The Masquerade (19 page)

“Father, my mind is made up. I will happily speak with Lord Harrington. I have no doubt I can ease any worries he may have. My intention is not to insult my fiancée. My intention is to do what is best for my son.”

“I already suggested to him that this situation is a temporary one. I told him that once Ned becomes adjusted to his new life, you will send Miss Fitzgerald home.”

“Thank you,” Tyrell said. That would certainly placate Blanche’s father for the moment.

“You are a grown man, Tyrell, and you have been so for more than a decade. I know you are capable of making your own decisions—and your own mistakes. I think we both know that this is a mistake. Miss Fitzgerald is not in the best interest of Adare.”

Tyrell stiffened, for he suspected the earl was right. “She hardly affects Adare in any way,” he said in such a manner that he warned his father to leave the subject alone. “I have no intention of abandoning my duty.”

“I know you would never fail me or Adare.” The earl paused. “Are you in love with her?”

Tyrell started. “Of course not.”

The earl approached. A moment passed before he spoke. “Tyrell, I simply fail to understand the breach of etiquette on your part.”

Tyrell knew his father was not referring to his wish to keep Miss Fitzgerald at Adare for the week and certainly not to his desire to keep her as a mistress. He admired his father immensely and there was no one he respected more. For the first time in his life he had lied to his father by claiming that the boy was his—all for the sake of a woman he wanted in his bed. He would not elaborate upon that lie and he would not make up another one. He simply could not do so.

“Please do not ask me to explain,” he said grimly. “There is no possible explanation I can make for taking advantage of Miss Fitzgerald. I am very sorry, Father. I am sorry I have disappointed you.”

The earl’s brows lifted. “How odd. She claims the affair was entirely her fault and that she seduced you.”

He was so startled that he almost gaped. Why would Elizabeth make such a claim?

“Why would she try to protect you?” the earl asked softly.

She could not possibly mean to defend him, he thought. This had to be some new trick on her part. But he could not fathom what ambition would cause her to play it. “I don’t know. The fault was mine—entirely.”

“I still fail to understand. I know you too well. I don’t
care if she was in a disguise, you would never touch an innocent young lady!” he exclaimed.

Tyrell paced away from his father. “Again, I have no excuse to make,” he finally said.

But the earl followed him. “I shall pretend, just for a moment, to believe you. You met a young woman in a mask at the ball and lost all reason and all control. Tyrell, you are hardly naive. Didn’t you seek her out to make amends the next day? Come, Tyrell, surely you realized how grave your error was.”

Tyrell knew his father referred to his supposed seduction of a virgin. He flushed. “Can we not leave this sordid subject alone? Apparently I am not infallible.”

The earl shook his head. “If she were beautiful, like your French mistress or that Russian widow, I would understand. Instead, I see a reticent, rather plain and somewhat plump young woman, one who still appears entirely innocent. She is hardly a seductress. I doubt she has a calculating bone in her entire body. Yet she inflamed you beyond all reason?”

Tyrell said nothing, distinctly uncomfortable now. He hated this lie with all of his being. “Have you never been undone by a woman?” he heard himself ask. The moment he did so, he regretted it, for it was a confession of his feelings, and he knew what his father’s answer would be.

“Yes, I have. By your stepmother, the countess. I fell in love with her shortly after meeting her, many years before your mother died and her husband was murdered. I may have even fallen in love with her at first sight.” His smile was grim. “But circumstance prevented me from losing all reason and all control.”

“Then you are a far better man than me,” Tyrell said. He turned to go.

The earl seized his shoulder, forestalling him. “I do not like this, Tyrell.”

Tyrell turned and met his gaze, shrugging him off. “You worry needlessly.”

“Do you intend to renew your relationship with her?” the earl asked bluntly.

Tyrell’s smile vanished.

The earl’s jaw hardened. “I already know the answer, having seen you with her this afternoon. I cannot change your mind—that much is clear—but I also cannot accept your mistress under my roof. Not under the current circumstances.”

Tyrell suddenly felt trapped, by his father, by Harrington and even the future that awaited him. “She and the boy will accompany me to Dublin next week,” he stated. “Have no fear, I will not sate my lust under your roof, Father. If you do not mind, I have some affairs to attend to.” He inclined his head, awaiting permission to leave.

The earl looked explosive. “And do you think that somehow Harrington will not hear that bit of news!”

Tyrell lost his temper then. “I have never questioned my duty and I never will. I would appreciate it if you did not question my ability, then, to carry that duty out. I am marrying Lady Blanche, as has been agreed. But my private affairs will remain just that—private. Good day, Father.” He strode from the room, not waiting to hear his father’s response.

It didn’t matter. The earl had nothing more to say. He took a chair, his face filled with dismay.

The windows in Lizzie’s suite faced the back lawns and the rolling hills of County Limerick. She stood there, staring out, having carefully washed away all traces of her afternoon in the kitchens and changed her gown. Dusk was falling and she could see a faded moon beginning to rise over the distant hillside. The day had been so
eventful and so exciting that she had completely forgotten about that evening. But suddenly she realized why such a huge supper was being prepared in the kitchens. Tonight was Tyrell’s engagement ball.

Of course, she had not been invited.

Tyrell was about to become engaged. And he had said he would come to her that night.

Lizzie bit her lip. As much as she wanted to see him again, suddenly it seemed terrible to have planned such a rendezvous. But that was what mistresses did. They had trysts with their lovers, men who were married to someone else.

It was so utterly wrong.

Her bubble of elation and excitement burst. Lizzie stood by the window, watching as night fell, suddenly hurt. She tried to remind herself that many noblemen had mistresses, but her rationale failed her completely. What did that have to do with her? After that evening, he would belong to someone else. How could she go through with this?

But could she really walk away from him now?

Lizzie had learned that the Harringtons were departing tomorrow morning. Lady Blanche would leave Adare with her father, in all likelihood returning to London. But her leaving wouldn’t change the fact of their engagement. Lizzie was used to dreaming, and now she wished that Tyrell would put off his engagement for a few months or even a year. If only she could share his life for that small time, she knew she would forever be grateful and happy.

But Lizzie wasn’t a fool. She couldn’t imagine the engagement being put off, not even for a day. She could not do this, not now, not this way—and certainly not with his fiancée under the very same roof with them.

A crushing heartache replaced her earlier joy. It was consuming. Lizzie did not know what to do. She could only hope that Tyrell was pleased with his fiancée and that she would make him happy and content.

In that moment, Lizzie wanted to see for herself just how pretty his fiancée was and determine if she was good and kind and the woman he deserved. A part of her knew that seeking Blanche Harrington out was wrong, but she refused to consider the possible ramifications.

Lizzie lifted up her ivory skirts and hurried down the corridor and downstairs, a part of her mind telling her that this was too dangerous. As she approached the main house, she could hear the sounds of the guests, laughing and conversing, along with the tinkle of crystal. Lizzie hesitated, now breathless, her heart slamming. What excuse would she make if someone from the family saw her mingling? What excuse could she make if she ran into Tyrell?

And in spite of her best intentions, her heart leapt at the mere prospect of coming face-to-face with him again. Lizzie scolded herself and slipped past the door into the far end of a huge central hall.

It was the ballroom. Dozens of ladies, gowned in their best evening wear and glinting with emeralds and diamonds and many other kinds of jewels were present, as were as many gentlemen in their black tailcoats, evening trousers and starkly white lawn shirts. Lizzie flushed, aware that she wore a very simple dress, intended for an afternoon stroll. Worse, it was the dress that a young, unwed, innocent lady wore. Lizzie felt as if she would be noticed instantly.

She stood by the door and did not move.

How in God’s name would she ever identify Tyrell’s fiancée?

She stared at the happy, festive crowd. She recognized many of the Irish lords and ladies present, having seen them at Adare before. But she did not recognize the rest of the guests.

Lizzie suddenly felt that she was being watched. Instantly uneasy, she scanned the crowd, trying to see who might have noticed her and quickly moved to stand behind one of the many Corinthian columns in the room.

“I did not know that you were invited, Miss Fitzgerald,” a voice said from behind her.

She knew the voice. It was Rex de Warenne and she flinched before turning reluctantly to face him. She felt her cheeks burst into flames as she curtsied. “We both know that I was not,” she said, looking up.

He was stunningly handsome as he stood there in his evening clothes, leaning on his crutch, and he so reminded her of Tyrell that her heart lurched with a dreadful combination of excitement and anguish.

“Then what are you doing here?” he asked, unsmiling.

“I merely hoped to glance Lady Blanche,” she whispered forlornly. “I have heard she is terribly beautiful.”

“She is,” he said flatly. With his left hand, he pointed. “She is the blue-eyed blonde over there with hair the color of moonlight, in the gown that matches her hair precisely,” he said.

Lizzie followed the direction he was pointing. Instantly she saw the young lady in question, and, she knew then there was no hope.

Blanche Harrington was as beautiful as her sister Anna, but in an entirely different manner. She was so regal of bearing that one would think her a queen, not an viscount’s daughter. She did not stand that far away and Lizzie could remark her perfect features and her fine,
slender figure. How could Tyrell want her when he was about to become engaged to Blanche? Lizzie wondered, crushed. She was so elegant—she was, in fact, a perfect match for Tyrell.

“Has your curiosity been satisfied?” Rex asked, his tone not quite as harsh.

“She could be a queen,” she whispered.

He was silent.

She struggled to retain her composure. Blanche was surrounded by admirers, both male and female, and she was laughing gently at something someone had said. Lizzie suddenly wondered where Tyrell was, and why he was not at his fiancée’s side, doting upon her. “Of course I will go now,” Lizzie whispered, incapable of tearing her gaze from Blanche. “But why isn’t Tyrell with her?”

“I have some idea why my brother is not dancing in attendance upon his future bride,” Rex said.

His tone was odd and Lizzie whirled to face him. “It is not because of me, Sir Rex!” she cried. “I would never even think to compete with a lady as beautiful as she is.”

His brows lifted. “But you do compete, do you not? Otherwise you would be at Raven Hall, leaving Ned here, where he belongs.”

He disapproved. She felt her mouth tighten. “You do not like me.”

“I do not know you. I only know that my brother’s infatuation with you is not timely and it is not in his best interest. Lady Blanche is in his best interest, Miss Fitzgerald. Lady Blanche is in the best interest of Adare.”

Lizzie stiffened. “He is not infatuated,” she said, keeping her voice low. “And I did not pursue him. He is the one who has insisted upon this arrangement, sir. I cannot—I will not—ever leave my son.” And as she spoke she realized that even though she could not become
his mistress, she could not leave Adare, as she would not leave Ned. As instantly, she knew Tyrell would be very displeased with her.

His lashes lowered, long and thick like his brother’s. “And that is very admirable, I think. You had best return to your rooms, Miss Fitzgerald, because if I have remarked your presence here, so will someone else. And a scandal tonight will serve no one, not even yourself.”

Lizzie hugged herself and she nodded. “I serve my son,” she whispered.

“How commendable that is,” Rex said tersely. He bowed and limped off.

Lizzie darted behind the pillar, shaken almost to the point of tears. Tyrell’s brother thought her a selfish, self-serving whore, she thought miserably. But he was right on one account—if Blanche ever discovered her presence and learned who she was, there would be a huge crisis. Lizzie imagined how angry the earl and countess would be and she shivered—then she imagined how angry Tyrell would be and she was ill.

No, she must get away.

She peeked out from behind the pillar, realizing in dismay that she had wandered quite some distance from the door through which she must make her escape. Then her heart seemed to stop. Standing not far from where she stood, Lady Blanche and two other pretty young ladies had separated themselves from the other guests so that they might converse privately.

Lizzie stared. The two women were chatting with great animation and even tugging on Blanche’s hand. Lizzie’s heart began to pound.

She told herself she must not eavesdrop. Instead, her feet somehow moved and she was behind a different column—the one right behind Blanche’s back.

“Blanche, quickly tell us, how was the carriage ride?”

“It was a very pleasant outing, Bess,” Blanche said softly, smiling.

“A pleasant outing?” the redheaded lady, Bess, cried in disbelief. “Blanche, he is so terribly handsome and so gallant! Did he kiss you? Do not deny us the truth!”