The Second Seduction

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The Second Seduction Page 13

by Shelley Munro

e woman’s

  servants?”

  “Everyone. For almost a month we searched the area,

  describing Lucien, but he’d vanished.”

  Rosalind frowned. “I don’t understand how he arrived

  back at Castle St. Clare.”

  Charles took her arm and they walked through a crum-

  bling stone archway into the wilderness outside. Th

  e blue of

  the sea was visible and the muted thunder of waves beating at

  the cliff base became audible.

  “I’m not sure Lucien knows. He doesn’t remember what

  happened and he’s tight-lipped about where he was before

  returning to St. Clare. As I said, he’s changed. He’s no longer

  outgoing and cheerful. I’m not sure I’ve seen him smile since

  his return. He’s distant, not just with me, but with Justin

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  too, and he’s known Justin since the cradle. We used to do

  everything together. And, now we don’t.”

  A silence fell between them as they strolled the path,

  each deep in their own thoughts.

  Rosalind wondered what had happened to Hastings.

  After seeing his scar, it was obvious he’d been attacked and

  injured, but what else had happened to cause an outgoing

  man to change so much?

  “He doesn’t want to be married to me,” she cried.

  Charles stopped in the middle of the path, a frown on his

  face. In the heartbeat before he spoke, Rosalind heard the call

  of a sea bird and the buzz of a bee collecting pollen from the

  profusion of fl owers. Miserably, she focused on the sounds to

  counteract her embarrassment.

  His hand tipped up her chin, forcing her to look at him.

  “I’m sure you are mistaken.”

  “No, he tried to call off the wedding before we were mar-

  ried.” Th

  e words burst from her once she was over her initial

  shock. “And now, he ignores me. I’ll never have children.”

  Charles’ jaw sagged. He blinked. “You mean . . .?”

  Rosalind lifted her shoulders in a wretched shrug, color

  scorching her cheeks.

  “Oh.” Charles cleared his throat. “Give it time. Lucien

  has much to deal with.”

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  “Maybe,” Rosalind murmured, but she didn’t believe

  time would heal the breach without help. Charles hadn’t seen

  Lucien last night. Th

  ere wasn’t a doubt in her mind. Lucien

  had said he didn’t want children, and he meant it.

  “I’m sure I’m right,” Charles said. “Ah. I believe this is

  the perfect spot for you to capture the vista. What do you

  think?” He stopped by a stone wall.

  Rosalind nodded, hardly caring where she set herself up

  to draw. In truth, she wanted to think, not paint. She needed

  to decide how to cope with Hastings, with Lady Augusta, the

  mystery of her disappearing clothes, and all the other strange

  things that had been happening.

  Like or not, she and Hastings were married. She must

  make some sort of life for herself.

  Charles set her drawing materials on top of a fl at stone.

  “Can I do anything else for you before I leave? Help you

  set up?”

  Rosalind forced a cheerful smile but remained chilled

  inside. “Th

  ank you, Cousin Charles. I’ll be fi ne on my own.

  Will you be here for dinner?” Th

  e idea of his company at the

  dinner table appealed, especially if they were to dine without

  company tonight. A shudder worked its way down her spine

  when she imagined Lady Augusta’s pointed remarks and fault

  fi nding, along with Hastings’ silence and scowls. Cousin

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  Charles’ light-hearted company helped immensely during the

  longwinded dinners.

  “Justin is home from London, dancing attendance on his

  mother. We’re attending a picnic organized by Lady Helena

  and her mother. No doubt Justin will arrive at Castle St.

  Clare for dinner. He has some interesting experiences. He

  returned to Italy for a time and traveled to the East, to Con-

  stantinople. Sultan Abdul Musa befriended him after Justin

  saved the Sultan’s brother from being trampled by a horse.

  Justin’s stories of life in the Sultan’s palace are . . . colorful,”

  Charles ended with an embarrassed splutter.

  “I look forward to meeting him,” Rosalind said, hiding

  her amusement. He meant the tales were not suitable for

  ladies’ ears.

  Charles grinned. “You’ll like Justin. Most people do.

  Would you like to attend the picnic with me?”

  And give Lady Helena another shot at ridiculing her

  dress? Rosalind shook her head. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “All right.” With a quick wave, Charles sauntered off .

  Rosalind frowned as she watched him depart. And

  sighed, feeling sorry for herself. Why wasn’t Hastings more

  agreeable, like his cousin?

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  VIII

  Lady Augusta wants you.”

  Th

  e rough male voice startled Rosalind. She leapt off

  her perch on the stone wall, her hand fl uttering to her breast.

  Th

  e footman waited in silence, his face impassive. Rosalind

  studied the intelligent glint in his brown eyes before deciding

  against a plea to say he couldn’t fi nd her. She frowned. If she

  refused to return to the castle, he’d probably escort her by

  force. He looked the sort to follow orders.

  Heaving a resigned sigh and muttering under her breath,

  Rosalind packed up her drawing materials. Lady Augusta

  had trapped her neatly this time.

  “Where will I fi nd Lady Augusta?” she asked.

  “In the Blue drawing room.”

  Rosalind inclined her head. “Th

  ank you.” She walked

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  past the South Tower and into the courtyard.

  Th

  e squeaking of leather shoes and the rustle of fabric

  indicated the footman followed.

  She stopped and turned to fi x him with a haughty stare.

  “I know where the Blue drawing room is.”

  “Lady Augusta bade me escort you right to her.”

  Rosalind noted his expression remained impassive, al-

  though goodness knows what the man was thinking. Lady

  Augusta was treating her like a child, or someone lacking

  in wits.

  Rosalind’s chin jerked up. “I will change my gown before

  I attend Lady Augusta.”

  Th

  e footman proved equally stubborn. “Lady Augusta

  said immediately.”

  While they were engaged in a duel of wills, Hastings ap-

  peared in the courtyard. Rosalind’s heart thumped unexpect-

  edly hard, and her mouth dried as though she’d eaten too

  much pickled meat. Was her husband going to acknowledge

  her this morning? She swallowed, fi ghting to hold emotion in

  check. Or, would he walk past right past, treating her like an

  unfortunate encumbrance?

  “Good morning, Hastings.” Rosalind decided to take a

  stand. He was her hus
band whether he liked it or not. She

  halted in front of him so he needed to step around her to

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  avoid knocking her to the ground.

  He stopped inches away. His dark eyes narrowed al-

  though she thought she saw a fl icker of surprise, and perhaps

  approval. A tic kicked to life at the bottom of his scar.

  Rosalind watched in fascination, the pulsing of the

  muscle right near his fi rm mouth. “Good morning,” she

  prompted again. Her heart thumped at her daring, at the

  strange fl ash of emotion in his dark eyes. She’d be lucky if he

  didn’t imprison her in the North Tower with the ghost.

  “What are you doing?”

  Rosalind suspected he was asking why she was blocking

  his way, but she pretended ignorance. Instead, she shot an ag-

  grieved look at the silent footman by her side. “Lady Augusta

  has summoned me.”

  One dark brow rose and his mouth curled upward at the

  very edges. “Best hurry then, before she takes it out on the

  footman.”

  Th

  at was a defi nite smirk, Rosalind thought. Bother

  the man. He’d hit on the one thing that would make her

  hasten to the appointment. Still, she was reluctant to leave

  without a few words from her husband. Without thought, she

  reached out to touch his hand. “Your friend Justin is coming

  for dinner tonight. I’m looking forward to meeting him. I’ve

  heard so much about him from Charles.”

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  SHELLEY MUNRO

  Lucien didn’t reply. Th

  e picture that formed in her mind

  was not the one she expected. She’d anticipated a vision of

  Charles and perhaps another man — Justin. Instead, the

  image was dark. Apprehension prickled her skin. Her gaze

  shot to Hastings. His distant, unfocused expression mirrored

  her confusion.

  Hawk. A faceless fi gure, he prowled Hastings’ mind with

  a sinister menace. Rosalind exhaled slowly. Was this the same

  man that she read in the villagers’ minds when she treated

  their ailments?

  Hastings shrugged, snapping the fragile contact she held

  with his mind. “I have things to do.” His gaze narrowed fur-

  ther as he waited for Rosalind to move. Taking a deep breath,

  she did as he silently bid, her mind too full of unanswered

  questions to challenge him again.

  Rosalind entered the Great Hall, trailed by her silent sentry.

  “Where is that dratted footman?” Lady Augusta’s screech

  echoed down the passage, exploding into the Great Hall with

  the force of a nor’easter.

  Th

  ere was nothing for it. Rosalind knew she had to face

  Lady Augusta. Th

  e footman must not be punished because

  of her reluctance. Rosalind took a deep breath and sailed into

  the Blue salon to meet with her nemesis.

  “Th

  ere you are! Where have you been, girl? And what

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  are you wearing?” Lady Augusta’s voice rose even higher if

  that were possible, her gray eyes burned with anger while her

  mouth wrinkled up like an old apple left out in the sun.

  Before Rosalind answered, Lady Augusta’s gaze cut to

  the silent footman. “I told you immediately. Tell Tickell your

  next half day is cancelled.”

  A horrifi ed gasp escaped from Rosalind, and for the

  fi rst time she saw a fl ash of irritation on the footman’s face.

  “Th

  at’s not fair!” she blurted. “It’s my fault he took so long.

  I was way out by the Tower garden. Th

  en, on the way back I

  stopped to talk to Hastings. Th

  e butler mustn’t punish him

  on my account.”

  “Go,” Lady Augusta ordered the footman. “And don’t

  forget to see Tickell.”

  Aghast, Rosalind could only stare at the elderly woman

  in front of her. She decided to countermand the order later.

  “How can I help you, Lady Augusta?”

  “Where is that maid of yours? I told her to go to the

  village seamstress and come back with two suitable gowns for

  you. Where is she? I expected her back at least an hour ago.”

  “Mary and I visited the seamstress last week to order

  gowns. She’s busy with orders for the Mansfi eld ball.”

  “Which we are attending,” Lady Augusta snapped. “You

  can’t go in a gown such as the one you wore last night. You

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  SHELLEY MUNRO

  will make us a laughing stock. Your maid dresses better than

  you do. It’s no wonder Hastings spends so much time away

  from Castle St. Clare.”

  Hurt lanced through Rosalind at the cruel reminder,

  but Lady Augusta spoke the truth. Hastings refused to spend

  time with her. So, whom did he spend his time with? Th

  e lady

  who inhabited his memories?

  “Pour the chocolate, girl.” Lady Augusta’s abrasive tone

  jerked her from her sorry thoughts. “Where is your maid?

  You haven’t told me. Speak up, Lady Rosalind!”

  Th

  e dainty china bowls rattled as Rosalind arranged

  them on the small walnut table next to Lady Augusta. “I

  haven’t seen her since she helped me dress this morning.”

  “Discipline, girl! Th

  at’s the only thing they understand.

  If I fi nd she met with a man instead of hurrying back, there’ll

  be trouble. Servants need discipline.”

  Rosalind disagreed but knew better than to argue. She

  picked up the pot of chocolate and poured it into two bowls.

  She placed one within Lady Augusta’s reach.

  “Pass the sugar, girl!”

  “Yes, Lady Augusta.”

  She picked up the sugar bowl and held it toward Lady

  Augusta.

  “Two lumps.”

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  Rosalind sighed, but followed the order. When she was

  about to place the sugar bowl down, Lady Augusta seized

  her hand.

  “Another lump.”

  A haze of red and white swirled through Rosalind’s mind

  at the contact. Th

  e red seeped through the white like drops

  of blood. Rosalind shivered involuntarily, feeling as though

  she was walking through a patch of cold fog. Th

  e fog cleared

  to show children. She saw Hastings, but a younger Hastings

  who laughed and gamboled over the sand with others chasing

  him. Th

  e fog swirled, rearranged, then cleared in a diff erent

  place, and Rosalind came face to face with herself. A soft

  gasp escaped; she wrenched away, jolting the sugar bowl and

  scattering lumps in all directions.

  “You stupid girl,” Lady Augusta barked. “Ring for a maid.”

  Rosalind backed away, blindly reaching for the hand

  bell to summon a servant. Lady Augusta worried about the

  future, about the continuation of the St. Clare line. And she

  was in pain — severe pain that she hid behind her irascible

  disposition.

  Th

  is presented a quandary. Ever
ything inside her wanted

  to reach out and help, but how could she and keep her gift

  secret at the same time?

  She returned to where Lady Augusta sat in an upright

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  SHELLEY MUNRO

  chair. Cubes of sugar ground to crystals under her feet.

  “Stand still, girl. You’re making a mess.”

  “Yes, Lady Augusta,” Rosalind murmured, her mind

  busily thinking of ways to help the elderly woman without

  attracting attention to herself.

  Lady Augusta snapped instructions to the maid. She

  disappeared, then returned a short time later with a broom

  in hand.

  “Out of the way, girl!” Lady Augusta fl ashed an irritable

  look in Rosalind’s direction.

  Rosalind suppressed a sigh. Th

  ere was no winning with

  Lady Augusta. Everything she did was wrong.

  “Is that maid back yet?” the elderly woman barked. “You

  there! I’m talking to you. Has Lady Rosalind’s maid returned

  from the errand I sent her on?”

  “No, my lady.”

  “Where is the dratted girl?”

  “I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation,” Rosalind

  said, keeping her voice low and soothing.

  Lady Augusta let out a snort that sounded like an impa-

  tient horse. “I’ll want to hear it.”

  Rosalind sank onto a chair, well out of the maid’s way,

  and sipped her chocolate. She wondered if Lady Augusta had

  fi nished with her and when she might escape.

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  Th

  e maid swept up the sugar, bobbed a curtsey, and hur-

  ried from the room leaving Rosalind alone with Lady Au-

  gusta. Rosalind took another sip of her chocolate waiting for

  Lady Augusta to speak. Th

  e silence drew out until Rosalind

  felt like screaming. She inched forward on her chair, her left

  hand clenching and unclenching in the folds of her skirt.

  “You’re not going to bring Hastings to heel the way you’re

  going about things.”

  Rosalind started. Th

  e bowl of chocolate she held almost

  bounded from her hands, splattering chocolate on her skirts.

  A dry chuckle burst from the elderly lady. Rosalind righted

  the bowl, both humiliated and resentful. She didn’t need

  Lady Augusta to tell her something was wrong. Her mouth

  tightened as she glowered at the woman.

  “Good to see you have some backbone. I was beginning

  to wonder. I’ve instructed that maid of yours to return with

  two gowns and ordered the seamstress to hurry the others.

  You’ll have a decent gown to wear to dinner tonight. Give

 

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