How to Climb a Lady’s Tower

by Wolf, Bree

  “As do I.”

  “Come, your uncle awaits us,” Lord Tedious pressed, his voice hard and insistent, now clearly betraying his irritation.

  Rebecca couldn’t have cared less. She knew her uncle would be furious that she had displeased Lord Tedious. He would lecture her and berate her, and she would bear it, knowing that tonight had gone exactly as she had planned.

  Now, to see her plan’s completion. She could only hope that Lord Pembroke would not truly attend the Winthrope ball next week. Rebecca inhaled a deep breath, remembering the thoughtful look in his blue eyes. Yes, she was certain he would not.

  After all, he had just come up with a plan of his own. She could only hope he would see it through as expected.

  Chapter Twenty

  A Window of Opportunity

  Darkness had fallen over the world hours ago, and a harsh wind blew through the bare branches of the trees near Mr. Hawkins’ townhouse. The moon shone dimly overhead, only a thin sliver on a dark canvas. The sound of carriage wheels on cobblestone drifted over, and Zach shrank deeper into the shadows near the gate.

  This past week, he’d spent many waking hours watching Miss Hawkins’ home, familiarizing himself with the comings and goings of the family as well as the servants. Markham, too, had lent a hand, pointing out a point of access near the servants’ entrance. It seemed the man had a knack for criminal activities, his sharp eyes spotting weaknesses that eluded others. Zach was grateful, and yet, he couldn’t help but wonder.

  Only minutes ago, the family’s carriage had left under the cover of darkness, pulling out into the street and turning toward the Winthropes’ townhouse and the ball awaiting them there. Zach knew he ought to be present as well – and he would be. First, there was something he needed to take care of.

  His gaze drifted to the darkened windows of Miss Hawkins’ chamber, now empty, awaiting her return later tonight. Zach could only hope that tonight she’d chosen a gown that would not have matched the startling green of his father’s ring as she had indicated a week ago. He prayed that his father’s ring lay safe and sound in Miss Hawkins’ jewelry box, preferably somewhere easy to spot. Perhaps on her vanity or a side table. If all went according to plan, Zach could be in and out in a matter of minutes with no one the wiser. Then he would hasten over to the Winthropes’ ball, seek out Miss Hawkins and try to determine how on earth she’d come into possession of his father’s ring.

  First, he needed to retrieve it. This nightmare had to end.

  Tonight.

  Pulling his black mask into place, Zach prayed that this would be the last time he’d have to wear it. Then he proceeded onto Mr. Hawkins’ property, nearing the servants’ entrance on quiet feet, careful to remain hidden in the shadows of the large wall sitting on the property line. Occasionally, his gaze would drift upward to Miss Hawkins’ windows until he reached the tall elm tree standing like a silent sentinel in the dark of night. Its branches rose high into the sky, and Zach knew that from where he stood on the ground he’d never be able to reach them. Fortunately, he’d once more brought his trusted rope and grappling hook, which had already aided him in fleeing Ravengrove a few months back.

  Eying the high branches, Zach chose a thick one close to the house. Then he stepped a bit back, careful to remain unseen, and gave the rope some slack, slowly beginning to swing the hook in a lazy circle. Breathing calmly, he watched and waited, feeling the movement of the rope, the weight of the hook…and then he let it fly.

  With a soft thunk, it hooked onto the thick branch above.

  Zach breathed a sigh of relief and quickly scanned the area around him, ensuring that no one had taken notice. Then he gave the rope a sharp tug and when it remained securely attached to the branch, he braced his feet on the trunk. As his hands pulled him upward, his feet moved along the tree, carrying him higher until he was able to pull himself onto the branch.

  Breathing in deeply, he tried his best to calm his rapidly beating heart before he turned to look at Miss Hawkins’ windows, now within his reach.

  Again, Zach gazed skyward, trying to spot yet another branch that would hold his weight before sending the hook upward once more. Again, it landed where it was supposed to and after testing it, Zach swung himself across the small, dark gap between tree and house, landing on the window’s ledge with both feet.

  To his utter surprise, he found the window standing slightly ajar, a discovery which instantly stilled his movements, freezing him to the spot.

  The chamber lay in darkness, not even a faint light shining through the curtains. All remained still, and so Zach slowly pushed open the window and pulled aside the curtain. Again, he paused, and again, all remained silent.

  For a second, he felt eerily reminded of the night he’d visited Ravengrove.

  Pulling the rope in through the window after him, Zach assured himself that it would not swing back outside and out of his reach before he turned his gaze to the chamber itself. A large bed stood off to the side, and he could make out dim shadows of small as well as bulky furniture lining the room. A silvery ray of the moon reflected in the large mirror upon the vanity, and Zach strode toward it, his footsteps muffled by the soft carpet covering the hardwood floor.

  His skin prickled, and he could not help but feel like the lowest of men for trespassing into Miss Hawkins’ chamber. Yes, somehow, she had become involved in this mess surrounding Lord Mortimer and his dubious activities. There might be a very reasonable explanation. At least, Zach hoped there was. Perhaps she’d been given the ring by a friend or…or…

  Gritting his teeth, Zach fought the thoughts that drew him back to the suspicion that a gentleman – or rather one not quite deserving of such a distinction – might have bestowed it on her as a gift. Was she truly the woman he’d seen in her? Or had he been thoroughly mistaken?

  Indeed, when they’d danced the other week at the Cowells’ ball, there’d been a watchful, somewhat calculated spark in her eyes as though she’d been waiting for him to reveal his deepest and darkest secret. Now, it seemed that she was the one with the dark secret.

  Frustrated and – quite frankly – hurt at the thought of Miss Hawkins’ change in character, Zach approached the vanity, glancing at his own dim reflection in the mirror before his gaze fell to the ornately decorated jewelry box. It sat in the middle of the smooth wooden surface of the vanity as though beckoning him forward, ready to reveal its hidden treasures.

  That thought, coinciding with a hint of nagging suspicion, was followed by the faint sound of rustling fabric. It came from across the room, nearer the windows, and Zach turned to see if it was the wind stirring the curtains.

  Before he had even half-turned, a voice spoke out from the dark. “I must say you move very stealthily, my lord.”

  The sound of Miss Hawkins’ voice sent a shock wave through his body, momentarily rooting him to the spot. Unable to move, Zach stared into the darkness, his gaze touching upon dim shadows moving away from the back of the room before Miss Hawkins stepped into the faint beam of light cast inside by the crescent moon.

  Her fiery hair seemed almost black in this light and was tied into a simple plait that hung over her shoulder. She wore a dressing gown and, below, he supposed nothing more but a night rail considering her feet were bare as she stepped closer. Her eyes shone expectantly, fixed on his own. “Why have you come?”

  Zach swallowed, overwhelmed by the sight of her. On instinct, his hand reached up to touch his mask, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he found it still in place. “What are you doing here?” he growled, strangely annoyed with her for thwarting what had seemed such a simple feat. Wasn’t she supposed to be at the Winthrope ball? Had she not said so herself?

  A warm chuckle brushed past her lips. “I live here.” Then she took another step closer. “You, however, do not.”

  Zach was thunderstruck by her bold attitude toward a masked intruder who’d climbed in through her window. Was she not afraid? Not even worried? A young woman ought to feel n
othing but sheer terror at finding a stranger entering her bedchamber, ought she not?

  However, Miss Hawkins had always struck him as odd…in the best way possible. So far, at least. Now, he could not help but doubt her sanity.

  Worried that she might come closer and thus discover his identity, Zach slowly drew the dagger sheathed at his side. Perhaps seeing its blade would convey to her the seriousness of the situation she found herself in. He could only hope she would not resort to loud screams.

  She didn’t.

  Instead of calling for help at the top of her lungs, Miss Hawkins merely cocked her head to the side, eying him with a mix of indulgence and disappointment as far as he could tell in this light. The woman didn’t even have the decency to be terrified! What was he to do now? “Why did you not leave with your family?” he growled once again while taking a careful step to the side and closer to the window. Perhaps if he kept her distracted, he could simply slip out. But what about his father’s ring? “Why are you not at the ball?”

  Her gaze dropped to his feet, and a small smile appeared on her face. “I feigned a headache.”

  Zach froze, and his eyes snapped back to hers. “You feigned a headache?” A dark suspicion began to unfurl in his mind. “Why?”

  The corners of her lips curled upward, and she once again stepped closer, her gaze not even glancing at the blade he held in his hand. “Because I was expecting you,” she said as though he had accepted an invitation to join her for tea. “Would you not consider it bad manners to be absent after inviting you here myself not a week ago?”

  All the blood drained from Zach’s face, and he felt his arm sink under the weight of this revelation and all it implied. The blade almost dropped from his grip as his finger had become numb. “Inviting me?” At present, he seemed utterly incapable of forming a coherent thought and was, therefore, left to repeat parts of hers.

  Miss Hawkins shrugged. “Indeed. Since you’re here, I assumed you understood my meaning.” A teasing smile came to her lips, suggesting that she was still not done playing the game she’d started the night of the Cowells’ ball.

  Anger gripped Zach, and he felt the trance her discovery of him had brought forth slip away. His fingers once more curled around the hilt of the dagger, and it was good to feel in control once more. Quickly, he re-sheathed the blade, then turned toward the woman eying him curiously. “What game is this?” he demanded, stepping closer, no longer concerned that she would discover his identity for he supposed she already knew. Did she not?

  “I might as well ask the same question,” Miss Hawkins replied as her hands rose to grip her upper arms as though a touch of unease had finally found her. “After all, you’re the one breaking into people’s houses, are you not, Lord Pembroke?”

  And there it was.

  Confirmation.

  Proof.

  She knew who he was. Had known before he’d even set foot in her chamber. Oddly enough, according to her own words, she’d expected him to come. More than that. She’d invited him. But why?

  Zach’s gaze narrowed as he approached, noting the way her teeth dug into her lower lip. “Is this a trap?” Had she recognized him in Ravengrove after all? Had she revealed her discovery to her uncle? Had they come up with a plan to lure him out and see him arrested?

  Miss Hawkins drew in a slow breath, her large eyes watching him carefully. “Perhaps,” she whispered then. “Of sorts.”

  “Of sorts?” Zach glanced at the closed door behind him, then back at the woman blocking his way to the window. “What game is this?”

  A hint of annoyance came to her face. “I knew it was you that night at Ravengrove.”

  Zach’s heart slammed to a painful halt.

  Her eyes watched him closely before she took a careful step forward. “I admit it took me a moment to put the pieces together, but then I was…reasonably certain that it was you.”

  Zach swallowed, wondering what motive she could have had for inviting him here tonight. If she truly meant to see him arrested, would she not already have called for help? “Reasonably?”

  “Yes, it was why I needed this.” Glancing down, she lifted a hand and took hold of the small ring resting against her skin.

  Zach blinked. He hadn’t even noticed it in the dark.

  Her eyes rose and met his. “I needed to be certain.” She swallowed. “Now, I am.”

  Zach gritted his teeth. “Why? Why did you do this? No woman in my acquaintance would have dared to…to lure a stranger,” he swallowed hard, “a criminal no less, to her bedchamber.” He took a step closer, drawing back his shoulders, seeking to intimidate her with his tall stature towering over her. “Why would you take such a risk?”

  Lifting her chin, Miss Hawkins held his gaze. “It was no risk,” she whispered almost breathlessly, her fingers digging deeper into her arms as though she’d finally realized the precarious situation she found herself in. “I know you.”

  “Do you now?” Zach demanded, surprised to hear such faith in her voice. He could not say if it pleased him or not. Still, the way she stood before him, defiant and dauntless despite her vulnerability in this situation, impressed him. Indeed, he’d not mistaken the fire he’d seen in her eyes the first night they’d met. It had been there. It still was and, for a reason he could not understand, it had made her daring, led her to lure him here. But why?

  Miss Hawkins nodded. Then she moved forward, closing the distance between them. Her large eyes remained fixed on his as her right hand dropped the ring she’d been holding on to as though it were a lifeline and reached up toward his face.

  Zach froze, stunned by her boldness.

  Only when her fingers grasped the edges of his mask did he remember that it still covered his face. Slowly, she pulled it upward until the strap tied in the back slipped over his head, revealing his face.

  For a long moment, they simply remained where they were, facing one another, their eyes lingering on the other, looking for something that might explain that strangely pulsing energy between them that had them rooted to the spot.

  Only there was nothing.

  Nothing but the dark of night.

  Nothing but them.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Questions & Answers

  Rebecca’s heart beat wildly in her chest as she stared up into Lord Pembroke’s eyes. The tips of her fingers still held on to the mask he’d been wearing, and she could feel them tingle with the memory of his skin against hers. It had been a fleeting touch at best, and yet, it had stolen the breath from her lungs.

  Oddly enough, Rebecca had never felt more alive than in that moment when her lungs froze and she could not seem to bring herself to breathe.

  All dressed in black, Lord Pembroke cut a striking figure, dangerous and menacing. He stood tall, his wide shoulders squared, and she’d had to push herself up onto her toes to reach his mask. He towered over her, and she could not help but think that he did so on purpose. That her closeness threw him off the same way his made her stomach flip in the most unusual manner. Was he trying to intimidate her? To frighten her into foolishly allowing him to slip from the room?

  Still, despite the daunting way he loomed over her, the soft glow in his eyes reminded Rebecca of the smiling man who’d come to her rescue that day they’d first met.

  “Why did you come for the ring?” she whispered into the stillness. “Why is it so important to you?” More than anything, Rebecca wanted to know the man he was under the mask, the man behind the easy smile.

  At the mention of the ring, his lips thinned and his features grew hard. “Give it to me,” he demanded, and his gaze dropped from hers to touch upon the small replica resting against her chest.

  Steeling herself, Rebecca took a step back, unwilling to have this moment end so soon. No, she wanted more. More than a mere flutter in her belly. Much more. “That I cannot do.”

  His gaze narrowed at the insistence in her voice. “How did you…? Who gave it to you?” His shoulders tensed as he raked a
hand through his hair, a hint of unease coming to his darkened eyes.

  Indeed, if she wasn’t at all mistaken, it seemed that Lord Pembroke portrayed subtle signs of…jealousy? Could it be? Did the thought of her favoring another truly upset him thus?

  In answer, Rebecca felt her pulse quicken and a delighted smile steal onto her face. “No one gave it to me,” she answered honestly, knowing that her words told him very little about what he seemed so desperate to know.

  His jaw clenched and, for a moment, Lord Pembroke seemed to be fighting for control. Then in the blink of an eye, he suddenly stood in front of her, his breath almost labored as he stared down into her eyes. “How else would you have come by it?” he snarled, his chest heaving. “Tell me!” His right hand shot forward and, for a short moment, Rebecca thought he would reach for her.

  Her heart hammered wildly…and then sank when he stopped himself.

  Drawing in a slow breath, he took a step back, his gaze haunted as it lingered on her face. “What game is this?” he asked yet again, anger lacing his voice.

  “It is not a game,” Rebecca replied, fingering the ring absentmindedly. “Though I do admit that I cannot help but be curious about why you would go to such lengths to retrieve it.” She held his gaze openly, daring him to answer. “I know that it is an heirloom. I know that it was stolen from you by Lord Mortimer. I know that—”

  “How?” Lord Pembroke demanded, his eyes wild as he surged toward her once again. “How do you know all this?”

  Rebecca smiled. “I have my ways.”

  His jaw clenched. “That is not an answer.”

  “Neither have you given me one,” Rebecca countered, shrugging her shoulders as though theirs was a conversation not unusual in the least. “Tell me what I wish to know and I will do the same.”

  Exasperation came to his eyes, and his chest heaved up and down in a long breath. Then, he bowed his head. “Very well,” he growled, running a hand through his hair yet again. He took a step back, then moved about the room as though collecting his thoughts before turning back to look at her. “The ring belonged to my father. It was all he had when he left England for America. The day he married my mother, he placed it on her finger and it remained there until the day she passed.” A shadow passed over his face, and Rebecca could see that the loss of his mother still lingered.