by Wolf, Bree
Oddly enough, Miss Hawkins’ flashing green eyes teased him in that moment, and he felt a small smile flitting across his face.
Inside, the screaming continued, and he could hear footsteps running along the corridor, accompanied by agitated voices hurrying closer.
Taking a deep breath, Zach lunged forward, his hands landing on the tree’s rough bark with trained accuracy. Upon contact, his fingers automatically closed, gripping tightly, as his legs swung forward until they were able to wrap around the branch as well.
Hanging horizontally in the air, Zach looked down at the gardens below where the occasional couple promenaded in the dark, far away from prying eyes. Zach grinned, imagining himself as a sloth hanging on the branch with not a care in the world.
It was an amusing thought. However, Zach was not a sloth and he did have a care in the world. More than one to be precise. Above all, he did not have any time to lose, and so he quickly climbed down the tree, relieved when his feet finally rested upon solid ground once more.
When voices erupted above him, he quickly retreated behind the large hedge only a few paces to the side. Peering up at the window from his hiding place, he saw two men sticking their heads out, surveying the grounds. Rushed words were exchanged before they disappeared, no doubt to hasten downstairs and attempt to pursue him.
Quickly, Zach surveyed his appearance in the dark, ensuring that while wrinkled, his suit did not bear traitorous marks of the tree’s bark. He found a few scrapes on his hands, but nothing more that could not be brushed off. So he discarded the mask near the hedge – let them find it – and then hastened down into the grounds, rounding the house and heading back up toward the terrace entrance.
In the light falling through the tall windows, Zach once more surveyed his appearance and, once satisfied, stepped inside, pretending he’d only just returned from a stroll in the gardens.
The ballroom was in a bit of an uproar. Apparently, the maid’s screams had not only alerted a number of footmen, but caught the attention of the assembled guests as well. Excitement lingered in the air as lords and ladies whispered on the quiet about a masked intruder who had tried to murder a poor maid.
Zach grinned when he first heard the hushed speculations, his eyes scanning the crowd. Was this what Markham had meant? His peers’ need for thrills that they would fabricate something in order to feel more alive?
“Now, that went well, didn’t it?” came a rather sarcastic voice from behind him.
Turning around, Zach met the Black Baron’s dark scowl. Although the man’s lips looked taut, their corners twitched ever so slightly as though he, too, found tonight’s developments highly amusing.
Zach shrugged. “What did you expect considering the house is crawling with people? This plan was doomed to fail.”
Inhaling a slow breath, Markham nodded. “I agree.” His dark gaze swept the ballroom, taking in the many faces flushed with excitement. “Perhaps though, tonight’s mishap will serve you in the future.” He looked back at Zach. “As you well know, rumors spread quicker than head lice, and I have no doubt the whispers of a masked intruder will soon reach every ear in London. Be sure that you’re seen before you leave tonight so that no one will dare guess that you are in any way connected to tonight’s events.”
Zach nodded as his gaze traveled over the many guests pushing closer to the large arch that led into the front hall, closer to where the masked intruder had come upon the unsuspecting maid. Whispers flew from their lips as they craned their necks to see. Not that there was anything to be seen! Not anymore!
Feigning a booming laughter, Zach looked at Markham, aware that many ears and eyes turned toward him. “Lord Cavendish indeed knows how to entertain his guests!”
His words echoed through the vaulted room, and many guests laughed and nodded in agreement.
“There,” Zach whispered to the Black Baron as he smiled and nodded at those who had turned toward him. “Now, everyone knows I’m here. Satisfied?”
Markham merely chuckled before he strode away. Zach made to follow, but paused when familiar green eyes looked back at him.
Instantly, his heart paused as it often did when Miss Hawkins was near. Swallowing, Zach remembered thinking of her the moment he’d leapt from the windowsill, wondering what it meant that it had been she who had lingered in this mind in that moment.
Then he frowned as he saw her gaze narrow, sweeping his appearance as though displeased with what she saw. Gone were the lightness and humor that had existed between them from the first. Her eyes seemed guarded, refusing to reveal her thoughts, and her chin rose, giving her a bit of a haughty expression.
Without drawing attention, Zach carefully allowed his gaze to sweep his person once more. Did he have a leaf on his jacket? Or a twig sticking out of his hair? Did she suspect anything?
Coming up empty, Zach wondered about the hint of displeasure on her face, the way she held his gaze for a moment and then turned away. Had he done something to offend her? How could he have when he’d been gone for the past hour? Then why would she snub him in such a way?
Indeed, her reaction irritated him and, for a moment, he was tempted to walk over and demand an explanation. Even he knew how foolish and inappropriate that would be, and so he forced his feet to remain where they were. Still, his gaze stayed with her until her uncle ushered her and his daughter out to their carriage.
During all this time, Miss Hawkins had not once turned to look at him, acting as though he wasn’t even there. Zach could not deny that it nettled him, and he wondered if he had misunderstood her earlier effervescent reaction to him. He’d thought there to be a connection, something that spoke to them both. Had he been wrong?
His shoulders slumped as he watched her disappear in the crowd, knowing it would be some time before he would see her again. Now at the Season’s end, London would soon lie deserted as his peers retreated to their country estates. When they returned next year, would Miss Hawkins no longer be Miss Hawkins, but Lady Tedious instead?
The thought settled like a block of ice in Zach’s stomach.
Chapter Eleven
Into the Country
With each turn of the wheel, Rebecca’s heart grew lighter. London fell away, and with it, all the restrictions and limitations of her utterly boring life.
Including, but not limited to, Lord Tedious.
Sighing, Rebecca settled more comfortably into her cushioned seat, her gaze sweeping over the beautiful countryside outside the carriage’s window. The colors seemed brighter and the air fresher now that she was finally free of her uncle’s constant nagging. Dear Caroline had truly outdone herself in distracting her mother, allowing Rebecca to sneak out of the house and be well on her way before her disappearance could be discovered.
Fortunately, her uncle had traveled to…oh, if only she’d been listening! Still, it did not matter. What mattered was that he would not return home for a few days, during which Caroline would do her utmost to keep Rebecca’s absence from being found out. As Rebecca was expected to spend most of her time in her chamber, that shouldn’t be a difficult feat. She’d sent a letter to Lord Tedious, informing him that she would visit a friend in the country and contact him upon her return.
There! Hopefully, he’d leave her alone and not come calling.
And besides, most of London had already left anyhow.
This was indeed the perfect time to visit an old friend, and Rebecca wondered what would await her at her journey’s end. Hopefully a distraction, for her mind continued to travel back to the night of the Cavendish ball.
Only too well did she recall the moment Lord Pembroke had all but vanished from the ballroom. No matter how hard she’d looked, she’d not been able to spot him anywhere among their host’s guests. And then at the end of the night when all hell had broken loose upon the young maid’s awfully piercing screams, he had returned.
Rebecca swallowed the disappointment that rose in her throat at the memory of how he had slunk in through the
terrace doors. Since she hadn’t been able to discover him, she’d settled for watching his friend, the man people referred to as the Black Baron and, as expected, he’d led her to Lord Pembroke before long.
Unfortunately, it had been under the most disappointing implications!
Straightening his somewhat disheveled clothes, Lord Pembroke had stepped back in through the large French doors, his chest rising with each rapid breath as though he’d done something that had sped his pulse. His eyes had twinkled with wicked excitement, and Rebecca had been tempted to walk over and slap him in the face right then and there.
Of course, her uncle would have frowned upon that!
Still, it had been hard to silence the sense of betrayal that had clawed at her heart – and, to be honest, still did. For a reason Rebecca could not name, she’d somehow thought that…that he cared for her, that there’d been something between them.
An understanding.
A connection.
In truth, he had merely been polite. He’d found her entertaining, but nothing more. Certainly not enough to keep his interest from following whatever lady had tempted him to meet her outside in the darkened gardens of Cavendish’s townhouse.
Rebecca gritted her teeth against a surge of jealousy. Was taking an unchaperoned stroll under the moon not on her list? At the very top, to be precise? Still, judging from his somewhat wrinkled clothing, she guessed they’d done a bit more than stroll.
A shuddering sigh left Rebecca’s lips at the thought of kissing Lord Pembroke – an adventure that had made it onto her list as well. It was number four, was it not? And although it did not mention Lord Pembroke by name, she could not deny that he did qualify as a stranger, for the night of the Cavendish ball had proved that she did not know him at all.
Unfortunately, there’d be no kissing, and Rebecca knew she’d do well to forget about him. Perhaps there truly was not a man in all of England who would be a perfect match for her.
Perhaps it was hopeless.
Perhaps she was doomed to waste away as Lord Tedious’ wife.
Rebecca almost retched at the thought.
Still, nothing good had ever come from mourning what was or wasn’t, and so Rebecca pushed all these gloomy thoughts aside and forced her attention on her journey’s end.
Finally after more than two years – or was it three? – she would see her old friend again. Had Eugenie changed? Had marriage changed her? Or was she still the kind, tenderhearted girl Rebecca had come to love and cherish?
In that moment, Rebecca couldn’t think of a reason why they’d drifted apart as they had. Indeed, she should have made a greater effort to reach out to her, no matter her uncle’s opinion. She could only hope Eugenie would not send her away.
When Ravengrove finally appeared on the horizon on the third day of her journey, Rebecca stared at the sinister fortress, looming high into a darkened sky. It seemed forbidding, the perfect home for a rumored beast and Rebecca could not wait to satisfy her curiosity. Did he have claws? Fangs?
Laughing, she fell back into her cushioned seat, enjoying a moment of cheerful lightness. Indeed, coming here would prove to be the perfect distraction! Rebecca was certain of it.
A stiff and rather ancient-looking butler led her into a comfortable, little drawing room, decorated in gentle colors that made Rebecca think of her friend. It seemed Eugenie had already left her mark on Ravengrove. But what of her new husband?
Gazing out the window, Rebecca wondered about Eugenie’s life here, far away from society. Was it peaceful? Or terribly boring? Eugenie had never longed for distraction and entertainment as Rebecca had. In that regard, as in so many others, they’d been different.
When the sound of Eugenie’s dainty footsteps finally echoed to her ears, Rebecca turned from the window and her eyes fell on the friend she hadn’t seen in far too long.
For a moment, it was as though nothing had changed. As though no time stood between them. Eugenie’s raven-black hair still framed her gentle features as it always had, in dancing curls and gentle waves. A large smile rested on her lips that lit up her sparkling gray eyes, revealing without hesitation the joy that filled her heart in that moment.
Rebecca exhaled the breath she’d been holding, relieved to see that Eugenie did not hold her lack of correspondence against her. Relieved to see that she’d been missed. Relieved to find herself welcomed.
“Becca,” her friend exclaimed, surging forward, her hands reaching for hers. “How wonderful to see you. You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”
Squeezing Eugenie’s trembling hands, Rebecca returned her friend’s smile with deepest regard…before her gaze drifted lower and a teasing curl came to her lips. “Perhaps not. But you certainly have, Genie. How far along are you?” Her gaze lingered on her friend’s rounded belly. “Thirteen, fourteen months?”
Eugenie laughed, and the sound was like music to Rebecca’s ears, utterly freeing, putting her tense nerves at ease. “Are you implying that I’m exceptionally large?” she asked, drawing Rebecca over to the settee.
Instantly, the ease that had always existed between them returned as though it had never left, as though Rebecca had never felt its absence. Eugenie, too, seemed to feel relief at the effortlessness with which they were able to resume their friendship, her hands clinging to Rebecca’s, holding on tight as though she feared her friend would leave if she didn’t hold on to her.
Rebecca could not deny that it felt utterly wonderful to have another cherish her company in such a way. Indeed, she’d missed Eugenie, and the words that flew from both their lips, without restraint, without thought, open and honest. Knowing that there was trust and loyalty between them warmed her all the way to the tips of her toes.
“Now, tell me how you’re a countess…again,” Rebecca demanded, eager to learn about her friend’s life for it seemed so much more interesting and rather adventuresome compared to her own. “Last I heard, you were marrying a Lord Wentford. I’ve heard a few whispers here and there, but nothing specific as Uncle seems determined to keep me in the dark.” She squeezed Eugenie’s hands and scooted closer. “Tell me everything there is to know.”
Unfortunately, Eugenie’s recounting of events did not go beyond what Rebecca already knew. Her friend had married Lord Wentford. A year later, his late wife had turned up, very much alive, rendering their marriage void. Then he had arranged for her to marry Lord Remsemere. Still, the thought of what Eugenie had gone through in such a short time gripped Rebecca’s heart in a way nothing had in a long time. “What excitement!”
Eugenie laughed. “I assure you it was quite frightful to find myself unmarried and with child. I wouldn’t—”
“With child?” Rebecca demanded, shock dropping her eyes to Eugenie’s protruding belly. “Are you saying Lord Wentford is this child’s father?” The thought hadn’t occurred to her before. Still, the overlap of Eugenie’s two marriages would make it possible.
Her friend froze, clearly shocked that such a scandalous secret had slipped her lips.
“Guilt is written all over your face so you might as well tell me the truth,” Rebecca urged her, knowing she would die if Eugenie didn’t tell her. Merely hearing about her friend’s life was more exciting than anything she herself had experience in the past two years. How frustrating!
After a few more words of reassurance, Eugenie finally relented, placing a gentle hand on her belly. “Yes, this is Lord Wentford’s child. We all agree that it is for the best if society believes that Lord Remsemere is the father. So, not a word.” Her gray eyes were imploring and somewhat fearful as they met Rebecca’s.
“Not even a syllable,” she vowed, wishing in that moment that their roles could be reversed. It was a shocking notion, but it made Rebecca realize how utterly dissatisfied she was with her life and the prospect that it would remain so…for good. Something had to be done! Something –
“Tell me about yourself,” Eugenie inquired, her gray eyes watchful. “Any marriage prospects?”
<
br /> Rebecca rolled her eyes, hating the change of topic. “So, you haven’t heard? Apparently, I am to be engaged soon.” An annoyed sigh huffed past her lips. “That odious uncle of mine has managed to dig up England’s most boring lord and is now rushing to close the deal as he fears that I might do something to spoil it.” She shrugged, admitting at least to herself that that was not as far-fetched as one might think.
“Who is he?” Eugenie asked gently, compassion ringing in her soft voice. “I take it you do not approve of your uncle’s choice.”
“Of course not!” Shooting to her feet, Rebecca began to pace the small drawing room, unable to keep still as the dam finally broke.
All the fears for her future came pouring out: the inability to make up her mind, to realize what she wanted deep down, the dreaded notion that despite her wayward ways, she would in the end resign and agree to marry a man who would make her miserable.
“He’s the most mind-numbingly dull man I’ve ever met.” Panic began to seep into every fiber of her being, and she could feel a touch of hysteria creep into her voice. “Honestly, I always thought that those who said they were dying of boredom were exaggerating.” She threw up her hands. “But it’s actually possible!” In that moment, Rebecca could have screamed, and she clamped down her teeth hard to stay in control. “If I marry him,” she forced out through gritted teeth, “I know I will…” Overwhelmed, Rebecca felt her legs give out and she sank back down onto the settee. “Genie, I…I can’t…I have to find a way out. I simply have to. I…”
Her hands balled into fists, and Rebecca knew that this downward spiral simply would not do. Moaning and complaining accomplished nothing. She needed to focus her thoughts and come up with a plan. But first, she needed a distraction, something to calm herself.
Turning to look at her friend, she asked, “How about you and…your husbands?” The way Eugenie dropped her gaze teased a smile from Rebecca’s lips, one she desperately needed. “Did you…or do you care for one of them? Or both of them?”