Juliet Landon - Mistress Masquerade

‘What kind of man do you take me for? A rogue, like Mytchett?’

‘Leave him out of it, if you please.’

‘Gladly. But answer my question.’

‘I cannot!’ she retorted, squirming against him. ‘All I know is that you have your orders and that’s why you’re here. How should I know what kind of a man you are, my lord? You must have heard how skilfully I form opinions in that direction.’

‘Yes, I have. Stop struggling and listen to me. This is not what you believe.’

‘You will never convince me of that, my lord. If I did not own something you’d been told to get hold of at any cost you would show no more interest in Lord Benistone’s scandalous daughter than in any other widow.’

Mistress Masquerade

Juliet Landon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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JULIET LANDON’s keen interest in art and history, both of which she used to teach, combined with a fertile imagination, make writing historical novels a favourite occupation. She is particularly interested in researching the early medieval and Regency periods, and the problems encountered by women in a man’s world. Her heart’s home is in her native North Yorkshire, but now she lives happily in a Hampshire village close to her family. Her first books, which were on embroidery and design, were published under her own name of Jan Messent.

Previous novels by the same author:

THE WIDOW’S BARGAIN

THE BOUGHT BRIDE

HIS DUTY, HER DESTINY

THE WARLORD’S MISTRESS

A SCANDALOUS MISTRESS

DISHONOUR AND DESIRE

THE RAKE’S UNCONVENTIONAL MISTRESS

MARRYING THE MISTRESS

SCANDALOUS INNOCENT

(collaboration with the National Trust)

SLAVE PRINCESS

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Regency, a period between the years 1811 and 1820, was dominated by George, Prince of Wales, eldest son of King George III and Queen Charlotte. He was a man of many facets, both attractive and ugly.

In 1811 George was required to take over his father’s duties because of a severe illness showing similar symptoms to insanity, projecting the young man into a situation he was unable to manage to anyone’s satisfaction—not even his own. This was not all his fault, but he was not a strong leader in any sense, preferring lavish displays of wealth and waste that drained the coffers dry at a time when funds were needed for the wars against Napoleon.

My depiction of him as an art-lover is fact, for he did indeed employ knowledgeable friends like Lord Hertford to act as buyer for his ‘newest toys’, Carlton House and Brighton Pavilion, on which he poured vast sums of money while at the other end of society thousands lived in terrible poverty after a series of bad harvests and severe winters.

In an otherwise intelligent and cultivated man, his insensitivity on a personal level was breathtaking, and it seemed to me, as a writer, that to include him in a story of this kind I must choose whether to concentrate on the sadness of his position or on his utterly reprehensible behaviour towards those he had once called his dearest friends. To allow Annemarie to rediscover her natural compassion I chose the former.

Emma Hamilton was one of those Regency characters whose colourful life needs no embellishment. Her story of ‘rags to riches’ both fascinates and repels us at the same time. It is an astonishing saga of how she exploited every attribute and talent she possessed to survive in a man’s world, becoming the mistress of several men in the process, including Lord Nelson. There is no evidence that she and the Prince Regent were actually lovers, but they were close friends—until Emma’s difficulties and demands became too much for him, when he failed to respond to her pleas for help.

Selfish to the last, George felt no responsibility to those he had once loved, though he kept thousands of love tokens, letters and mementoes. Again, one cannot help but find some sympathy for a woman like Emma Hamilton, so ill-used by her family and all those she had helped, who had taken full advantage of her generosity. Her ambition, apparent greed and amoral behaviour sometimes appear at odds with her naivety, innocence and longing for approval while expecting the same kindness from those she loved. I truly believe she could not tell her friends from her enemies most of the time. And that, sadly, was one of the greatest tragedies in her life, for she lived in the heart of a political and greed-ridden society whose loyalties dissolved faster than hers. Combine those expectations with a man like the Prince Regent and there is a recipe bound to collapse—like his protestations of eternal love.

Two such complex characters, so much to like and admire, so much to despise; their true stories are indeed stranger than fiction.

My main sources of information were The Prince of Pleasure by JB Priestley, which is now out of print, but there is plenty about George to be found in Ian Kelly’s brilliant book Beau Brummell , published by Hodder and Stoughton in 2006.

Kate Williams’s book, England’s Mistress , is all about Emma Hamilton and is excellent reading, published by Arrow in 2007.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Chapter One

London. June 1814

Lowering his morning newspaper with a loud crackle, Lord Benistone put down his magnifying lens and stared vacantly at the pot of marmalade, then across at his three daughters. ‘Poor unfortunate woman,’ he muttered. Two of them knew by the way he spoke that he was more likely to be thinking of their mother at that moment than the woman who featured, yet again, in The Times.

‘Obituaries?’ said Annemarie, his second eldest.

His eyes warmed at her assumption. ‘No, love. Not obituaries. Lady Emma Hamilton again. Another sale. She can have little more to sell now. You should go, Annemarie.’

‘To an auction? I think not, Papa. All the world will be there.’

‘I could request a private view for you. I can send a note to Parke at Christie’s. He’d allow it. I know you’d like something of hers, wouldn’t you? A memento? As an admirer?’

He’d got it wrong. Words of feeling were not his strong point. ‘Not so much admiration as sympathy,’ she said, ‘for the way she’s been treated since Lord Nelson’s death. All those wealthy friends and greedy relatives, and not one of them willing to help her out of her debts. She must be desperate by now.’

Her younger sister Marguerite’s opinion was only to be expected, particularly on a subject about which she knew little. At sixteen-and-a-half, she had still not learned the art of discretion. ‘I shall not be wasting my sympathy on a woman like that,’ she said, pushing her half-eaten breakfast away. ‘She’s brought it all on herself.’

It took much to make their father angry, but this hit a raw nerve and his hard stare at his youngest daughter would have made a bold man quake. ‘Marguerite,’ he said, softly, ‘I wish you would try to acquire the habit of thinking before you speak before it’s too late to make a lady of you. For one thing, no woman brings it all on herself. And for another thing....tch! Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.’