When Frances,
Lady Templestone, realizes her daughter Julia is not at home in bed, she knows
where to find her – at a forbidden masquerade with an ineligible man. She
hastens to the rescue…
At last, the
hackney drew up at the masquerade, just behind a smart-looking curricle pulled
by a pair of impatient greys.
And there was
Julia, her abundant dark hair out of its pins, but she was masked, thank God. A
tall, broad-shouldered man in a black domino guided her toward the curricle,
his hand at the small of her back. Julia smiled up at him, chattering away
without the slightest notion of what was about to befall her.
“Stop!”
Frances cried. She jumped down without waiting for the steps. “Wait!” She picked
up her skirts and ran.
Julia halted just at the door of the fellow’s
coach. “Mama!”
The man
murmured, “Discretion, remember?”
“Oops, but
I’ll fix it.” Julia hurried forward and bobbed a curtsey at Frances. “Oh, my
lady, please forgive me. I’m so terribly sorry. I’ll never
do it again. Please, please don’t dismiss me.” Which was clever of her,
but Frances was in no mood to applaud her daughter’s quick thinking.
“Foolish
girl,” Frances said, out of breath. She’d forgotten to don the crimson mask,
but it hardly mattered, since she needn’t go indoors. She grabbed Julia’s hand.
“Have you no sense at all?” She turned her glare on the man, who was unmasked.
“As for you, sir, you should be ashamed of yourself, cozening an innocent
maiden to her ruin.”
She tugged
Julia toward the hackney, but the girl held back, protesting. “It wasn’t like
that, Ma—my lady. He was protecting me!” Julia grimaced. “You were right. I
shouldn’t have gone to the masquerade with Lieutenant Sands. Ugh!”
The man
doffed his hat politely. “The fellow was forcing his attentions on your, er,
maid,” he said in a low, pleasant voice in just the sort of caressing tone a
seducer would use. In the light cast by the flambeaux, she saw his face clearly
enough—a handsome countenance with a firm mouth and a
warm gleam in his dark eyes.
Oh, Frances
knew that sort all too well.
“This is Mr.
Canterwell,” Julia said, “and he’s a very kind gentleman, but now that you are
here, we need no longer trouble him.” She grinned at him. “Thank you, sir.”
“It was no
trouble,” he said in that same caressing voice. “I am completely at leisure and
was happy to help.”
“Ha!” Frances
scoffed. “At leisure, were you? In other words, alone and seeking amusement.”
The man’s
eyes had lost their gleam, but he said nothing, merely watching her in a calmly
assessing way. He could have denied the accusation, could have tried to explain
himself, but he didn’t—not that Frances would have believed a word.
“That’s
unfair, Ma-my lady! He was about to take me home, so everything’s fine.” Julia
turned as if to offer her hand to the fellow. Clever she might be, but she
hadn’t the faintest notion how to behave like a servant.
Frances
yanked her wayward daughter away. “That’s just the sort of thing a rake would
say. About to take advantage of you, more like.”
Julia burst
into tears. “That’s not true!” she sobbed, but Frances pulled her inexorably
toward the hackney. As Julia climbed in, weeping, Frances turned to see the
tall gentleman still standing there. A number of other people—she hadn’t
noticed them earlier—stood about. How much had they heard? Or guessed?
Frances
didn’t care. In fact, it was her duty to make sure others knew what sort of
monster prowled at the masquerade. She raised her voice. “You, sir, may go back
to the devil where you belong!”