Am I truly so easily swayed? That a few nice words will erase all my disdain and all my distrust?
But then, a traitorous voice in her head murmured, all that disdain and distrust had never really been hers. It had been her family’s.
And Lord Caspian is correct, is he not? That we’d lingered far too long upon this feud between our families.
“I was impressed with his sincerity,” Florence said.
“You believe him, then?” Gwendoline asked.
“I do. Think upon it. Why would Lord Caspian choose to torment you with an apology?”
“To unsettle me,” Gwendoline muttered rebelliously. “Because he is a Lord who thrives upon mischief and discord.”
“Is he? Those are strong words for a man with whom you seldom speak.” Florence’s amusement was apparent in her voice.
Gwendoline sighed. As she looked across the room, her gaze landed on Lord Caspian. He stood near his father, Lord Elderdale, and although the two men stood close together, their conversation appeared cold. Frigid, even. There was something about the two of them which made all their interactions seem awkward.
Perhaps, it is only because I know Lord Elderdale is a cold man.
And despite her own difficulties with pleasing her father, Gwendoline would never say that he was cold. Her father was kind and gentle, just a little overbearing at times. But he loved her and meant well.
“I don’t think it’s necessary to speak to a man in order to determine his character. Sometimes, but not always,” Gwendoline mused.
Lord Caspian was quite a handsome man, though. Of course, that was hardly a surprise. His father was handsome, and Lady Elderdale was still a lovely woman. And besides, many of the gentlemen of the ton were handsome. Lord Caspian really wasn’t anything unusual.
It’s only because of his smooth words that I’m devoting so much attention to him. I ought not linger on him so much, but I feel as though I am drawn to him by some strange power.
“I disagree wholeheartedly. I think you ought to speak to men to learn their true natures. You can hardly expect hearsay to offer an accurate portrayal,” Florence replied.
She shrugged. “There is a grain of truth in every rumor, or so I have heard.”
“If it’s only a grain, that’s all the more reason to listen to what men themselves say,” Florence replied.
Gwendoline wrinkled her nose, although the thought of speaking further to Lord Caspian was not a wholly unpleasant one. And perhaps, he might have some genuine insight into what happened to Lord Charles. That was assuming, of course, the thought that Gwendoline and Lord Caspian could speak civilly about Lady Helena.
But whether or not Lady Helena was some cruel seductress, I might be able to learn something about what truly happened between my uncle and his paramour.
Unless Gwendoline’s suspicions about Lord Charles’s Lady were true. If she was, in fact, a common woman, he likely wouldn’t have spoken about her to anyone, much less to Lady Helena.
Or perhaps, Lady Helena did know of the woman and chose to use that knowledge against my uncle.
The existence of this previously unknown woman changed everything, but as of yet, Gwendoline did not know precisely how.
“I have found love letters to my uncle,” Gwendoline said quietly.
“From whom?” Florence asked.
“I don’t know. They’re unsigned. But I have never heard of my uncle loving any woman. That is, except for Lady Helena, if you can call wicked, self-serving seduction something like love.”
Florence’s expression became one of fond frustration.
“It’s sad,” Gwendoline said, a bit defensively. “My uncle clearly loved this unknown woman, and Lady Helena lured him away from her.””
Florence hummed, and her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Did your uncle ever have an engagement to anyone?”
“Not that I know of.”
Florence frowned. “Strange.”
“But you mustn’t tell anyone,” Gwendoline added. “I found these letters in my uncle’s bedroom.”
Florence’s jaw dropped. “The locked room? The room your father has expressly forbidden you to enter? My! And here I thought you were a proper lady!”
Gwendoline clasped her hands together and tried not to smile. “I know I ought not disobey My Lord, but I long for…oh, Florence, I could scarcely endure it any longer! And wanted…”
“Oh, dear, you never have to explain yourself to me,” Florence said. “You are my dearest friend. And it seems as if something good has come from your mischief.”
“I don’t know if it’s good yet. It’s something I don’t understand, though. And I feel as if I must understand it. Whoever this woman was, something happened to her, and none of my family have ever spoken of her.”
“That is odd.”
Gwendoline nodded. “It is odd.”
More than odd. It was something which stirred her imagination. Gwendoline thought of several romantic situations, each fantasy more extravagant than the one before it. Secret affairs and romantic trysts made her imagine herself as being the heroine of a novel.
And how wonderful that would be!
Gwendoline’s heartbeat quickened at the thought of the mystery unfolding before her. There was little that would delight her more.
And maybe, this will somehow end the feud between my family and Lord Caspian’s. Surely, I cannot be blamed for allying myself with him when together, we might be able to end the feud between our families.
* * *
Gwendoline spent most of the next day reading her uncle’s letters, but she discovered little more. It seemed as if whoever her uncle’s paramour was, she’d taken deliberate pains to disguise her true identity in her letters, which made sense if she was—as Gwendoline suspected—a common woman.
Gwendoline considered approaching her father with the matter, but then, she would have to admit how she’d learned that her uncle Charles had a beloved. And Gwendoline doubted she’d be able to lie when standing before her father’s disapproving face.
Already, he detests thinking about his brother. He’d be terribly angry if I mentioned Lord Charles to him, so if I want to solve this mystery, I must do it myself. At least, for now.
It still remained uncertain whether or not Lord Caspian might be able to help her with this, but if he truly did wish to end their family’s feuding, Lord Charles’s previously unknown lover might be of interest to him. At least, she might provide some clues as to what really occurred with Lady Helena.
By nightfall, Gwendoline had read through all the letters, and was half-consumed with thoughts of Lord Caspian’s resolve to end the feud between their families. It seemed like now was the time to learn the truth.
More than ever now.
So, Gwendoline took the candlestick once more and quietly left the room. Her steps were nearly silent as she strode into the corridor. Then, she made the short trip up the stairs and slipped into her uncle’s old bedroom. It was just as she’d left it, dust and all.
Gwendoline pulled the door closed behind her and tiptoed to the tapestry, taking care not to make the wood beneath her feet creak. The room was as silent as a grave, and with a shiver, Gwendoline thought that being in her uncle’s room was a little like opening a tomb and trying to recover long forgotten secrets. “Long time, no see. Did you miss me?” she whispered.
In her left hand, she held the candlestick. With the right, she lifted the tapestry and shifted the loose stone out. It came out more easily this time, accompanied by bits of dust and stone. Gwendoline shoved her hand in, feeling around the dark, rough space.
But there doesn’t seem to be anything there.
With a frown, she withdrew her hand and brought the candle close to the hole, letting the light shine into the space. Still, there were no envelopes or scraps of paper. She’d gotten all the letters.
Here, at least. There may be more elsewhere.
Gwendoline decided to search the rest of the room in the most lo
gical manner possible. She began at one corner of the room and walked around it, searching for any possible breaks or protrusions in the wall. It was difficult with the dull light and Gwendoline made slow progress in her search.
Once she’d crossed the room, Gwendoline placed the candlestick onto her uncle’s desk, which was coated in a thick layer of white dust. She tugged at a desk drawer, but it was locked and refused to budge. With a frown, she tried another. And another. But no matter how hard Gwendoline tugged at her uncle’s desk drawers, they remained firmly locked.
“I know there has to be a key here,” she muttered. “Somewhere.”
She tried searching for keys among her uncle’s bookshelf, but still, she found nothing. Gwendoline frowned as one of the floorboards creaked beneath her foot. She placed the candlestick on the floor and crouched beside it, lowering herself to better inspect the floor.
The dust in this room appears so thick it could be mistaken for snow. I’ll need to make sure I brush it off my gown. Otherwise, my lady’s maid will realize I have gotten into some mischief.
The wooden floorboards all seemed even. With a frown, Gwendoline went down, nearly onto her belly, and narrowed her eyes. Everything seemed normal, but still, she crept forward inch by inch. Gwendoline moved the candle, so the flickering light chased away the darkness beneath the bed. One of the floorboards bent slightly upward. Gwendoline carefully moved the candle as close as she dared without risking the bed catching fire. Then, she wedged herself beneath it.
A thick wave of anxiety curled inside her, as she wedged herself all the way beneath the bed. She picked at the slightly raised board, and finding a chip in it, Gwendoline dug at it with her nails. But no matter how much she scraped and picked, the wood wouldn’t budge.
One more time. I just know there’s something beneath it!
Gwendoline clenched her jaw and tried wedging her fingers under the flood board. Pain sliced across her finger, and Gwendoline hissed. She held her teeth tightly together to keep from crying out in pain. When she drew her hand back, hot blood stung across her finger. It hurt, but as far as she could tell, the injury wasn’t too bad.
So I need to be a little more careful with this.
She tugged once more, and with a loud creak and the splintering of wood, the board came free. Gwendoline reached into the darkness, and with a victorious smile, her fingers touched papers. She wrapped her hand around them and pulled herself out from under the bed.
I knew it!
Gwendoline retrieved her candle and returned to her room. She dropped the letters onto her desk. After checking the cut on her finger, the bleeding already stopped, she turned her attention again to the letters. There were more; they were likewise bound in a red ribbon. She untied them and traced her fingers over the delicate handwriting.
Now that Gwendoline thought about it, the handwriting was very elegant. The letter writer was clearly a woman who wrote often and with a well-practiced hand.
She could not have been a common woman, then. Or at least, she must have been someone with no small amount of education. Perhaps, the daughter of some writer. Or a professor.
But that seemed more baffling. Where would her uncle have met this lady? They must have seen one another often to have become so close.
Perhaps, I’ll find some clues.
So she opened the first letter and began to read.
My Dearest Charles,
I was so delighted to receive your last letter! Every time you write me, I feel as though I have fallen into a fairy tale. The world seems brighter, and my heart flutters with such longing for you that I can scarcely stand it. But I know, my dearest, that our time is short.
I can only delay the inevitable for so long, and no matter how hard I try, I fear that my efforts shall all be for naught. And what shall we do, then? No matter what happens, I know I shall remain utterly devoted to you. Ah, if only love was not so complicated! If only everyone could support true love, as it ought to be!
I will support your scheme wholeheartedly, of course. I scarcely care how our elopement ends. Even if we’re forced away from London forever and must live the rest of our lives among the common people, I’ll do so happily. I’ll do whatever it takes to love you and be loved by you openly. Do not doubt my resolve, but I beg you take pity upon me for my fears that this will not end well for either of us.
But whatever shall transpire, know that I will love you as long as I shall live and beyond if that is possible.
Forever Yours,
Helena Farraday
Chapter 6
When Caspian gazed out the window, rain fell like sheets across the gray, dreary gardens. It seemed as though it would never be dry again, and Caspian’s body shook with anxious energy. He was a man who always felt profoundly connected to nature.
Caspian longed for the beauty of forests and the wildness of oceans. He was best suited for adventures, for going to new places, and searching for untrodden and secret places.
But I’m here.
And really, there was nothing to be done for it.
Caspian saw a figure appear behind him in the reflection in the window. His brother Noah leaned against the doorway to the parlor.
“You look as though you’re occupying yourself well,” Noah said.
Caspian laughed. “I’d forgotten how often it rains in London. It almost makes me long for Spain.”
“Almost?”
“The ladies aren’t as lovely in Spain as they are in the ton,” Caspian replied, grinning.
That wasn’t entirely true, of course. There were beautiful women in Spain. But recently, Caspian’s thoughts were occupied with one London lady in particular. Lady Gwendoline. Caspian thought about her dark curls and how her hair shined in the flickering firelight. And her eyes were so beautiful and brilliant, like precious gemstones.
How did I never notice how lovely she looks before?
But no. He had noticed how beautiful she was. It was just that he’d pretended not to, maybe even convinced himself that she wasn’t as lovely, as radiant, as those other ladies in the ton. Because if he acknowledged how pretty she was, he would be acknowledging that the niece of his family’s nemesis was…
Exquisite. Even if only in that one respect.
“I think ladies are fine wherever they come from,” Noah replied, joining his brother at the window.
“Is there any lady in particular that has caught your fancy?”
Noah hummed. “I don’t know. I’d think that your prospects are more important than mine, aren’t they?”
Caspian grinned. “The curse of being the elder brother. We’re all concerned with my marriage prospects.”
“You’re the one who mentioned the topic,” Noah pointed out.
“So I did.”
“Then, are there any ladies you have developed an interest in? I daresay Lady Eleanor is looking quite lovely.”
Lady Eleanor always looked lovely. She was a slender woman with blonde hair and large, blue eyes that were set in a soft, angelic face. A true beauty if there ever was one.
“I haven’t really spoken to Lady Eleanor yet this season,” Caspian mused, “but I was under the impression that she’s hoping to secure the affections of Lord Brookshire.”
“Brookshire?”
Caspian nodded. “Hadn’t you noticed?”
Noah whistled lowly between his teeth. “Well, there goes any chance I might have at winning the fair lady’s heart.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
Noah shook his head. “Lord Brookshire can offer significantly more than I can.”
“Have you considered Lady Elizabeth?”
“She’s a lovely woman. We have shared a dance or two since the season began. Our mother thinks Lady Elizabeth would make a fine match.”
Caspian inwardly winced at the mention of their mother. Two dances was more than their own parents had since the season began. Lord Elderdale cared far more for spending the balls and grand occasions doing business and sp
eaking with his friends than sparing a word or romantic gesture for his wife.
And although Caspian himself often spent balls with his friends, he always made sure to share a dance with his mother. Surely, his father ought to likewise show his wife and Lady the same respect.
The Earl That Overruled My Destiny Page 5