning in Isabelle. Perhaps she should learn from her mother’s happiness with her father, and choose another man to love, one she could possibly marry.

But in her heart, she knew she could love no one other than Adrian.

Just then, from a pew near the front, Lady Theodosia glanced behind her. Dressed in clothes fit for a princess, she had to attract the attention of everyone crowded in the church. Their gazes locked, and Isabelle lowered her head. Out of all the ladies she had tended to, Lady Theodosia had been the only one she had truly cared for. Lady Theodosia had evidently felt the same; otherwise she never would have invited her to the masquerade. And how had Isabelle repaid her? By loving her betrothed.

The service ended, and the people ushered out of the church slowly, without pushing or shoving. With ivy and other greenery, holly, lit candles, and bows, the church was beautifully decorated. She paused beside a wreath and admired its intricacies, how the various evergreens wrapped upon each other to form a perfect circle.

Olga nudged her shoulder once they walked outside. “Now do you care to tell me what’s going on?”

Isabelle glanced at the plump cook. “I would rather not say.”

“You’ll force me to listen to gossip then.”

“And just what is being said?” Isabelle was straining her neck, forcing herself not to turn around and watch Lord Adrian help his beautiful future wife into the carriage.

“That you and the lady had a falling out. But no one can figure out why.”

Her breathing came easier. Her secret was safe. If tongues stopped wagging or told so little, she might not be long unemployed. She desired greatly to never return to the streets.

The sight of a tall red-haired man standing with his back to her made excitement well deep within her. She glanced at the Haywood carriage, but the horses were already clop, clop, clopping along their merry way, too far for him to be visible.

Isabelle stood still as people crowded around her. The man turned slightly, and she glimpsed at his eyes. Brown.

Olga followed her gaze. “He is a fine-looking specimen, isn’t he? That’s why he’s trouble.”

“Scandal?” Isabelle’s hopes dashed as quickly as they had started to bubble up again.

Olga gripped her arm and forced her to walk along. Once they were a good deal separated from the crowd, the cook whispered, “Baron Malcolm Thrush. Surely you’ve heard of him.”

Isabelle waited with little patience. She never bothered to listen to stories, but Olga knew everything about everyone, sometimes even before they did, or so it seemed.

“Gambler, womanizer. Supposedly he got a girl pregnant. And a few years back, he cut off an engagement. He claimed they never had an agreement, but the lady was devastated. Caught a lucky break there, she did.” Olga nodded solemnly. “If you are eyeing him, I suggest you look at someone else.”

“I’m not interested, don’t worry.”

The gray-eyed woman old enough to be her mother shook her head. “Not interested in him you mean. I can see right through you. As long as he’s in your class, there’s nothing wrong with it. But that’s not the case, is it.”

Isabelle kept silent the rest of the long walk to the Haywood Manor. Olga was smart; she probably pieced everything together already. Isabelle had to prepare and hope that, tomorrow during the party, she could find another lady in need of a maid. Haywood Manor had become a sinking ship for her, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d drown.

Once the lords and ladies were done eating, the servants were finally able to enjoy a simpler Christmas meal on the leftovers. At first, Isabelle had no desire to eat, but one taste of the roast beef changed her mind. The march pane was especially delicious this year.

Olga eyed her the entire time but thankfully said nothing. When she finally lowered her fork and opened her mouth, Isabelle jumped up. “I’ll return presently.”

She dashed from the room, not planning on coming back until she needed to help clean up. After creeping up the stairs to the servant’s quarters, she jumped back when she saw Lady Theodosia sitting on her bed.

“Is there something you need?” she asked once she overcame her shock.

Lady Theodosia handed her a rolled-up letter, sealed with her family’s crest of a small dove perched on top of a full tree. “I’ve written you a letter of recommendation.”

Her mouth grew dry, as if the moisture in her body had fled to her eyes. “My lady … ”

“Lord Adrian is a wonderful man. I can understand why you fell for him. But he is to be my husband.”

“O-of course.” She hung her head, unable to lift her arm to accept the letter from her former lady’s outstretched hand.

“Do not feel badly. Everything that has transpired has been my fault and no one else’s.” Lady Theodosia’s sigh echoed throughout the crammed chambers. Her high-waisted green muslin gown looked positively festive, the opposite of her face.

Isabelle had hung a tiny wreath above her bed. She walked over to it and plucked a piece of holly from it. With a careful hand, she pinned it to Lady Theodosia’s gown where it would direct attention to her bosom.

Lady Theodosia clasped her hand for a moment, then placed the letter on Isabelle’s bed, and walked out.

Finding a new employer would be far easier in some ways, but the single hardest reason remained, and would forever.

***

The part of the day Adrian dreaded the most had come: the Christmas toast.

“Adrian, would you like the honors?” Lord Haywood asked.

How could he graciously refuse without sounding like an aloof fool? Nothing came to mind, so he stepped forward. Everyone in the entire manor was in the dining hall, including the servants. Including Isabelle. She looked smaller today, more drawn in, and her plain gray dress appeared too big for her petite frame. He wanted to clothe her in silks and rich colors, gemstone hues to bring out the darkness of her hair and eyes. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let her leave his side. He wanted to give her the world.

But he couldn’t.

A gulf larger than the ocean spread between them. No ship could traverse the wicked waves. They were at an impasse that could never be conquered. Not if it meant leaving Lady Theodosia to be ravaged by a man who cared so little for ladies and their worth. Thankfully Lady Theodosia had her head about her and hadn’t run off to be married to the baron. Some ladies did that, married against their families’ wishes, and the results were unanimously disastrous.

Most everyone was staring at him, but he waited until she finally lifted her head and he melted a little at the hopeless resignation he saw in her russet eyes.

Adrian had no idea what to say but once he got started, the words tumbled out of him like a rushing waterfall gushes to the pond it fills. “Christmas is a time for new beginnings. A time for laughter. A time for joy. A time for setting aside differences and making amends. Christmas is about something so much more than the here and now. It’s a time to remember what is truly important.” He raised his glass. “To Christmas.”

“To Christmas!” Everyone raised their glasses before drinking. The sherry in his glass was much darker than in Isabelle’s, he noted.

Lord Haywood’s voice rose above all others. “You forgot one, my boy. Christmas is a time for love.” He nodded above Adrian’s head.

In the air, attached to the ceiling was a kissing bough. He and Lady Theodosia were standing beneath it.

“Go on, kiss her.”

Lady Theodosia prettily blushed and turned to the side, offering her cheek. He lowered his head and may have brushed his lips against her temple. He wasn’t certain; he pulled back immediately. Adrian raised his glass again and gulped the rest of its contents down. Normally, he loved Christmas, but this one was proving to be a catastrophe.

Lord Haywood himself poured more sherry into his empty glass. Adrian conspicuously glanced around the room. Isabelle was gone. Although he didn’t want to see how wounded she must be, he wanted to see her again. He even went as far as to start to walk away, but a plump woman barred his path and shook her head. Her gray eyes were like a hawk’s: wary, watchful, knowing.

Feeling like a slapped child, Adrian rejoined the crowd. All of him, that is, but his heart.

Time passed on in a blink of the eye and before Adrian knew it, the Haywood Manor was filled with more guests than he would have thought could be contained within its walls. Most of the well-wishers he recognized, but each exclamation of happiness left a foul taste in his mouth and no amount of beer could wash it away.

He felt lighter the instant he spotted Isabelle. She was tucked in the back corner, talking to a red-haired lady. Careful not to bump into anyone, smiling and nodding as he passed people, he made his way over to them. The Lord was also smiling down on him as the lady left precisely when he reached Isabelle’s side.

Her throat muscles constricted as she swallowed. “My lord … congratulations.”

“You must know I did all this for Lady Theodosia. I wanted—”

“I know what you wanted. I wanted the same. But the baron … ”

She was by far the most intelligent maid he had ever conversed with, and he wasn’t the least bit surprised she had shared his conclusion. But it still made this conversation the most difficult one he’d ever had to have.

He cleared his throat and struggled to think of something to say, anything that she might be able to take with her, but his tongue numbed and his mind went blank. Perhaps he should merely turn and walk away. This goodbye was too much to express in words.

But Adrian Wingrave was not a coward.