Miss Weston's Masquerade (18 page)

‘Nicholas, darling!’ She extended both hands in greeting, the heavy ruffles on her morning gown falling back to reveal smooth white arms. The movement sent the cat jumping to the floor, its plumy tail waving in irritation.

‘Mama.’ Nicholas stooped to kiss her on both cheeks, then stepped back to regard her. ‘You look even more ravishing than the last time I saw you. How do you manage it?’

‘I do, don’t I,’ she riposted with a twinkle in her dark eyes. ‘I was stifling in London with those boring matrons with their boring little daughters. No conversation, no intrigue. And the
fashions
.’ She shrugged delicately, ‘What could I do? Your uncle needed me, at least, so I told him.’

She regarded her tall son shrewdly, and Cassandra saw the sharp intelligence behind the coquettish pose. ‘Sit down, Nicholas, and tell me why I have the unexpected pleasure of your company. I am, of course, delighted to see you, but why are you not in Florence admiring the frescoes, as my reckoning tells me you should be?’

There was a silence while Nicholas took his time settling in a chair. He crossed one long, booted leg over the other and brushed an invisible speck of dust from the knee of his breeches. ‘It’s a long story, Mama.’

Cassandra held her breath, catching her lower lip between her teeth. The white cat stalked over to where she stood and showed its displeasure at being neglected by sinking its claws into her stockinged ankle.

Cassandra let out a shriek of pain and clutched her leg. Lady Lydford’s sharp gaze moved rapidly from her son’s face to her standing by the door, apparently noticing her for the first time.

‘You, boy! Come here and stop provoking my cat.’ The summons was sharp. Lady Lydford had obviously sensed her son’s reticence and was becoming suspicious.

Cassandra obeyed, limping over until she stood directly in front of her godmother. She waited, eyes cast down, fingers twisting in the cord of her cloak.

‘Take off that cloak,’ Lady Lydford ordered quietly. Swallowing hard, Cassandra let it drop and stood revealed in breeches, waistcoat and shirtsleeves.

‘Lydford,’ the Dowager began frostily, after one comprehensive look at the shivering figure, ‘what leads you to believe that bringing your
fille de joie
into the Ambassador’s Residence –
into my rooms
– is acceptable behaviour?’ Her small figure seemed to grow by degrees as indignation filled her. ‘In what way did I fail in your upbringing that you believed I would be complaisant? Or did you merely assume my eyesight was failing?’

‘Mama, this is not a
fille de joie,
’ Nicholas said firmly.

‘Godmama,’ Cassandra interjected, falling on her knees, her cheeks burning with mortification. ‘He hasn’t… I mean… I’m not..’ Her voice faltered with nerves and emotion.

‘Cassandra?’ Lady Lydford said in a voice of utter incredulity. ‘Can it truly be you? Here? Dressed like this?’ There was real anger in her eyes as she turned to confront her son. ‘Lydford, what is the meaning of this outrage?’

‘Godmama, don’t blame Nicholas. It is not his fault,’ Cassandra pleaded.

‘Hold your tongue, Cassandra,’ Nicholas interjected. ‘Mother, this is not how it looks. Can we all sit down and I will explain everything.’

There was a long, considering pause, before his mother replied evenly, ‘Very well.’ Thankfully, Cassandra sank into an armchair next to Nicholas.

Beside her, she heard him draw a deep breath, but his voice was steady when he began the tale of their adventure. ‘Seven weeks ago Cassandra came to the London house seeking you. It was a foolish thing to do, but when I tell you that her father was coercing her to marry Lord Offley, you will see what desperate straits she was in.’

‘Offley?’ The Dowager shuddered. ‘He must be mad, that man is no suitable bridegroom for a gently-reared young lady.’

‘Exactly. Cassandra was desperate and, lacking all female friends with any influence, she had no one to turn to but yourself.’

‘I disguised myself as a boy and took the stage to London. It never once occurred to me you might not be at home,’ Cassandra interrupted.

‘My poor child.’ Lady Lydford reached out and gently touched her cheek. ‘What a terrible position to find yourself in.’ Her tender tone became barbed. ‘And, of course, my intelligent and resourceful son could find no better way to settle the crisis than to drag you across Europe dressed like that?’

‘It seemed like a good idea at the time,’ Nicholas said firmly. ‘At first I was going to leave her with the housekeeper, then Aunt Augusta turned up and my valet broke his leg.’

‘Oh, do stop rambling, Lydford. What has my sister to do with your valet breaking his leg?’ She broke off and regarded him through narrowed eyes. ‘Did you say
seven weeks ago
? Am I to understand that for all that time you have had Cassandra in your company, unchaperoned and dressed like this?’

‘It seems like seven years, I have to confess, Mama.’ Nicholas flashed a teasing smile at Cassandra as she glared indignantly at him. ‘But when we got to Paris – ’

‘Paris? Why were you in Paris?’

‘I thought you were still there. I was going to leave Cassandra with you and continue my Grand Tour.’

‘As if nothing had happened, I suppose,’ his mother said drily. ‘There are moments when you remind me so much of your dear father. If you had troubled to read my last two letters to you, you would have been aware of your Uncle Marcus’s posting to Vienna, and my intention to accompany him. But in any case, it does not take over a month to travel from Paris to Vienna.’ Her dark brows rose interrogatively.

‘We went via Lyons, Nice and Venice,’ Nicholas admitted.

‘And then there was the accident on the Rhône and the footpads on the coast road,’ Cassandra added helpfully.

A delicate shudder passed through the Dowager’s frame. ‘I think we will save the detail for later. Nicholas, go away. I am quite out of patience with you. And remember, you have no valet and you have not seen my god-daughter for ten years. I don’t want to see you until dinner. Cassandra, stay with me.’

After the door had closed behind Nicholas, Cassandra turned imploringly to Lady Lydford, ‘Please don’t blame Nicholas, Godmama, he had little choice.’

‘Nonsense,’ the Dowager said crisply. ‘I can think of at least two perfectly sensible courses of action.’ Then she smiled. ‘So like his dear father, so impetuous.’ She drew Cassandra down to sit beside her. ‘I suppose he took off without a thought to the practicalities of the situation. You have been travelling as his valet, I apprehend and that would necessitate a degree of intimacy I assume?’

Cassandra blushed, remembering the kiss in Paris, sleeping in his arms in Nice, the heat of his passion in Venice. ‘We had to share a bedchamber on occasion, but Nicholas was always, I mean, he never… there was always a screen around my bed.’

‘And nobody penetrated your disguise?’ Lady Lydford’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘For myself, I knew as soon as I saw you that you were no boy.’

‘Peacock, your butler knows. And after I fell in the Rhône, and nearly drowned, the keeper of the inn, a French gentlewoman, she knew my secret. And in Venice, the major domo of the palazzo where we stayed, he knew, but he assumed we were…’ She couldn’t complete the sentence under that critical gaze.

‘Quite. But, of course, no such thought entered either of your heads.’

‘Of course not,’ Cassandra protested, trusting her averted gaze would be mistaken for modest shock, not a guilty conscience.

‘And you would have me believe that my short-tempered, self-centred, pleasure-seeking son remained equable and considerate throughout this escapade? You have had a thoroughly pleasant time in his company?’

‘He was frequently very angry with me. I talk too much, you see, and I wanted to see the sights, and I answer back too much for a valet. But I did enjoy it, apart from the fleas, and nearly being drowned, and when I thought Nicholas was dead and I had to shoot the footpad.’

The Dowager rolled her eyes upwards. ‘You have your dear mama’s spirit, I see. Tell me no more now, that is all behind you. As for your being here, I think I can see how we may contrive to account for your sudden appearance. But, for now, we must get you out of those clothes before anyone in the household sees you. And you need a bath.’

The Dowager rang for her dresser, explained the situation to that formidable female in a few well chosen words and sent Cassandra off in her charge to bathe and rest. As she glanced back at the door, she saw her Godmama deep in thought, her firm little chin sunk in one palm, the merest frown shadowing her brow.

That evening Cassandra sat in the window seat in her room in the wing of the Embassy occupied by Sir Marcus Camberley and his sister. The street below was bustling with the fashionable life of the city as Society made its way to dinner parties and
soirées
before the curtain went up in the theatres and opera houses for which Vienna was famed.

If only she had her boy’s clothes again, she could have slipped out and joined the throng in the City of Music. But her godmother had ordered them removed and, Cassandra strongly suspected, burned.

It was strange how, now she had achieved the long-desired sanctuary and her tale was told, she was not as elated as she had expected. True, the worry that her godmother was going to send her packing back to her father had proved unfounded. She should be thankful, but surprisingly she was not, because the freedom and independence she had enjoyed for the past two months were now at an end. Once more she would have to conform to the strictures of Society which ruled and regulated the existence of every well-bred, unmarried, young woman.

And her closeness to Nicholas, to the man she loved, would be the first sacrifice she would have to make. He would become as remote as any other gentleman to her, that was the price she must pay for her reputation. Already she was realising what a high price that was. Over those past few weeks they had been closer than many a married couple in so many ways.

There was a tightness that was almost pain around her heart at the thought that she would never share that closeness again. see his quick grin as they shared a secret jest, feel his warm skin beneath her fingertips, burn to the pressure of his lips on hers. Now he was in Vienna, he would soon forget her. Godmama would see to it that he was introduced to all the right people and his sense of duty would do the rest.

The scene outside blurred as unshed tears gathered at the back of her eyes and she was rubbing them angrily when the door opened and her godmother swept in, followed by a petite, sombrely-dressed woman of middle years.

‘Araminta, my goddaughter, Cassandra Weston. Cassandra, Miss Araminta Fox, my cousin.’

Cassandra got up hastily and bobbed a curtsey, stumbling slightly over her unaccustomed skirts.

Miss Fox held out a well-tended hand and nodded gravely, ‘Miss Weston, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.’

Cassandra glanced at her godmother, uncertain how much this lady knew of her predicament.

‘Araminta is the only person in whom I have confided,’ Lady Lydford remarked, gesturing to them to seat themselves. ‘She has been lately acting as companion and housekeeper to her brother, the Bishop of Arundel, but following his recent marriage, she finds herself free to travel and I invited her to join me. It is our great good fortune that she arrived, unexpectedly early, two days ago.’

Miss Fox took up the tale. ‘And as I was feeling rather indisposed after the journey, I have not been out into Society. For all anyone knows, you and I arrived together yesterday, having travelled in each others’ company from England.’

‘After all,’ Lady Lydford finished triumphantly, ‘who could be a more respectable chaperone than the sister of a bishop, and my own cousin?’

‘But how could you have known of my predicament?’ Cassandra felt slightly breathless. This upright spinster seemed to be entering into a scandalous intrigue with all the evident enjoyment of an actress.

‘Why, I am sure you would have been in correspondence with me, Cassandra,’ Lady Lydford said carefully. ‘We would have been exchanging letters for some time, and as soon as I heard of Lord Offley’s disgusting pretentions, I would have enlisted the aid of my trusted cousin.’

‘Of course, even in the Bishop’s Palace, we had heard whisperings of Lord Offley’s reputation. Rest assured that had I heard of your predicament, I would have done all in my power to assist you, so no-one would doubt the truth of this story for a moment.’

Cassandra's brain whirled at the facility these two respectable ladies were showing for intrigue. ‘But would no one have met us on our journey?’ she enquired dazedly.

‘Certainly not,’ Miss Fox rejoined stoutly. ‘My brother always insists I travel in a private carriage and stay in only the most select inns, avoiding English tourists.’

Cassandra could not doubt it. ‘How will all this be explained, though? Surely it is not a tale we can recount openly?’

‘Indeed not,’ her godmother agreed. ‘Leave that to me and to gossip. Tomorrow morning, the dressmaker and hairdresser will call. In the afternoon, I will hold a small tea party for a few select friends.’

‘Only those of the utmost discretion, my dear Sophia,’ said Miss Fox, with a wicked twinkle.

‘But, of course,’ her cousin assured her with mock gravity, ‘I am counting upon it.’

Cassandra closed her eyes and leaned her slightly aching head back on the cushions. How could she have doubted Godmama for an instant?

‘Sophia, my dear, this is a most select and mysterious gathering you have invited me to.’ Through the hinge-crack in the painted Chinese screen, Cassandra could see the Ambassador’s wife settling herself by the fireside. ‘I am quite agog for you have precisely the air of mischief you had about you when you were engaged in one of your pranks at Miss Lucas’s Academy.’

‘My dear Dorothea, that was quite thirty years ago. But just as I did then, I rely upon you now for your support and good sense, just as I do with Araminta.’

‘But tell me the secret – ’

She broke off as the major domo flung open the double doors into the salon and announced, ‘Lady Hartley.’

The Naval Attaché’s wife, resplendent in purple, swept into the room with warm greetings for her hostess. Cassandra felt confused as she was followed rapidly by a group of four ladies of similar age and bearing, all equally agog to hear the reason for this intriguing summons.

Cassandra took advantage of the noise of greetings and the rustle of silk gowns to seat herself more comfortably in her hiding place. Godmama had suggested she observe the beginning of the tea party to ensure their stories matched. It would also be far less intimidating to meet these influential ladies, all pillars of the English community in Vienna, after observing them for a while without being observed herself.

Once the introductions to Miss Fox had been made and the tea tray brought in, Lady Lydford cut across the individual murmurs of conversation. ‘Ladies, I have to confess I have asked you here with an ulterior motive.’

‘We suspected as much.’ The oldest lady present, Mrs Spencer, wagged her folded fan in a knowing way. ‘Your note contained such a hint of mystery I immediately cancelled an engagement at a picnic.’

‘You may have been surprised that my cousin, Miss Fox, has not been out in Society since her arrival last week.’

‘We assumed you were indisposed by the journey, my dear Miss Fox,’ the Ambassador’s wife remarked. ‘Personally, I am always prostrated by the shortest journey. You are quite a heroine to set forth on such an arduous one alone.’

‘Ah, but I was not alone,’ said Araminta primly, looking down at her hands folded in her lap.

There was a moment's silence, but Cassandra could almost feel the suppressed excitement in the high-ceilinged salon.
Now
, they were thinking,
now we come to the scandal.

‘Some of you may be acquainted with Lord Offley, or at least know of his reputation.’ Lady Lydford dropped the words quietly into the silence but the result was as if she had said
Fox!
to a flock of hens.

‘Lord Offley
?’ exclaimed Lady Hartley in awful tones. ‘That libertine rake? What connexion has he with you, Miss Fox?’

‘Absolutely none, I am glad to say,' Miss Fox responded roundly, her back becoming, if possible, even more stiff. ‘At the Bishop's Palace, however, we are not unaware of the opprobrium which attaches to that individual. I hesitate to call him a gentleman.’

‘And knowing of that reputation, my dear cousin did not hesitate to come to my aid when I apprised her of the crisis.’ Lady Lydford paused, and gestured towards Mrs Spencer’s cup. ‘A little more tea? Or perhaps a
macaron
?’

Cassandra marvelled at the skilful orchestration of the group. Now the ladies were hanging on every word, tea cups quite forgotten as they anticipated an awful revelation.

‘No, no, thank you, Lady Lydford, I have quite sufficient.’ Mrs Spencer could bear it no longer. ‘What crisis?’

The Dowager put her own cup down on the piecrust table beside her with deliberate care, and leaned forward in a confiding manner. Like marionettes on strings, the assembled ladies leaned forward, too.

‘I have a goddaughter,’ she began, low-voiced. ‘She is just eighteen, and has spent her entire life on her father’s estate in Hertfordshire, quite secluded. The poor child is motherless. her father, I must tell you, is a scholar of most eccentric habits.’

Knowing looks passed between the ladies at this point, and behind her screen, Cassandra smiled at this masterful understatement.

‘Contemplating matrimony on his own behalf, her father has contracted her in marriage to Lord Offley.’ Ignoring the sharp intake of breath around the tea table, Lady Lydford pressed on. ‘This sweet child, who is not yet out, and who knows nothing of the ways of the world, is, as you may have guessed, a considerable heiress.’

Heads nodded. ‘Nothing short of a fortune would tempt
that man
to forsake his bachelorhood for a respectable marriage,’ Lady Hartley remarked. ‘Why, I heard the other day that he had formed a connexion with
both
daughters of a wealthy cit and was found….’ At this point her voice dropped to a whisper, and strain as she might, Cassandra could hear nothing but the gasps and exclamations of horror which swept the little group.