Free Regency Masquerade by Vera Loy Page A

While
they had been in the stable yard he had been in an agony of trepidation that
the groom would recognise her for what she was.  Certainly the flattened chest and
squared shoulders were a powerful aid, but it was also the way she moved and
the care she took with her mannerisms.  People saw what they expected to see.
    He
felt as if his head was split in two.  Half of it saw the young man whose company
he enjoyed and whose skills he admired and the other half saw a young woman
with smooth skin, an enchanting smile and beautiful eyes.  He realised that
those same eyes were smiling quizzically at him now “Shall we gallop?” she
called.
    For
answer he dug his heels into Diabolo’s sides and they flew off, hooves pounding
on the turf.  Frances followed on her roan but they could not match the pace of
the other two and soon fell behind.  His lordship obviously knew his grounds
better than she did, and she was content to follow, enjoying the speed and feel
of powerful muscles beneath her.  Eventually the pair ahead drew up and she
brought her horse to a stop beside them.
    “That
was wonderful,” she cried breathlessly.  They moved on at a walking pace to
cool the horses.  For a moment neither spoke, each busy with their own
thoughts.  Frances broke the silence, her eyes straight ahead.
    “Before
I go, I owe you an explanation.  What I tell you will be the truth, but of
course it is up to you to decide if you believe me or not.”  She looked at him
then but he merely nodded for her to continue.  “As I told you, my name is
Frances, but I know of no other.  My father indeed had so many names over the
years I could scarce keep track of them.  I think he was of gentle birth for he
always knew how to go on in polite company and I know he went to school here at
Eton, but there was no money and we always lived off the cards.”  She paused to
reach forward and pat her horse’s neck.
    “My
mother died when I was a small child and even before that I think we moved
around a lot.  Often it was easier for me to be a boy, for my own protection as
much as anything, and I learned how to shoot and fence and ride, but I don’t
have many feminine accomplishments – apart from French and Italian of course. 
Do not misunderstand me, it was a wonderful life and I have no regrets,” she
added with a touch of defiance.  Carleton looked as if he would protest this,
but he thought better of it and motioned for her to continue.
    “As
I told you, my father died a few months ago and it was at his request that I
came to London, to follow up a name he had given me, someone who might be of
assistance to me.  I had planned to lay low until I could find this
person, I did not intend to get caught up in your affairs at all my
lord, but then I did and I must admit it was very exciting,” she smiled
tentatively at him. “And then, as you know, the Comte Duverne struck down my
servant and is hot after my blood so I took refuge here with you, intending to
do no more than be a companion to you as Peter Francis until I could plan my
next move.”  She shrugged her shoulders, “The best laid plans eh? I will not
trouble you any further, I will go as soon as we get back to the house.”
    Carleton
surprised both of them then by leaning forward to catch the roan’s bridle. 
    “I
will not let you go,” he said rather fiercely.  Both horses had stopped and he
kept his grip on the reins so that their legs were nearly touching.
    Frances
looked at him levelly.  “What do you mean, my lord?  Whatever you may think of
my behaviour, I am not a whore.”  He flinched at this and she continued.  “’Tis
true I am a gamester and an adventuress if you like, but I have been no man’s
mistress, ever!” A spot of scarlet burned in each cheek as she said this.  “I
know the world would say I might as well be for coming here with you
unchaperoned, but most people would have damned me long ago for the life I have
led. But they would be