Masked Love (A Christmas Regency Novella) (9 page)

“I am now Lady Elizabeth’s maid. I’ll start in the morning. You shan’t be seeing me again.”

Adrian loved her more than he thought possible in that moment. Her head was held high, her voice strong. Only in her eyes could he see that she loved him, would always love him. She was far stronger than he was.

He could be just as strong.

“Lady Elizabeth is lucky to have such a wonderful and caring maid. I’m sure Lady Theodosia will miss you.”

Isabelle opened her mouth, then shut it, tilted her head to the side, and laughed. “Only until her new maid learns how to curl her hair. It gave me fits at times, and I almost mastered it.” Her features grew somber again, and the mirth disappeared from her eyes. “Goodbye, Lord Adrian. I wish you and Lady Theodosia all the happiness in the world.”

“Thank you, Isabelle. And Lord Adrian is right, I will miss you.” Lady Theodosia stepped from behind her to grasp her former maid’s arms. Adrian hadn’t seen her approach. His betrothed pulled Isabelle close for a hug. “And for more than just my hair.”

The two ladies giggled.

“For the past two years, I’ve given you a gift on this day to honor the good service you have given me all year long. Instead of a necklace and a book, this year, I would like to give you Lord Adrian. If I could.”

“I know you would. And that means so much to me.”

“But … ”

“I know. Do not fear. I will not steal your husband away.”

Adrian felt like he was intruding upon on their personal conversation. He walked away, glancing over his shoulder to see them still talking. They could not be more different: Isabelle all dark, Theodosia light; Isabelle slighter in build, Theodosia taller. At least Isabelle was wearing a plain blue dress this day instead of her customary gray, although the brilliance of the blue in Theodosia’s made Isabelle’s look just as dreary as yesterday.

He bumped into someone. “My apologies.”

“Don’t worry, chap, it was my fault.”

Adrian started to move away, when he turned back. “Excuse me … ”

The man turned back around.

His hand curled into a fist. He had been right; the
chap
was none other than the baron. That he had the gall to show up here at the engagement celebration of the lady whose heart he’d broken the heart infuriated Adrian. He brought his arm back to swing a punch when he saw Theodosia look his way. She clearly saw both him and the baron before returning her attention to Isabelle.

Confusion bubbled up inside him. “Have you had a chance to congratulate Lady Theodosia yet, Baron Malcolm?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Who did you say?” the pompous redhead asked.

Adrian gnashed his teeth and forcibly brought the baron with him over to the ladies. “Lady Theodosia, this gentleman would like to congratulate us.”

“So he says.” The baron hiccupped.

The man was drunk. The desire to punch him was growing by the second.

“I just came for the food,” the louse continued. “It’s satisfactory, by the way. The meat is a little overcooked, too dry for my tastes, but then again, what did I expect? Not all parties are created equal.”

“My lord,” Adrian spat out, wishing he could dispense with courtesy and say what he truly wanted to, “if you do not congratulate us, I will demand—”

“Fine, fine. Congratulations. Happy now? You have the blessing of a baron for whatever it is I just congratulated.”

Isabelle must have walked away because she returned with the butler, who promptly herded the drunken away and not a moment too soon.

“Baron?” Lady Theodosia asked.

Isabelle’s eyes widened. “Have you ever seen that man before, my lady?”

“No. Of course not. I would never waste my time with someone so ill-mannered and poorly bred. Baron or no baron.”

“Not even with a mask on?” Adrian asked.

“Mask?”

“That was Baron Malcolm Thrush, was it not?” Isabelle directed the question to Adrian, but he didn’t bother to answer. He didn’t need to.

Lady Theodosia’s blue eyes looked ready to pop out of her head. She placed her hand on Adrian’s shoulders, trying to look over the crowd, so he lifted her up from the waist. Almost immediately she waved to him to put her down. Without a word, she rushed forward, soon melting into the crowd. Not two minutes later, she brought over another red-haired man.

Lady Theodosia looked like a completely new woman. Her blue eyes were so bright they were azure, her cheeks stained a bright red, her laugh light and airy, her delight visible in every gesture, every breath she took. “Lord Adrian, Isabelle, allow me to introduce Lord Lionel York.”

This gentleman Adrian had never had the pleasure of meeting before. They shook hands.

“You’re Lord Adrian? Lady Theodosia’s betrothed?” Lionel looked as if he had eaten an eel.

No one answered.

The lord was tall, taller than Adrian, but not quite as broad or muscular. Lionel seemed more a scholar than a fox hunter.

“Do you typically skip out on fox hunting?” Adrian asked him.

“I’ve never had the chance to, I’m afraid.” Lionel seemed almost abashed to admit it while also appearing unlikely to rectify that.

Adrian grinned as the ladies giggled. Yes, Lionel and Theodosia would make a fine match.

Too bad their parents thought differently.

The quartet talked easily. Even Lionel talked to Isabelle, as if her inferior status meant little or nothing to him. No wonder Theodosia had been so taken with him. Adrian felt almost ashamed at having assumed she had fallen for the dreadful baron, until he remembered that she had feared the same.

He was working up the nerve to tell Theodosia they should take her parents aside and perhaps try to reason with them when a heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder.

“Adrian, my boy, has your Christmas been everything you ever wished?”

His heart skipped a beat, and he had to force himself to turn around. “Father, how fares Mother?”

She was standing just behind his father, looking the picture of good health.

“You are all better then?” He enveloped her into a warm embrace. His mother he loved completely, but he and his father butted heads more often than they had civil conversations.

“I am,” she said.

“Not exactly,” his father said at the same time.

“I’m confused.” Adrian stepped to the side, bringing his parents slightly away from the trio, who eyed them with curiosity. The ladies’ faces had paled once they realized who the older couple was. Even Lionel looked stricken. When they were far enough away not to be overheard by the trio or the other guests, he whispered, “Speak plainly.”

“Your mother’s sickness … it’s not of a physical sort.”

“Meaning?”

“Oh, Owen, stop. I’m not ill. I’m ashamed.”

“By?”

“Your father.” She crossed her arms and glowered at the tall, thin man she had been married to for twenty-two years now.

Had she not been as ignorant to her husband’s many affairs as he had thought? Before he could inquire more, the Haywoods approached. After many greetings and exclamations and hugs and kisses on both sides, the two sets of parents ushered out of the room, their children lingering behind, Lionel and Isabelle still farther back.

The Haywoods entered what had to be their bedroom first, followed by the Wingraves. “Stay here,” Adrian said to Lionel and Isabelle.

“I should get back to the party. The guests—”

“He’s right, Isabelle. Please.”

Isabelle nodded at Theodosia.

“Are you ready?” Adrian whispered to his hopefully no longer future wife.

“Not exactly.” She accepted his offered arm.

He knew precisely what she meant. Going against their parents’ wishes was not going to be easy. And Adrian had far more to lose than Theodosia. Regardless, he’d give up anything he had to in order for Isabelle to be his, as well as for Theodosia to be Lionel’s.

His nerves settled, and he waltzed into the room with his shoulders back, his chin up. “Father, Mother, Lord and Lady Haywood.”

His solemn tone silenced the longtime friends. The four turned to them as one.

Theodosia deliberately stepped away from Adrian. “We have something we wish to say.” She glanced at him.

Adrian nodded. Even though he knew this was the right course, his mouth grew dry. He cleared his throat. Pain burned.

His father the viscount was staring at him with cold eyes. Adrian suppressed a shudder. For more reasons than he could understand, he never felt affection or love toward the man. But right now, he almost felt fear.

A deep breath freed him of its icy grip. “I do not wish to marry Lady Theodosia.”

“What?”

“Why not?”

“How could you say such a thing!”

The last exclamation had been his father’s, his booming voice reverberating against the walls. A painting of a summer day now hung crooked on the wall.

Theodosia stepped forward. “And I do not wish to marry Lord Adrian.”

Her mother gaped at her. “But, my girl, you two seemed so happy … ”

The lady shook her hung head. Her body looked smaller, as if she, too, was scared, and trying to hide within herself like a turtle does in its shell, making her look more like the girl her mother called her than the lady Adrian knew her to be. She took several steps back until her back almost touched the door.

The viscount’s hazel eyes flashed. “No, you two are to be wedded. Have you not signed the contract?” He turned to face Lord Haywood. “You were to acquire his signature on Christmas Eve!”

“We were interrupted.” Lord Haywood stroked his chin, eyeing his daughter. “What has happened to change your minds?”

“I love another,” Adrian said clearly and without reservation. Was it his imagination or had he heard a faint “I love you too,” from beyond the closed door?

“As do I.” Theodosia’s voice was muffled, her head still lowered, her gaze on her shoes.

“Who could you love more than this beauty?” His father stepped forward and gestured to Theodosia. “She will be a good and pleasing wife for you. She can play the piano, she has a sound mind—”

“A mind and heart that has chosen another.” Theodosia walked up to her parents. “Please understand, I did not mean for this to happen, but it did. I know love now—”

Her mother gasped sharply. “You are not a … virgin?” she whispered, dread etched in every line on her face.

“I did not mean physical love. I found love at the masquerade ball.”

Her mother’s shoulders eased considerably, and her lips curled into a wide smile. “Ah, my girl, you only think you met love there. How could you love someone if you have never seen their face? No, my child, you have fallen in love with the idea of love. You will marry Lord Adrian, and that will be that.”

“My lord, will you please come inside?” Theodosia called.

The door opened, and Lionel approached. Adrian’s parents moved aside, and the Haywoods approached him.

“Who are you?” Lord Haywood demanded.

“Lord Lionel York.”

“And where do you hail from? What spell have you placed my daughter under?”

Adrian snorted. He had thought Isabelle had cast a spell on him. Now he knew it had been the first stirrings of love.

“What is so funny?” his father barked.

Time to come completely clean. Adrian reentered the hall and held out his hand to Isabelle. “Do you trust me?” he whispered.

She nodded, her brown eyes shining.

He squeezed her hand, and together they walked into the room. Before he could command everyone’s attention, he saw his mother collapse on the ground. Adrian ran to her side, shoving his father out of the way.

“Mother, Mother, are you all right?” He brushed her brown hair from her forehead, kneeling beside her, placing her half onto his lap.

“I-I’m fine.”

He glanced around the room for help. The Haywoods and his father were on the other side of the room, conversing. Arguing and yelling might be more apt. His mother was prone to fainting spells; his father had long ago stopped fretting over her when she had one. Isabelle flicked her fingers toward him and ducked out of the room once he nodded. She would fetch a physician.

“That girl … the servant … she is the one you love?” Her voice was so faint he had to have his ears against her lips to hear her.

“Yes.”

“The heart can be fickle. Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what that means?”

“I do.”

“And you’re prepared for the consequences?”

“I am.”

Her smile and the sudden happiness in her eyes had Adrian relieved and then suspicious.

“Mother, you didn’t faint.”

“No, I am fine. Your father … ” She sighed. “I should have told you this long ago. I never loved your father. A week before we were married, I had relations with another man—the one I truly loved.”

Shock rendered him incapable of speech.

“He wasn’t a lord, but he was a good man, a noble man. He would have loved you, but he died shortly after the wedding. I never had a chance to tell him you were his, for I never saw him again after that night.”

“Why couldn’t you have been with him?”

She touched his cheek. “You know the answer already.”