The Masquerade (38 page)

“Yes. I am beyond happy, Elizabeth.” He smiled a little. “I know you think I do not recollect it, but I do.”

She was confused. “What are you speaking of?”

“The day I saved your life when you were a small, plump child who preferred a book to a game of pirates.”

Lizzie went still. Her pulse ricocheted. “You remember when I fell into the river?”

He kissed her briefly again. “How could I ever forget? And it was the lake, darling, not the river—had you fallen into the river even I couldn’t have rescued you, as the currents are far too dangerous there.”

Lizzie was amazed. How was it possible that he recalled that long ago day, too?

“I had been horseracing with my brothers and my stepbrothers—I had a new steed, one I was determined to show off. We were a very rowdy group,” he added with a grin. “And we were hot and dirty and decided to stop at the lake for a swim. There was a picnic in progress and
the first thing that I saw was this adorable child with her nose buried in a book—a book half her size.”

Lizzie dared not breathe; she pinched herself to make certain she was awake. “Some boy took it away from me.”

“Yes, some bully seized it and you chased him and I felt like thrashing him. But then he threw the book in the lake. You ran to retrieve it—and fell in face-first yourself.”

“How could you remember this?” she whispered, shaken to her core.

He shrugged. “I have never forgotten. I dove in and carried you out and you looked at me, right into my eyes, and asked me if I was a prince.”

Are you a prince?

No, little one, I am not.

Lizzie had to hold on to him now. “I fell in love with you that day. I know I was only ten and you were far older, but in my eyes, you were a prince—
my
prince.”

He moved some hair away from her cheek. “I’ve never forgotten that day, Elizabeth. And every time I saw you in town—usually with a book—or at our St. Patrick’s Day lawn party, I had the oddest urge to protect you, should another bully appear.”

“You…you knew who I was?” she cried, stunned.

He did not smile now. “When I saw that coach on High Street, about to run you down, I felt a fear I have never before felt—except for at Wicklowe, when Harrington came, and I knew you were going to leave me.”

“You knew who I was that day those rowdies almost ran me over?”

“Yes, and when I had pulled you to safety, I realized the child no longer existed. There was a woman in my arms, a terribly beguiling woman.”

Lizzie said with effort, “What are you trying to tell me?”

“I watched you grow from a child into a woman. Since that day at the lake, I was determined to protect you. I fell in love with you on High Street. I’ve loved you ever since.”

He had watched her grow up…he had loved her for years…Lizzie went into his arms, still astonished. They had both loved each other from afar for years. She couldn’t help wondering what might have been if she had met him for a tryst that All Hallow’s Eve. But that had not been God’s plan; His plan had included Ned.

“You’re crying,” Tyrell whispered.

“They are tears of profound joy,” Lizzie returned. There was almost too much joy to bear now.

“I am fiercely pleased that, after all this time, I can make you cry with joy!” he said. “When do you want to get married?”

Lizzie blinked. “Today.”

He laughed. “And barring that?”

“As soon as possible.” She had never been more serious and she reached for his hand.

He took it and lifted it to his lips, as serious as she. “I want to marry you at Adare, Elizabeth.”

“Oh, yes!” she cried. “When can we leave? When can we go home?”

“I can leave today, if that isn’t too soon for you,” he said with a fond smile.

She thought of that day at the lake, when a handsome young prince had saved her from drowning; she thought about her first ball and a dark and dangerous pirate inviting her for an assignation; and she thought about God’s greatest gift, the day of Ned’s birth, and holding her son in her arms for her very first time. She thought of being marched up to Adare by her parents in shame, waiting for
Tyrell to accuse her of being a hussy and a liar, and of the wonderful months they had spent together as a family at Wicklowe. She did not think about the pain of separation now. Instead, she imagined the wedding that would soon take place, there in the great hall of his ancestral home. Eventually, their children would fill the rooms and halls of that palatial place. And there they would follow in the footsteps of the generations of de Warennes who had preceded them, men and women who had lived and loved and died fighting for honor, duty and family.

“I should love to go home today,” Lizzie whispered. “In fact, I cannot wait.”

L
izzie and Tyrell were married three weeks later in the great hall of Adare. The ceremony was a small and private one, attended only by family. It was a great, joyous and tearful celebration.

That day Aunt Eleanor revealed the contents of her will. To Georgie and Anna she left two modest pensions, and to Rory, the house in Belgrave Square. The rest of her vast fortune went to Lizzie, who had become, in the stroke of a pen, one of the greatest heiresses in the realm.

Georgie and Rory were married the following summer at Raven Hall. Their wedding was not exactly the small affair they had envisioned, with almost two hundred guests. Lizzie was her sister’s maid of honor, Tyrell the best man.

But the greatest event of all was the birth of Lizzie and Tyrell’s child. Their daughter was born just after the New Year of 1816, much to the couple’s delight. But she was only the first of their five children.

Dear Reader,

It was a thrill continuing the saga of the de Warennes and O’Neills in early nineteenth-century Ireland. I hope you enjoyed reading about Lizzie and Tyrell and their two huge, extended families as much as I enjoyed writing about them!

As you may or may not know,
The Masquerade
is the second of a five-book series, and it follows
The Prize.
I never intended to develop another family saga when I first wrote about Rolfe de Warenne in
The Conqueror
in 1989. A ruthless, landless and ambitious knight determined to subdue the north of England for William the Conqueror, he is fought by and then subdued himself by a small, fiery Saxon woman, Lady Ceidre. A few years later the story of his heir, Stephen de Warenne, and a Scottish princess followed in
Promise of the Rose.
Many years went by—there were Westerns and Victorians and turn-of-the century Americana—and suddenly there was
The Game.
Set in Elizabethan times, it was the story of the master of the seas, Queen Elizabeth’s favorite pirate, Liam O’Neill, and his unerring quest for power, legitimacy and the woman he loved. As I began
The Prize,
unaware of the series about to unfold, it quickly became obvious
to me that the hero, Devlin O’Neill, would be a descendant of that infamous pirate, Liam. Research told me that their family would now be hanging on to their ancestral lands by a thread, but creative fortune made the earl of Adare, their overlord and benefactor, a de Warenne. Suddenly, the earl had been in love with Devlin’s mother for years, and with the murder of his father in the terrible Wexford uprising, it was an instant no-brainer: the earl of Adare would marry Mary O’Neill, uniting the two great families.

I plan to follow
The Masquerade
with Sean’s story. As you all know by now, he left Askeaton when Devlin and Virginia returned there in June 1814. Perhaps, as readers learned in
The Prize,
he was truly in love with Virginia, so once his brother and sister-in-law returned, he felt he had to leave. Perhaps, having given his life to the estate, with Devlin’s retirement and return he feels there is no place for him there. In any case, a number of years have gone by and there has been no word. Eleanor de Warenne, who has loved him since she first met him when he was eight years old, has been heartbroken. After five years, she gives up on his ever returning and is about to wed. By this time, word has trickled down that Sean is wanted for murder, an outlaw on the run. And one day he shows up at Eleanor’s home, hard and dark, a man she can no longer recognize, looking for a place to hide. Of course, Eleanor cannot refuse him….

Theirs is a huge and powerful love story. Sean will not be an easy man to love and Eleanor has been deeply hurt by him. Yet somehow, even outlawed and outcast, their explosive passion will lead them to trust, healing and a deep and enduring love.

Rex’s story will probably be next, set in the wild, stormy moors of Cornwall, followed by Cliff’s adventures in the West Indies.

If you have any questions about my novels, a good place to find the answers is on my Web site at:

www.brendajoyce.com

All of my books are listed on the Novels page and the message board is very active, where my fans welcome all newcomers and are an amazing source of information and, for me, inspiration. From time to time I get on the boards and join in the very lively conversation.

Thank you for letting me share with you the trials and tribulations, the tragedy and triumphs of Lizzie and Tyrell. I can barely wait to begin the next book in the series, as Sean and Eleanor are haunting me now.

And if you have yet to sneak a peek at my turn-of-the-century Francesca Cahill novels, please come meet an amateur sleuth with a heart of gold, a dark dangerous lover, and a knack for blowing her cases sky-high before they can be solved.
Deadly Illusions,
the seventh book in the series, was recently published in February 2005.

As always, happy reading!

Brenda Joyce