A Masked Deception

Brampton gave a loud exclamation of disgust and threw from him the third ruined neckcloth. Stevens patiently handed him another freshly laundered and freshly starched one and watched resignedly as his master proceeded to mangle that one too. He knew there was no point in offering to make the knot and arrange the folds himself. His lordship always insisted on dressing himself.

Brampton gave himself a mental shakedown. Earlier that afternoon he had been determined to force the issue. She was up again and looking well; their guests had left; they had an hour in which to be alone before they need think of dressing for di

He decided to take her back to the rose garden, to see if he could rekindle that sympathy there had been between them there three evenings before. At least he must say something to her, find out if there was any chance that she could grow to love him.

Instead he had been like a nervous schoolboy, afraid to broach the subject uppermost in his mind, not knowing how to begin, terrified of being rejected or-worse-of having her placid eyes turn on him in incomprehension. He had prattled on about his plans for draining the marsh; how much less romantic could he get! The trouble was that she was such a damned good listener, so interested and sympathetic. Before he had known it, he had really warmed to his subject, and the time seemed totally wrong for trying to broach more personal matters.

So it still remained for this unseen barrier between his wife and himself to be broken down. Would the time ever be right? And he was pla

Later that evening, the three ladies were alone in the blue salon. Lord Brampton and his brother were still in the dining room drinking their port. The dowager settled herself close to the fire she had requested, though it seemed to the other two ladies u

"Do you wish me to bring some music, Lottie?" she asked.

Charlotte sighed and stopped playing. "No," she said, "I do not wish to play."

"Are you missing the company?"

"No, not really, Meg. I think it is time I returned to Mama and Papa."

"Lottie! I thought you would be contented to live with Richard and me until-well, until you are settled for yourself."

"I-I do not wish to sound ungrateful," Charlotte said, pressing down the piano keys at random with the fingers of her right hand, "but I am homesick, Meg."

Margaret looked at her sister in astonishment and felt a sharp stab of guilt. Lottie's voice was so lifeless, so unhappy, so unlike her usual self! How long had she been this way? Had it happened only today as a result of the guests leaving? Or had something happened to cause the change? Margaret could not be at all certain of the answers to her own questions. She realized that almost ever since they had retired to the country she had been so busy with the entertainment of their guests and the organization of the fair, and she had been so wrapped up in her own unsatisfactory relationship with Richard, that she had almost totally neglected her sister. And the whole idea of the house party had been to entertain Lottie. Margaret had just naturally assumed that her normally exuberant sister was enjoying herself. She seemed to be a girl that just did not have problems.

Margaret sat down beside her sister on the bench and spoke quietly so that her mother-in-law would not overhear. "What is wrong, Lottie?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing," Charlotte said, attempting to smile. "I am just blue-deviled. I need a change of scene, Meg."

"Is it Charles?"

"Charles?"

"Has he not come up to scratch, Lottie? He seems to favor your company so much that I must admit I had expected some declaration before now."

"Charles?" Charlotte repeated, looking up, startled. "Oh, Meg, you are quite out there. Charles just likes my company because-well, just because. He is just a friend, Meg. We do not like each other in that way."

Margaret felt even more guilty. Here was the little sister that she had always thought she knew inside out. "Are you bamming me?" she asked. "But, Lottie, there is someone, is there not?"

Charlotte resumed her absentminded effort to pick out a tune on the keyboard.

"Is it Mr. Northcott, Lottie?"

"Perhaps you could bring me some music, Meg."

"Lottie, is it?"

"I don't wish ever to talk about him. He is conceited and he is not a gentleman."

"Mr. Northcott?"

Charlotte did not reply.

"What has he done, Lottie?" Margaret persisted. "Has he been bothering you? Has he been trying to make love to you?"

Charlotte put her hands in her lap and looked down at them. "He called me a flirt."

"What? But why?"

"Because he is a horrid man and unma

Margaret was left sitting on the piano bench. She was surprised and puzzled by the strange turn of events. She had thought that the early attraction between her sister and Devin Northcott had died a natural death a long while before. And she had been sure that there was a strong bond been Charlotte and Charles, though she had been a little puzzled by his slowness in coming to the point. She could not at the moment imagine what the very correct and very gentlemanly Mr. Northcott could possibly have done to deserve the outburst that Lottie had just indulged in. But one thing was startlingly clear: her sister was very much in love with her husband's friend!

The Earl of Brampton left for London late the following morning. He pla

Charlotte had agreed the night before to stay at Brampton Court until the earl returned. She did sit down in the morning, though, and write to her parents to tell them to expect her at home about one week later. She was mortally depressed. She had been so close to capturing her man on the night of the fair. She had experienced her first kiss on that night and she had loved it-and him! And then had come that stupid quarrel. She still blamed Devin. How dare he accuse her of being a flirt! How could he be so conceited and so stuffy-and so wrong!

Yet Charlotte knew that in reacting as she had, she had lost all chance of wi

The a

Charles was restless. It was several weeks since he had last heard from his Juana. In that last letter, she had been confident that soon she would be on her way to England. She had written that she would inform him as soon as she arrived in Portsmouth. He had not had time to inform her that he was removing to the country, but he had left careful instructions at his mother's home in London. As soon as a letter arrived there, a messenger was to post to Brampton Court with it. He was afraid that if he did not hear from Juana soon, he would have to make arrangements to rejoin his regiment in Spain. Then they would be in a tangle, with her traveling to England while he returned to Spain.