Read Online The Masked Heart (Sweet Deception Regency #2) by Karla Darcy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karla Darcy
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hesitation. "I cannot like it though."
"Iffen it will soothe your conscience any, you can pay back the estate when times are better. For now, you've got to think of the children."
The dresser's words were aimed deliberately at Blaine's most vulnerable spot. Deceit did not come easily to her but fear for the future of Val and Fleur would drive her to take drastic measures. Tate and Puff smiled complacently as Blaine nodded her head in defeat.
And so had begun the Great Deception as Blaine called it. For her, the saddest part was the feeling that they were not honoring Lady Yates' death as they should. Tate and Puff reasoned with her that her aunt had requested she be buried in the north of England beside her husband. It was easy enough to ignore the neighborhood. Technically the family had been in mourning when Lady Yates arrived and afterwards she had been too involved with the children to feel a need to socialize. Feeling great bitterness that such secrecy was necessary, Blaine sent the faithful Sarge to accompany the body north while the rest of the household hid their grief and tried to carry on as usual. And for three years, she had played the part of Lady Yates for an audience of one, Wesley Upton, the solicitor.
The sudden change in the speed of the horses brought Blaine out of her reverie. The sadness and bitterness eased from her body as she sensed that they had arrived at Weathers. But the tiredness that had plagued her of late did not abate as they approached the house. She sighed and thought of how for the last six years she had been playing a series of roles. In London, she was the celebrated Maggie Mason, "La Solitaire" and when she returned home she became Lady Haydie Yates, guardian of Fleur and Val. She would give much to become plain Blaine Margaret Meriweather again.
Chapter Four
"I want to go to London and have a season," Fleur repeated, her pansy eyes filling and threatening to overflow.
For a moment Blaine was reminded of her stepmother Juliette who had used the same tearful tactics to get her way. She blinked and the vision was gone and she was faced by the real distress she saw in her sister's eyes. Aware that Fleur had waited up to speak to her, Blaine sighed and tried to ignore her tiredness from the journey and the lateness of the hour.
She was amazed at the transformation of Fleur. At Christmas, the girl had seemed just a child but now she was a woman grown. At eighteen, Fleur had fulfilled all the prophecies of beauty that Blaine had once predicted. She was in every way the epitome of the London debutante most in style. In the golden lights from the candles, she resembled a vision which would set the hearts of the dandy set aflutter. Her hair was the gold of the sun, naturally curly, falling in ringlets to her shoulders. She was tiny with fragile bones and had large violet eyes and the pink and white skin of a baby. Her voice was sweet and her laughter held the sound of tinkling bells. In her simple, light green muslin dress, she truly did resemble a flower.
Although Fleur was lovely to look at, there were other things that Blaine noted that did not please her half so well. The girl had a tendency to pout and appeared slightly self-centered but she suspected that much of this was merely a lack of maturity. She assumed her sister would grow out of this stage but she admitted to some worry on this head. She had always cosseted Fleur, feeling guilty that she was not around as much as she ought to be. The young girl needed a strong hand and Blaine suspected that Puff, who adored her charge, was not firm enough.
"You're not even listening," Fleur cried.
"I'm sorry, dear," Blaine said, turning her full attention on her sister. "It was only that I was so surprised at the request. I am gone so much that sometimes I forget that you are no longer a child."
"I'm quite grown up and I think it's time that I enter society." Fleur peered beneath her lashes to see what effect her words
"Iffen it will soothe your conscience any, you can pay back the estate when times are better. For now, you've got to think of the children."
The dresser's words were aimed deliberately at Blaine's most vulnerable spot. Deceit did not come easily to her but fear for the future of Val and Fleur would drive her to take drastic measures. Tate and Puff smiled complacently as Blaine nodded her head in defeat.
And so had begun the Great Deception as Blaine called it. For her, the saddest part was the feeling that they were not honoring Lady Yates' death as they should. Tate and Puff reasoned with her that her aunt had requested she be buried in the north of England beside her husband. It was easy enough to ignore the neighborhood. Technically the family had been in mourning when Lady Yates arrived and afterwards she had been too involved with the children to feel a need to socialize. Feeling great bitterness that such secrecy was necessary, Blaine sent the faithful Sarge to accompany the body north while the rest of the household hid their grief and tried to carry on as usual. And for three years, she had played the part of Lady Yates for an audience of one, Wesley Upton, the solicitor.
The sudden change in the speed of the horses brought Blaine out of her reverie. The sadness and bitterness eased from her body as she sensed that they had arrived at Weathers. But the tiredness that had plagued her of late did not abate as they approached the house. She sighed and thought of how for the last six years she had been playing a series of roles. In London, she was the celebrated Maggie Mason, "La Solitaire" and when she returned home she became Lady Haydie Yates, guardian of Fleur and Val. She would give much to become plain Blaine Margaret Meriweather again.
Chapter Four
"I want to go to London and have a season," Fleur repeated, her pansy eyes filling and threatening to overflow.
For a moment Blaine was reminded of her stepmother Juliette who had used the same tearful tactics to get her way. She blinked and the vision was gone and she was faced by the real distress she saw in her sister's eyes. Aware that Fleur had waited up to speak to her, Blaine sighed and tried to ignore her tiredness from the journey and the lateness of the hour.
She was amazed at the transformation of Fleur. At Christmas, the girl had seemed just a child but now she was a woman grown. At eighteen, Fleur had fulfilled all the prophecies of beauty that Blaine had once predicted. She was in every way the epitome of the London debutante most in style. In the golden lights from the candles, she resembled a vision which would set the hearts of the dandy set aflutter. Her hair was the gold of the sun, naturally curly, falling in ringlets to her shoulders. She was tiny with fragile bones and had large violet eyes and the pink and white skin of a baby. Her voice was sweet and her laughter held the sound of tinkling bells. In her simple, light green muslin dress, she truly did resemble a flower.
Although Fleur was lovely to look at, there were other things that Blaine noted that did not please her half so well. The girl had a tendency to pout and appeared slightly self-centered but she suspected that much of this was merely a lack of maturity. She assumed her sister would grow out of this stage but she admitted to some worry on this head. She had always cosseted Fleur, feeling guilty that she was not around as much as she ought to be. The young girl needed a strong hand and Blaine suspected that Puff, who adored her charge, was not firm enough.
"You're not even listening," Fleur cried.
"I'm sorry, dear," Blaine said, turning her full attention on her sister. "It was only that I was so surprised at the request. I am gone so much that sometimes I forget that you are no longer a child."
"I'm quite grown up and I think it's time that I enter society." Fleur peered beneath her lashes to see what effect her words
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