Miss Burton Unmasks a Prince (4 page)

“Miss Burton saw me today, looking . . .” He swept his hand downward, indicating his rumpled and soiled clothing. “And because of this, she assumed I was a stable hand.”

“I can see how one would make that mistake.” Serena raised her eyebrows and wrinkled her nose at his ensemble.

“I did not correct her,” Rodrigo said.

The duke stepped forward. “Your Highness, I apologize that you were put in such an awkward position. I will fix this misunderstanding at once. I assure you, Miss Burton meant no disrespect. She is American and, as such, is not completely familiar with—”

“I do not want the mistake corrected,” Rodrigo said. He watched as both Serena’s expression and the duke’s clouded with confusion. They both squinted and tipped their heads slightly as if someone had synchronized their movements. The sight was diverting, and Rodrigo almost laughed. He was finding humor in the oddest places today.

“For the first time in my life, I had a conversation with someone who did not have to watch their words in an attempt to say only that which is appropriate for royal ears. I found I quite enjoyed it.” He paused to allow his words to sink in. “I do not want Miss Burton to know that I am Principe Rodrigo de Talavera.”

“Do you intend to avoid her for the entire time that she is at Thornshire?” Serena asked.

Rodrigo clasped his hands behind his back. “Exactly the opposite. I intend to continue to spend time in her company, but I desire my true identity to remain concealed. For this, I will need your compliance. I cannot carry on the charade without help.”

The duke shook his head. “This is highly irregular. Miss Burton is my guest, and I will not be part of a hoax. I do not like this deception or the idea of making sport at the expense of the young lady’s sensibilities.”

Rodrigo lifted his hands in a gesture meant to calm. “I assure you I have no intention of damaging her feelings. I simply want to continue the friendship in the way it began.”

He took a breath, turning toward the fireplace. He felt foolish explaining himself in this manner. He was not used to having to justify his whims to anyone. Placing his hands upon the mantel, he gazed at the fire as he spoke. “I have not enjoyed myself so much since coming to England as I did having a simple conversation this morning. If I told Miss Burton that I had misled her earlier, I’m afraid any chance of our acquaintance following the same path would be ruined. We would be relegated back to our social roles.” He felt vulnerable, exposing himself thus, but it was essential to have his sister’s and the duke’s compliance.

He could only imagine the wordless conversation—raised eyebrows and hand gestures—his sister and her husband were carrying on behind his back.

“It is quite probably the only opportunity I will ever have to know someone in this fashion, and I understand it is highly unusual to wish for such a thing.” He continued to plead his case as he watched the flames licking over the logs. Inside he squirmed at the idea of having to explain himself. He was used to being obeyed without question. “But as the entire household and Miss Burton will leave for the London Season in two weeks, the deception will necessarily come to an end.” The room was silent for a moment before Rodrigo turned around to face the others.

Serena was looking at her husband with a small smile. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

The duke’s arms were folded across his chest, his brows pulled together. He turned to face Rodrigo. “I will insist that Miss Burton does not feel as though she has been made a fool of, and you must reveal yourself before she leaves for London. Or I will do it for you.”

Rodrigo frowned. He did not like the idea of telling Meg she had been deceived. However, his concern was slightly remedied with the expectation that if he were to allow her to get to know him, to trust him, she would inevitably understand why he had misled her. Although he didn’t want to reveal himself, he understood why the duke was insisting upon it. There was every possibility that she could find out the truth at the masque, and of course Rodrigo would never want to hurt her. But in the meantime, Rodrigo would have two weeks of friendship, and exposing the truth was a small price to pay to spend time with the young lady until then.

“I agree completely to your terms,” Rodrigo said finally. He was surprised by how important this was to him. “I have already promised Serena that I will attend the masque the day before you and your guests leave for London. A fitting place to reveal myself, do you not agree?”

“But what do you intend to do about the other guests?” Serena said. “The Poulters know you already, and you cannot mean to avoid Colonel Stackhouse. Not when he’s traveling all this way from the military hospital in Chelsea to spend time recovering in our company.”

“We shall have to be creative, I think,” Rodrigo raised his brows.

“It will be a delicate operation to be sure.” The duke tapped his finger against his lip. He held his hand out to Rodrigo. “But I think Miss Meg Burton—given her love of adventure—is the perfect person to inspire an escapade of this nature.”

Rodrigo took the duke’s hand and shook it, a smile forming on his face. “I could not agree more.”

Meg leaned back against the pillows she had arranged on the library window seat and rested her book on the blanket that covered her legs. She sat with her feet pulled onto the cushion, her small space enclosed on three sides by the bay windows, and the other by heavy drapes. It had rained constantly for two days, spoiling her planned excursion to the gazebo. But she’d discovered the library window seat and found that with the drapes closed, it was just the spot to remain hidden. Her own secluded realm. The space was dimly lit, gloomy, and rather cold, but even the chill was a tolerable exchange for her privacy.

The diamond-paned windows had a splendid view of the front gardens, and if she leaned her cheek against the cool glass, she could just see the doorway to the duke’s stables. She’d found her gaze pulled toward that particular section of the property more often than she’d like to admit, but since she had met Carlo in the woods two days before, there had been no sign of him.

Movement at the main gates caught her eye, and she turned her head to watch as a carriage approached accompanied by a group of men on horseback. When the company arrived at the entrance, Meg managed to catch a glimpse of colorful skirts and wraps as three women exited the conveyance, but she could not make out any particulars through the blurry water-trails on the window. Servants with umbrellas hurried to escort the visitors out of the rain and carry luggage into the house. Grooms hurried from the stables to lead the horses and carriage away. Meg tried but could not discern whether Carlo was among them.

She waited until she figured the company had enough time to be welcomed and shown to their rooms before peeking out of her sanctuary. When she saw that she was alone, she made her way to her bedchamber to change her gown for supper.

Serena had told her very little about the Poulters. Only that they were old friends of Lady Vernon’s. She wondered nervously about the new guests but did not have to wonder for long. Bessie bubbled over with information when she came in to help Meg dress.

“Lady Vernon and Lady Featherstone are the best of friends,” Bessie said as she arranged Meg’s hair. “Ever since they were young girls. Lady Featherstone’s father’s estate is near to here, and of course, Lady Vernon grew up at Thornshire Castle as the elder sister of the duke. Every year, they prepare for the Season together, and the night before they depart for London, they throw a masquerade ball at Thornshire. It’s been a grand tradition since the two of them made their bows in the Queen’s drawing room over twenty years ago.”

Meg raised her brows. After only a few days among the duke’s servants, Bessie was sounding as British as King George himself.

Bessie began to fasten Meg’s curls, chattering around the hair pins that she held clamped in her teeth. “Lady Vernon’s sons are all grown and married, except for her youngest, who is in His Majesty’s Navy. Lady Featherstone arrived today with her son, the new earl, and her two younger daughters. Her eldest daughter is married. The late earl died tragically two years ago. Rumor has it, she’s got her mind set to marry off her two younger daughters—and of course the earl—as quickly as possible.”

Meg should have been thrilled with this news, but instead, a heavy brick of dread settled in her stomach. Here was her first opportunity to attempt to catch the eye of a member of the aristocracy. What type of man was Lord Featherstone? Would he be interested in her? Would she know how to keep his interest if he were?

Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed that Bessie had finished and was waiting for Meg’s approval.

“Thank you, Bessie. You did a lovely job,” Meg said, studying her reflection. Bessie had managed to tame what Meg’s mother referred to as a “crimson thicket” into sleek twists, arranged so that a few curls surrounded her face and fell down to her shoulders. The dress Meg had chosen was robin’s egg blue, and one of her favorites, as the color complemented her auburn hair and light-brown eyes.

She left the room, closing the door to her bedchamber, and found her brother, Daniel, waiting for her in the hallway.

“And where have you been all day?” he asked. “No doubt you discovered a hideaway where you could read to your heart’s content.” Daniel smiled at her and offered his arm.

“You look very handsome tonight,” Meg said, noting his crisp white shirt and smartly tied cravat. Her brother had no doubt been making good use of the valet the duke had procured for him. The man obviously knew how to choose clothing, as the dark blue of Daniel’s coat muted the unfortunate hair color he shared with Meg.

He tipped his head in a thank you, grinned, and flipped a curl off of his sister’s shoulder. “And I see Bessie has miraculously tamed your wild hair into submission.” Daniel stopped at the landing above the great hall and turned toward her. He glanced once over his shoulder before speaking, all teasing gone from his expression. “Lord Featherstone owns a grand estate in Somerset. From what the steward tells me, his mother is eager for him to marry.” He took Meg’s hand from where it rested on his arm and pressed it between both of his. “Meg, I hope you remember what I said. Father is counting on you—I am counting on you.”

The weight in Meg’s stomach grew, and she thought she was going to be ill. “I remember, Daniel.” She turned away and started toward the stairs.

He held onto her hand, pulling her back toward him. “Just take your lead from the other ladies. Speak about easy things, like the weather. For heaven’s sake, do not mention the ridiculous Gothic romances you read or indulge in any of your strange fantasies. And don’t forget to smile. Your smile will win over any man.” He tipped his head, trying to catch her eye. Apparently he thought he’d bestowed a great compliment.

“Anything else? Would you like me to learn German or master the harpsichord before supper?” Her tone was more curt than she’d intended.

“Meg, I know it’s not what you want. I would never wish you to be unhappy. Perhaps the earl is wonderful.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “If only you hadn’t been so picky in Charleston. You understand why you must do this, don’t you?”

A rush of anger overcame Meg, but she managed to keep her temper in check. How often must she be reminded of the ship maker’s son with his greasy hair and simpering smile? Was it too much to want a man who could carry on an intelligent conversation? She pulled her hand from Daniel’s and started down the steps. “I understand, and I will do my best not to humiliate you.” She had accepted her duty and would see it through, but she was insulted nonetheless.

“Meg—” Daniel began, but he didn’t have a chance to finish what he would have said. At that moment, a group of people entered the Great Hall. Meg recognized Lady Vernon, and she assumed the tall thin man whose arm she leaned on was her husband. The remainder of the party was unfamiliar to her, and she stopped upon the stairs and allowed Daniel to catch up to her, unsure about facing them alone.

Before there was a chance to feel the least bit awkward, the duke and Serena, ever the perfect hosts, entered the main hall and graciously introduced Meg and Daniel to their new guests.

Besides Lord Vernon, who she had correctly assumed was the lanky man accompanying Lady Vernon, Meg was presented to Lady Featherstone and her three children: Anthony Poulter Lord Featherstone, and his two sisters, Lady Lucinda Poulter and Lady Helen Poulter.

The four members of the Poulter family had the brightest shade of blue eyes Meg had ever seen, and it was all she could do not to stare. She carefully curtseyed the way Lady Vernon had taught her.

Lord Featherstone in particular looked unimpressed with her attempt. In fact, he looked unimpressed with everything. The way he held himself and the look upon his face as he gazed around at the hall gave Meg the impression that he was making a conscious effort to keep his lip from curling in a sneer of contempt. He fixed his brilliant eyes upon her, taking in everything from her hair style down to her slippers, and she felt as though her worth as a person was being placed upon a scale in his mind. The feeling made her stomach turn.

Lady Featherstone took her hand, and Meg’s gaze was pulled from the earl’s bright eyes and captured by his mother’s. “And how lovely that you have traveled from America for the Season. Rachel has spoken of little else for months.”

Meg did not know to whom she referred to until Lady Featherstone waved her hand toward Lady Vernon. Meg had not known that Rachel was her Christian name.

“Thank you. Her ladyship has been most gracious to help me with my wardrobe and preparations,” Meg said.

“Of course she has,” Lady Featherstone said. “She has wanted a daughter of her own, and how could she not dress you up and dote upon you when you are such a handsome young woman?” She reached out a hand to one of her daughters, motioning her closer and then holding onto her elbow. “My Helen is coming out this year as well. She’ll be delighted to have a friend.” Lady Featherstone spoke in a matter-of-fact manner that Meg was uncertain how to interpret. “Now, did His Grace say your name is Miss Meg Burton?”