Free Joan Wolf by Fool's Masquerade

like the autumn leaves.”
    It was very nice of her to try to cheer me up and I smiled gratefully. She picked up her scissors and went to the door.
    “You’re much too pale, my dear. I suggest you take that book of yours and go sit in the garden for a little. You need to put the color back into those cheeks.”
    “I will, Mrs. Emerson. And thank you.”
    It felt wonderful to be outdoors again, and I held my face up to the warmth of the sun and closed my eyes.
    “You look like a little flower soaking up the sun like that,” said a deep voice close to me. It was not the voice I was longing to hear, but I opened my eyes and smiled.
    Mr. Fitzallan sat down next to me on the stone bench and asked, “How are you, Valentine?”
    “Much better, thank you.” I looked up at his profile. “Was it so very terrible a thing to have done?” I ventured.
    He didn’t answer my question. “Diccon tells me Lord Ardsley is your grandfather.”
    “Yes.” There was a long silence and then I asked, “Has—has his lordship told them I am here?”
    “Not yet.” Mr. Fitzallan looked down at me impassively. “I will never understand why you did not do as your father wished and go to them, Valentine.”
    I bit my lip. “Lord Leyburn understood. He said he would have done the same.”
    “That was before he knew the truth.”
    “But what difference can it make?” I cried. “I am still the same. Why can’t we just go on as we were?”
    He smiled a little ruefully. “What a child you are, Valentine.” Then he too, as Lord Leyburn had done, took my chin in his hand and tilted my face up. “Once one knows, it’s hard to see how you could have fooled us,” he murmured. His touch was very gentle, and as he released my chin, he touched my cheek. “You have no idea, do you, of the problem your disguise has visited on poor Diccon?”
    “What problem?”
    He shrugged and stood up. “I’ll let him explain it to you. Stay out here a little longer. You need some color in your face. You’re too pale.” He smiled. “You were a very sick girl, you know.”
    I watched him walk back to the house. He was right. I had no idea of what a problem my disguise might cause, nor did I particularly care. The only thing I did care about was the information that Lord Leyburn had not written as yet to my grandparents. And he was going to buy me some clothes. Perhaps—perhaps that meant I would be allowed to stay. . . .
    I did not see Lord Leyburn for two more days. He was not at home, Mrs. Emerson informed me, but she did not know where he had gone.
    When I finally received a message that his lordship wished to see me in the library, my heart lurched and my palms grew damp. I had to be allowed to stay, I thought fiercely, and I was not thinking of my dislike of my grandparents. I was thinking that my heart would break if I were never to see Lord Leyburn again.
    He was standing at the far side of the room when I arrived in the open doorway of the library. His back was to me and my eyes went over him hungrily, over the wide shoulders that narrowed into such slim hips and long strong legs. I took a deep breath. The last time he had spoken he had been so angry.
    “You wished to see me, my lord?”
    He turned. Nobody in the world looked like Richard Fitzallan. The sunshine slanting in the window fell full on his hair. It was absolutely black. There was not a trace of brown or of red in it. He did not look angry, but his eyes were veiled by his lashes and I had no way of telling what he was thinking.
    “Yes,” he said. “Come in, Valentine.”
    I advanced slowly into the room, painfully aware of my baggy dress and my cropped hair. I had never felt self-conscious with him before.
    “You look like a startled fawn,” he said. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not going to shout at you.” He sounded amused and my eyes flew to meet his. He was amused.
    “Oh, my lord,” I said in a rush. “I’m so sorry I tricked you, but truly I didn’t see any