Mary Balogh - A Masked Deception

She had to convince herself that most wives probably had little more than she had. Her mother, in fact, in a speech of advice on her wedding morning, had warned that marriage would be very pleasant if she were a dutiful wife. She must learn, in exchange for all the contentment, to endure her husband's "attentions" at night "for a few minutes only, my love." Margaret admitted that, had she behaved with propriety at the masquerade ball, she would not even know that physical contact with a man might be exciting.

She trained herself to enjoy those few minutes for what they were worth. For that short span of time each night, her husband was all hers. Sometimes, if he was later than usual coming to her room, she would find her body aroused from just thinking of what was about to happen. And then his arrival was an agony. She had to keep every physical sign of her arousal strictly concealed and she had to endure the terrible frustration of having neither the time nor the freedom to reach for the unknown something that the weight of his body and his brief lovemaking made her own body ache for.

No, Margaret was not unhappy. She resumed her embroidery.

Charlotte perfected the plan the next day while driving in Hyde Park with Devin Northcott. She had puzzled over it so much after leaving Margaret in the drawing room that she had given herself a headache. So quiet was she at dinner that night, in fact, that Brampton commented on it.

"Are you feeling quite well, Charlotte?" he asked with concern.

"What? Oh, yes, my lord," she answered. "Just a little tired, maybe, after last night's ball."

"And did you enjoy yourself?" he asked. "You most certainly did not lack for partners."

"Oh, it was ever so much fun, my lord," Charlotte began, her natural enthusiasm for life beginning to bubble again. But she was immediately struck by a thought that had her once more silent and dreaming.

Should she suggest that Lord Brampton give a masquerade ball in his home so that Meg could appear mysteriously as Marie Antoinette and bowl him off his feet? No, it would not work. How would anyone explain away the disappearance of the hostess?

"Northcott informs me that he is to take you driving tomorrow," Brampton commented. Having broken off his relationship with Lisa just that afternoon, he felt somewhat ill-at-ease with his wife, and was anxious to keep Charlotte talking. Usually she chattered on without any encouragement.

"Yes, my lord. He has a new high-perch phaeton, and I have a new bonnet," Charlotte explained, as if these facts justified the situation entirely. "And Meg says that it would be quite unexceptionable for me to accept the invitation."

"Oh, quite," replied Brampton, glancing down the table to his wife. She was smiling affectionately at her sister, her usual quiet, calm self.

Charlotte's thoughts were on the wing again. Could she ask Mr. Northcott to give a masquerade party? No, he occupied only bachelor rooms. Anyway, she was still a little shy of him because he was so old (somewhere in the region of Lord Bramp-ton's age, she guessed) and was so much the perfect gentleman of fashion. She had found it easy to converse with him during the two dances they had shared the night before and during his visit that afternoon, but she did not think she yet had the courage to ask so great a favor of him.

The London weather cooperated for the afternoon drive. It was a perfect spring day. Charlotte was able to wear her new apple-green muslin dress and the matching parasol with brown fringes. Her brown bonnet was trimmed with green, yellow, and straw-colored leaves and flowers that complemented her auburn hair. Devin Northcott thought she made a perfect picture in his new phaeton and told her so.

Charlotte admired his appearance no less. He wore biscuit-colored buckskins and white-tasseled Hessian boots that shone so brightly she felt she would be able to see her face in them if she leaned forward. His dark-green coat had the perfect cut that only the renowned Weston could have tailored; his snowy-white neckcloth had been arranged in complicated folds, though Charlotte could not put a name to the creation. Was it a waterfall? A mathematical? He wore a dark beaver on his fair hair. Devin Northcott was not a tall man, and he had a slight figure, but Charlotte concluded that she liked his air of kindly gentility.

They arrived at Hyde Park at the fashionable hour of five o'clock. It seemed that half the haut monde were there, most people wheeling around slowly in carriages of various descriptions, some on horseback, a few on foot. Everyone was there to see and to be seen, to nod at acquaintances, to cut enemies, to exchange the latest on-dits with friends.

Charlotte enjoyed herself thoroughly. She found herself admired and ogled by several young bucks, some of whom she had met at the Brampton ball two nights before. She was soon twirling her parasol with confident gaiety.

When they were not exchanging pleasantries with various acquaintances, Northcott entertained Charlotte with an enumeration of all the pleasurable activities she could experience now that she was "out." She listened with one ear while she enjoyed the sights and sensations of the park.

"And you will have to visit Vauxhall Gardens," he was saying. "Beautiful outdoor gardens lit by lanterns: music, food, masked guests…"

The plan was born in Charlotte's brain full-grown. She reacted with lightning promptness.

"Oh, Mr. Northcott," she sighed, giving the parasol a light twirl, "it sounds so heavenly. Alas, I do not think it is the type of entertainment to appeal to Meg and my brother-in-law. They are really dears, you know, but somewhat-"

"Stuffy?" supplied the obliging Mr. Northcott.

"I hate to appear disloyal," Charlotte breathed, lowering her lashes.

"Say no more, Miss Wells," said the gallant Devin. "You would do me a great honor if you would join a party to Vauxhall that I plan to make up. I have some influence with your brother-in-law and will guarantee that he and your sister will be of the party."

"Oh, would you!" Charlotte gushed, hands clasped together over the handle of her parasol, eyes wide and worshipful. "That would be divine."

Devin returned Charlotte to Brampton's house and drove away feeling like public benefactor number one, and convinced that the little chit was not really as silly as the bulk of the new crop of debutantes. Quite a fetching little thing, in fact!

"Meg, Meg." Charlotte took the stairs, with shocking inelegance, two at a time. She burst into the drawing room to find her sister reclining on a chaise longue, reading a book.

"Lottie, my love, what is it?" Margaret asked, laying aside the book and regarding her sister with some alarm. "Did Mr. Northcott upset the phaeton?"

"Oh, no, no, nothing like that," Charlotte answered impatiently, tossing parasol, bonnet, and gloves onto the chair closest to the door, "but Mr. Northcott is to see that we all go to Vauxhall one night and you and Lord Brampton are to go too, but you are not to go, but you are to go as Marie Antoinette, but Lord Brampton will think you are not there, but you will be there, of course, although he won't know it, and then he will fall in love with you, though he won't know it's you-and you will live happily ever after!" She finished with a flourish and beamed.

Margaret stared and then laughed. "Lottie, my love, I lost you after 'Vauxhall,' " she said.

Charlotte sank down onto the sofa with a resigned sigh. "I shall explain again," she said. "Oh, Meg, please, could we ring for tea?"

Margaret got to her feet and obligingly rang the bell.

Charlotte began again. "Mr. Northcott has promised to make up a party to go to Vauxhall Gardens one night," she said. "He told me that almost everyone goes there wearing masks. The thing is, Meg, that you and Lord Brampton must accept the invitation, but at the last moment you must stay behind-you must have the headache, I think. Lord Brampton must go, of course, to accompany me.

"When we are gone, you will dress as Marie Antoinette again, with a mask; then you must follow us to the gardens and made sure that Lord Brampton sees you. Then he will fall in love with you and you can reveal your real identity. It can't fail, Meg."

"It is quite the most absurd plan I ever heard in my life," said Margaret.

"Name one thing wrong with it."

"I can name several," she said. "For one thing, I am no longer a girl to play games. Second, I do not still have the costume of Marie Antoinette. Third, how would I get to Vauxhall alone at night? Fourth, Richard would probably not give me a second glance even if I were dressed as before. Fifth, if he did pursue me, he would recognize me immediately. Sixth, it is wrong to play such tricks on my husband. And seventh, it couldn't possibly work-could it, Lottie?"

"Of course it would work," Charlotte replied, quite undaunted by the list of objections. And she crossed to the chaise longue, sat beside her sister, poured the tea, which had arrived a few minutes before, and proceeded to hammer out an ironproof battle plan.

"Oh, Lottie, do you really think it might work?" Margaret asked anxiously fifteen minutes later, her voice almost pleading. "I really do not believe I could."

"Phooey!" her sister replied.

The date for the visit to Vauxhall Gardens was set for three weeks in the future. Devin Northcott had wanted to make it sooner, but the ladies of the Brampton household were strangely full of excuses. There could be no doubt, though, that they wanted very much to go. The party was to be made up of Devin, the Earl and Countess of Brampton, Charlotte, and Sir Henry and Lady Lucy Wood, the latter being Brampton's youngest sister.