An Imperfect Engagement

by Alyssa Drake

  Sam was unsure if he was trying to convince her or himself. She twisted up the corner of her mouth. “Actually, this particular idea of his seems a bit reckless.”

  “Indeed,” replied Mr. Reid, his face grim. “However, would you not agree your plan is also somewhat dangerous?”

  “I would.” Sam nodded vehemently.

  “And do you still intend to move forward with this scheme?”

  A spark of fury colored Sam’s eyes. “I do.”

  “Good, you have my full support.” He paused, nose lifted in the air like a dog and grinned. “Would you care to join me for breakfast?”

  Despite her glum mood, Sam giggled. “How can you smell breakfast all the way out here in the gardens?”

  Mr. Reid tapped the side of his nose. “I have an excellent sense of smell when it comes to food.”

  “Just food?” Sam laughed.

  “Yes,” Thomas replied, winking.

  “Samantha!” Wilhelmina yelled from the front of the house. The veranda creaked softly as she stalked its length.

  Sam groaned. Wilhelmina—no doubt—already planned a whirlwind of activities for the day, and chances were, they were all wedding related.

  “Mr. Reid, I regret I must decline your offer for companionship. Please inform Mrs. Hastings you have seen me this morning, and I was walking toward Mr. Flannery’s estate.”

  “That is in the completely opposite direction from the gardens,” Mr. Reid replied, his mouth twitching.

  “Indeed, it is.” Sam waved airily.

  “Samantha Hastings!” Wilhelmina bellowed. “Do not think you can hide from me all day!”

  “Miss Hastings, I will deliver your message.” Mr. Reid grinned and bowed low, exiting the gazebo. He took the nearest path to his right but paused before the path joined the main walkway around the house. “I must ask you not to leave the grounds, Miss Hastings.”

  Sam shot him a peculiar look. “Is that your demand or your brother’s?”

  “It is my request.” He bowed low, flashing her a debonair smile.

  “I shall endeavor to comply with your request.” Sam curtsied.

  “Thank you.”

  “Enjoy your breakfast.”

  “Oh, if you do decide to head in that direction, watch out for Mr. Flannery. He is wandering about with a loaded rifle.”

  Mr. Reid waved cheerily and disappeared around the front of the house, leaving Sam alone in the gazebo. She shuddered in the shadows. Without the sun to warm her skin, the chill returned full force. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she glided down the stairs and followed a different footpath toward the rear of the house.

  Sam wasted her morning wandering through the meadows. True to her word, she did not leave the estate; however, she did find herself turned back on several occasions. Surrounded by a well-worn wooden fence, the property’s edge ran along the road leading to the Shirely’s country manor. Several times, she came across Mr. Reid who, like her, was avoiding the ongoing wedding planning. He strolled beside her for several minutes, silently trudging through the grass. Sam was grateful for his company even though his doppelganger appearance caused painful squeezing in her chest.

  “Damn,” he muttered suddenly and melted into the scenery. Sam spun around, shocked by his disappearance.

  “Ah ha! Intruder!” A voice accused from behind, the thick brogue unmistakable.

  “Hell,” said Sam, turning to stare at a loaded rifle. Three more curse words slipped from her lips.

  The old man squinted, studying her intently with his faded blue eyes. He tilted his head before lowering the gun with a smile. “There are only two ladies in this entire world who would dare to speak such terrible blasphemies to me. As you are not my delightful daughter, you must be my niece.”

  “Uncle Aengus.” Sam smiled as she hugged him tightly, the smell of stale tobacco wafting from his clothes.

  “It is good to see you again, m’girl. I hardly recognized you with all those marks. You look as though you were attacked. What happened?”

  Sam crossed her arms, self-consciously covering the bruising on her throat. “I ran afoul of an old friend.”

  “Some friend.” Aengus snorted, stroking his beard thoughtfully, his fingers tangling in the strands. “I suspect Edward has already dealt with the matter.”

  “He is attempting to rectify the situation.”

  “Would this be the same cause for Benjamin’s distress earlier this morning?” Aengus arched an eyebrow.

  “Lord Westwood rescued me from my attacker.” A stabbing pain shot through Sam’s chest as she said his name. Where was he? Was he thinking of her?

  “He’s a good boy.” Aengus smiled, his eyes flicking over Sam. “I wish you would have given us some advance notice of your arrival, we could have prepared a formal dinner for your visit. No matter, you shall dine with us tonight.” Aengus clapped his hand around Sam’s wrist, leading her down the rise toward his house. In the distance, smoke puffed continually from one of the chimneys.

  Sam planted her feet, pulling against him. “I appreciate your kind offer, Uncle. However, I am currently Lady Westwood’s guest. It would be rude of me to make plans without first consulting my host.”

  Aengus glanced back in confusion. “Lady Westwood is not family.”

  “Not yet,” murmured Sam.

  “What did you say, m’girl?” Aengus took a step closer. “My hearing is not what it used to be.”

  “She said, ‘Not yet,’ Da,” Aidan replied from Sam’s shoulder.

  Sam whipped around to greet her cousin. “Aidan!” Joy radiated through her body.

  He embraced her tightly. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Cousin.”

  “How is Alana?” asked Sam.

  “Stubborn, just like every other member of this family," replied Aidan, grinning widely. “She is due home later today.”

  “Since we cannot tempt you this evening, I do hope you will arrange to dine with us in the near future,” Aengus said, releasing Sam’s arm. “It gets a little lonely with only Aidan and Noreen to keep me company.”

  Sam raised her eyebrows, but Aidan shook his head subtly. His blue eyes ached with unspeakable anguish.

  “I would be delighted,” replied Sam.

  Aidan narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing wandering about by yourself?”

  “I was strolling with Mr. Reid, but he vanished several meters ago.” Sam gestured behind her.

  “Hmph. Never got over her, did he? That boy still refuses to cross the boundary lines.” Aengus shook his head in pity.

  “Da,” Aidan warned softly, “there is no need to dredge up old wounds.”

  Aengus tipped his head, his eyes rolling with delight. He held a wizened finger to his lips. “Listen. The piano forte,” he whispered. Whooping, Aengus lumbered down the slope, moving much quicker than Sam believed possible considering his age.

  Aidan sighed heavily as Aengus raced toward the house, wildly swinging the rifle with glee. “I must take my leave Cousin. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.” He turned and trudged down the hill after his father, a mere speck dancing in the distance.

  Sam watched Aidan thoughtfully as he caught up to his father at the gravel pathway leading toward their garden. It was not quite as large as Lady Westwood’s garden, but it possessed a quaint charm which she enjoyed on her last visit. Aidan flung an arm around his father’s slight shoulders, extracting the gun from Aengus’ grip. Together they stood in front of the sitting room’s open window, Aengus swaying along with an inaudible tune. Aidan remained stoic, his back stiff.

  Straining her ears, Sam listened intently to the breeze which ruffled the ends of her curls, hoping to hear Aengus’ invisible torment. Nothing. Her heart broke for Aidan. He was forced to watch his father slowly descend into madness, possessing no ability to prevent his father’s worsening condition. Perhaps Alana’s presence would ease Aidan’s burden.

  Retracing her path, Sam returned to the main house by nightfall, her muddy dress he
m dragging along the ground, torn during her exploration. As she slowly ascended the veranda, Sam was met by an extremely irate Edward.

  “Where have you been?” he demanded, nearly apoplectic.

  “I was walking about the estate,” Sam replied mildly, trying to scoot around him.

  He blocked her passage. “I was worried. Wilhelmina was worried. Everyone was worried.”

  “Mr. Reid was not.” Sam slid to her left, attempting to edge past Edward.

  “Samantha.” Edward vibrated with annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Reid is not your guardian.”

  “Yet he is the only one who knew exactly how Miss Hastings spent her day.” Mr. Reid joined them on the porch, appearing out of the darkness with a jaunty grin.

  “Mr. Reid, it is a pleasure to see you again.” Sam offered him a dazzling smile.

  “Miss Hastings, I believe I can smell something delicious wafting from the kitchens. Would you care to join me?” Mr. Reid offered his arm, which Sam gratefully accepted.

  “Thank you. I would be delighted.”

  Edward growled his displeasure as Sam disappeared into the house.

  “Is he gnashing his teeth?” Mr. Reid whispered as they entered the dining room.

  “Yes,” Sam replied with a grin.

  Mercifully, Edward did not chase her down the hallway. As the earliest inhabitants in the dining room, Sam and Mr. Reid managed to fill their dishes before the rest of the household arrived. Sam took advantage of Edward’s tardiness to dash from the room with her dinner plate before he found occasion to restrict her to indoor activities. She paused in the hallway, her head swiveling between the staircase and the library. Unwilling to return to Lord Westwood’s cold bedchamber, she opted to investigate the library, in search of distraction.

  She picked at the food on her plate while she walked along the well-stocked shelves, her head craned sideways as she perused the bindings. Selecting three interesting titles, Sam snuggled into an armchair near the fire, stacking the books and her heaping plate on the table next to her. She read, undisturbed until exhaustion took hold. Her body slumped, the book resting in her lap toppling to the floor… and the nightmares began.

  Chapter Twelve

  Day 2

  Franklin’s black eyes burned menacingly, his fingers closed around her throat, squeezing until she choked. She clawed at his hands, digging her nails into his skin, his deafening laughter ringing in her ears. Screaming, Sam swung her arm at Franklin’s smug face and fell out of the armchair, landing on the floor with a grunt. Her eyes flew open. She stared at the room, the nightmare fading from her mind like wisps of smoke rising from a dying fire.

  She was in the library.

  Someone shifted in the chair beside hers. Sam’s head snapped to her left, terror hovering on her lips. Wilhelmina, her hands elegantly folded, waited patiently. Disapproval leaked from her eyes, which traveled slowly over Sam’s disheveled appearance, landing on her ripped hemline.

  “I half-expected you would have already escaped out of the residence by the time I arrived.” Wilhelmina gestured to the chair which Sam fell from.

  Sam struggled to her feet. The fire had died at some point during the night, and her stiff muscles ached in the cold air. She grimaced, stretching her arms. “That was my intention.”

  “Samantha.” Wilhelmina sighed heavily, her brown eyes softened. “I realize you have suffered through a horrific experience.” She indicated the visible bruising on Sam’s face.

  Sam bit her lip, turning her back to Wilhelmina. Hugging her arms tightly around her chest, she moved in front of the fireplace, her body craving heat.

  “And I suspect there are some details you have chosen to withhold from myself as well as Edward.” Wilhelmina paused. “You have my blessing to wander freely about the grounds today, just as you did yesterday.”

  Whipping her head around, Sam opened her mouth to defend her behavior. However, before she had a chance to speak, Wilhelmina held up her hand.

  “Tomorrow you are expected for a fitting. If we are to execute your plan to draw out Mr. Morris at the Shirely ball, you must be properly attired. Mr. Reid and I discussed this in great detail after dinner last evening.”

  “My brother—”

  “Is reluctant to lend his support,” said Wilhelmina. “However, he has no choice in this matter.” Rising, Wilhelmina lifted a sack from a nearby table and handed it to Sam. “In here, you will find some provisions for the day. Please return by the evening meal.”

  “What about Edward?” Sam asked, untying the strings and peeking inside, her stomach rumbling.

  “Edward is exceedingly concerned for your well-being. Therefore, if I were you, I would take my leave before he discovers me in the library. Do not bother changing your clothes, that dress is already ruined.” Wilhelmina raised her eyes heavenward and shook her head. With a sigh, she returned her attention to Sam. “You might as well complete the job. Go now before Edward wakes.”

  “Thank you,” whispered Sam, embracing Wilhelmina.

  Wilhelmina extracted herself from Sam and walked to the door. She stopped at the threshold, keeping her eyes forward. “When Edward disappeared, I was lost without him. I had no relations and three little girls to support. You showed me incredible kindness during that time. I would like to do the same for you.” She turned, her eyes moist. “It would be an honor to wear your mother’s necklace to the Shirely masque.”

  She glided through the door without another word, her sentiments swirling around Sam’s head in dizzying circles. Heeding Wilhelmina’s advice, Sam hefted the sack over her shoulder and slipped into the hallway.

  “Samantha!” Edward’s voice echoed upstairs, his boots stomping down the hallway toward her bedchamber.

  Tiptoeing down the hallway toward the rear of the house, Sam snuck through the kitchens, avoiding detection. She bumped into only one other person during her escape—Mr. Reid. Biscuit in hand, he too was sneaking through the kitchens.

  Sam arched an eyebrow. “Are you just getting in?”

  Mr. Reid grinned, pressing a finger to his mouth. “You did not see me this morning.”

  “And as such, you did not see me either.”

  “Indeed,” He winked, bowed, and vanished into the dining room.

  Not a soul crossed her path in the morning. No sound interrupted her reverie, save the crunch of her shoes on the grass. Removing her stockings and shoes, Sam wiggled her toes in the warm blades of green. She sprinted toward the meadow, allowing her hair to whip freely behind her. Sam flopped down in the pasture, allowing the long stalks to spring up around her body, hiding her from view. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, watching the blades of grass wave back and forth. Buzzing insects droned around her, the sound oddly soothing, and her eyelids fluttered close.

  “When Benjamin mentioned your dislike of footwear, I had no idea he meant you intended to wander barefoot one the estate.”

  Sam’s eyes flew open. Squinting into the afternoon sun, she placed a hand up to her forehead to block the light. Mr. Reid, on a tan and white stallion, paced a lazy circle around Sam’s hideout and lifted his hat as a friendly greeting. Sam sat up hastily, grass and flower bits stuck in her unbound hair.

  “We almost stepped on you.” Mr. Reid patted the horse’s neck, murmuring a few gentle words before he slid from the saddle gracefully. Deftly landing on his feet, he wrapped the reins loosely around a thick patch of grass.

  “I did not expect to meet anyone,” said Sam as she collected her shoes and stockings, reluctantly pulling them over her naked feet.

  “Do not feel the need to be proper on my account,” Mr. Reid replied, sitting down next to her. Kicking off his boots, he stretched his long legs and wiggled his toes in an exaggerated fashion. “Ahhh,” he breathed, “I see the attraction.”

  Sam giggled as Mr. Reid flopped back onto the meadow grass, rolling back and forth, similar to an exuberant puppy. He sat up, his tousled hair embedded with weeds. “Now we matc
h.”

  “I am not sure that is a good thing.” Sam laughed. “I have been accused of lacking certain ladylike qualities, and I am certain my most recent state of undress is not appropriate for a gentleman either.”

  “Miss Hastings, I too am lacking certain ladylike qualities,”—Sam snorted—“however, rest assured nothing you do would ever compare with the improper activities which color my background.” He grinned.

  “Which are?” asked Sam. Perhaps the rumors surrounding Lord Westwood and his brother were more accurate than she assumed.

  “Definitely not suitable for discussion in mixed company,” replied Mr. Reid with a wink.

  “I would expect nothing less.”

  Mr. Reid leaned closer, dropping his voice to a whisper “Not every piece of gossip is true, Miss Hastings.” He paused and grinned again. “Unless it is about Benjamin.”

  “I shall try to keep that in mind.” Sam laughed.

  Mr. Reid collapsed onto his back, tucking his hands under his head, and stared the sky. “You had a visitor earlier today,” he said, his mood shifting mercurially with the statement.

  Sam glanced at him, perplexed. “Who?”

  “Your cousin, Mr. Aidan Flannery,” replied Mr. Reid, his usually playful tone greatly subdued. “The entire household has been invited to a belated birthday party for his sister in a fortnight. I informed him I would pass the message along.”

  “That was very thoughtful,” said Sam, thinking back to Uncle Aengus’ off-hand comment about Mr. Reid’s prolonged absence. “Do you plan on attending?” she asked, peeking sideway at him.

  Mr. Reid maintained his vigil on the sky. “I have a prior engagement.”

  “That is unfortunate,” replied Sam casually. She laid down next to him in the long grass and lapsed silent, watching grey clouds seep toward the afternoon sun. The hazy glow kissed the meadow with melancholy.

  “Rain is coming.” Mr. Reid sat up suddenly, tugging on his boots. “We should return to the house.”

  “I would prefer to walk,” Sam said, unwilling to relinquish her sanctum.