Love in Disguise (6 page)

Then the script began to rustle in her trembling fingers. What lord could be calling on her? She knew no lords except - Her heart seemed to flutter up into her throat.

Then Henry was opening the door to the sitting room. “The Marquis of Castleford to see you, miss.”

Fancy knew that Henry was carefully keeping all expression from his face, but something glittered in his eyes. “Thank you, Henry. Please show him in.”

As Lord Castleford entered the room, Fancy put the script on a table and turned. “Lord Castleford, how kind of you to call.”

The big blond man advanced swiftly and took her hands in his. “Miss Harper, how kind of you to receive me.”

Hercules opened one eye, perceived that all was well, and shut it again.

Castleford kept Fancy’s hands in his for a long moment while he scanned her face. “You do not appear any the worse for the ordeal of last night.”

Fancy managed to pull her hands free. “Thanks to you I am not,” she declared, turning toward a chair and inviting him to do likewise.

Castleford pulled his chair close to hers. “You give me too much credit,” he said warmly. “It was Morgane that moved first, not I. And it was he who stared the mob down.”

The big man laughed, a hearty sound that fell pleasantly on Fancy’s ears. “It was the scar that did it, I collect. He can look sinister, can Morgane, but he has a heart of gold.”

Fancy’s amazement must have been revealed on her face for Castleford laughed again. “I know Morgane doesn’t look like he has a heart at all, but he does. I should know, for we grew up together, we did. And he always looked out for me. I was a bumbling boy. Always in the suds. But he fished me out every time. A man never had a better friend.”

Fancy, listening to this eulogy in surprise, could only suppose that the Earl’s relationships with men were conducted on a very different level than those with women. But she supposed that that was possible. She was about to say so when Castleford made a motion of regret.

“Here I came to inquire about your health after last night’s ordeal and instead I go meandering on about nothing. You must excuse me. I believe your beauty has gone to my head and damaged my brains.”

Fancy laughed. The Marquis was at least entertaining and he was the first visitor she had had. Besides, it
was
kind of him to inquire about her health.

“I am really quite well,” she returned. “The theater is my life, you see, and I will not let one little incident mar my pleasure in it.”

Castleford looked around him. “Have you never thought of giving up the theater?”

Fancy scowled. “I have not,” she said sharply. “And if your friend sent you here to suggest such a thing, you can just tell him that he’s wasting his time.”

The Marquis looked at her with the bewildered blue eyes of a baby whose fingers have been slapped for some reason unknown to him. “Morgane doesn’t even know I’m here,” he said, smiling somewhat sheepishly. “I doubt he would much like it.”

“Does the Earl have the right to order your calls?” inquired Fancy curiously.

“Of course not.” Castleford looked slightly uncomfortable. “The only thing is - well, he may not like my poaching on his preserves.”

For a moment Fancy did not understand. “Poaching?”

“Well -” The Marquis’s face turned rosy. “He seems to have pretty well staked out his territory and I wouldn’t want to interfere.”

Fancy raised an eyebrow. “I believe you are laboring under a misapprehension, milord. The Earl has absolutely no claim on me - now or ever. I am a free agent.”

Castleford smiled sheepishly. “I’m very glad to hear that. So now I have a clear field.”

“I have no interest in men,” said Fancy bluntly. “Not in being kept.”

Castleford flushed again. “Afraid I’m most inept at these things. Never went after a dasher like you before. That is -”

Fancy’s gay laughter rang out. “I am
not
a dasher,” she said. “But let us forget that. Tell me some more about your childhood.”

Castleford grinned. “It was all as I told you. Me constantly in the suds and Morgane pulling me out. We did the Grand Tour together. Only eighteen we were. That’s when he got the scar.”

“I suppose it was the fault of his horrible temper,” observed Fancy with just a touch of smugness.

Castleford stared at her in surprise. “Sometimes I doubt we’re talking about the same man. Morgane’s as even-tempered as they come.”

It was Fancy’s turn to stare. How could such a thing be possible? “Well,” she insisted, “I’m sure the duel was his fault anyway.”

Castleford shook his blond head. “Not at all. Actually Morgane behaved quite handsomely.”

“What happened?” In spite of herself Fancy was intrigued. Ethel had reported to her the story that the Earl had killed a man, but the particulars had not been available.

Castleford shook his head. “It wasn’t Morgane’s fault, I assure you, Miss Harper.” A faraway look came into his eyes. “We were a couple of brash young bucks, eager to see the world. And we’d done France and Italy. We decided to spend some time in Germany - Heidelberg. Morgane was always a favorite with the ladies. This particular young lady was the daughter of a Graf. We met her at a supper party.”

He sighed. “She was a pert young thing

- small, with great round green eyes under deep lashes and a sweet little pink mouth. I could understand Morgane’s attraction to the girl. But her father was upset. He wasn’t going to have
his
daughter marry a bloody Englishman, Earl or no.”

Fancy listened in fascination.

“It seems there was a fiancé in the background, an older type, a man who had made dueling his life. He manufactured an insult in order to call Morgane out. No one consulted the chit, who disappeared from the city. The saber,
Schlager,
they called it, was the thing then and lucky for Morgane he’d always favored the weapon. The fiancé, who had killed half a dozen at least, thought to make short work of him and early on caught him on the cheek. But Morgane wouldn’t concede and the other man meant to have another killing.”

Fancy found herself on the edge of her chair, her hands clenched into fists, almost as though the outcome of the duel was still in doubt.

“Morgane kept at him till the other man lost his wind. But the death blow wasn’t intended. He only wanted to wound his man and make him stop fighting. Afterward, the girl’s father set some ruffians on us. Morgane tried to reach the girl. He wanted to bring her with us, make her his wife, and all that. But she wouldn’t even see him. Sent word by her maid that he had forfeited her regard. Never saw a man so put down. Thought maybe the wound and that would finish him before his time. Especially since we had to get out of Germany in a hurry.

“But he pulled through. Physically, anyway. And ever since he’s been a ladies’ man of the first water.”

Fancy unclenched her fists and relaxed in the chair. So that was how he got the scar on his face.

She smiled at Castleford. “Have you ever dueled since?”

The big man shook his head. “I stood up with him that day and that was enough. It’ll be a good day when Englishmen stop such doings. Pistols are even worse than sabers to my way of thinking - as there’s less of skill and more of chance involved.”

Fancy was still enthralled by the romantic tale she had heard. “And so he never heard from the girl again?”

Castleford nodded. “Don’t know how he would have behaved if he had. He was nutty on that chit. That’s for certain.”

Fancy could hardly imagine the arrogant Earl so far forgetting himself as to be nutty over any woman. Not that he could not experience desire. Clearly she had seen that glittering in his eyes, felt it in the grip of his hands, been attacked by it in that savage kiss. But, she opined, for all his good looks and charm, the Earl knew nothing of love.

“You must have led a very exciting life,” remarked Fancy.

Castleford shrugged.
“We have had a lot of adventures, gamed for high stakes, fought with Nelson - both of us at Trafalgar - raced some bang-up teams, and known some beautiful frail ones. But now I’m getting ready to settle down. When a man’s reached two and thirty, he begins to think of marriage, of leaving behind his salad days, and devoting himself to his family.”

Such a picture of the Earl caused laughter to bubble in Fancy’s throat. That one would never settle down. A small giggle escaped her. “You sound like two and thirty is ancient.”

Castleford regarded her reproachfully. “You may laugh now in the fullness of your youth,” said he. “But I assure you, after thirty a man’s thoughts turn to family.”

Fancy did not like the direction in which the conversation was going. She rose from her chair. “It was very kind of you to call to inquire after my health,” she told him, extending a hand. “I truly appreciate it. But I do not want to keep you from making your other calls. And - since I’m a working woman, I have lines to study.”

The Marquis rose and came toward her. Before she knew quite what had happened he had taken her in his arms and was kissing her. Fancy did not struggle, nor did she respond. She simply remained waiting until two great shaggy paws appeared on Castleford’s shoulders and a big wet tongue caressed his ear.

The Marquis put her away from him and turned to get the dog off his back. Fancy laughed. “I’m sorry, milord, if Hercules scared you. But he doesn’t like my callers to take liberties with my person.”

Castleford, appearing considerably shaken by this unusual turn of events, changed color and began to mutter an apology.

“There’s no need, milord,” said Fancy brightly. “Most men make the assumption you did. But, you see, I am not like most actresses.” She glanced around the room. “Thanks to my cousin. Cavendish, I am in no need of a - protector. And, since the theater is the love of my life, I have little need of a man.”

The Marquis, seeing that he had not offended her, brightened. “Hope you won’t hold it against me,” he muttered. “Won’t happen again.”

Fancy went with him to the door. “It was most kind of you to call,” she said, casting a quick glance at a glowering Ethel. “Do come again.”

“Oh, I shall. Never fear.” And with these words Castleford took his amber-headed cane and gloves, clapped his fawn-colored beaver on his curly locks, and made his escape to the waiting carriage.

As the door closed behind him, Fancy turned to Ethel with a smile. “Now we have had our first caller.”

Ethel shrugged. “When a lady comes calling, that’s the time to get excited. Won’t no ladies come calling here.”

Fancy shook her copper curls. “That doesn’t signify at all, Ethel. Ladies are rather dull company anyway.”

This remark elicited a snort and Ethel returned to her duties without further discussion.

As she made her way slowly back to the sitting room, Fancy’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. Imagine Morgane being young and in love. It seemed highly impossible. Try as she might she could not imagine the Earl showing tenderness to any woman. He was all passion - fiery temper and savage kisses. Fancy shivered at the memory of that kiss, at the brash arrogance of it.

Well, let the Earl think he was a prime article. Fancy told herself as she picked up her script again. There was no need for her to believe it. And indeed, she would not think about him anymore at all. He was not worth the trouble.

Chapter Five

In spite of her good intentions Fancy found her thoughts straying far too often to the strange man next door. Still, when it was time to dress for dinner, she felt that she had made reasonable progress in learning her new part.

“You behave yourself,” she said to the dog, as she rose to leave the room. Hercules raised an eyelid and peered at her before going back to sleep.

As Fancy made her way upstairs, she found her thoughts again reverting to the man next door. He must always have had his way in things, she thought. Witness that arrogant manner of his. Well, she would show him that Earl or no he couldn’t run
her
life.

As she slid into a simply cut gown of pale orange jaconet, Fancy’s mind went again over the story of the Earl’s youthful duel. In her imagination she tried to picture him young and unscarred, those cool gray eyes following some young woman with love and longing. But her imagination simply would not cooperate. She could only envision him with eyes like bits of gray ice, with those thin lips that curled scornfully, with that scar that reflected his anger when nothing else did. With a sigh, Fancy ran the brush through her copper curls. She simply must get that horrible man out of her thoughts.

Minutes later she was being seated at the dining room table. In spite of all her protestations to the contrary Ethel and Henry had refused to be treated as the equals and friends that she regarded them. “It ain’t fitting,” was Ethel’s sole comment.

And Henry echoed it. “You must see, Fancy, child,” he had said to her in the tone he had used when she was a little one, “I can’t keep order and such and run this establishment proper if I do that.”

And Fancy had been forced to nod in agreement. So now she sat in solitary state while the footmen stood by. It was all really bird-witted to her way of thinking, but if that’s what Henry wanted, if it made his work easier, she would do it.

She had just finished a fine meal, topped off with a portion of apple tart, and was sighing in contentment, when suddenly there came a loud knocking on the door. There was something loud and arrogant about the knock itself, almost as if -

Fancy rose hastily, dropping her napkin. It couldn’t be.

“Oh, dear,” she heard Henry say. “I’m most sorry, milord. I don’t know how he got out.”

“I wish to speak to your mistress,” said the deep voice she knew so well. “I cannot be spending all my time dragging this brute home.”

Fancy felt herself bristling up. He needn’t be so high and mighty about things. She straightened her back and moved out to meet him. “Milord,” she said, as graciously as she could manage.

His cool gray eyes raked her body before they settled on her face. “So, Miss Harper, I find that you are not being a good neighbor.”

“Milord!” Henry began, but Fancy silenced him with a look.