A Masked Deception (18 page)

In the house the cook was threatening every half-hour to hand in her notice as she rushed through the endless lists of foods to be prepared and cooked. Yet during the afternoon, when the earl’s chef arrived from London to help with the preparations, the threats continued for a different reason. Did his lordship think she was incapable of handling such an event on her own, without calling in “that man” who gave himself airs just because he was from the city?

Upstairs, the servants were busy, dusting, polishing, and rearranging for those guests who would be using the house. The house guests helped out where they could.

Much to everyone’s delight and relief, the day itself dawned bright and cloudless. It promised to be a scorching day. Soon after noon, the earl’s tenants began to gather below the house, all dressed in their Sunday clothes, all in holiday mood. One refreshment stand was already loaded with a tempting array of fruit drinks, tarts, cakes, and fudges; another with cold meat, fish pies, pasties, and other savory delicacies. The empty booths were soon covered with the exhibits of baking and needlecrafts that the women had entered for competition.

Soon the area before the house was bright with the colors of everyone’s holiday clothes, loud with the talk and laughter of the adults, the cries and shrieks of the children. The house guests mingled gaily, watching the races and competitions, admiring the delicate needlework and the delicious-looking baked products on display.

Charlotte and Charles had assumed charge of the children’s games. They had an audience of several fond parents, and—inexplicably—Devin Northcott. Nobody had ever suspected that he was fond of children. He looked as if he had just stepped off Bond Street, with his coat of blue superfine, his biscuit-colored pantaloons, and gleaming Hessians; and he looked bored; but he was there, watching the little tykes run and jump and laugh and scream.

Charles had worked himself into a mood of high-spirited mischief. A three-legged race was next on the agenda, he noticed. He called together all the children and Charlotte divided them into pairs, roughly according to size. Charles began to explain to them how to run the race and how to work together with one’s partner in order not to trip one another. He made the explanation deliberately vague and confused.

“Look, kiddies,” he said finally while they all gazed worshipfully at his tall, handsome form, “you have to see this done to know how to do it. I could show you with Miss Wells here, but I am too tall—or she is too short, whichever way you want to look at it. Now, let me see ...” He rubbed his chin reflectively with his hand and let his eyes rove shrewdly over the small crowd of adults. “Ah, yes, of course,” he said, grinning, and apparently struck with an inspiration, "Mr. Northcott is just the man we need.”

“Charles!” Charlotte hissed, feeling a distinct premonition of disaster. “What—”

“Mr. Northcott,” Charles continued smoothly, completely ignoring his companion, “would you oblige us by demonstrating the three-legged race with Miss Wells here?”

“Charles!”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Northcott,” chorused several children’s voices, and they all began clapping and cheering.

“Nasty little devils,” reflected Devin without moving a facial muscle.

“Charles, are you mad?” Charlotte flared in a furious whisper. “It would not be at all proper.”

“The lady is concerned with the proprieties,” yelled Charles to the most cooperative part of his audience. “Do we want to see Miss Wells and Mr. Northcott demonstrate this race, kiddies?”

“Yes!” they all shrieked, right on cue.

Over their heads, Charlotte, her face hot and dismayed, met the cool, amused eyes of Devin. He had the unspeakable effrontery to wink!

“Very well,” said Charlotte with angry defiance. “Mr. Northcott?”

He strolled forward. “Miss Wells, d’ye mind if I take off my coat?” he asked, all London politeness again.

“Not at all, sir,” she replied crossly. “Please do not mind me.”

And then her breath caught in her throat as he stripped off the coat and stood in his crisp white shirt. He was not a tall man, but he had a very masculine physique, she thought, before he turned his back to her. She admired his broad shoulders and the body that tapered to narrow waist and hips. She did not hear what Devin said to Charles as he handed over his coat.

“You’ve embarrassed the lady, Adair,” he said coldly, one eyebrow raised disdainfully. “Bad
ton,
d’ye know?”

One difficulty was discovered as soon as Charlotte and Devin stood side by side and Charles approached them to tie a scarf around their legs. The scarf would have to be tied around their ankles as it was quite unthinkable for anyone to reach higher up Charlotte’s leg than that.

Charlotte thought that she had never been so embarrassed as she felt when the scarf pulled her leg firmly against the hard surface of Devin’s Hessian. But when Charles stepped back, she realized there was far worse to come.

“Used to do this all th’ time with m’ brothers and sisters,” Devin explained, hoping to relax her by being matter-of-fact about the whole thing. “We have a better chance of not falling if we hold on to one another. Put your arm around m’ waist.” He put his own arm around her shoulders and gripped her upper arm.

Charlotte, utterly mortified, placed her arm around his waist and clung to a fistful of shirt, fearful that her hand might slip lower if she did not grip on to something.

“Now watch, kiddies,” Charles’ voice was cheerfully saying. “They are going to run to the white post and back again. Watch and see how easy it is.”

“I'll count one, two,” Devin was explaining to Charlotte. “Move the bound leg first. Ready?”

“I suppose so.”

“Right. Here we go, then.‘One, two; one, two.’ ”

To the ecstatic cheering of the children, they moved down the meadow to the white post. Charlotte was shrinkingly aware of the heat and movement of Devin’s body against her own. She had never encountered anything like such close proximity to a man before. She was terrified that she was about to be utterly missish and faint.

“Careful on the turn,” Devin warned as they approached the white post.

Charlotte had a fleeting glimpse of jumping, cheering children as they rounded the post, and then she lost her stride. Devin pulled her toward him in an effort to recover their balance, and then toppled sideways—taking her with him, of course. She was conscious of sprawling over his hip; her head came to rest across his neck, her mouth against the bare skin of his throat above his neckcloth. She pushed in panic against his chest, but without much effect; her body was angled downward.

Devin quickly and firmly lifted her off his body and set her down on the grass beside him. He propped himself on one elbow and looked down at her.

“Are you hurt, Miss Wells?” he asked in concern.

“N-no, sir,” she stammered, and swallowed nervously.

They both reached for something else to say and found nothing. They gaped foolishly, both suddenly aware of tension in the air between them. Devin lifted his hand and opened his mouth. The hand seemed destined to find its way to her cheek; his mouth was about to utter heaven knows what sentiment. Neither achieved its goal.

“I never saw anything so funny since Colonel Brody’s horse tossed him into a mud puddle just as he was lecturing our regiment on careless horsemanship,” said Charles’ voice before he broke off to roar with laughter. “The little kiddies are cracking up back there. You have made their day.”

He knelt beside the hapless pair and untied the scarf that still bound them together at the ankle. Devin got to his feet and brushed himself off hastily. As he turned to help Charlotte up, he realized that he had been forestalled.

“Come on, Charlotte, my love,” Charles said, still grinning, and grasping both her hands with his, he pulled her to her feet and straight into his arms. “Poor little love,” he said cheerfully, “are you all right?”

“Yes, thank you, Charles,” she replied weakly into his shirt front. Devin stalked off at that point in the direction of his abandoned coat and the still-mirthful little devils, so did not hear the rest of her words. “But please remind me to give you a gentle push next time we are close to a duck pond, will you? You horrid man. How could you!”

“Well, you were talking about having to think of a plan,” he said. “I was merely trying to lend a helping hand, my love. Trying to help tie the knot, and all that—pun intentional!”

“In future you can keep your hands to yourself, Captain Adair,” she said haughtily. “Now, shall we get this race started?”

* * *

In the late afternoon, the dowager Countess of Brampton and Lady Romley judged the needlecraft and baking entries. Margaret presented the prizes from a dais especially erected for the occasion. Brampton himself presented the prizes to the men for the winners of the various contests of skill and strength. The dowager gave prizes to those children who were brave enough to mount the platform for them.

As the hot sun began to dip in the west, the men who had been chosen for the task lit a large bonfire in the far corner of the meadow and prepared to roast their evening meal. Gaily shouting children rushed into the nearby trees to gather more dry wood for the fire, and some lads and girls, hand in hand, followed them, only halfheartedly contributing to the growing pile of firewood.

In the meantime the people from the house had retired to their rooms to begin the long and serious task of cleaning up and getting ready for the evening banquet.

Charlotte, in her room, was still feeling mortified at the afternoon’s encounter with Devin Northcott. Since realizing that she was in love with him, she had been very conscious of the age difference between them. Had he lost interest in her because she was a silly, green girl? He
had
been interested at the start, she felt sure. She had been determined to behave in a more sober and sophisticated manner when in his presence. She hoped to convince him that she could match his thirty years in behavior, even though she was in fact only eighteen.

And now look what had happened! He had seen her yelling and jumping and romping with a host of children, and he had seen her agree to an unseemly race with a gentleman, manacled by the ankle, and clinging to his shirt, just above the waistband, just like a hoyden! And falling all over him and getting her mouth soldered to his neck. It was all too humiliating to think of.

Charlotte marched over to the bellpull in her room and rang to demand of Kitty where her bathwater was. Normally she would not have been so rag-mannered, knowing as she did that the servants must be rushed off their feet with so much to do within the next couple of hours.

She paced her room, trying to block from her mind the shameful knowledge that she was
glad
they had fallen over. She would not for the world have missed that sensation of being pressed against Devin’s hard male body and the warmth of his throat. What had he been about to do when that infernal Charles Adair had come along cackling with hysterical amusement? Kiss her? Declare his undying love for her? Propose to her? Brush a smut of dirt off her nose?

She shook herself with exasperation. Tonight, at any rate, she was going to be all demure femininity. She glanced anxiously at the gown laid out on the bed—a lemon-yellow satin underdress overlaid with white lace, golden ribbons to tie beneath her breasts and to thread through her auburn curls. Very pretty and very maidenly! She was going to look like someone just out of the schoolroom again, certainly not someone to attract the worldly and almost
old
Mr. Northcott!

Kitty and two other maids arrived with the bathwater just in time to save Charlotte’s sanity.

A
fter the large banquet was over and the men, who had lingered over their port and cigars, had rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, the whole party decided that it was time to move out of doors. A dance that was to take place in the open air and that involved the mingling of upper and lower classes was novelty enough to arouse a great deal of excitement.

Darkness had fallen, and the grounds before the house were transformed. The trees at either side of the lawns were strung with hundreds of lanterns. Poles had been set around the huge dancing floor. Each had been wreathed with leaves and flowers, and more lanterns, all a deep rose pink. Similar lamps had been set around the orchestra stand.

Long tables covered with crisp white cloths had been set on the upper lawn and were laden with refreshments of all kinds. Liveried footmen stood close to the tables to help any guests who needed assistance and to replenish any platters or bowls that were emptying too fast.

Lord Brampton held out his arm formally to escort his wife from the house. She placed a white-gloved hand on his arm. His eyes appreciated her careful appearance. She wore a rose-pink silk gown, deceptively simple. The ribbons that fell from below her breasts almost to the hemline, and the rosebuds that were entwined in the knot were of a paler pink, and rosebuds of the same shade had been embroidered around the scalloped hem. Margaret had been very tempted to give in to Kitty’s coaxings and allow her hair to be dressed more becomingly. But at the last moment she had lost her courage, and still wore the usual braids coiled at the back of her head, though she had allowed Kitty to push the stems of two rosebuds into the coils.