by Wolf, Bree
A dutiful chaperone.
Their chaperone.
Rebecca almost snorted at the thought. As though they needed one. Once more, her gaze darted to Lord Tedious as he droned on and on about his blasted dog, completely oblivious that she was…how had Lord Pembroke put it the other night at the Cavendish ball? Dying a small death?
An involuntary chuckle left her lips.
“Yes, indeed, it was quite amusing,” Lord Tedious agreed, misinterpreting her reaction, no doubt certain she was fascinated by…whatever it was he’d been saying. Without a doubt, it had been something about his loathsome canine.
Never would Rebecca have believed that she could dislike a dog with such fervor. She had never liked animals in particular, but neither had she disliked them. Rufus, however, sank in her opinion by the minute due to its master’s obsession with him.
Poor creature! In truth, she couldn’t fault him. He was merely doing what dogs did. It was his master who deserved the blame, filling her days with this endless babble. Sometimes, she could still hear his voice droning on and on when she went to bed and closed her eyes, hoping for the oblivion of sleep.
More often than not these days, Rebecca found herself imaging the future that lay ahead of her. A future as Lord Tedious’ wife for no doubt that was his intention in seeking her out day after day. Why else would he not leave her alone?
Lord Tedious’ wife.
Lady Tedious.
Rebecca almost fell off her chair at the thought and the liquid in her cup sloshed precariously against the sides. Would this be her life henceforth? Forced to sit idly by and listen – or pretend to listen – as her husband slowly stole the will to live from her heart? The thought brought tears to her eyes and her heart clenched in the most painful way.
No, she would not be able to bear such a life.
The realization had been a long time coming. Deep down, Rebecca had always known the truth. Given the limitation of her choices, she’d chosen to ignore the brutal finality of such a turn of events. Still, in that moment, insignificant in its nature, she knew that there had to be another way. That she needed to find a way to circumvent her uncle’s will yet again. It could be done. After all, she’d done so before. However, not in such important matters as with regard to the man she was to marry.
Indeed, never before had she seen that odious uncle of her more obsessed with anything. Like a dog with a bone!
Rebecca groaned at the reminder of Lord Tedious’ blasted mongrel!
“Are you all right?”
Her chin jerked up, and she found Lord Tedious’ green eyes looking into hers, concern narrowing them somewhat. Swallowing, Rebecca shook her head. “I’m fine,” she assured him, glancing down at the teacup in her hand. “My tea’s gotten cold. That’s all.”
“Shall I ring for a fresh pot?” he offered helpfully.
Rebecca shook her head. “No, that won’t be necessary.” She didn’t want to give him a reason to prolong his visit. Perhaps Lord Pembroke had been right. Perhaps she ought to be more direct. If she was, would Lord Tedious complain to her uncle about her? And even if not, if he simply were to stop calling on her, would her uncle not suspect that she had done something to see it happen? What would he do then?
The year before, he’d locked her in her chamber over Christmas. Two weeks with barely anyone to speak to. Two weeks of staring at the walls. Two weeks that had nearly driven her mad.
Even today, the thought of that time brought a shiver to her limbs, even though Rebecca could not for the life of her recall how she had offended her uncle, what she had done to deserve such a punishment. It had been something small. Something insignificant. And yet, it had enraged him and he had lashed out at her in a most painful way.
Dauntless.
Lord Pembroke’s words once more echoed in her mind, and Rebecca almost cringed at the thought of how he saw her. Did he truly think her dauntless? Oh, how she wished it were true! Indeed, her heart longed for unconventionality, for excitement, for adventure. Still, she could not deny that she feared their consequences. Would Lord Pembroke be disappointed if he knew her thoughts? Was he already after seeing her bow her head at the Cavendish ball?
The thought pained Rebecca for she longed for his company. Never before had any man spoken to her the way he had. Never had she felt more at ease, more like herself as she did when he challenged her. Never before had her life seemed so utterly dull and suffocating than it did now…now that she had caught a glimpse of what it could be!
Perhaps her uncle would grant her more leeway if Caroline were to secure a favorable match. In fact, her cousin’s quiet and reserved disposition might be a better match for Lord Tedious than Rebecca herself. Was there a way to transfer his attentions to Caroline? Could that be possible?
Glancing at her cousin, Rebecca felt her heart sink as guilt began to claw at it. Indeed, she was being selfish. Never had Caroline voiced so much as the smallest interest in Lord Tedious. It seemed, no matter their similarities, she did not care for him.
A slight frown began to tug on Rebecca’s brows as she watched her cousin.
Caroline’s spectacles sat low on her nose as her head was bent down toward the book in her hands. It seemed that Caroline was reading the same two pages again and again for no matter how many minutes ticked by, she never turned to the next. Indeed, her jaw seemed rather tense, and although her head was bent to the book, her eyes seemed to be staring into the distance, her thoughts otherwise occupied.
Rebecca’s gaze narrowed as she saw the pulse in Caroline’s neck beating almost frantically, her hands clenched on the front and back cover of the book. What was going on? Why was Caroline only pretending to read? And what on earth had her so agitated?
Still, to a not so dedicated observer, she looked as she always did: well-behaved, demure, unassuming, proper, virtuous…
The list could go on forever.
In short, Caroline was everything a lady ought to be. Or was she? Rebecca wondered. Was it only a facade? But why would she pretend? Why would she willingly lead a life that seemed even more boring than Lord Tedious’ obsession with his dog? How could Caroline stomach such a lack of entertainment?
“Will I see you tonight?” Lord Tedious asked as he sat his cup back onto the small table.
Blinking, Rebecca turned back to look at him. “Tonight?”
“At the ball?”
“Yes, certainly.” After all, it was the only upside of the man’s company. As long as she agreed to see him, her odious uncle allowed her to attend each and every ball the Season had to offer. And no matter how tedious some of these evenings were, they were still a vast improvement over spending the evening alone in her chamber.
As the Season slowly drew to an end, Rebecca found herself looking for Lord Pembroke at every ball. He was her light in the dark, and even a few words spoken between them brought a joy to her heart she would never have expected. Indeed, the evenings he remained absent were the darkest of her life, and Rebecca began to worry about the effect he had on her.
With each passing day, she seemed to crave his presence more. When her eyes would behold him, her heart would pause in a way that shook her to her core and she could feel her feet twitching to move toward him. Unfortunately, Lord Pembroke’s attentions were not as focused as her own. While he remained kind and heartbreakingly playful, he often seemed distracted. More than once, he excused himself and then hurried away, not resurfacing for the rest of the night.
“Those two look awfully suspicious,” Caroline remarked the night of the Hawthorne ball, her bespectacled eyes gazing across the ballroom at Lord Pembroke and his friend, the man people referred to as the Black Baron. “Wouldn’t you agree? The way they seem to be trying to…blend into the background, whispering, their eyes roaming the ballroom as though they’re looking for something. Or perhaps someone. It’s all very odd.”
While Rebecca could not deny that she had been watching Lord Pembroke with the utmost attention, she was surprised to
realize that her cousin was right…and she had not even noticed. “What do you think is on their minds?”
Caroline shrugged. “How would I know?” Still, her index finger came to rest on her lips as she peered at the two men thoughtfully, her head slightly cocked as though to better assess what was before her eyes.
Rebecca frowned, once again wondering about the oddities in her cousin’s character. For a demure wallflower, Caroline was indeed quite observant in an altogether shrewd way, and in that moment, Rebecca couldn’t help the thought that Caroline wasn’t who she appeared to be. Neither, as it would seem, was Lord Pembroke.
Unfortunately, Lord Tedious’ appearance cut short their investigative moment, and Rebecca once more found herself following him onto the dance floor. Still, she could not help but gaze over his shoulder, on occasion even craning her neck, in order to keep an eye on Lord Pembroke and his friend.
For a while, nothing much seemed to be happening. But the moment the dance ended and Lord Tedious escorted her back to where Caroline still stood watching them with hawk eyes, Lord Pembroke seemed to have disappeared.
Rebecca allowed her eyes to sweep the room as unobtrusively as she could, driven by a sudden desire to know Lord Pembroke’s whereabouts. Oddly enough, Caroline didn’t seem to have noticed. Her gaze was still directed at the Black Baron, who was leisurely leaning against the back wall, a smug smile playing on his lips.
Unnerved by Lord Tedious’ lingering presence, Rebecca sent him off to fetch her a drink. “Did you see where he went?” she hissed in Caroline’s ear.
“Who?”
“Lord Pembroke.”
Her cousin blinked, then turned to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry. I was distracted.” Again, her eyes returned to where the two men had lingered for the past half-hour, but where now only the Black Baron remained.
“I thought you’d been watching them,” Rebecca ground out, her gaze still flitting about the room. “How could you not have noticed him disappear?” A dark and utterly painful thought wormed its way into her mind, slowly taking root. What if Lord Pembroke had sneaked away to a solitary spot to meet up with a lady?
A long breath left her body, taking with it all the excitement and joy these evenings usually held, leaving in their place nothing but regret and disappointment. How could she have been so blind? Quite obviously, his interest had been nowhere near as deep as hers. She had to have misinterpreted his fascination with her, his approval of her directness. Perhaps deep down, all men wished for amenable, tight-lipped women. Perhaps there truly was not a single man in all of England who would suit her, who would wish to tackle her list with her and not look at her with disapproval.
Angry with herself for entertaining such hopes, Rebecca clamped her lips shut against the swell of sorrow that rose and then washed over her like a tidal wave. What she needed most now was a bit of distance from the men in her life, from London, from the life she was forced to lead. What she needed was a distraction to clear her head and heart and help her answer the one question at the root of all her wonderings: what did she want?
Perhaps it was time she paid her old friend a visit after all. Indeed, it was time to seek out the new Lady Remsemere and see for herself if the Beast of Ravengrove was a true beast or merely a beastly man. Such a visit would certainly prove distracting!
It was exactly what Rebecca needed.
To hell with her odious uncle!
Chapter Ten
A Masked Man
With the simple, black mask fastened to his face, Zach felt like a highwayman lying in wait to rob the next carriage passing by. Instead, he was hiding in the shadows of the large staircase leading to the top floor, waiting for a group of footmen to clear the way.
Once they’d disappeared through a tall doorway leading in the opposite direction of the ballroom, Zach slunk from his hiding place and quickly climbed the stairs to the upper floor, taking them two at a time. Initially, he had thought to take the servant’s staircase as it lay in the back of the building, far away from the buzzing crowd. Then Markham had pointed out that at an event such as this, the servants would be flitting about like ants, rushing to provide drink and food, to keep everything running smoothly and be at their master’s beck and call.
For a few seconds, Zach was exposed on the staircase. However, he had apparently found an opportune moment for no one stumbled upon him before he managed to hide in a doorway off to the side of the landing. When all remained quiet, he proceeded onward.
Markham had told him where the chambers of his lordship could be found, and Zach could not help but wonder how the man was so familiar with the layout of the house when – as far as he knew – there existed no deeper connection between the two men. But perhaps it was not his lordship Markham was intimately familiar with?
Indeed, his friend – if one could call him that – had initially mentioned her ladyship’s chambers, urging Zach to locate her jewelry box as oftentimes lost items could be found in the most obvious places. Unfortunately, people seldom thought to look there, dismissing them as…well, too obvious.
Still, as Lady Cavendish had no notion that the ring her husband might have given her had been procured in a scandalous card game and was on top of that a stolen heirloom, there was no reason for her to hide it, was there?
Perhaps all Zach’s troubles would end this night.
Nevertheless, there had been six names on the list and so far Zach had not managed to search a single man’s home. Indeed, after addressing most of them directly had failed so miserably, Markham had suggested a different approach, and while the man had not seen an issue in breaking into someone’s home, Zach had hesitated.
Still, in lieu of options, he had agreed to search Lord Cavendish’s home during the ball. At least this way, he wasn’t breaking into the man’s home. After all, he’d been invited. Still, it was a small distinction, and Zach knew that before long it would evaporate as he would be forced to take more drastic measures or accept that his father’s ring was lost for good.
As he slunk down the corridor, his ears attuned to the sounds of the ballroom, Zach could not help but wonder about the list of names Markham had given him. Indeed, he found it odd that while some of the men listed possessed titles, only their given names and surnames were mentioned. Indeed, it had made uncovering their true identities harder. Had that been the purpose? Had they tried to hide their identities lest they be connected to Lord Mortimer’s scandalous night of debauchery?
Pausing at the door in question, Zach put his ear to it and when all remained quiet, he quickly slipped inside. All was dark, the furniture only silhouetted as dark shadows hulking in the dim light.
For a moment, Zach stopped, his gaze sweeping around the room, and wondered at the foolishness of their plan. Even if the ring were in this room, it would take hours to search it in its entirety. Still, what other course of action was there? Give up?
Zach’s teeth gritted together. That was not an option.
Bending to his task, Zach moved about the room, opening drawers and cabinets, searching the man’s pockets as well as the large chest sitting in the corner by the four-poster bed.
Nothing.
Not that he had expected to find anything. Still, disappointment settled in his chest and he wondered if he should simply head back downstairs. But would that not constitute giving up?
Zach sighed. While he was here, he might as well search her ladyship’s chamber as well. Locating the connecting door, he slipped into the adjacent room, his eyes drawn to the ornately decorated jewelry box on the woman’s vanity. Could it truly be this simple?
Of course, it wasn’t.
While the lady possessed a wide variety of necklaces, bracelets, earrings and rings, none matched the one Zach could only too clearly picture in his mind. With a grumbled curse, he flung the box shut, his mood darkening with each step he took toward the door that would lead him back out into the corridor.
At least the Season would be over soon, facilitating his searc
h of these men’s townhouses. Then he would truly need to break in, marking him a common criminal. But would the jewelry even be left behind when the ton retired to the country? Did they possess baubles for town as well as for the leisure life away from London? Or did they cart their prized possessions back and forth?
Zach had no idea as he still felt like an outside observer, not a peer no matter his title. Perhaps he ought to ask Markham. He doubted that he would receive a clear answer. People were who they were after all. One unlike another.
Turning a corner, Zach froze, staring at the young maid, who came walking down the corridor toward him, a stack of linens in her arms. The moment Zach was about to dash back into the darkened doorway, her eyes rose and met his.
Instantly, her feet stopped moving, rooting her to the spot, while her jaw dropped and her eyes widened in shock.
For a short eternity, stillness lingered over the corridor as they stared at one another, each waiting what the other would do. And then the linens tumbled to the floor and a piercing scream surged past her lips.
Zach flinched at the sound, knowing that he had not a moment to lose. Without another thought, he darted back into her ladyship’s chamber, his feet carrying him to the window. As he threw it open, he could still hear the woman screaming, her voice echoing along the corridor.
Fortunately, a tall tree stood outside the window and so Zach climbed up onto the windowsill, eying the darkened branches, gauging if they would carry his weight. The thickest stretched sideways not far from where Zach perched on the sill. Still, he would have to jump and hope his hands would not miss their mark.
Adrenaline surged through him, and he felt reminded of the time he and Nate had hiked through the Shenandoah Valley. Coming upon a steep rock face, they’d lowered themselves down, using the ropes and picks they’d brought. It had been a thrill to find himself dangling far above the ground, his life literally hanging on by a thread – or rope. Still, never had Zach felt more alive, aware of what he had to lose if he were not to make it to the ground safely.