Timeless Regency Collection: Autumn Masquerade Read online

  Gentlemen prefer the smell of roses to lavender. Consider such when you shall be close enough in proximity for him to catch a gentle whiff of your perfume.

  A lady should defer to a gentleman in regard to any decisions, such as whether to walk or ride for an afternoon.

  Gentlemen prefer to tell of their exploits and accomplishments rather than listen to those of women beyond some mention of embroidery and watercolor.

  A lady should always compliment a man’s horse.

  Gentlemen prefer a woman who does not prattle or gossip.

  A lady should never share her opinion regarding politics or business, assuming she bothers to have one at all.

  Gentlemen prefer a young woman to eat but little, showing consideration toward the preservation of a youthful figure.

  A lady should never, under any circumstance, gamble or drink, especially in a gentleman’s presence.

  Chapter Three

  For the next three days Lila made sure she was hiding in the corner of Uncle’s office each morning and was rewarded with additional details regarding Mr. Mortimer Luthford’s arrival as Uncle communicated with a variety of servants and workmen regarding the preparation of the dowager cottage, where Mr. Luthford would be staying. He would arrive Monday morning and stay at Franklyn Farm for however long it took for him to secure his situation. He would dine with them every night and be included within invitations extended to the household as a matter of course.

  During all this time—three entire days filled with incredible tension and anticipation on Lila’s part—Uncle did not say one word to her about their guest. On Friday evening, after their guests—Mr. Riding and his young daughter, who Lila got on with quite well—had left, Lila turned to her uncle and smiled her most innocent smile. “What a lovely evening,” she said. “I do so like the Riding family. It was a pleasure to have them join us.”

  “Quite,” Uncle said, already lighting his pipe. He didn’t smoke when company was about. According to proper etiquette he should not smoke in front of her either, but they were on far more comfortable terms and Lila did not mind. He puffed as the tobacco caught, and Lila inhaled the smoky-sweet scent that would forever remind her of this kind man... who was even now in the process of deceiving her. She retrieved her crochet basket from beside the fire and settled into her chair, certain Uncle Peter would tell her of Mr. Luthford now that they were alone, but a full ten minutes passed with Uncle doing nothing more than staring into the fire while her tension increased.

  Finally, when she could stand it no longer, Lila cleared her throat. Uncle did not look her way, apparently quite lost in thought. She cleared her throat again, louder and not very ladylike. He turned to her, and she put the innocent smile back into play.

  “I took a walk down the front lane this afternoon,” she said with feigned casualness. “I had not realized you were renovating the dowager cottage.” In truth she had looked in every window, assessing what was being done, and then interrogated a painter.

  “Oh, just taking off the covers and such.”

  “I am quite sure I smelled paint.”

  “Well, yes, to repair a water stain in one of the bedrooms. I fixed the roof years ago but hadn’t gotten to the damage left behind.”

  “I’d have been happy to help manage such things,” Lila said, looking at her crocheting as though feeling a bit left out. Which she did, only not in the way she was presenting.

  “I certainly meant no offense,” Uncle said.

  She gave him a small but grateful smile and held his eyes with determined intent. She could feel his resolve cracking. Shifting. Until...

  “There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you, however,” Uncle began.

  Here it is, Lila thought. She lifted her eyebrows expectantly.

  “I’ve a guest coming to stay in the cottage for a time,” he waved his pipe through the air. “Mortimer Luthford is the son of an old friend, looking to settle here in Shropshire. I offered him the cottage until he could firm up his own situation.”

  “Oh really,” Lila said evenly. “Is he from Shropshire originally?”

  “No, no, grew up in Essex, but doesn’t have a great deal of connection there. He’s had a career in the military but is now returned to England and looking to settle in. I think you might very much enjoy his stories; I know how such things appeal to your adventurous spirit.”

  Lila wanted to refute her interest in stories of travel and even war, but that very night she had plumbed Mr. Riding for more details of the time he spent in Spain following the battle of Trafalgar. Maybe her desire for adventure was because, despite the fact that Franklyn Farm was her home, she had always known she was a visitor, though a welcome one. Since having determined herself in love with Neville, however, she had tried harder than ever to talk herself out of such exotic interest in things outside of England, or even Shropshire. Once she and Neville married she would spend the rest of her life in High Ercall. The pang she felt at the reminder was quickly quashed. In time she fully expected not to feel the pang at all. “But Mr. Luthford is not in the military any longer? Did he lose a leg or some such thing?”

  “Nothing like that,” Uncle said. “Only, he is prepared to make a home and family after so many years abroad.”

  “Many years?” she asked.

  “Well, not so many,” Uncle said, a bit flustered. “But he is dignified and well-bred. I quite admire his level of responsibility in determining to settle down.”

  “After so many years eating off a tin plate he’s probably ready to be waited on a bit,” Lila said. “Do you know, I wonder if he might take a liking to Mrs. Mason. She’s been widowed for, what, two years now and has the most conciliatory nature. Perhaps we could have her over one night after he arrives.”

  “Perhaps,” Uncle said, but he did not seem to like the idea.

  “And when does Mr. Luthford arrive? Next month?” She was attempting to make the point that it would be reasonable to have told Lila of his coming with far more notice than this.

  “He’ll, uh, arrive on Monday.”

  Lila lifted her eyebrows and widened her eyes. “Monday? Why, Uncle, that is but three days away. Why did you not tell me?”

  “Oh, well,” Uncle said, pulling at his waistcoat and taking a draw on his pipe. “I suppose I just did not think it through.”

  It was exactly what she’d hoped to hear as it gave her the chance to say what she had hoped very much to say. She softened her expression into a smile. “I understand,” she said. “He is likely so much older than me, and rather backwoods after so many years in the army.” She smiled wider at the confused expression that came upon her uncle’s face. “I hope you will not worry that I might insert myself too much. I would not want to dissuade any women closer to his age from taking an interest.”

  “Well, I don’t mean to discourage you from—”

  “Not at all,” Lila said, rising to her feet and winding up her crochet—a scarf now that she’d finished Neville’s socks—while smiling indulgently at her uncle. “I admire very much you helping your friend’s son, and Mr. Luthford will only benefit from your recommendation to High Ercall and your willingness to put him up for a time.” She crossed to Uncle Peter’s chair and planted a quick kiss on the top of his head. “What a kind, understanding man you are, Uncle. I do believe I shall go on up to bed now. However, do not worry about me overstepping my bounds. I shall be certain to give Mr. Luthford a wide berth once he arrives. Good night.”

  It was a few seconds before Uncle responded with his own, rather flattened, “Good night.” Lila continued to her room with a satisfied smile on her face. Were she keeping score, she would give herself ten points for her success this evening. Uncle might still be in the lead, but she was not far behind and intended to catch up quickly once Mr. Luthford arrived.

  Chapter Four

  On Sunday, Lila made sure to find Widow Mason and ask her to dinner Tuesday evening. Mrs. Mason was surprised—she’d never dined at Franklyn Farm befo
re—but graciously accepted the offer. Beyond that, Lila made sure to tell everyone about their upcoming guest. By the time Lila and Uncle Peter began the walk home, every unattached, church-going, middle-aged woman in the village was aware of Mr. Luthford’s status and recommendation. If one of these women caught his eye, and he theirs, Lila may have worried for nothing. The idea was almost disappointing; it could have been a bit of fun to see if she could un-attract Mr. Luthford. But she may very well have to make herself content with wishing him happy. Perhaps she would get a new dress for Mr. Luthford’s winter wedding.

  Monday morning Lila awoke early, dressed in her least flattering morning dress—the color of mashed pumpkin with a high ruffled neck and wrist-length sleeves—and asked Katherine, her maid, to do her hair in a simple bun.

  “Are you sure you would not like something a bit more... elaborate?” Katherine asked. Lila preferred a full twist, with some hair left to frame her face. Or she would wear her hair down around her shoulders with only the very front caught up on the top of her head.

  “I am most certainly not in the mood for anything elaborate,” Lila said. “I would like to see how my face looks without anything to encumber it.

  When Katherine finished, Lila looked at herself with a critical eye. She had hoped the removal of all the softness of her hair, along with the dress she did not feel set her off to any advantage, would make her look unappealing and plain. Instead, the heart shape of her face was more apparent, her cheekbones were shown at an advantage, and her eyes looked large and luminous. The dress was still awful, however.

  “I can change it, miss,” Katherine said eagerly.

  “It is just right,” Lila said, turning her head to admire the graceful curve of her neck. “Thank you.”

  “Do you wish to change into a day dress before luncheon?” Katherine said, running her eye over the dress when Lila stood. “I could set out the sprig muslin.”

  The sprig muslin was one of the Lila’s favorites to be sure—Uncle had ordered it from a dressmaker all the way in Shrewsbury—but it was far too flattering. “No, I shall keep this one. I woke up a bit chilled.” That was a lie; in fact, the day promised to be rather warm for September. But her comfort was not the focus, and wearing a morning gown all day was something Uncle Peter would never notice in her attempts to put herself at a disadvantage.

  Lila didn’t dare hide in Uncle’s office today since Mr. Luthford’s arrival was a change from the usual schedule. Instead, she spent some time pasting bright green feathers to the mask she would wear to the masquerade—she was attending in costume as a peacock—and then went to the garden, admired the chrysanthemums taking center stage this time of year, and picked a bouquet of wildflowers she would put in her room. There would soon be only hothouse flowers to brighten the house, though she liked those too. Since the garden was on the opposite side of the house from the front drive, and she did not expect Mr. Luthford before noon, Lila did not hear the carriage that arrived a full hour early. She entered the house from a side door and was taken aback by the timbre of male voices. She moved toward the voices and came to a stop in the doorway of the parlor when the men turned to face her. The stranger who must be Mr. Luthford was dressed in rather dull grey trousers and a navy blue coat. His black waistcoat was unadorned, and his necktie tied in a simple knot that would never do in London drawing rooms... or so she supposed. Lila had expected Mr. Luthford to be old but was immediately disappointed. Of course he was old; only, he didn’t look as old as she’d hoped he would. His hair was dark, and though there was some peppering of grey at the temples, and a rather rugged look to his face, he did not look aged, really. But he was not particularly handsome, and that made her feel better. His nose was rather small, his face long, and his brow heavy, giving him a somewhat broody look. His was nothing to Neville’s good looks, she was pleased to note.

  “Lila,” Uncle said, stepping forward to meet her at the doorway with a smile. “This is Mr. Mortimer Luthford, the son of my friend I was telling you about, who shall be staying in the cottage for a time.” He led her into the room until she was a few feet from Mr. Luthford. “Luthford, this is my niece, Lila Grange.”

  “Miss Grange,” Mr. Luthford said, bowing toward her but not taking her hand since she had put them behind her back. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  She smiled and gave a minimal curtsy. “And I you,” she said softly. In a usual situation she would ask after his journey, confirm those details she knew about him in order to make conversation, and inquire after his impressions of High Ercall thus far. But she was not to be on her usual behavior and needed to therefore hold back her natural interest in people.

  After a few moments of silence she battled with herself not to fill, Uncle Peter came to the rescue. “Luthford arrived a bit earlier than expected, and I have some matters of correspondence I need to complete before I am free.” He looked at Lila. “Would you be so kind, my dear, to show him the stables so that he might know where to find his mount?”

  Lila lifted her eyebrows in response to the bold request—her uncle was inviting her to walk alone with a man after less than five minutes of acquaintance?

  “I don’t want to interrupt the household’s schedule,” Mr. Luthford said. “I’m sure I can find my way to the stable and remain occupied until my trunks and my man arrive in the hired chaise.”

  “Lila would be happy to show you about, wouldn’t you, Lila?” Uncle said, looking at her with expectation.

  No, I would not, she wanted to say, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. “Certainly,” she said, smiling politely. “Only, let me fetch my bonnet.”

  She went to her room and reached for the straw hat that would best coordinate with her dress, but then hesitated and instead took hold of the purple velvet. It matched a pelisse she only wore in winter and would look hideous with her orange dress. With Uncle Peter behaving bolder than she had ever known him to do, she had no time to waste in giving Mr. Luthford a poor impression. She met Mr. Luthford in the foyer while she was still tying the ribbons and although she searched his face for some type of reaction regarding her uncoordinated presentation, he gave no indication of notice.

  She smiled and then led him through the front door a footman opened for them.

  “It is lovely country here,” Mr. Luthford said once they reached the gravel road that skirted the house and led to the outbuildings.

  Lila had to think hard of her objectives before determining she could answer him without going against them. “Yes, it is quite lovely.” She bit back a question about where he was from, where his regiment had last been before he left the army, and if he’d been to London after arriving in England or come straight here. Stifling her natural curiosity was difficult, but the sacrifice would be worthwhile once Neville returned.

  Gentlemen prefer a woman who does not prattle or gossip.

  It was time to begin.

  “Just the other day I went into the countryside with my dear friend, Eloise Capener—her father is the magistrate here in town, you know, and we have been friends all our lives. We picked bilberries and though our fingers were rather stained by the time we finished, it was a diverting afternoon nonetheless.”

  She was quite pleased with herself. She’d made no mention of watercolor or embroidery and not asked a single question about him.

  “Ah, bilberries,” Mr. Luthford said with longing. “Were the berries for scones or for a pie?”

  “A pie,” Lila said, walking beside him with her hands clasped behind her back, worried that if she did not take such a posture he would put out his arm for her. That would be altogether too familiar. “Two pies actually—one for Eloise’s family and one for my uncle and me.”

  “Was the finished product worthy of the excursion?”

  She turned to smile at him. “It was perfectly delicious,” she said, wondering when Mr. Luthford had last had bilberry pie. She imagined something so fine was difficult to come by when one was rusticating at some military post. If only s
he could ask. The questions were building up like water behind a dammed up stream.

  “Do you often go into the woods for berry picking?” he asked.

  “When they are in season,” she said. “It gives purpose to what would only be wanderings through the woods without a task otherwise.”

  “And do you object to wandering through the woods without purpose?”

  She gave him a sidelong look, surprised that he was asking so many questions. The article had implied that gentlemen preferred to talk about themselves, yet Mr. Luthford had not said anything of his own interests. “Well, I’m not sure I have thought much about it, but now that you suggest the idea, I would say that I generally prefer to have a purpose in the things I do. While I don’t mind a walk in the woods, I prefer to be going somewhere or having the walk as part of some other accomplishment.”

  He said nothing, prompting her to turn her head to look at him. He smiled back at her, first with one side of his mouth and then the other. She had the strangest feeling in her chest and looked ahead once again while reminding herself why this man was objectionable. He was old. He was... not handsome. He was strangely interested in what she had to say.

  “Here is the carriage house,” she said, though they were still some distance from the building. “Uncle Peter has a traveling coach, a barouche, and a gig.”

  “And a wagon, I see,” Mr. Luthford said, walking toward the basic farm wagon outside the carriage house. He took hold of the side and shook it, causing Lila to give him a curious look when he met her eye once again. “I admire quality,” he said by way of explanation. “For instance, this wagon has planks nearly four inches thick, and the wheels.” He moved down the wagon and crouched to inspect the wheel more closely. “The spokes are only three inches apart, which would be necessary due to the extra weight of the construction.”