Masquerade Read online

  Delphi looked sceptical. “He’s a Prince! Surely he feels useful enough?”

  Astrid gave her sister a warning look. “Sorry! I shall say no more.”

  ”So, as I was saying: while he was gone, I slipped out of my shoes.

  “You removed your shoes?” Delphi squealed. “In public!”

  “Argh! Delphi! Just let me tell the tale!”

  “Fine,” Delphi sighed. “Go on.”

  Astrid continued. “And then he came back and, “Astrid giggled, “he stroked my foot!”

  “My stars! Whatever did he do that for?”

  Astrid laughed merrily. “I don’t know - but it felt wonderful!”

  A little more pragmatic than her impetuous sister, Delphi asked, “Has it occurred to you, Astrid, that your betrothed was stroking the foot of a woman whom he believed to be someone other than you?”

  The smile vanished instantly from Astrid’s face. She had been so caught up in the excitement of having Roman under her thrall that she hand’t even considered what the actions of her betrothed implied. It hand’t occurred to her to wonder what it meant that the man she was to marry in just a few days’ time had sought the company of another woman; had touched her - so intimately; had allowed her to kiss him too! The deceitful scoundrel!

  Delphi shook her head in despair. “When, exactly, do you intend telling him that you’re the Contessa?”

  “Soon,” Astrid said vaguely, striving to sound as though she knew what she was doing. In reality, her thoughts were a confused mess. On the one hand, she was all giddy with joy at the glorious evening she had spent with Prince Roman; on the other, she wanted to rip out his deceitful heart.

  Chapter Two

  The sisters watched from the window as the Duke and Duchess of Rothshires’ coach disappeared down the drive.

  “I still don’t understand why you are not going to the hunt with them.”

  “Darling Delphi! You heard Mother. If I went, it would be as a bystander not a participant.”

  “But I don’t understand why. You’re a wonderful rider!”

  “Mother says I am too wild when hunting. She is quite sure I shall either kill myself - and ruin her plans for the wedding - or injure myself - and ruin her plans for the wedding - or cause a scandal .…”

  “And ruin her plans for the wedding,” Delphi finished despondently. “It’s monstrously unfair, Astrid, but perhaps you should go and cheer on Prince Roman?”

  Astrid gave an unladylike snort. “Not likely! I will not pretend to be that dull little Lady Astrid that Mother insists I be and who Roman so despises.”

  “He doesn’t despise you! Prince Roman has never had chance to get to know you as you really are.”

  “Exactly! But, don’t worry, little sister: I have a plan.”

  “Oh no!” Delphi cried. She took a step away, as though the physical act of putting distance between them would keep her out of her sister’s calamitous sphere. “Astrid, your schemes always go awry!”

  “Not this time, I promise!” Astrid narrowed her eyes as her sister took another step back. “Oh stop being such a goody-two-shoes, Delphi!”

  “I’m not! It’s just that you always get me into trouble with Mother and Father - and without me ever having had any of the fun!”

  “It’s not my fault you prefer a quiet, dull little life!”

  “That’s not fair, Astrid! Just because I don’t go around getting into scrapes doesn’t mean I’m dull!”

  Astrid knew she was being unfair. Delphi had been caught up in more than one of Astrid’s schemes and she was right: they often did end disastrously. It wasn’t her sister’s fault that she preferred quieter pursuits. Perhaps if Astrid followed her sister’s example, her own life would be less fraught. The trouble was that she was not like Delphi and she had no wish to be.

  “I’m sorry. That was unwarranted,” she said now. The thought of hurting her beloved sister’s feelings filled her with remorse. ”You know there is no other I would rather spend my time with than you.” She paced, agitation making her restless. “It’s just that I am to be wed in a few days and I cannot marry someone who resents my very existence.”

  Delphi took her hand. “What is it you mean to do?”

  “Don’t be alarmed but I intend going on the hunt.”

  “But Mother ….”

  “Will never know.” Astrid looked at her sister and smiled sheepishly. “I will go disguised as the Contessa.”

  “Oh no!”

  “It will be fine,” Astrid reassured Delphi. “Will you help me dress for it?”

  “Where is Betsy?”

  “I didn’t want her to come up so I told her I was going to bed with a sick headache.”

  Astrid turned so her sister could lace her stays. “Not too tight - I should like to breathe,” she warned.

  “Very well. But at least tell me of your plan so I might prepare myself for catastrophe.”

  Astrid sat high atop the spirited grey. Her bearing was proud and haughty. She touched a hand to the veil covering her face and then, imperceptibly, glanced across to where the spectators were sitting. Her gaze went first to her mother and father and then to the King and Queen of Raleigh. None of them looked in her direction.

  Astrid released the breath she had been holding.

  She stayed back until the blast of the horn signalled the riders to take their places. And, even then, Astrid held fast. Prince Roman led the hunt on his huge black stallion and the other riders, men and women alike, jockeyed for position behind him. Astrid knew it mattered not where she started the hunt. Even with the disadvantage of riding side-saddle, she could out ride most of them without breaking a sweat.

  The second horn blasted. The riders hollered and urged their horses into a gallop as they followed the frenzied barking of the hounds who were already on a scent. Astrid waited until the field was clear before she spurred her horse into action. She was not interested in the hunting of the fox but in the ride itself. She took the wider course, distancing herself from the other riders as she gave her horse its head and allowed them both the joy of the gallop.

  Astrid thrilled at the freedom of being in the saddle. The magnificent grey mare raced across the open fields, passing first one knot of riders and then another. She felt the familiar sense of belonging, as though she and the horse were one. Had her mother allowed Astrid to ride during her rare visits to the Palace, Prince Roman might have realised that, like him, she was a born rider. As it was, the Duchess had constrained her with tight corsetry and dire warnings to ‘behave like a lady’.

  They left the bulk of the riders behind as the horse flew over hedges and streams at full stride. Ahead, Astrid saw the Prince lead a small group of riders in close pursuit of the hounds. Rather than join the men, Astrid cut across the back of them and took a course away from the baying hounds.

  “What the hell?” someone exclaimed after her as she passed them with her red, velvet riding habit flying behind her. Prince Roman looked left as she passed him too; a blur of burgundy that took his breath away.

  “Go on!” he shouted to the others and changed course. His eye was on a different prize.

  Astrid heard the Prince behind her and laughed. She urged the grey on. She would show him just what sort of wife he was getting! She would lead him a merry dance and then tear off the veil and reveal herself as his betrothed.

  “Watch out!”

  She heard his warning but had no time to heed it before the precipice appeared directly in front of her. Yelling a command, she pulled hard left on the reins. The horse, sensing the danger, went with her and executed a sharp turn. The panicked mare’s hooves kicked stones over the edge as horse and rider slid perilously close to the drop.

  “You bloody fool! Didn’t you hear me shouting? You could have been killed!” Astrid held up a hand to halt Roman’s tirade, breathing hard from the exertion and shock. “That was too damned close!” he chastised, though now his voic
e held a note of concern. Astrid patted the mare’s grey neck and murmured soft words of comfort to the frightened horse. When both she and the mare had regained their composure, she looked up at the Prince.

  “You’re right. It was reckless of me to ride her so hard without knowing the terrain.”

  “You are both unharmed, that is the main thing,” Roman bit out, then - begrudgingly - admitted, “Though reckless, you are a fine horsewoman!”

  They fell silent, both still winded from the ride and the near miss. Astrid looked away from Roman’s inscrutable gaze and fought an urge to check her veil was still in place.

  “I had begun to think I had imagined you at the Ball, Contessa.”

  Having shown him her skills as a rider, Astrid had been ready to dispense with the ruse and reveal her true identity but Roman’s mocking tone raised her ire. “As you can see, your Highness, I am real enough.”

  “Indeed. It a relief to know the mysterious Contessa was not merely a product of my fevered imagination.”

  Astrid’s eyes narrowed behind the veil. “Fevered, Prince Roman?” she snapped. “I wonder what your betrothed might think of her fiancé declaring such zealous emotions for another?”

  “You cared nothing for the tender feelings of my betrothed at the Ball, Contessa, so why let her worry you now?”

  “Surely it is you who should be concerned about the hurt caused to your fiancée?”

  “Oh do not worry on that score. My fiancée is one of those young ladies of the timid, insipid variety.”

  Astrid gasped, nearly choking with anger. “How terrible for you! I wonder that you will marry her at all!”

  Roman shrugged, “Duty, I’m afraid,” he said wearily. “But let us not dwell on such gloomy matters. Not when I have you here with me.”

  Reining in her fury, Astrid forcibly lightened her tone. “No, let us not, your Highness. We shouldn’t sully such a beautiful day with dreary matters of betrothals and fiancées.” Fisting her hand on her thigh to keep herself from knocking the Prince off his horse, Astrid asked, “What would you talk of instead?”

  “I was hoping we could start with you removing your veil. You disappeared - quite dramatically - from the Ball before the masks were lifted. I should like to see your face.”

  “Then I’m afraid you are doomed to disappointment.”

  “You will not reveal yourself?” Roman seemed amused by her refusal and Astrid wondered at his game.

  “When you are so enthralled by the mystery?” she laughed gaily, though it cost her. “Come, your Highness, we wouldn’t want you to grow tired of me as you have your poor, insipid betrothed.” She nudged the restless grey into a walk. “Ought we to return before you are missed, Prince Roman?” she said and, without waiting for an answer, urged her horse into a canter.

  Astrid and Roman rode back at an exhilarating clip and they were both breathless and laughing by the time they rejoined the hunt. Astrid spotted her parents mingling with the hunt and her smile faded. She turned her horse, ready to slip away from the crowd.

  “Wait!” Prince Roman grabbed her hand to stall her. “Meet me tomorrow night at the Pavilion.”

  “Your Highness!” Astrid whispered furiously, “What you ask is outrageous!”

  “Hardly, Contessa. A woman who can come to a Bachelor Ball dressed as you were is no shrinking violet.” He ran his thumb across her gloved hand. “I ask only for some time alone with you.”

  Astrid looked away from him and caught her mother’s glowering look. “Fine,” she said, pulling back her hand. “I will meet you at ten. Now I must go.”

  Roman watched her ride away and a smile played at the corner of his mouth.

  “Who was that, darling?”

  Prince Roman jumped down from his horse to greet his mother. “That was the Contessa.” His smile widened. “She’s made quite the impact since her appearance at the Ball.”

  “So I’ve heard!” She tapped her son playfully on the arm. “Just remember that not everyone sees things as you do.”

  “What is this?” Lady Rothshire asked, appearing at the Queen’s side like an apparition. “Am I to understand my daughter has a rival for your affections, your Highness?” Although her tone was light, her amused smile failed to reach her eyes.

  “Of course not, Rosalind. In fact, Roman .…”

  “Lady Rothshire,” Roman interrupted, “would you allow me the honour of calling on my betrothed tomorrow noon?”

  “Of course, your Highness.” Lady Rothshire inclined her head coyly. “We shall all look forward to the visit.”

  “You misunderstand me, Lady Rothshire. I mean to take Lady Astrid out for a walk in the gardens.”

  “Of course.” There was a hard edge in the Duchess’ voice.. “Her sister will accompany you both.”

  “Come now, Rosalind,” the Queen chided. “They will be wed in a few more days. I think we can allow them some unchaperoned time alone.”

  “Tomorrow then,” Prince Roman said as he bowed and took his leave.

  Astrid was shaking with fury.

  For her betrothed to have made an assignation with another woman was reprehensible! The worst of it was that it was all her own doing. Once again, one of her fine ideas had turned around and bitten her on the bum - exactly as Delphi had warned. She now found herself in the ridiculous position of being her own love rival!

  But, then again, why should she carry all the blame when the fault lay with her faithless fiancé? It was he who had ignored her all these years! On the limited occasions they had been thrown together, Roman had shown nothing but disdain for his betrothed. So, of course she had been left with no choice but to do something drastic. Yes, this was definitely all his fault.

  After all, what other options did she have when her betrothed refused to see his fiancée as anything more than - and Astrid angrily recalled his words - timid and insipid? Well, she would show that arrogant pinhead she was anything but timid or insipid!

  Oh yes! Astrid had every intention of making her future husband rue the day he had dared to insult his bride!

  Chapter Three

  “Remember, Astrid: if you are to be Queen of Raleigh then you must act like one at all times.”

  “Yes, Mother, I know. In fact, only a nitwit could fail to know something of which they have been reminded for the last goodness knows how many years!”

  “Beware that tongue of yours, Astrid.” The Duchess spoke softly but her words dripped ice. “Your propensity to rush in without thought is what leads you into trouble.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Astrid knew better than to argue with the Duchess. She rarely won in such clashes. In fairness, her mother’s criticism of her eldest daughter’s impulsive nature was backed up by empirical evidence.

  “When Prince Roman arrives, you must sit quietly with your back straight and allow me to do the talking.”

  Astrid bit her tongue. Wasn’t this the very reason Roman thought her a mouse; because her mother had controlled every aspect of their past visits? Delphi caught her mutinous look and gave her an imperceptible shake of the head. Both girls knew that to speak up now would result in Astrid spending the entire visit imprisoned in bruisingly tight stays.

  “I will find out exactly who that so-called Contessa is,” the Duchess continued.

  Delphi’s eyes widened in alarm and it was Astrid’s turn to give her sister a warning look. “Does it matter, Mother? After all, Prince Roman and I will be married in a few more days.”

  “Of course it matters, Astrid! After you are wed, do you want the Prince dancing attendance on you or under the thumb of some trollop?”

  Astrid preferred neither. She was saved the need to respond when the arrival of the Prince was announced. The three women curtsied in response to his bow.

  “Good morning, ladies. Astrid, it is a fine day for our walk if you are ready.”

  Astrid was surprised and delighted at the prospect of a walk. Her mother had implied the Pr
ince was coming to pay a formal visit. Even so, she tried to keep her expression neutral.

  “Your Highness,” the Duchess cut in before Astrid could speak. “My daughter is not feeling up to the rigours of a walk today and would prefer your company here with her sister and mother present.”

  Prince Roman looked at Astrid, his brows raised. “I’m sure the walk will not be too taxing for you, Lady Astrid,” he said and held out his arm. Astrid hid a smile as Roman expertly outmanoeuvred her mother and slipped her arm through his.

  “Ladies.” Roman inclined his head and they left, leaving the Duchess gaping furiously after them.

  Astrid felt ridiculous in the fussy, old-fashioned, hooped dress her mother had insisted she wore.

  “I hand’t realised we were to go for a walk, your Highness, or I would have worn more suitable attire.”

  “I made my intentions quite clear when I spoke to your mother.” Roman replied indifferently.

  A heavy silence fell between them. Astrid could say nothing without appearing disloyal to her mother and Roman seemed to have said everything he had to say on the subject. They walked through the ornamental gardens, following geometric pathways bordered with colourful flowers. At each juncture was a marble statue. Astrid smiled, remembering how frightened Delphi had been of them as a child. They arrived at a stone archway and walked through into the Royal Park. Gone were the neat rows of flowers and gravel paths of the formal gardens. Here it was rolling grassland; huge old oak trees and a lake that had once called to a bored, nine year old Astrid.

  “May we walk down to the lake, your Highness?”

  “Of course. And, please, do not ‘your Highness’ me. It’s just Roman.” He opened his hand, indicating she should lead the way.

  “As you wish … Roman,” she said, using just his given name for the first time. Astrid did not have the easy manner the Contessa possessed. How she wished she did.