Regency Masquerade

Chapter Twelve

Half an hour later, two horses were saddled and waiting down in front of the stables and Carleton was growing anxious. She was coming, wasn't she? Or had the suggestion been a ruse so she could quietly leave? The thought that she might have gone was like a blow to the stomach. As he was about to send someone to find out, Frances came hurrying into the yard. She was dressed as Peter Francis in rather faded but clean riding breeches and boots, her stride long and crisp.

"My apologies for keeping you waiting, my lord, I overslept," she cried gaily. "Oh what beautiful animals! Which one may I ride?" The groomsman led forward a beautiful roan gelding with a proud head and liquid amber eyes. They all talked horses for a while, though Frances admitted freely she did not know as much as the other two men.

Carleton had a big black stallion which was snorting impatiently to be off. "Right my beauty? Let's go then." The black danced for a minute as he got him under control and they trotted out of the yard at a brisk pace. Frances rode well, if not superbly, but he found he couldn't take his eyes off her. Now that he knew she was a woman he wondered how he could have been so blind before.

While they had been in the stable yard he had been in an agony of trepidation that the groom would recognise her for what she was. Certainly the flattened chest and squared shoulders were a powerful aid, but it was also the way she moved and the care she took with her mannerisms. People saw what they expected to see.

He felt as if his head was split in two. Half of it saw the young man whose company he enjoyed and whose skills he admired and the other half saw a young woman with smooth skin, an enchanting smile and beautiful eyes. He realised that those same eyes were smiling quizzically at him now. "Shall we gallop?" she called.

For answer he dug his heels into Diablo's sides and they flew off, hooves pounding on the turf. Frances followed on her roan but they could not match the pace of the other two and soon fell behind. His lordship obviously knew his grounds better than she did, and she was content to follow, enjoying the speed and feel of powerful muscles beneath her. Eventually the pair ahead drew up and she brought her horse to a stop beside them.

"That was wonderful," she cried breathlessly. They moved on at a walking pace to cool the horses. For a moment neither spoke, each busy with their own thoughts. Frances broke the silence, her eyes straight ahead.

"Before I go, I owe you an explanation. What I tell you will be the truth, but of course it is up to you to decide if you believe me or not." She looked at him then, but he merely nodded for her to continue. "As I told you, my name is Frances, but I know of no other. My father indeed had so many names over the years I could scarce keep track of them. I think he was of gentle birth for he always knew how to go on in polite company and I know he went to school here at Eton, but there was no money and we always lived off the cards." She paused to reach forward and pat her horse's neck.

"My mother died when I was a small child and even before that I think we moved around a lot. Often it was easier for me to be a boy, for my own protection as much as anything, and I learned how to shoot and fence and ride, but I don't have many feminine accomplishments - apart from French and Italian of course. Do not misunderstand me, it was a wonderful life and I have no regrets," she added with a touch of defiance. Carleton looked as if he would protest this, but he thought better of it and motioned for her to continue.

"As I told you, my father died a few months ago and it was at his request that I came to London, to follow up a name he had given me, someone who might be of assistance to me. I had planned to lay low until I could find this person, I did not intend to get caught up in your affairs at all, my lord, but then I did and I must admit it was very exciting," she smiled tentatively at him.

"And then, as you know, the Comte Duverne struck down my servant and is hot after my blood so I took refuge here with you, intending to do no more than be a companion to you as Peter Francis until I could plan my next move." She shrugged her shoulders, "The best laid plans eh? I will not trouble you any further, I will go as soon as we get back to the house."

Carleton surprised both of them then by leaning forward to catch the roan's bridle.

"I will not let you go," he said, rather fiercely. Both horses had stopped and he kept his grip on the reins so that their legs were nearly touching.

Frances looked at him levelly. "What do you mean, my lord? Whatever you may think of my behaviour, I am not a whore." He flinched at this and she continued. "'Tis true I am a gamester and an adventuress if you like, but I have been no man's mistress, ever!" A spot of scarlet burned in each cheek as she said this. "I know the world would say I might as well be for coming here with you unchaperoned, but most people would have damned me long ago for the life I have led. But they would be wrong!"

Carleton felt more than a little shocked by this plain speaking, especially when he realised he had been thinking those very things himself.

"My lord, I am very sorry for the distress I have caused you, but I ask you to remember that you were friends with Peter and to let me go." Frances said quietly, not making any effort to free herself.

Carleton looked searchingly at her, "I must confess my head is still at sixes and sevens over all this." He sighed and released his hold on her horse. "I will not force you to anything, but - I do not want you to return to London alone to be hunted by Duverne."

"You do not need to be concerned, sir, I will manage," she murmured.

Carleton was still considering, a frown between his eyes. For the first time in his life he was contemplating taking a mistress, but only an idiot would have made such a suggestion now. "What if you stayed here for a few more days? As Peter Francis. Do you think we could keep up the masquerade a little longer?"

Frances was amazed. "Pardon?"

"Could we return to our previous relationship, pretend last night never occurred? I have some business here I must complete, before I return to London. I give you my word you would be safe here."

"Lord Carleton, are you certain of this? You would be prepared to have me stay here as Peter Francis, knowing what you do about me?" Frances felt bewildered, she had been certain he would never forgive her for the deception.

Her companion was not actually certain about anything at the moment, except that he did not want her to go. This was the only way he could think of to persuade her and to give himself some breathing space. "My word on it."

"Thank you! I did not expect ... I did not think you ..."Frances struggled to express her feelings, she felt close to tears. "You are too kind. I will accept your offer, but only on the condition that you tell me to leave if my presence becomes ... inconvenient."

"Agreed. Perhaps we should return?" They cantered side by side back to the stables.