The Masked Heart (Sweet Deception Regency #2) (25 page)

"I do not like your taking a hackney," the dresser said as she tied the satin band around the veiling at Blaine's throat. "I would feel far more comfortable if Sarge were driving you."

"He is much better occupied keeping Val and that scamp Jamie out of trouble." As she started out the door, she tried to reassure the older woman. "I will be meeting Stoddard at noon in a public park. There can be little danger in that."

Blaine repeated those words over and over as the hackney jolted through the streets. She hoped that Stoddard already would be at the meeting place because she wasn't sure he would make contact with her instead of Fleur. The blood pounded at her temples in the beginnings of a headache and stared bleakly through the veiling of her hat at the passing buildings. She would offer the man money, but she doubted that he was out for money. If she was correct in her conclusions: Lord Stoddard's price was La Solitaire.

The hackney driver set her down just inside the park. He was already out of sight before she got her bearings and pulled out Stoddard's note to confirm the meeting place. With a quick glance at the watch pinned inside her pelisse, to see that she still had ten minutes to spare, Blaine readied herself for her performance.

She shook out the heavy folds of her black dress and adjusted the padding of her matronly bosom more securely. Looking around, she was pleased to note she was able to see remarkably well through the veiling even though the sunshine, even at noon, was almost nonexistent. She pulled the netting away from her mouth and nose to ensure that the features of her face would remain invisible. She slipped the strings of her jet-beaded reticule around her wrist and then taking a breath, she leaned heavily on her stick as she walked stiffly along the path.

If she was right, Stoddard had guessed that the real name of La Solitaire was Blaine Meriweather. She was counting on the fact that he might not have discovered that she was also playing the part of Lady Yates. If not, he would be under the impression that he had only an old woman, a young girl and a child to deal with. In underestimating his adversaries, Stoddard would give her an advantage.

The already gloomy day appeared more threatening as Blaine approached the rendezvous. When she discovered the spot and realized its isolation, she was grateful that Fleur had not come. An iron bench with wooden slats was tucked into a shadowed bend of the walking path. The path was dark, covered over by heavily leaved, massive oaks. An army could hide in the hedges, she muttered. She surveyed the area but could not see anyone other than the wretched Stoddard who leaned arrogantly against the trunk of a tree beside the bench.

For a moment, she experienced the same fright she felt prior to a performance. Her throat was dry and her heart was pounding erratically. In point of fact, she was involved in a play, one with more tragic consequences if she did not act her part well. Thus reminded of her theatrical experience, she took a deep breath and stormed onto the scene.

"Well, young man," she rasped in Lady Yates' throaty voice.

Stoddard pulled away from the tree he had been leaning against with the speed of a scalded cat. He stared in confusion at the veiled woman in black who was confronting him. Blaine pushed her advantage.

"What is the meaning of all this rubbish?" she snapped.

"Lady Yates!" He could not keep back his start of surprise.

"Don't Lady Yates me, you disreputable rake! How dare you send secret notes and flowers to my niece. What kind of a girl do you think she is that she would be privy to such hugger-mugger goings on?"

"W-where is Fleur?"

It was obvious that Stoddard had not twigged to her imposture of Lady Yates. His face was a picture of confusion at the appearance of the old woman and his stammered words clearly showed that he was stunned. Blaine pressed her advantage hoping to rout the man.

"Such underhanded dealings, Lord Stoddard, indicate a certain want of moral rectitude." Blaine rapped out her words in stentorian tones and was pleased to see the flush of color that stained his cheeks at her insult. "My niece will not be here today and as far as I am concerned you are never to seek to converse with her again."

Stoddard blinked when she finished then his face changed from the tint of embarrassment to the deep red tones of fury.

"I am not so easily gulled, madam," he said through gritted teeth. "If you are here, you have read my note and are well aware of the reason for this meeting. I was hoping to deal with Fleur but you will do equally as well."

Since her berating of the man had failed to make him turn tail, she decided it was time to come to business. She planted her walking stick firmly in front of her feet and leaned on it with both hands, while holding the rest of her body stiff with offended dignity. "What do you want, Lord Stoddard?"

"I want your niece, Lady Yates."

"Fleur?"

"Don't be stupid," he snarled. "I want La Solitaire!"

At his unrestrained anger, Blaine swallowed a lump of fear and tried to keep her voice bitingly cold. "Quite impossible, young man. Do you really think, I would turn the girl over to you?"

"If you do not want your reputation, and that of your innocent little niece, to be dragged into the muck of scandal, you will tell me what I want to know. Where is La Solitaire?"

"I don't know." Blaine was shaking so much, she had little need to fabricate the querulous tones of an old woman. "I sent her away. It was too dangerous for Fleur to have 'the actress' in London. I have told her, we will never receive her again. She is a disgrace to the Meriweather name!"

There was silence after her angry speech. She prayed that Stoddard would believe her and look elsewhere for answers. Her body felt chilled with fear at his words which confirmed that he was not out after gain. He wanted La Solitaire. Through the veiling, Blaine could see that he was wavering. Suddenly, his expression changed and her heart plummeted.

"I do not believe you, Lady Yates," he said, his voice gloating. "If you had meant to cut the actress, you would have done it long ago. I am sure you and the little Fleur have worked out ways to contact her."

"Fleur knows nothing," Blaine snapped in fear and anger. "She can tell you nothing."

"Perhaps not, Lady Yates. We shall just have to see."

"Leave her alone!" Blaine was not sure if her cry was for her sister or herself. She clenched her hand on the knob of her walking stick, the urge to strike out at the man almost overpowering.

"I had the feeling you Meriweathers would be difficult to deal with. I had made my plans for Fleur but I suppose you will have to do," he said.

Before Blaine could take in his meaning, he raised his hand and two men appeared on either side of her. The size and generally disreputable appearance of the men did not encourage her to struggle. She knew in her encumbering skirts, she could not hope to outrun them. Worst of all, any intimate contact with her body might reveal the falseness of her padded figure. She would be in far less danger, if Stoddard and his bullies continued to think of her as the aged Lady Yates.

"I would say you have the advantage, milord," she said.

"If you would be good enough to follow me, Lady Yates."

Without another word, Lord Stoddard moved off the path into the bushes. She spared a brief glance for the walkway, empty of strollers on this gloomy day. A call for help would be useless. Her eyes flickered to her escort and their very immobility was daunting. She gritted her teeth, forcing away her fear.

"Your arm, sirrah!" she demanded.

She was surprised at how quickly one of the brutes thrust out his arm in a courtly gesture. She placed her shaking hand on the stained woolen sleeve and leaned heavily on her walking stick as she moved after Lord Stoddard. A short distance away, a coach waited with curtains already drawn. Stoddard sneered as she approached, his lip curled as she graciously accepted the help of the two ruffians to enter the carriage. The door closed behind her and the men moved to the head of the horses, out of her earshot.

The carriage was luxuriously appointed, apparently Stoddard's own. She quickly rummaged through the interior but could discover no pistols or anything else she might use as a weapon. Since she could hear nothing except vague creakings and groanings from the carriage, she was afraid to prolong her search for fear Stoddard would return. She shuddered at the thought of having to share a seat with the frightening man. She moved to the center of the seat and placed her walking stick across her knees as a barrier.

With a sharp snap, the door was snatched open and Talbott Stoddard entered. He gave a snort of annoyance as he glanced at the cane but without further comment, he threw himself on the opposite seat with his back to the horses. One of the ruffians shouted and the carriage took off with a jerk.

"Once society hears of your outrageous conduct, Lord Stoddard, you will no longer be received," Blaine announced.

"No one will care what happens to the Meriweathers. The family of an actress is of little import to the members of the
ton
," he replied.

"I find it hard to believe, sir, that your parents were ever joined in lawful wedlock. You have the distinct odor of
le bar sinistre
."

A wave of fury crossed Stoddard's face at her words. "Shut up, you vicious old biddy!"

Afraid he would strike her, Blaine shrank against the squads. His unleashed anger was terrifying. She tried to control her breathing, knowing she could not let him see her fear. She took courage from her role as the indomitable Lady Yates

"What do you hope to accomplish by this idiocy, young man?"

"A simple trade, madam. I will return you to Portman Square, the moment you tell me where I can find La Solitaire."

"Quite impossible," she said in bored tones. "I have already told you that the actress is gone. Not only is she beyond your reach, milord, but she has always been above your touch."

"Bitch!" Stoddard snarled. "Have a care, Lady Yates. I could just as easily abandon you far from civilized London. At your age, the vultures would be picking your bones before anyone could find you."

"Their company would be a decided improvement," she retorted.

"Damn your blistering tongue!"

At his latest outburst, Blaine subsided. She could sense that he was on the ragged edge of violence and it was no plan of hers to incur injury as well as abuse at his hands. She could see little hope of bettering her situation but she was at heart an optimist and far too stubborn to give up in despair. She kept her body in the stiff posture of an angry dowager but tried to relax. She knew later on she would have need of her strength.

It was difficult to control the fear which sent her thoughts spinning in endless mind pictures. She did not know what would happen when she did not return to the house on Portman Square. Tate would be frantic and Fleur, once she heard, would go into the usual hysterics. When they returned from their tour of the docks, Val and Sarge would be told, but there was little that a servant and a child could do against the strength of a titled lord.

Even if she managed to escape on her own, she knew that, in his fury, Stoddard would blacken the name of the Meriweathers. He would take great delight in spreading the tale of how Blaine Meriweather had taken the name of Maggie Mason, the notorious La Solitaire. The thought of Val and Fleur's humiliation at such a scandal was too painful to bear.

For the love of her family, could she bargain with Stoddard? She knew his price. If she agreed to his terms, could she trust him? She truly didn't know. And if she could trust him to keep his half of the bargain, could she bring herself to become his mistress?

The thought of Talbott Stoddard's hands touching her, made the bile rise in her throat. From the candid speech of the chorus girls in her early years in the theatre, Blaine was aware of the details of lovemaking. The only actual experience she had had was the kiss she had shared with Drew Farrington. Without question, Stoddard's embrace would not give her the joy she had found in Drew's arms. She knew by the coldness and the fury she had seen in his eyes that he would not be gentle with her. He would make her pay for her insults and rejections. Stoddard would degrade her and defile her, destroying her very soul.

She had only herself to count on, Blaine thought as she fought back tears of self-pity. There was little hope of rescue. There was no one with curly brown hair and flashing green eyes who could save her from this nightmare. No one at all.

Chapter Fourteen

Drew raised an eyebrow as he handed his cape to his aunt's butler. Even without Robbie's note that had brought him to Portland Square, he would have known there was something amiss. Timmons had the look servants reserved solely for houses of mourning. Behind the closed door of the drawing room, he could hear a high keening wail and he quickened his steps across the marble foyer and opened the doors.

Robbie sat on the sofa, his arm around a crumpled Fleur who was weeping desperately onto his waistcoat. He recognized Tate, La Solitaire's dresser, in low-voiced colloquy with Frau Puffentraub, Fleur's governess. Sarge, La Solitaire's bodyguard, wore a black expression that boded ill for someone. Drew's eyes searched the room but he did not see Val and, most ominous of all, there was no sign of the imperious Lady Yates.

"Thank God, you've come, Drew!" Robbie cried.

Suspecting that whatever the calamity, there was little need to broadcast it beyond the drawing room, Drew quickly closed the doors and moved into the room. Robbie attempted to climb to his feet, but Fleur clung to him convulsively. The servants stared at him, their eyes clearly weighing him.

Drew tried to control the fear that invaded him at the presence of both Tate and Sarge in the room. He had never seen them outside of the theatre and he supposed that since their arrival at the Portman Square house they had played least seen. From their sharpened glances at his entrance, he had little doubt of their complicity in Blaine's masquerade. She could not have succeeded in such a deception without their help. He was proud of their loyalty to her but he could not refrain from giving them an accusatory glare, then ignoring them, he pulled a chair up to the sofa and addressed Robbie.