The Baron's Charade (Regency Stories Book 3) Page 4

  In all honesty, what truly made her blood boil was the manner in which the three men smiled in admiration as the woman climbed into the driver’s seat and took the reins in her hand. She was unsure where it came from, but Isabel could not stop the desire to receive the same admiration.

  “Isabel!” her mother called after Isabel as she lifted her skirts and hurried over to the carriage. “Come back!”

  Isabel ignored the woman. If this Miriam could lend aid, then so could she! She was every bit as strong and brave as any lady of the ton.

  The vehicle was rocking forward and backward, and just as Isabel reached out to push against the footboard, the carriage lurched forward, and Isabel found herself grasping for air. She let out a sharp yelp as she fell face-down into the mud, which entered her nostrils and began making her choke. In the background, she could hear her mother cry out and her father cursing into the storm.

  She had never felt such humiliation in all her life as her father and Lord Charmain pulled her up from the ground, the mud making a sucking sound as she left it. Soaking wet and shrouded in mud that covered her face and the front of her clothing, it took all her willpower to hold in the tears that threatened to spill over her lashes.

  “There, it is safe to journey again,” the woman named Miriam said as she came walking up before she saw Isabel and gasped, “Oh, my! What happened to you?”

  Isabel wished everyone would stop staring at her. It was bad enough to be in this literal mess and quite another to be a laughingstock. Not that anyone was laughing, thank heavens, but her humiliation was complete with that woman’s gasp.

  “It seems my daughter hasn’t the countenance for this storm as you do, Miss Miriam.”

  Isabel glared at her father, the tears only held back because she bit her lip in an effort to keep from weeping. For if the dam broke now, she was afraid she would never halt the flow.

  However, her father did not stop there. “She is far too delicate,” he continued, much to Isabel’s horror, “and I hope she has learned a lesson here.”

  “Peter,” her mother said, “I’m sure the girl is mortified enough without you giving us your insight.” Then she turned to Isabel, her face a mask of concern. “Come, my dear, let us get you inside the carriage.”

  Isabel hazard a glance at Lord Charmain, who offered her a kind smile. She appreciated the gesture; however, the raised eyebrow of the woman beside him made her furious.

  “Please do be careful,” Miss Miriam offered as Isabel and her mother made their way to the now free carriage. “You do not want to fall again.”

  With a huff, Isabel plunked herself down into the seat, and her mother immediately set about wiping her face with a handkerchief. Luckily, the rain had helped wash off some of the mud, but not enough to clean her face entirely, but it had to be better than no water at all.

  “Whatever were you thinking?” her mother asked as she wiped at Isabel’s forehead.

  The shame of the situation was too much to bear, and unable to hold back any longer, Isabel began to weep tears heavier than the rain that pounded the outside of the carriage.

  ***

  It took some time to compose herself, but eventually the tears subsided. Now she sat up straight, her face as clean as it could be under the circumstances, though her dress was in ruin. She doubted it could ever be cleaned properly.

  The carriage door swung open and her father, drenched from the storm that continued to rage, retook his seat. Isabel expected the man to go into one of his tirades but instead she was aghast when a bright smile spread across his face.

  “Charmain is a true gentleman,” he said as he took out a handkerchief and began wiping the water from his brow. “I have invited him as our honored guest tomorrow night for dinner.”

  Isabel shook her head. “I do not understand, Father. Is he not leaving for India? How is it that he will be in London?

  “It seems that the lady with him is his cousin Miriam, who is a spinster, and her family has threatened to disown her. Charmain is allowing her to stay in his London home until she is able to find some sort of means on which to live.”

  “He is a kind man,” Isabel’s mother said, though Isabel had her suspicions as to whether or not that was true. “After what he has done for us…we could have been out there for hours. Yes, he is deserving of the most lavish of meals and the finest of wines.”

  “I tried to help, as well,” Isabel said in an almost defensive manner. Why had she said that? It was as if the words sprouted from her lips without her even thinking of speaking. When her parents turned and stared at her, she felt her cheeks heat. “I do not mean to take away from the service Lord Charmain gave today, but I must insist that if I had not given aid at the moment that I had, we would still be stuck in the mud.”

  Her father chuckled and her mother patted her hand. They treated her like a child in need of reassurance! Then she sighed. Was she not acting as such?

  “Your heart is in the right place,” her father said. “However, you are a lady, and no daughter of mine shall ever do any form of hard labor. But that Charmain, well, he…”

  As her parents discussed Lord Charmain and the wonderful qualities he possessed, Isabel watched the blurry landscape outside the rain-washed window. She doubted the Baron was as wonderful as they seemed to believe he was, for she had heard too many lies come from his lips, lies that were much too far too improbable to be believed. Tigers in India eating bananas, indeed! If he lied to that extent, chances were good that he was lying today about the woman in his company.

  She made a decision. If that man was to come to dinner tomorrow evening, then by all means, she would honor him as a guest. However, in her own time and in her own way, she would find out why he insisted on telling such falsehoods. And more importantly, she would find out what his lying was hiding.

  Chapter Six

  The following evening, Isabel and her mother stood in Isabel’s room. Her mother had been fussing over Isabel’s dress and hair for hours, eventually choosing to push poor Caroline out of the way—Isabel felt the woman was doing more than adequate, but her mother would not listen—to add the finishing touches herself. Isabel could not help but feel annoyed at the manner in which her mother obsessed, much more so tonight than usual, and Isabel wished nothing more than to have it ended.

  “The dress is perfect, my dear,” her mother said finally, and Isabel let out a sigh of relief. “However, your hair must be redone. Caroline, I believe pulling it back would be best.” The woman had asked Caroline to redo Isabel’s hair three times already, but the lady’s maid made no objections as she pulled out the pin jar and began lining up pins between her lips.

  Isabel groaned inwardly as she retook her chair in front of the vanity mirror. How she wished she could simply tell her mother that her hair was just fine the way it was, but that would mean speaking up against her mother. If she did that, it would draw the woman’s ire, and more importantly, her disappointment, and Isabel could not force herself to do such a thing. Too many years of holding back had made her more submissive, but inside, she wanted to simply scream that she was no longer a child and to allow her to choose how her hair should be styled.

  Quick hands swept back the tiny curls, pins holding it back, and her mother began to speak.

  “It is imperative that you conduct yourself in a manner that is most ladylike tonight.”

  “Do I not always?” Isabel asked, unable to keep the irritation from her voice.

  “In times past, yes,” her mother replied as she picked up a pin and pulled back a strand of hair. Poor Caroline said nothing but instead continued with her work as if Isabel’s mother was not there. “After your antics with the carriage, however, I feel the need to remind you of your place in society.”

  A sliver of anger made Isabel reply, “Miss Miriam climbed onto the carriage and drove it, and the men admired her for it!” Her heart raced when she realized she had spoken the words, for she never spoke up against either of her parents. Doing
so would make her less in her parents’ eyes, and she could not have that happen. However, she could not stop the words now that they were flowing any more than she could have stopped the flow of a river with a single stone. “Yet, in my attempt, I am chastised.”

  Her mother let out a small laugh. “You are being much too dramatic, Isabel,” the woman said. “Miss Miriam’s actions, though helpful, were not those of a lady. If the men admired her, then so be it, but I did not. In fact, if she were not a cousin to Lord Charmain, I would not have her here in my home at all. Yet, she will be, so there is no way around it.”

  Isabel went to turn to look at her mother, but her mother clicked her tongue and forced her to return to face forward. “I do not understand,” Isabel said. “You do not approve of her because she conducted herself like a man?”

  Her mother nodded. “Yes, that is one reason. She is also a spinster, which does not bode well for her. Either way, she has set a bad example for you. It is clear that you are easily influenced, and I want to limit with whom you spend your time.”

  Isabel could not stop herself from laughing, that is, until her mother gave her a rebuking look. If her mother only knew what type of influence Elizabeth could be, she would change her tune in a heartbeat, and yet, Isabel had never run off and participated in any of the antics her friend had done, even when she was invited. This Miss Miriam would most certainly be less influential than Isabel’s best friend. Even so, she would not expose her friend to her mother; it just would not be right.

  Her mother narrowed her eyes as she studied Isabel in the mirror. “I see the rebellion in your eyes, Isabel, and I will warn you now. You had thought to immolate that woman, and where did that land you?”

  “In the mud,” Isabel whispered, shame coursing through her once again, especially when she saw the twinkle in Caroline’s eyes and the smallest hint of a smile.

  “Exactly,” her mother said firmly. “If you had, instead, remained with me under that tree, you would have saved yourself from that display of foolishness.”

  Isabel knew what her mother said was true, but inside, her heart broke. All her life she had done everything to please her mother, but no matter what she did, they never seemed pleased. It was as if every decision she made on her own was wrong, but how could that be? She was clever, or so had said her tutors. Therefore, she should have been more than capable of making credible choices. Only, had it not been proven she could not when she landed herself face-down in the mud? Just thinking about it made her want to weep.

  “Your life is simple, Isabel, and will remain so. Soon, you will find a suitor, marry, and have children. There is no need to complicate matters beyond that.” She studied the new chignon as Caroline placed the last pin. “Much better. I will meet you in the parlor.” And with that, she left the room.

  Once the door was closed, Isabel went and sat on the bed. Caroline smiled at her. “Do you need anything else?” she asked.

  “No, that will be enough for now.” Isabel did not feel like enduring another person and their opinion of her. Not that Caroline had been disrespectful even once, at least not to Isabel’s face—and Isabel doubted behind her back—but she did not have it in her to explain her reasons to one more person for doing what she had.

  Isabel sat on the edge of her bed for some time, thinking on love and marriage. Eventually, she wanted both, but there were so many other things in life to experience before that happened. To read a mountain of books, travel to exotic destinations, find adventure, and so many more exciting experiences in which she had never been able to partake. Yet, though she dreamed of those things, she knew they would never happen. Whenever the opportunity arose, she lacked the courage to accept an invitation and participate. Even Elizabeth mentioned as much a week ago when Isabel refused to sneak away and join her for a bit of whiskey. That need to appease her parents was too strong to overcome, and the desire to defy them was not strong enough.

  She sighed as she rose from the bed and stopped to stand before the ornate standing mirror. Yes, she was a young lady, but deep inside, she ached. Perhaps when she found the perfect gentleman, he would take away that pain. As it was, she would continue to please her parents until that day arrived. If it did.

  ***

  The townhouse off Regent’s Park was one of the few luxuries Daniel allowed himself in life. Not that he lived in squalor or dressed as one working the docks otherwise. Rather he had never felt the need to procure fine dinnerware from the Orient or fabrics from Africa. The home was not the largest and his neighbors paid him no attention, to which he was glad. For part of his ruse was that he was Daniel Jenkins, a second son of an earl who would come to London for the season whilst his uncle was away. If anyone paid attention or cared that his uncle had never been seen, they did not make mention of it, much to Daniel’s delight.

  “Work starts tomorrow and we spend our last free evening in the company of the St. Clairs?” Miriam said, her voice not hiding her disdain. Her hair was piled high on her head, tiny flowers the same dark-blue as her dress dotting her chignon.

  “You do not like them?”

  She sniffed. “I do not like her,” she replied. “The woman was a bumbling fool.” Then she gave him a thoughtful look as she studied him with suspicion. “Has she caught your eye?”

  Daniel laughed. “She has not,” he said, though he was not completely honest with his response. He was unsure why that night at the party he had chosen to lie to Miss St. Clair. Granted, his storytelling could be quite dramatic, but that was only for show. When it came to Miss St. Clair, however, he found he wanted to bite back any falsehoods. Or some of them. Some had to be maintained. “And you must be honest. Would I refuse the chance for a fine dinner?”

  “Perhaps not,” she said. “Though I will give you a warning of which you should take heed.” She walked over and poured a glass of sherry. “The woman is inquisitive and therefore may be dangerous.”

  “She said nothing the entire time we were helping with the carriage,” Daniel said, surprised Miriam had detected Miss St. Clair’s personality so easily. “How would you know such a thing?”

  Miriam sighed. “Women know things about one another. If you wish to seek the woman’s heart, I cannot stop you. However, you must ask yourself one thing.” She poured another glass of sherry and handed it to him.

  “What is it that I should ask?”

  “Is it worth her knowing what you do while you are in London?”

  He pursed his lips before downing the entire glass of sherry at once.

  This made her laugh. “As I suspected. The redheaded woman has enchanted you with her beauty.”

  He nodded. If there was one person to whom he could never lie, it was Miriam. “I must admit that she has. It was just last week when I finally got up the nerve to speak to her. We attended the same party.” He then explained the tale of his Indian tours and ended with Mrs. St. Clair finding them in the gardens, including revealing the reason behind Miss St. Clair’s visit to London. “She wishes to find the perfect gentleman.”

  “That is impossible,” Miriam said with a laugh. “As a spinster, I can swear that no such man exists.”

  “That is exactly what I told her.” He poured himself another sherry. “Yet, I am here and I may come close to being that man.”

  Miriam sighed before finishing her drink and setting the glass aside. “Daniel, we have been friends for nearly four years now. No one would ever understand us or what we do, which is why we do it in secret.”

  He nodded, knowing her words were true.

  She gave him one of her encouraging smiles. “I will support you no matter what decision you make, but I beg you to tread carefully.”

  “I’ll be careful,” he said with a smile. “How the daughter of a farmer is so knowledgeable and has learned to speak so eloquently is still beyond me. Surely you are a woman whose hand in marriage is worth not five, but ten pigs.”

  This made them both laugh. “If you offered a dozen, I might just accept
,” she said, taking the now empty glass from him.

  He laughed again and then looked at the clock on the mantel. “We should leave lest we be late,” he said.

  The smile Miriam had been wearing fell and she sighed. “I suppose, though I wish we did not have to go at all.”

  “You are welcome to stay here,” he said. “I can make some sort of excuse.”

  “Absolutely not,” she said as she pulled a wrap over her shoulders and walked past him to the door. “I would not miss this for the world.”

  “Well, remember, tomorrow I leave for India.”

  She clicked her tongue. “I have not forgotten,” she said. “But I must admit, I agree with Miss St. Clair. Feeding fruit to a tiger? You really must learn to tell better stories. Or at least do some bit of study about a place before using it and its inhabitants in one of your tales.”

  “Maybe you can help,” he said as the butler opened the door for them.

  “Of course. I shall explain an idea I have concocted once we are inside the carriage.”

  He could not help but laugh at that glimmer in her eyes; it usually meant trouble in some way or another. But it also meant a great deal of amusement either way.

  Chapter Seven

  The candles in the silver holders in the middle of the long table flickered as Isabel took a small bite of the lamb. Lord Charmain and his cousin had arrived an hour earlier, and after a short time spent in conversation, everyone made their way to the dining room for dinner. Although the Baron had been polite, an air of hauteur hung around him as he looked down his nose at Isabel from across the table. Most of his time was spent in conversation with her father, who did a majority of the talking. This surprised Isabel since what she had seen from Lord Charmain previously had been a man who never ran out of things to say about himself, thus rarely allowing others to dominate the conversation.

  “Though I have never been myself,” her father said when the conversation turned to Lord Charmain’s visits to India as a servant poured more wine into his glass, “I have always wanted to go. Perhaps one day I will.”