The Baron's Charade (Regency Stories Book 3) Read online

  “I must speak to him,” Isabel snapped, though she knew she should not take her anger out on her friend. “I cannot allow his lies to go on any further. He has made a fool of me!” She knew that perhaps she was taking it all much too personally, but she felt such an affront, she could not in good conscience leave without sharing her thoughts with the man. Perhaps she could convince him to keep his tales to the stage.

  Elizabeth sighed but nodded her head. “Very well. If you must.”

  “I most definitely must,” Isabel snapped. She stood and walked toward a side door that appeared to lead to a room behind the stage. When she passed beyond the curtain that hung over the door, she almost walked directly into the young boy who had been the younger version of Daniel Charmain.

  “Oh, hello,” the boy said with a freckled grin.

  “Hello,” Isabel replied. “Might I speak with Mr. Charmain, please?” She refused to give the man a title he clearly did not own. “It is of the utmost importance.”

  The boy gave her a confused look; more than likely he had hoped he would receive some sort of praise for his performance. If Isabel had been in her right mind, she might have done just that, for he had done a fine job of it; however, her only focus at the moment was on speaking with Mr. Charmain.

  “I don’t know a Mr. Charmain,” the boy said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Who was it that played the grown you?” Isabel asked.

  A look of comprehension crossed the boy’s face. “Oh, you mean Mr. Jenkins? Yeah, I can go find him for ya.”

  Then the boy turned and ran into a throng of people, some Isabel recognized from the stage. She tapped her foot, her anger tightly woven, though ready to spring at any moment. Mr. Jenkins indeed!

  Not much time passed before Mr. Charmain came walking up, a wide smile on his face. Then, when he saw Isabel, the smile fell.

  “India?” Isabel said loud enough to be heard before he came to stand beside her. “This is your India? Tell me, Baron, what possesses you to lie to such extremes?”

  “Miss St. Clair?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

  “Do not change the subject! You are a spinner of such grand lies, just as I had suspected. However, you will not be allowed to continue this charade any longer!”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, a confused look on his face. “What do you mean?”

  “I will tell everyone I know how your tales of voyages are all untruths,” Isabel hissed. “And this!” She moved her arm to encompass the back room. “Yes, all will know about this. Come, Elizabeth, it is time to go.” She lifted her chin and turned to the doorway she had entered earlier.

  “Miss St. Clair!” he cried. “I beg of you, please, one minute of your time. Allow me to explain.”

  Isabel turned to face the man and was shocked to see the look of despair on his face. “Very well. You have one minute. What new lies do you plan to spin for my benefit?”

  “Daniel!” Miss Miriam came walking up behind Mr. Charmain. “Is everything all right here?” Isabel did not appreciate the manner in which the woman stood with her hand on her hip.

  “It’s fine,” said Mr. Charmain. “As you have probably ascertained, Miriam is not my cousin.”

  Isabel sniffed derisively. “You have no reason to explain your lovers to me.”

  “Please, do not make me beg. I need to speak with you. I promise I will tell you everything.”

  Miss Miriam grabbed his arm. “Daniel? Are you sure?” she asked.

  “I’m sure,” came his reply. “It’s time for the truth—my secret—to come out.”

  Isabel looked at Elizabeth, who responded with a nod.

  “Very well,” she replied as she held back a sigh. How would she even know if what he was about to tell her was anymore the truth than what he already said before? Yet, there was something in his demeanor, something truthful, that had not been there previously, so with great reluctance—and maybe a bit of curiosity—she followed him through a back door and out into an alleyway. If he was willing to explain, it was only right of her to listen.

  Chapter Eleven

  The breeze was cool, and though it helped to temper the heat that coursed through him, it did little to steady his tangle of nerves as he walked along the near-empty street with Isabel on his arm. Miss Haddington trailed behind them at a discreet distance, and Daniel was unsure what the woman thought of her friend’s current predicament. However, it was not the opinion of that woman which held his attention at the moment; it was that of Miss St. Clair.

  They were returning to a place where Miss St. Clair had said a carriage would come to collect them, and he found it strange that they had to walk some distance to reach it. Would it not have been easier for the driver to simply deposit them in front of the theater? Perhaps they had eaten at a restaurant before attending the play, but there were perfectly acceptable and fine establishments closer that would have been more appropriate for their needs.

  “I’m unsure where to begin,” Daniel said before letting out a sigh. “I have so much to tell, but I’m afraid it would take up too much of your time.”

  “I don’t care what you tell me,” Miss St. Clair said with a sniff. “Say nothing if it pleases you.”

  Daniel’s heart saddened, for everything had gone horribly wrong. If he could have only told his secret when they first became acquainted, all of this could have been avoided. He knew only one chance remained, and if he did not speak, it would be lost forever.

  “When I was a child, I loved to read the stories of knights and tales of thieves. As I grew older, I began to read about the great playwrights and I dreamed of one day acting onstage. My parents, of course, would hear nothing of it; in their mind a baron does not go into performing onstage. He has all too many other important plans for his life than to pretend he is someone else. At first, I was saddened by their insistence that I give up on my dreams, but still, it plagued me almost on a daily basis.”

  He glanced at Miss St. Clair, but she was looking straight ahead. What did she think of the truth of his life? How he wished she would show him something other than anger or contempt, for on their stroll along the River Thames, she had seemed more favorable toward him.

  When she said nothing, he continued. “Four years ago, I decided to come to London and audition for a part in an upcoming play. I lied to my mother about where I had gone and I lied to the owners of the theater about who I am.” They stopped at the junction of a street and he stopped to turn to Miss St. Clair.

  “And who are you when you are in London?” she asked.

  “I am Daniel Jenkins. My uncle allows me to stay in his home while I am in London. My father is an earl—yes, I tend to live above my station in my world—and I dally in the theater.”

  “If your father is an earl, how is it that you would be allowed? I cannot imagine that many earls allow their children to participate in the theater.”

  He laughed. “Oh, but I am a second son, so the expectations are more lax for one such as myself.”

  “Therefore, after explaining your current situation, you admit you lie?” she said.

  “I do,” he replied. “In fact, what had started as a simple lie has become a web of deceit from which I cannot extract myself.”

  “The solution is quite simple,” she said. “Tell the truth.”

  “You believe that telling the truth after so long is simple?” He leaned against the wall of a nearby building and crossed his arms. “You seem to misjudge my standing in society, or the shame my mother would be forced to bear. No, it is not simple.”

  Miss St. Clair narrowed her eyes. “Your standing in society, you say? How do I know you truly are a baron? Falsehoods have become so easy for you; how is it I will know what you say is true?”

  “Miriam can vouch for me, I assure you.”

  “Miss Miriam…she is your lover?” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “For no cousin could share in such a kiss as you did, even for the good of the stage.”

  “No, of course
not. First of all allow me to explain how the theater works. You saw me kissing Miriam, but only because of where you sat in relation to the stage. I did not truly kiss her but made it appear as if we had shared in a deep, passionate kiss. It was an illusion. And I must confess, you were correct that Miriam is not my cousin.” When Miriam tried to stop him, he held up his hand. “No. It is time she knows the truth. Miriam and I met when I came to London four years ago in search of a part in a play—any play. She is not a member of the ton but rather the daughter of a farmer, and each season I bring her with me to London so she can partake in whatever the production is for that season. I assure you, we are nothing more than two actors sharing a carriage to London. Besides you, she is the only person who knows both sides of my secret.”

  Isabel looked across the street with pursed lips, and he wondered what her thoughts contained.

  He sighed. “You may go and tell your friends about what I have done; I cannot stop you. However, I only wish to say one thing.”

  “And what is that?”

  “This is my only happiness in life. That is the truth. If it were to be taken from me, my life would be made miserable—perhaps for eternity.”

  Isabel exhaled sharply. “Oh, very well. Your secret is safe with me.” Then she turned to look at him, her brows furrowed as if in deep consideration. “I find you an interesting man, Lord Charmain.” Her laughter now held a bit of amusement “It is Lord, correct? You are a baron in truth?”

  He chuckled. “I am a baron—in truth.”

  She nodded. “It’s a pity you have had to spent your days mired in lies.”

  “Indeed,” he replied sadly. “I would have preferred to be living my life in the open, to be the person I was meant to be.” He shrugged. “But alas, I did what I felt I must do.”

  “I suppose.” She sounded doubtful.

  “You realize, Miss St. Clair, that we are more alike than you realize.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Lord Charmain, I assure you, we are nothing alike.” Her sigh was deep. “I believe we should leave.”

  “Very well,” he said, though he wished she would stay for a while longer. He was enjoying her company immensely. “If you change your mind, the play presents Wednesday through Saturday. I would be honored to see you there again.”

  They stopped in front of a pub where a carriage sat waiting.

  What a strange place to meet their carriage, he thought. He took her hand before she could get into the vehicle. “I told you before that your beauty captivated me, and I swear under the stars that it was no lie. May you find the gentleman who sees not only the beauty you possess on the outside, but that which also resides on the inside, as well.”

  He could not read the reaction in her eyes, and she said nothing to indicate how she had taken his words. Had he been too forward? Had he scared her in some way? It certainly had not been his intention. However, before he could say anything more, the carriage was pulling away, the clicking of the horses’ hooves resounding in the street. Watching it disappear, he let out a sigh and turned to return to his home, Miriam moving to walk beside him.

  ***

  The River Thames flowed at a slow, yet steady pace as Daniel stood upon its banks wondering what his life had become. His passion had been for the stage, and his fear of people learning of this had forced him to concoct a string of lies so long, he found himself oftentimes doing everything he could to keep himself from being entangled in them. Those lies would now cost him his honor, and surprisingly, something he wanted even more. Miss Isabel St. Clair.

  The woman was strong and beautiful, the type of woman of whom the poets wrote their prose. She had a quick mind and a sharp tongue and somehow sought the man he could have been. However, his lies had destroyed any chance of her allowing him to call on her. It was strange to be heartbroken over such a situation, for it was not one he had dealt with before. It was not as if he had courted the woman, and he certainly would not say he was in love with her. However, the one woman in the world who, in all probability, could make him happy now would not allow him to see her, and that was a bitter pill to swallow. That alone had to be the most tragic of it all.

  “I thought I might find you here,” a voice said from behind. He turned to find Miriam approaching. “Did the woman threaten to tell everyone?”

  He nodded. “She did so in the beginning. How did you know?”

  Miriam sniffed. “I know women, Daniel, but more importantly I know you.”

  He could not argue that point. She did know him well, at least when it came to the secrets they shared.

  “Why do you put yourself through heartache for this woman? What is she to you? I have never seen you act the fool for any woman before.”

  He sighed. “She captures my heart—and my eyes, if I am to be honest about it. I find myself consumed with her.” He returned his gaze to the languid river and leaned on a nearby post. How had he allowed himself to become attracted to someone such as this woman? Had he not decided that he would wait until his interest in the theater had worked its way through him before becoming interested in a woman he might consider courting?

  Courting? Where had that thought come from? That topic had not even come up between them; how could he be thinking such thoughts?

  It was quiet for some time, each of them lost in their own thoughts, before Miriam spoke again. “We are different from many others,” she said, also staring out across the river. “We find enjoyment in the simplest of things, but we also enjoy that which is not simple, such as taking to the stage. A woman such as Miss St. Clair would never accept that. She would want you to become something you are not, and that is unfair to you.”

  “But I am a baron,” he said, turning to his friend. “It is my duty and obligation…”

  “To what?” she demanded. “To do the will of your peers? You are willing to give up all of this for them? For people you truly do not know? Did you not tell me once that you cared nothing for what the ton thought of you?”

  “It is a complicated matter. You would not understand.”

  She shook her head angrily. “I see,” she said in snipped tones as she placed a hand on her hip. “A farmer’s daughter does not understand complications in life? Why? Because she is too simpleminded?”

  He looked down at her for a moment. How had he angered the one person in his life with whom he could be honest? “I did not mean to say it in that manner. I’m weary of lying, and though it pains me, I know there will come a point when I have to give up on all of this.”

  She shook her head again, this time with tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Why do you weep?”

  “You do not understand what you are saying, do you?”

  What she said made no sense. “I do,” he insisted. “I am willing to give up on my dreams for happiness with another. Yet, why does that upset you? There is someone who will replace me and the play will continue without issue. That is the reason for an alternate, is it not? I am certain that Andrew will do a fine job in my part.”

  “Yes, the play will continue. However, that is not of what I speak. The play will continue even if both of us were to leave. This has nothing to do with the play. The issue is that I will never see you again.”

  “But we are friends…”

  “And what?” she asked, her anger returning. “You will tell your new friends that I am the daughter of a farmer? Or you will lie and say that my father is a titled man from some foreign land? Even so, if you are to leave and I am to continue at the theater, how will I do that with no home?” Her voice cracked and it pained him. “When you leave, you leave out of my life forever and take everything with it. Perhaps I come across as selfish, but it is the truth of what will happen if you are no longer Daniel Jenkins. Such actions not only harm the play but others who rely on you. Someone such as myself.”

  He sighed. He wanted to argue with her, to tell her that what she said was inaccurate; however, he could not, for it was most certainly the truth, the heaviest tru
th he had ever had to face. “I have not made my decision as of yet,” he said quietly.

  She nodded and wiped the tears from her face. “I want you to be happy, I truly do. But understand one thing, this is all I have. If you leave, my future is with sheep in a field and nothing more.”

  Without another word, they began the long trek back to the home they shared. He could not help but worry over the words both women in his life had spoken, making him fall even deeper into the hole he had created for himself. The question was, would he be able to save himself once all this came to an end?

  Chapter Twelve

  It was Thursday, just over a week since Isabel had last seen Lord Charmain, and she sat in the parlor of the London townhouse with her mother, Isabel trying to focus on a flower she was stitching in red. She found the movement comforting but it did nothing to ease her mind, for her thoughts kept returning to the man who had fooled everyone around him. What would he be doing at this very moment? Was he rehearsing at the theater? Or perhaps he was drinking a pint with Miss Miriam in the same pub Isabel and Elizabeth had visited.

  She could not explain why, but she had a desire to speak to the man again. Perhaps it was due to seeing other women engaged in conversation and laughing with men at the various functions she had attended with her parents. Or maybe it was because the Baron had seemed truly sorrowful for what he had done. A part of her pain had eased when she learned that Miss Miriam was not a secret lover but rather the daughter of a farmer who enjoyed the theater as much as he.

  Despite the fact that the idea of Miss Miriam in Lord Charmain’s life was discomforting, she had to admit that the woman was strong. Isabel knew she herself could never find the courage to go out on stage and perform before an audience; however, she did wish she could capture even a portion of the woman’s bravery. She spoke her mind and did as she wished rather than worry herself with what others wanted for her. What others thought of her did not seem to concern her in the slightest.