The Masked Heart (Sweet Deception Regency #2) (19 page)

"Forgive me, my dear, for giving you such a fright."

Drew's deep voice reassured her and as he released her wrist, she pushed her hood back. She smiled in relief at his elegant attire until she looked beyond him to the room.

In the light from the candles in the wall sconce, she could see that the room was not large and more nearly a bedchamber than a sitting room. Although there were two easy chairs in a windowed alcove, a large fourposter bed, covered by a brightly-patterned quilt, dominated. There were more candles on the table beside the bed, surrounding it in a harsh glow. She pressed her back against the panels of the door, appalled that she had so mistaken Drew Farrington. It was painfully obvious that the room had been furnished as the backdrop for a scene of seduction.

The sight of the disillusionment on the beautiful woman's face, struck Drew like a blow. "Please forgive me, Miss Mason," he said. "I had no intention of insulting you."

At his words, she raised accusing eyes and studied his face. He held perfectly still beneath her scrutiny and then opened his arms. With only a momentary hesitation, she trustingly stepped into his embrace as if to seek reassurance from her frightening conclusions. He could feel the trembling of the body pressed close to his and he was washed with a wave of shame that he had ever contrived such a shoddy arrangement. He could not believe that he could have been so thoughtless as to give her even a moment of discomfort.

Slowly she raised her face. His breath caught in his throat at the ivory perfection of her skin and the golden luminescence of her eyes. His eyes caressed her shining curls and he loosened the clasp at her neck, swinging the cape from her shoulders in a single movement. Standing back, he admired the elegance of her gown and the radiance of her lovely features. In the tawdry surroundings, La Solitaire shone like a lily among weeds

Blaine had recovered a little of her courage and stepped away from Drew, giggling softly at the stunned expression on his face. There was no sign of recognition in his face, only a look of admiration that sent her pulse racing.

"I am sorry for displaying such missish airs, Lord Farrington," she said. "The stairwell was dark and I became confused."

"You need never apologize, Miss Mason. I am at fault. I should never have invited you to such a place." Drew folded her cloak and placed it on the seat of a chair against the wall.

"I do not normally accept invitations of any kind," Blaine said. "I am not really sure why I came."

Without commenting, Drew took her hand, leading her around the bed and over to one of the chairs that overlooked the innyard. It comforted her to see a corner of her carriage and to know that Sarge was so close at hand. She eyed the ancient chair with misgivings, then gingerly seated herself. Much to her surprise it was quite comfortable.

"Do you come here often, Lord Farrington?" she asked as he pulled up the other equally disreputable chair.

Drew laughed, the sound harsh in the little room. "My apologies again, Miss Mason. I have behaved like a callow youth in arranging this evening. Until tonight I had never been to this dreadful place. I asked an acquaintance to suggest an inn close to town where we might be private. It appears that he misunderstood my intentions."

"Did he, milord?" Blaine asked quietly.

Even in the dim candlelight, she could see the rush of color to Drew's face. He looked much like an awkward schoolboy and seeing the guilt written clearly on his countenance, she could not hold back a chuckle of amusement.

"Devil take it!" Drew leaped to his feet, glaring down at the smiling woman. "He did not mistake me. I will tell you truly, ma'am. It was my intention to invite you here for the sole purpose of seducing you and making you my mistress."

Blaine recognized immediately that the anger in his voice was directed at himself, not at her. She accepted his words but wondered what had made him change his mind. "Were you not even going to feed me?"

"Good God, woman!" Drew exploded.

When Blaine dissolved into giggles at the sight of his outraged expression, he threw himself back into his chair, his face black with fury. This action raised a cloud of dust and she was convulsed anew. Finally Drew caught the total idiocy of his anger and he joined in her hysteria, laughing until tears stood in his eyes.

"You are surely a most exasperating woman," Drew announced when he could pull himself together enough to speak.

"But I am hungry," she explained. "Since you are not going to dishonor me, the very least you could do is not let me starve."

"You obviously have few sensibilities to think of food at a time like this," Drew grumbled.

Muttering under his breath, he pushed himself to his feet and crossed the floor to a table against the wall. He dragged it closer to the alcove until it was within easy reach of their chairs. Then with an exaggerated flourish, he raised the covers to display the sumptuous feast.

"I apologize for the paltry selection," he said as he surveyed the sparseness of the fare. "The ham does smell delectable and I believe there is also the unavoidable roast beef. I can offer no personal recommendations but if you would care to sample, I will endeavor to pour wine."

Drew grinned as Blaine heaped a thick slice of bread with the thin-sliced ham. Before he was seated, she had taken a bite of the improvised sandwich. "It's a gourmet delight, Lord Farrington," she announced, accepting the glass of wine he extended.

She sipped the wine in silence as he helped himself to some food. He was still chewing when she made her next comment.

"It would seem to me, sir, that if your intentions were dishonorable, you might have made some push for a more lavish spread."

When he broke into a coughing fit, she tried not to laugh, but could not hold back a grin as he glared at her. "Sorry, Lord Farrington," she apologized, not the least bit contrite. "I thought you might appreciate a small suggestion for the next time."

"There will be no next time, you cheeky wench," he rasped out. "I have decided to give up women entirely."

"What a shame." She clicked her tongue in dismay. "I trust my plain speaking hasn't put you off your feed as well."

Drew snorted good humoredly at this latest sally. "Baggage!" he said, smiling happily across at her.

They ate slowly, talking easily throughout the meal. They spoke in the way of old friends, comfortable in each other's company. It was only as the meal was drawing to a close that Blaine was aware of a sudden tension in the air. It had been a magical evening but there was an air of intimacy to their situation that suddenly made her uneasy.

Blaine had considered the possibility that Drew might ask her to become his mistress. She knew if she said no, he would never force her. He wanted her, but he was basically a principled man. In thinking of the evening, she had focused on his feelings and his behavior. She had not taken into account her own response and when she looked into her own heart, she was appalled at what she saw.

She was in love with Drew Farrington. She had already begun to like the man in Wiltshire but over the succeeding weeks she had let down her guard and had somehow fallen in love. The revelation of her feelings was truly frightening as she realized that her love had made her vulnerable; it had weakened her defenses and left her open to any advance he might chose to make. Without volition her eyes moved to his face and she found she could only focus on his lips. Her heart pounded in her throat and she knew she must leave immediately.

"Thank you for dinner, Lord Farrington," she said, pushing herself out of her chair.

At her abrupt movement, Drew leaped to his feet, moving quickly to block her path. She could feel a trembling weakness in her knees and she willed herself not to reach out for him.

"Must you leave so soon?" Drew asked, his eyes moving across her face as if he were memorizing it.

Blaine licked her lips and tried to speak but only a small cry burst from her lips.

At the sound, Drew took her in his arms, stroking the curve of her cheek with the back of his hand. She caught her breath at the contact and her eyelids fluttered in the rush of excitement that flowed through her body. She could feel the heat rising between them, a fire that she knew would consume her. He bent his head until his lips were only a breath away as if waiting for her permission. She rose to meet him and he took possession of her mouth with a tenderness that she had not known existed.

The kiss seemed to last forever but eventually Blaine's senses cleared. She had known all along that she could have no relationship with Drew. She was an actress and as such he would never offer her marriage. If she remained, she would deny him nothing. Once she became his mistress, he would lose all respect for her and she could not bear that thought. With the last remaining strength in her body, Blaine pushed against his chest and he immediately released her.

"I must go," she whispered.

"When can I see you again?" Drew's voice was hoarse with emotion and he grasped her shoulders when she shook her head. "I will not ask you to stay. This is no place for you and I would not insult you so. But I must see you again, my dearest love."

Blaine bit her lip, knowing she must leave quickly before she gave in to the temptation of his nearness. "I will send you a note," she said. Then before he could question her further, she ran across the room and swept up her cloak. She swung it around her shoulders and opened the door into the hallway before Drew could stop her.

Blinded by tears, she stumbled as she closed the door into the hall. She grasped the stair rail and steadied herself, flipping the hood up over her hair. Then carefully she went down the stairs and opened the door into the cool night air. She crossed the innyard, ignoring the horseman who had to rein in to keep from trampling her. Without a backward glance, she raced to the side of the carriage where Sarge was waiting. He thrust her inside and then leaped to his seat and gave the horses the office to start.

Talbott Stoddard sucked in his breath when he recognized the figure in the flowing cloak. La Solitaire! He would recognize her face anywhere. Beneath lowered brows, he watched the carriage as it turned out of the yard then his eyes shifted and he glared up at the lighted window of the inn. It took him no time at all to check the stable and identify Drew Farrington's familiar black stallion. Cursing under his breath, he once more crossed the yard and vaulted into his saddle, roughly kicking his horse back toward London.

Although the carriage was traveling at a brisk clip, Stoddard's horse easily caught up with it. He stayed well back until it moved into the more populated areas of town. For months he had been attempting to discover where Maggie Mason lived but Sarge, her wily bodyguard and coachman, never took the same route from the theatre. Tonight he was determined to follow the actress to the ends of the earth.

Curiosity was rampant as the carriage moved into the more fashionable neighborhoods of London. He could not believe that any nobleman would dare keep his light o' love under the very noses of the starchy tattlemongers of the
ton
. But what else could this mean?

Stoddard kept his horse close to the wall, moving cautiously as the carriage navigated the narrow side streets. When it finally turned into the mews behind Portland Square, his teeth gleamed in the darkness in a grim smile of triumph. He pressed his horse foreword and was just in time to see the slender ivory figure slip inside the wrought iron gates of an imposing townhouse. Patiently he waited and was eventually rewarded by the flicker of candlelight in an upstairs room. La Solitaire had come home.

Turning his horse out of the mews, Stoddard's face reflected the anger of his thoughts. He had sworn to possess La Solitaire. Damn Drew Farrington! The bastard might have breached the actress' defenses but by the look on the woman's face when she left the inn, Stoddard suspected that the seduction had not gone as planned. There was still hope that he would succeed before his rival. For years he had hated Drew and the thought that Farrington desired La Solitaire was impetus enough to pursue the woman. Besides he had a score to settle with the celebrated Maggie Mason.

Stoddard stormed into his rooms and immediately poured himself a large brandy. He threw back his head and gulped the fiery liquor and then refilled his glass. Moving to the mantel he stared up at the portrait of himself, as always delighted by the artist's rendering. He had always been proud of his physique and the handsome face and Adonis-like curls that had won him so many females. The silly chits were easily wooed and even more easily won. All except La Solitaire.

With a snarl, Stoddard threw his snifter into the empty fireplace, smiling at the tinkling shower of glass on the tile surround. Now that he knew where La Solitaire lived it would be a simple matter to find out all about her. His brow furrowed in thought and he dropped into a chair, his fingers steepled under his chin.

There was something very confusing about the whole affair. He had recognized the house on Portman Square. It was owned by Aurelia Breckenridge, Drew Farrington's aunt who was away on a visit in Scotland. If the man already had the actress in keeping then why had he arranged to meet her at the Rose and Trellis Inn. Besides, the Meriweathers were staying at Portman Square and even Drew would never dare to house an innocent debutante like Fleur Meriweather under the same roof as a notorious actress. Society would ostracize him for such an outrage.

Could there be some connection between the Meriweathers and Maggie Mason. A servant? A relative? The latter was clearly impossible. No woman of good family would ever become an actress. It was surely a puzzle and the more he thought about it, the more curious he became. Perhaps he might learn something if he called on the Meriweathers. He had not called on Fleur sooner because he had felt she was not worth the effort. There was little sport in the deflowering of such a simple child. But the petite blond had been awed by his attentions in Wiltshire and surely he could use that to his advantage to find out what he most needed to know.