The Earl That Overruled My Destiny

by Hanna Hamilton

  There was no answer, but perhaps, the lord merely hadn’t heard her. Or perhaps, she’d imagined that the shadows had moved. Gwendoline drifted further from the horse, accompanied by the swaying tree branches. “Lord Caspian?” she whispered.

  Then, she heard it more distinctly: the sound of footsteps. They weren’t the light and dainty movements of a lady, but heavier and plodding. The sound of a man’s riding boots.

  Several yards around, a figure emerged from behind the cover of the trees. Gwendoline’s heart beat madly against her ribcage. A smile pulled at her cheeks. He was here just as he’d said! A fluttering, light laugh slipped past the Lady’s coral lips. She felt so foolish for being afraid. There was Lord Caspian, just as he’d said he would be.

  “My Lord!” she greeted, lifting her skirts and going to him.

  But as Gwendoline drew closer and saw the figure more acutely, she halted abruptly. Her heart seemed to stop beating. It was a lord, but it was not Lord Caspian who stood before her.

  The man’s lips curled into a sly, satisfied smile. “Good evening, Lady Gwendoline. Are you surprised to see me?”

  It was Lord Noah, Caspian’s brother.

  Chapter 26

  Caspian woke in a cold sweat and greedily drank in the air. All around him, there was darkness. He gazed at the dark ceiling and clenched the sheets in his hands. Slowly, his mind traced through what had happened. His head throbbed.

  It was difficult to tell what was and what wasn’t a dream.

  It was dark, a sort of deep and liquid dark. One so deep that Caspian didn’t feel like anything could penetrate it, and distantly, he heard the gentle sounds of birds in flight.

  Caspian drew in a deep breath, sending fiery lances of pain through his throat and down his chest, where it burned and curled inside of him. He furrowed his brow and slowly, groggily raised a hand. It was just a nightmare. That was all.

  “A nightmare,” he breathed, his voice raspy.

  He couldn’t quite remember the dream, but he was certain it had been a bad one. And lying in bed, silent save for the low roar of the winds outside his window, Caspian couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that rose within him.

  Something is wrong.

  But what was it?

  Caspian breathed in sharply, sending another burst of pain lancing through his chest and belly. His fingers clenched the sheets, and he slowly sat upright. The room spun, and he blinked rapidly, trying to force the world to stillness.

  With a sharp push against the bed, he slowly climbed to his feet, the floor cold beneath him. He walked to the window and gazed down at the grounds, cloaked in the black of night.

  The grounds were quiet, but something inside Caspian refused to be at ease. There seemed to be a loud, buzzing noise inside him. It was a strange sensation, one which refused to be contained.

  Something is very wrong.

  Caspian stared outside for a moment longer, his heart racing. He just had to think. Surely, if he kept trying and traced his memories back, he’d remember what he needed. Because there was something important he had to remember. Caspian had forgotten it, and even if he had yet to put shape or name to that thing, he knew instinctively that it was something crucial.

  Caspian remembered getting out of bed and going to the window and seeing a rider galloping away from the estate. It had looked like Noah and been riding his favorite horse.

  “But was that a dream?” Caspian muttered.

  Everything was muddled together. His memories and dreams swirled about one another, accompanied by long periods of blackness and blankness. And throbbing pain that refused to cease for even a moment.

  But he was almost certain that he remembered seeing his brother Noah ride away in the dead of night, and obviously, Caspian wasn’t meant to see that.

  For several more seconds, Caspian stood by the window. His hand slowly rose and touched his head, tenderly prodding the injury that had left everything so shattered and uneven.

  Well, it’s easy enough to learn if my brother has gone somewhere.

  In the quiet and the dark, Caspian left his room and wandered through the halls of his family’s grand manor. His only companions were the silvery streams of moonlight and the dark marks of shadows that stretched over the floors and walls.

  His stomach lurched with every step, but the further Caspian walked, the more his thoughts seemed to straighten themselves. Now, he was almost certain that—at some point during the night—he’d risen from bed and gone to the window. And once he was there, Caspian was sure he’d seen the dark form of a horse and its rider galloping across the grounds.

  It was Noah. I’m sure of that. But where would he go at such a late hour?

  When Caspian reached his brother’s room, the door was already ajar, so he pushed it open just a little further, the hinges creaking. For a few seconds, Caspian waited in the doorway. His eyes swept over the room, landing on his brother’s bed.

  Caspian stepped closer. The blankets were neatly arranged over the bed, looking as though they’d not even been slept in.

  “Where have you gone?” Caspian muttered to himself.

  He brushed a hand over his brother’s bed, trying to determine if it had been slept in and remade or if it had never been slept in at all. But it was impossible to say.

  So it wasn’t a dream.

  But Caspian’s mind was so, so slow. He was struggling to find the significance of that realization. He longed for the time before his accident, when his mind had been so clear. Everything had made so much sense then, and thinking hadn’t caused such an agonizing, pulsing pain in his head. He breathed in slowly, inhaling the faint scent of the fireplace. It had been lit.

  How long ago?

  Caspian shook his head. For a moment, he considered just going back to bed. The physician had advised him to stay in bed anyway.

  But what if it’s something serious?

  It was more likely that Noah had a sweetheart. It was probably nothing at all, Caspian reflected. Still, it might be concerning if Noah had been gone very long. Even if he just intended some secret meeting with a lover, wandering through London alone at night wasn’t the safest of pursuits.

  And I would know.

  How many times had he left his room at night, so he could see Lady Gwendoline under the cover of darkness? At the thought of Gwendoline, Caspian’s chest tightened. He hadn’t seen her since the horse threw him, and a sudden ache spread through his chest when he thought of her dark eyes, shining like polished jet.

  Perhaps I should see her.

  But he couldn’t. Not after what had happened. Caspian had guessed that his horse throwing him hadn’t been an accident, and if it wasn’t an accident, he couldn’t very well risk going out to see the lady. He might put her in danger if their mysterious foe still watched them.

  And that thought was followed by another, which chilled him to the core. What if this person threatening them thought that Noah knew about what Caspian and Lady Gwendoline were searching for? What if he was being threatened too?

  At least I can see how long my brother has been gone. That would tell me if he’s been gone overly long.

  Caspian went to the fireplace and crouched before it. The faint smell of flame and cinders rose in his nostrils. He reached out a hand and let it hover over the blacked coals. The air was still faintly warm, which meant Noah hadn’t been gone for long.

  But as Caspian squinted into the dead fire, he saw the merest hint of fine, linen paper. The writing on it made his heart skip a beat. He recognized that hand, the delicate curves of the letters and the sweeping, upward strokes.

  “That’s Lady Gwendoline’s hand,” he murmured.

  But why would this be in his brother’s fireplace?

  Caspian reached out and gingerly pulled the paper, half-burned from the ashes. He slowly climbed to his feet and narrowed his eyes, straining to read the letter in the darkness. It was a thin, blackened thing, half of it burned away by the fires.

  Dear Lord Casp
ian,

  I know that I ought not write to you and that there are many risks of being caught, and yet I cannot refrain from contacting you. I do hope that you’ll accept this letter and my sincerest apologies. But I heard from Florence that you were in a terrible accident. She said that you’d fallen from your horse near the cliffs, but I fear that it was something more nefarious instead.

  The next section of the paper was so burned away that it was illegible, despite Caspian’s best efforts to discern the letters.

  “But why does Noah have this letter?” Caspian muttered. “And why in his fireplace?”

  Caspian’s first, instinctive thought was that Noah must have gotten the letter from…

  Caspian furrowed his brow. Hadn’t Lady Florence and her friends come to visit him? Yes. Despite the pain in his skull and the way his thoughts kept scattering, he was certain he remembered that.

  It made sense that Lady Florence would have left him a letter from Lady Gwendoline, and perhaps, Noah had taken it. It would make sense for his brother to keep the letter hidden, and maybe that was why he’d burned it. He hadn’t wanted anyone to learn of its existence.

  But why wouldn’t he have told me? That doesn’t make any sense.

  All their lives, Noah and Caspian had been close brothers, closer than most anyway. They’d always kept one another’s secrets, and Caspian saw no reason for why something like Lady Gwendoline would cause that to change.

  He could have shown me this letter, though, and he did not. He could have told me that Lady Gwendoline sent me a message or at least revealed its contents, but he did not. Why?

  Caspian frowned, fingering the burned edges of the letter once more. His head ached. Surely, he would not have such a difficult time figuring this all out if his head wasn’t pounding so fiercely. What was the significance of this?

  The letter had been burned in his brother’s fireplace, and now, his brother was gone. In the dead of night.

  I hope, the letter continued, that we might be able to meet once you’re feeling better, My Lord. I know that the risks are great, especially since it seems that our secret has been found out. Nevertheless, because of what has happened to you, I fear that we have planned this poorly. Perhaps, we shouldn’t have avoided one another, and the better approach would be to reveal what we know.

  But I’m rambling. I don’t know what we ought to do. I just know that I

  The letter cut off abruptly, scorch marks preventing Caspian from reading any further. He growled in frustration. Why would his brother do something like this?

  A knot of worry and fear twisted in his stomach. What if Noah’s absence was connected to this letter? Caspian couldn’t figure out why that would be, though. Why would his brother go to see Lady Gwendoline? That didn’t make any sense for, surely, his brother would not mean her ill.

  But he burned this letter. And he didn’t tell me about it. This doesn’t make sense.

  Caspian knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he’d gotten to the truth of the matter. What if Lady Gwendoline and his brother were trying to solve the mystery themselves? That would put them both in danger, and even if Caspian knew he wasn’t as strong as he usually was, even if his accident still weighed heavily both on his body and mind, he knew that he would not rest easy again until he knew that both of them were safe.

  I won’t rest easy either until I know why my brother tried to burn this letter.

  Caspian dressed quickly and tucked the letter against his breast. Then, he descended as quietly and quickly as he could. Now he risked being caught more than ever. Caspian wouldn’t put it past his doting mother to check in on him, and if she caught him, Caspian knew for sure that his well-meaning mother would stop him.

  And I may not have time to explain. Both my brother and Lady Gwendoline might be in terrible danger at the moment.

  Once Caspian reached the estate grounds, he broke into a run. His stomach lurched from the sudden exertion after lying in bed for days, but he forced himself to keep running. He must make all haste to Lady Gwendoline and Hyde Newhost. His heart beat so rapidly that he heard the echo of it pulsate in his skull.

  Gasping for air, Caspian reached the stables. He went to his favored mare, the one who had thrown him just days before. Again, that feeling rose inside him that something terrible had happened, that someone had purposefully spooked the horse, hoping he’d fall and—perhaps—even die. Caspian patted the horse’s flank, partly to reassure himself and partly to reassure her. The animal surely sensed his nervousness.

  “Let’s go, girl,” he murmured.

  Caspian saddled the horse as quickly as he could, though his movements were made clumsy by the fear coursing through him. Logically, he had very little evidence that anyone was in danger, but the pieces didn’t add up. And after everything that had happened, after he’d been thrown from his horse, he couldn’t shake the terrible foreboding fear that crept through him.

  He mounted the horse and urged her into a gallop. The sound of her hooves was muffled by the green, made slick with recent rainwater, but the night now was clear.

  Lady Gwendoline will be fine. Surely, she must be.

  Caspian felt that if he told himself that enough, it would be true, but it was strange how the closer he came to Hyde Newhost, the more he feared for her safety than his own brother’s.

  Maybe it was because Noah would be better equipped to face danger. He’d traveled widely and was more experienced in protecting himself. Besides, he knew how to fight, certainly more than Lady Gwendoline did.

  But if Noah is with her, he’ll protect her. Surely.

  He was worrying over nothing. What had likely happened was that Noah, having found the letter, had burned it, hoping to keep Caspian’s secret for him. That was surely the end of the matter, and all Caspian’s fears must surely be the product of a feverish, overworked imagination.

  It’s just this injury. I’m taxing myself more than I should.

  He forced his horse into a slower pace, knowing that she couldn’t gallop for much further. As usual, he brought her to the edge of the property and tied her to one of the long, sweeping tree limbs.

  Where will Lady Gwendoline be now?

  Caspian stalked across the grass, trying to recall what he remembered of the estate. Lady Gwendoline likely wouldn’t be in her usual bedroom, not after that rock came hurtling through her window.

  But if I spend time searching and I’m caught, there will be even less I can do. I must endeavor to give it my best guess.

  He reached the usual willow and gazed up to Lady Gwendoline’s room. The window was replaced. Caspian took a deep breath, and bending down, he gathered a handful of small, polished pebbles. He threw one at the glass, which emitted a faint popping noise. And he waited.

  When Lady Gwendoline did not answer, he tried once more. Still, there was nothing, but then, she did not always answer at once. She might be asleep and likely was at the late hour.

  Another pebble. No answer.

  Caspian curled his fingers tightly around the stones and tried to decide if he dared enter the manor and climb to Lady Gwendoline’s bedroom.

  Chapter 27

  Lord Noah clasped his hands behind his back and looked up, seeming to survey the sky for a moment. “Well,” he said at last, “My brother always did have an admiration for nature. This is a nice place. Don’t you think?”

  Gwendoline’s heart pounded so rapidly that she thought she might be sick, and that would certainly do nothing to improve the situation. “Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked.

  Lord Noah arched an eyebrow. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

  Gwendoline gathered her courage and straightened her spine. She lifted her chin and rolled back her shoulders, trying to emulate the courage of the heroines she’d always read about in novels and always dreamed of being. Inside, her thoughts swirled like a maelstrom of feeling, barely coherent. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  “I would assume that you have come in Lord Caspi
an’s stead. Where is he?”

  “Oh, he won’t be coming tonight,” Lord Noah replied, smiling viciously. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Lady Gwendoline.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “He sent me a letter.”

  “Oh, please. I can mimic my brother’s handwriting quite well. I sent you a letter.”

  “But how would you…” Gwendoline trailed off. “This—then, you know. You know about my uncle and your aunt.”

  “Oh, I know about them. Far more than you do, I’d imagine.”

  “What do you mean?” Gwendoline asked, her voice weaker than she wanted it to be. “What—what…have you also been working with Lord Caspian?”