A Duke’s Christmas Love in Disguise (Preview)

Chapter One

September 1817

As clouds drifted across the full moon, Lady Sybella Carstairs closed her eyes. This might be the only ball that she would ever attend in her life and so far, everything had been perfect. 

“Sybella, Mama says it’s time to leave. The carriage is waiting for us at the front steps,” said her friend Lady Charlotte Symonds, daughter of Lord and Lady Bancroft. 

“You look lovely,” she told Charlotte. “You’re going to be the belle of the ball.”

“Nonsense, tonight you will be radiant and shine out. I want this to be a special evening for you,” said Charlotte, as she took her friend’s arm in hers and patted it reassuringly.

“Come on, let’s go. Let’s make the most of this masquerade ball,” prompted Charlotte.

“I’ve got my mask. Will we put them on in the carriage?” asked Sybella.

“Yes, Mama’s maid will be with us, and she’ll make sure the ribbons are firm and tight,” Charlotte reassured Sybella.

As they walked together, arm in arm, down the elegant wooden staircase, Charlotte looked around her. “This will be my last ball as Lady Charlotte Bancroft. Next time I’ll be a married matron of the ton, Lady Stockwood,” and she laughed out loud at this idea. 

“I still can’t believe that my stepfather allowed me to come and stay with you. He must have wanted me out of the way at home. It’s most unusual,” said Sybella.

Charlotte’s mother, the Countess of Bancroft waited for them in the hall with her maid, and together they went down the steps and a footman helped them climb into a carriage. The coachman set off on the short journey across London to the home of Lady Emma Woodley at Ellerton Place. 

“It’s such a beautiful evening for a ball,” whispered Sybella as the clouds cleared from the sky and the carriage filled with bright luminous moonlight. 

“We’re almost there,” said Lady Bancroft. “Time to put your masks on, and have fun my dears. We don’t have as many masquerade balls as we did when I was a girl, and that’s a pity, as they can be such fun.” 

***

As no one knew the identity of anyone at the masquerade ball the usual patterns of dance partners were no longer relevant. This evening the daughter of a mine owner from Cornwall might dance with a Duke from Derbyshire. Of course, some recognized others through their disguise, but they still pretended not to, as it was all part of the intrigue. 

As this was a masked ball, Lady Bancroft had allowed Charlotte and Sybella to choose gowns which were not in the usual white of the debutantes. They had delighted in choosing a midnight blue and a forest green gown, respectively, in gauzy muslin. The intricate masks created by Madame Dubois, their seamstress, created an air of mystery. 

Sybella soon found her dance card full, and she threw herself into a whirlwind of quadrilles, cotillions and reels. Unless her brother Antony returned from active service in his regiment, she knew she was destined to live a cloistered life at Harpole Hall where she would become an old maid. 

The door from the ballroom to the terrace was thrown open, and the sight of the full moon hanging low in the sky drew her out. I’ll be glad of a few moments to regain my breath, she thought. I don’t believe that I’ve stopped dancing since we arrived.

The orchestra played gentle music, in a pause from dancing, and finding herself alone in a quiet part of the garden Sybella closed her eyes and imagined she was dancing in the arms of her true love. 

I’ve danced with several gentlemen this evening and one had a dreadful odor of mothballs, one had no teeth and the other had the irritating tendency to talk throughout the dancing. He’d also stepped on her toes several times, and Sybella had almost told him to stop talking and focus on his feet. I don’t think that would have gone down well. I’d have broken all the rules of polite manners in the ton, she thought to herself, suppressing a giggle.

Instead, she imagined a perfect partner dancing a slow pavane. Lost in a world of her own she didn’t hear footsteps and sashayed into another guest who had been standing quietly gazing at the stars. 

She lost her footing and stumbled, strong hands reached out and saved her from falling onto the grass. 

“Of all the…” came a deep toned, and very annoyed voice.

On opening her eyes, she found herself in the arms of a tall, masked man. He didn’t smell of smoked haddock or garlic. As she inhaled the fragrance of spicy sandalwood, she had no desire to move. 

The sensation of warm flames spread throughout her body as he held her close to steady her from falling further. She suddenly found herself looking into a pair of the darkest blue eyes she’d ever seen. There was a twinkle of amusement in them which made her feel at once both slightly embarrassed, but also totally entranced.

What’s happening? This is ridiculous. Break out of this now, she told herself. This is a complete stranger, how can I feel safe in his arms.

Sybella drew a deep breath and moved away. She recovered herself enough to curtsey, murmur her thanks, before hurrying back to the ballroom, where she blended into the throng of dancers. 

“Sybella, what’s wrong,” asked Charlotte. “You look flustered and it’s most unlike you, I’ve never seen you this flushed before. Can I get you some lemonade?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just feeling a little lightheaded. I’ll sit down for a few minutes.”

I’m not going to let that strange incident define my evening. It’s so rare that I go anywhere. 

Sybella didn’t see the handsome masked man again that evening. The memory of his touch, and the flame which had coursed through her veins remained. On occasion she thought she caught a glimpse of him in the distance, but it always turned out to be another dancer. 

And as the music faded, she felt a pang of sadness that she would never see her rescuer again. As the carriage trundled back through the streets, she knew that she’d probably never have the opportunity to attend another ball, but it had been an experience to remember.

The next evening, she returned to Harpole Hall in the depths of the Buckinghamshire countryside. Her stepfather lurked somewhere in the house, but she doubted she would see him. The dull, reclusive atmosphere of Harpole Hall seemed such a stark contrast with Charlotte’s home, and her mother’s zest for life. 

Since her brother had left to join his regiment Sybella had learned to adjust to the cold, emotionless atmosphere which pervaded her home. What was the point of complaining? Being bitter wouldn’t do anything to improve her situation.

Sometimes when she woke in the night, watching the dying embers of the fire, she had treasured the hope that Antony would return and take her away from this miserable place. That night when she woke with a start in the darkness, Antony’s face was replaced by a masked stranger and as she lay there, huddled under the luxurious eiderdown cover, she wondered if she imagined the scent of sandalwood hanging in the air of her bed chamber. 

 

Chapter Two

“I believe I have made it as a society hostess,” said Lady Emma Woodley. “Those matrons of the ton kept trying to find something to criticize, but I tell you brother I planned every single detail of that ball.”

“The tabbies of the ton will always find something to talk about. You are new to the top drawer of society, and they are going to watch you closely,” replied her brother, Edward Hallam, Earl of Congreve.

“I dare them to find anything about my masquerade ball to pull apart,” Emma laughed in a clear soprano voice, which complimented her golden ringlets and cornflower blue eyes. She reached for the teapot and poured him another cup of fragrant tisane. 

“Drink it up Edward, it will do your body good after all that fine living at my ball. The fennel and mint will revive you.”

“If you say so Emma. You know I always do what you or Aunt Frederica tells me. Life is quieter that way,” said Edward, with a good-natured smile. 

“I do miss Aunt Freddy,” said Emma. “How like her though, to decide to embark on a tour of southern France and Italy, now that Napoleon has been defeated.”

“There has never been any stopping Aunt Frederica. I for one am glad of a respite in her matchmaking endeavors. She became quite determined last season, I almost hid in an armoire to avoid her at your summer soirée.”

“I wondered where you’d disappeared to that night. She was convinced you would take one look at Miss Phoebe Mullion and fall in love.”

“She means well, I know she wants to see me happy, and it would have been nice for father to have seen me married. But I’m not going to marry for family convenience.”

“You are searching for love?” she asked, with a note of genuine interest in her voice.

“True love. The love they talk about being written in the stars,” he told her, and there was truth in his words. The Earl of Congreve planned to marry for love. 

He remembered the way his parents love for each other had filled Keyworth Hall with joy and laughter. So many marriages in the ton were basically business transactions with just enough affection to tolerate the match. He wouldn’t compromise, and believed that one day he would stumble across his life partner without even looking for her.

He looked up at the leaves on the oak tree, which were finally turning yellow as the Autumn days grew shorter and cooler. Soon they wouldn’t be able to take tea outside in the garden. He sighed at the thought of the Christmas season. 

I can’t bear those month-long house parties and forced politeness with guests I hardly know. I fully intend to spend the festive season quietly at Keyworth this year. With mother away it may very well be possible to hide away this year.

He became conscious his sister had spoken to him, and he had no clue what she had said. 

“It’s all right Edward. I know you weren’t listening. You can get away with it today. I’m too happy about the success of my ball to be peevish.”

He smiled his thanks and closed his eyes, drinking in the warm rays of late afternoon sunshine. 

“I’m thinking of having a glasshouse, a sort of orangery,” she told him. “I love being outdoors and I feel such a long way from nature and the garden during the winter. And Giles thinks we could add a glass room close to the boot room, leading out from the small morning room.”

“It sounds a wonderful idea. I support any plan to bring us closer to nature,” Edward said with enthusiasm.

“Now, changing the subject. Tell me did you meet anyone interesting at the ball?” Emma asked him.

“Well…” began Edward.

“You know one of the reasons I wanted to host a ball, apart from proving I am the queen of balls, was to try to find you a young lady behind a cloak of anonymity.” 

“I know you are only asking so that you can write to Mama. You are both in cahoots in this quest to marry me off.”

“You did meet someone,” she shrieked with excitement. “Tell all”

“Stop there Emma. I didn’t meet anyone I especially liked. I did have an interesting incident with a lovely young lady who fell into my arms, quite literally.”

Edward’s thoughts drifted to the lady, in a flowing forest green gown, who looked like she had just walked through a portal from another world. If there was a magical door to the land of faerie, then he suspected it would be found in his sister Emma’s garden. 

Those soft green eyes, coral lips, and an impish raised nose had filled his thoughts since he’d held her briefly in his arms, and felt a surge of connection so strong he still felt close to her almost twenty-four hours later, 

He regretted not spending more time with this faerie princess. He’d never seen her face, but as soon as she walked into his embrace, he knew he had found his safe harbor. He wished he had gone after her when she had hurried off back to the ball. He had tried to look for her, but unfortunately he had a full dance card, and his sense of obligation did not allow him to disappoint any of the ladies he’d promised a dance with. At the end of the dancing, he did go looking for her, but it appeared she had already left as he had no luck. No one he asked knew who this young lady was, and being a masquerade ball, nobody could recognize her.

“I knew it. You’re daydreaming about someone you met. I know that look on your face of old. Who did you meet, Edward?”

“Emma, as you insisted on having a masquerade ball, I can tell you with honesty that I have no idea who she is. She bumped into me, I steadied her, so she didn’t fall to the ground, and then we went our separate ways. It’s not the romance of the century.”

Yet even as he said this, he felt a memory of that strange meeting with an ethereal dancer who had fallen into his arms. 

“Oh Edward, and you have no idea of her identity.” He heard a noise and looked to the path leading from the stable mews. “It’s Giles and Julia,” Emma told him. “He’s gotten Julia a tiny puppy, a little pug dog, to be a companion. It’s ridiculous as she is far too young to look after a dog, but I have to admit I am coming to love the little fellow. Barnaby will no doubt keep us fully occupied with his antics while Giles is away at sea.”

Edward looked up and waved at his niece who skipped toward him, accompanied by her father who carried the pug dog in his arms. 

“Uncle Edward,” she called, running toward him. “Papa has to go away, but he’ll be back by Christmas, won’t you Papa?” 

Her father nodded, half-heartedly. “I’ll certainly try.”

“Where are you going Papa? A country called Ortugal?”

“Portugal,” he corrected her. “And then on to a vast ocean with lots of islands.”

“He’s going to bring us lots of oranges,” Julia smiled widely. “This is Barnaby, and he will keep Mama and me company while Papa is in ….” she paused. “P…ortugal.”

Giles bent to kiss Emma and then reached to steal her dish of tea. “Giles, honestly my love, if you wait just a minute I’ll pour you your own tea. It’s a good job we don’t have company.”

“I don’t count as company then?” laughed Edward. 

“Brothers don’t count as anything,” Emma added and poured them all more tea. 

“When do you leave?” asked Edward of his brother-in-law.

“In six months’ time. The Royal Society has asked for an expedition to some of the lesser-known islands in the Indian Ocean. We might be gone a year.” He looked toward Julia and Emma. “I might be getting too old for adventures,” he told Edward. 

“Never!” exclaimed Edward. “You’re the dashing sponsor of so many expeditions of scientific endeavor.”

“Well, father set up the trust fund and the ships, and we do make a good income from the packet trade too. I’ve got a base in Lisbon now, and strong links with the wine and cork trade in Portugal.” 

“You are the wonder of a shipping line, as well as a dashing explorer of the high seas,” laughed his wife, before leaving them to chase Julia and Barnaby across the garden. 

Edward saw Giles watching his family, and the love his friend and brother-in-law felt for them, shone out. He’d known Giles from Cambridge and introduced him to Emma, and they had married within months. 

“I have to admit I’ve enjoyed being at home more during the last few years when it didn’t seem safe to send expeditions through war zones,” said Giles wistfully. “I have Napoleon to thank for my family life I suspect.”

“Send others then. Why not be the sponsor, the benefactor, and take none of the risks?”

“You have hit the nail on the head Edward. This will be my last voyage. It’s important to the Royal Society so I’ll head this one and then hang up my explorer’s boots.”

“I’m glad in many ways, though I know you will miss the adventure. They miss you,” he said simply and looked toward Julia and Emma. 

“And I find It harder to leave them each time. At least this time I’m the ship’s owner and not the captain of the vessel. I usually take on both roles. Captain Fulham can take the helm while I write my log for the lectures I’ll give on my return.” 

“A wise choice Giles. I’m glad it’s your last expedition.” 

Edward heard a snuffling sound and crouched down to say hello to Barnaby, who’d returned with Emma and Julia.

“Your ball rates as a triumph my love,” Giles told Emma. “Even the scandal sheets are calling you Queen of Masquerades!”

“I like that. It makes me sound a little mysterious,” replied Emma with a smile.

“Well, I must go to Hardy’s farm now, as it seems one of our prize milkers is unwell. Farmer Hardy wants my opinion.” Giles kissed his wife goodbye and set off toward the lane.

“You must hold more balls Emma,” Edward told her. “They are about the only society events I can tolerate. I’m convinced that if I ever marry it will be because I found my bride at one of your events.”

“Most probably,” she laughed. “I’d better get planning or Aunt Frederica will give me a talking to.” She put a hand on Edward’s arm. “You’re going to see father?” she asked.

“Yes, I plan to stay on at Keyworth and spend time with him there. His doctor says he is close to the end, but according to Fairfax, the estate manager at Keyworth, he is continuing to involve himself in every aspect of estate business. I suspect my presence is the only thing which might prevent the highly competent Mr. Fairfax being carted off to Bedlam.”

“I can see Father testing anyone’s patience. He’s always had his own ideas about everything,” said Emma.

“Yes, he comes downstairs, gives orders, and then returns to bed, I believe I can avoid him most days. I’ll play cards with him in the evenings.” 

“He’ll like that,” agreed Emma.

“And during the day I shall retreat into the library, or spend time out on the estate. Seeing Barnaby has made me realize I miss having dogs around.” 

Emma giggled. “Much as I love little Barnaby, I am struggling to see you with a pug dog.”

“I think that to maintain my reputation as a stylish Corinthian of the ton I shall find a spaniel or a terrier. There’s bound to be a litter on the estate, so I’m sure I’ll find a replacement for Hector.” 

“I still expect to see Hector walking beside you. He was such a fixture in our childhood adventures,” said Emma sadly. 

“I’ll write and tell you when I have found a dog to replace him. I’ll try to do a sketch for Julia. We must make sure we keep in touch throughout the winter.” 

“I’m going to need you brother. As Giles said, he may be gone almost a year.”

“I know, but he assures me it is his last expedition. By the end of next year, you will have him home for good.”

“I must be getting old because I find these voyages more difficult than I used to,” Emma confessed.

“We all need a safe harbor to return to,” Emma added thoughtfully. “I know a little adventure is good for the spirits, but I long to have my family safely berthed in port. And that includes you being happily married to a woman you love.”

“You are beginning to sound like Aunt Frederica,” Edward told her, the humor in his voice unmistakable “I can cope with that, as long as you don’t start to dress like her.”

“She has a reputation as a highly fashionable lady,” Emma rebuked him.

“Emma, even though Aunt Frederica made the tall turban popular last season, that doesn’t mean you have to wear one.”

“She did look rather spectacular though,” said Emma, before they both collapsed into uncontrollable laughter.