Free Regency Masquerade by Vera Loy

that terrible look from
Richard’s face.  Her fingers were trembling so much she could barely manage to
unlock her bag.  Eventually she got it open and scrambled hastily into her
green gown.  She slipped on the brown wig and dusted a little powder on her
face, then stepped into her white slippers as a knock came at the door.
    “
’Tis me, Carleton.”  He wondered fearfully what he would find when Peter opened
the door.  He heard the key being turned in the lock and then stepped
cautiously into the room.
    He
could scarcely believe his eyes. A young woman stood before him.  Peter, no
“Frances” had gently rounded shoulders, unmistakable breasts and a neat waist. 
Her face looked different too, softer under the curled wig.  Needing further
reassurance he reached out to touch her.  Gently he ran his fingertips down her
soft cheek, then down the side of her throat then down to cup her breast with
his hand.  He could feel it round, heavy and warm through the flimsy material
and realised that at least was true, this was definitely a woman!  He looked at
her again and stepped closer.
    Frances
had just realised, rather belatedly, that perhaps her bedroom was not the most
sensible place she could have chosen to prove she was a woman.  She spoke
quickly, putting up a hand to hold him off.  “I realise this must be very
confusing for you my lord.  Will you please leave now, and let me change back
to Peter?  I will come downstairs and talk to you in a few minutes, I promise.”
    Carleton
stared down at her, grappling with his feelings, uncertain as to whether he
wanted to hit her or kiss her, or may be both!  It was painfully obvious what
sort of woman she must be, to live that kind of life. 
    Made
uneasy by his continued silence, Frances spoke again, “Let me go, please.” Deliberately,
she raised her chin and squared her shoulders like Peter Francis.  “The answer
is still “no” my lord.”
    Carleton
flinched and stepped back. “I have no idea whether I am coming or going,” he
admitted slowly, “My head is still spinning, I need some time to think.” 
    “Unless
you would prefer to be alone, could I suggest we go riding?” 
    “That
sounds the safest idea under the circumstances.  I’ll send word to the stables.” 
He turned on his heel and walked out quickly, shutting the door firmly behind
him.  He leant against it for a second, fighting a mad desire to rush back in
and – too late.  He heard the key turn in the lock.  It was probably for the
best, he was scarcely thinking clearly at the moment.  Her voice came to him
through the door as if she knew he was still there. “Just don’t forget I’m a
man my lord, for Heaven’s sake do not order me a side saddle!” 
    Half
an hour later, two horses were saddled and waiting down in front of the stables
and Carleton was growing anxious.  She was coming wasn’t she?  Or had the
suggestion been a ruse so she could quietly leave?  The thought that she might
have gone was like a blow to the stomach.  As he was about to send someone to
find out, Frances came hurrying into the yard.  She was dressed as Peter
Francis in rather faded but clean riding breeches and boots, her stride long
and crisp.
    “My
apologies for keeping you waiting my lord, I overslept,” she cried gaily.  “Oh
what beautiful animals! Which one may I ride?”  The groomsman led forward a
beautiful roan gelding with a proud head and liquid amber eyes.  They all
talked horses for a while, though Frances admitted freely she did not know as
much as the other two men. 
    Carleton
had a big black stallion which was snorting impatiently to be off.  “Right my
beauty? Let’s go then.”  The black danced for a minute as he got him under
control and they trotted out of the yard at a brisk pace.  Frances rode well,
if not superbly, but he found he couldn’t take his eyes off her.  Now that he
knew she was a woman he wondered how he could have been so blind before.