Lady Falls (Black Rose Trilogy)

by Renee Bernard

  “Yes.” She frowned at the way her voice sounded small and shaky but she took the coachman’s hand all the same and climbed up the steps, doing her best to ignore Mrs. Hoggerty’s ominous smiles and the haunting sound of her final words.

  The Devil has you in hand now.

  Does he?

  Well, then, let’s see where he takes me.

  Kent

  Spring, 1866

  Chapter One

  “It’s expensive, that one,” her maid murmured as she dutifully held up a hand mirror to allow her mistress to take another look. “As fine as any in London.”

  “Do you think so?” Raven tipped her chin downward to study the effect of the raspberry hued silk lining of the rim as it formed a halo against her dark curls. “Well, Lord Trent insisted that I was to have whatever I wished if it meant holding my own and not looking like a country bump when his friends arrive from London!”

  Kitty said nothing and Raven pinched her playfully on her arm to evoke a small squeak of protest. “Eek! You cruel thing!”

  Raven smiled. “You’re meant to say how lovely I look and then something encouraging about following my heart’s desires, not sit there with your lips pressed together simmering about how spoiled I am, Katherine Polk!”

  The maid shook her head. “As if you needed encouragement! I’ve known you too long to bother. You’ll buy it no matter what the cost once you realize it makes your eyes sparkle and if I point out that you’d look just as lovely with a burlap sack perched on your head, where’s the challenge in that?”

  They had been mistress and maid since Raven had first arrived under the Earl’s roof and Raven’s love for Kitty was more akin to a sister than a servant. “The challenge,” she said as she turned back to adjust the bonnet to a slightly jauntier angle, “is in stopping me from buying two!”

  Kitty shook her head. “Why in the world would you wish for two?”

  “Why, so that my lovely lady’s maid can have one to match and can make a certain groomsman mark her every passing!”

  “Miss Wells!” It was Kitty’s turn to pinch her mistress on the arm though Raven was too quick for her and darted around the milliner’s counter to avoid her just punishment for bringing up the forbidden topic of the very handsome stable hand. “What did I ever do to deserve such wickedness?”

  Raven laughed. “Wickedness is its own reward and if you’d rather catch his eye without the use of a feathered cap, just say so!” She turned to the milliner, Mrs. McWhorten, before Kitty could protest any further. “I’ll take this one and wear it home.”

  “Very well, Miss Wells.” Mrs. McWhorten deftly put the bonnet her customer had arrived in into a hatbox and handed it over to Kitty. “A pleasure to have your business, as always.”

  Raven raced from the shop without a backward glance. Her laughter rang out as she transformed into a blur of silk and feathers bursting through the milliner’s doorway. Her every thought was bent toward the thrill of having visitors at Lord Trent’s estates and the entertainments that would follow. Pure joy at the acquisition of meaningless frippery and the liberty of a new bonnet bestowed upon its proud owner carried a lively young Raven Wells out onto the cobblestones with the speed of a yearling.

  “Miss Wells!” The cry of alarm from her maid inside the doorway came a breath too late.

  The solitary rider had little opportunity to do more than attempt to avoid a collision with her colorful revelry and was rewarded with the loss of his seat. She was spared completely but he was vaulted off his mount and landed without an ounce of redeeming masculine grace on his backside on the muddy stones with a muttered groan of pain.

  “Oh, sir!” Raven exclaimed and rushed toward him. “Oh, god, are you murdered?”

  He closed his eyes and lifted a gloved hand to his forehead shielding most of his features from view. “No,” he answered, his deep voice lowered as the breath had been knocked out of him. “Just give me a moment.”

  She knelt next to him, retrieving his hat, secretly admiring what a delightful sprawl he made with his broad shoulders and long lean limbs. “I can give you as many moments as you need, although if you lie in the street for too long, Mrs. McWhorten will send for the doctor.” She glanced up nervously to assess how many of the villagers were already slowing their steps and staring toward the commotion she’d caused. “Should I send Kitty for him myself?”

  “No.” He immediately began to shift up onto his elbows. He opened sapphire blue eyes, revealing himself to be insanely attractive in face as well as form. “If I survived the fall, I suppose I can survive the humiliation of it.”

  “Perhaps…not many noticed your misfortune.” It was a ridiculous proposal but she fought to keep a straight face as no less than three faces appeared in the milliner’s windows and as many more in the dry goods store across the way.

  “I’m not that lucky.”

  Raven shyly held out his topper. “You must admit it was a spectacular tumble. But you didn’t break your neck and that’s lucky enough.”

  “Oh, no!” He groaned again. “I’ve saved the life of an optimist.” He finished sitting up, wincing as his bruised spine protested, and took the hat from her hands. “God help me.”

  “You aren’t an optimist, I take it?” she asked doing her best to ignore the heat of a blush creeping up her cheeks.

  “Never when I have muck on my backside.” He shook his head and regained his feet, treating her to a rushed impression of his glorious height and strong masculine lines. He was a young man in his prime and just a few seasons shy of thirty if she had to guess. Raven liked the gold streaks in his brown hair and wild turn of its curls. He was a gentleman if she judged him by the cut of his clothes and expense of his boots. He retrieved the dropped reins of his horse who had dutifully circled back for his rider. “It’s a personal philosophy of mine to adhere to a darker view when gravity has…the upper hand.”

  She giggled and he looked down at her still perched at his feet on the cobblestones. He held out a hand to assist her back up and she popped up like a sprite.

  “If I let anything as inconsequential as mud interfere with my happiness, I wouldn’t know myself,” Raven said. “And nothing should interfere with a woman’s happiness, don’t you think?”

  He released her hand slowly and took one measured step back as if to study her in amazement. “No, I can’t think of a thing that should. Though I’ll deny saying such a light-hearted thing if you attempt to quote me.”

  “I cannot quote you without giving you credit by name, sir. And as you are a stranger to me, it appears that you are safe on that account.” She admired his proud demeanor and the way he wielded his masculine bluster to ward off an introduction while he still clearly felt at a disadvantage. She knew very little of men but she knew enough not to press him if he felt cornered.

  “Thank God for small favors.” He brushed a hand down the front of his coat, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll limp off with the last shred of my dignity intact.”

  “I would never think to rob you of that illusion,” she said, deliberately looking at him through her lashes. “Oh, look, here comes the apothecary…”

  Confusion knit his brows together before he caught the meaning of her words and wheeled around to accept that there was no escape.

  “Sir! Sir! Are you destroyed?” The portly man was huffing as he jogged up, the enthusiasm of his concern making him red in the face. “God, what a flight that was!”

  “I’m completely unharmed. Thank you for your concern.” He moved to the side of his mount to adjust the saddle. “It was a small mishap.”

  “Not that!” the apothecary said, exhaling in a wheeze. “A heroic disaster and won’t the earl be forever in your debt for it?”

  Phillip’s hands froze on the leather straps and he turned back to the man, struggling not to look at the exotic vision standing innocently by the store’s brick front. “The earl?”

  “The Earl of Trent! You nearly killed yourself to n
ot run over his beloved ward!” Mr. Forrester supplied before raising a hand to beg mercy while he tried to catch his breath. “God! What a commotion!”

  Damn! Why am I cursed when it comes to Trent?

  “You.” He shifted back to face the girl. “You are Geoffrey’s ward?”

  “I am,” she said brightly as if it were perfectly ordinary to meet a man after unseating him from his horse.

  His breath caught in his throat. He was not a fresh-faced buck to become flummoxed at the simple sight of a pretty girl but this—this was somehow different. The village and most of its inhabitants were awash in drab colors of the earth compared to her. Porcelain features, raven black hair and eyes the color of smoke, she was an unsettling young beauty that moved without a hint of shy reserve and yet there was nothing unladylike about her.

  And he’d nearly killed her.

  He bowed a bit awkwardly, then regretted the custom as his bruised back protested. “Phillip Warrick, at your service.”

  “Raven Wells,” she said and then performed a saucy curtsey in response to his gesture.

  The maid’s shocked gasp behind them reminded him that there’d be no rewriting history. “We were fated to meet, Miss Wells.”

  “What a poetic thing to say!” she exclaimed, lifting one of her gloved hands to touch her own cheek.

  “Not really,” he amended quickly, swallowing with grim resolve the thrill that her youthful exuberance betrayed. “I am to be a guest of the Earl of Trent and was on my way to his estate for a visit. He was kind enough to include me in his party but not apparently considerate enough to mention that…”

  Words failed him as he realized the awkward turn he’d taken.

  “That I exist?” she finished on his behalf. She laughed, light merry music that sent shimmering warmth through his frame.

  Phillip stiffened his shoulders to try to ward off her alluring powers. He’d accepted Trent’s invitation to mend the rift between them and prove to the man that he was worthy of a renewed friendship and business association. Mooning over the man’s “beloved ward” was the last thing he intended!

  Damn it! Stop staring at the girl and get on your horse!

  “I’m sure he’s not required to make an announcement of his every connection, especially to me. I barely qualify as an acquaintance.”

  “And yet he’s included you in his rather exclusive country party,” she pointed out. “But you are right. Lord Trent is very protective of his privacy and by extension it seems of mine. I, for one, shall take the omission of my name and existence as a good omen.”

  “An omen portending what exactly?”

  “That despite all of the warnings about every event, word and whisper in a small village or great house being immediately known in the wide world, it apparently isn’t true. Just think! All these years of behaving perfectly for fear that I would rend the fabric of the universe and I was anonymous all the while. An opportunity to be wicked without consequences completely lost to me!” She sighed so prettily that he nearly forgot his astonishment at what she was saying.

  “Yes. Quite.” It was hardly an appropriate response but Phillip couldn’t think of what a man is supposed to say to pure unbridled mischief in the guise of a glorious beauty.

  Her abigail cleared her throat to bring him back to the reality of a red-faced apothecary, a populated village lane and the social challenges ahead.

  “Pardon me, sir, but we should be getting on with our morning errands,” the maid said. “I’m sure they’ll be eager to receive you at the manor house and express their thanks for my lady’s safety.”

  Phillip nodded quickly. “Of course! I will meet you under more proper circumstances then and since I have no intentions of describing this incident, perhaps we can omit all thanks.”

  Raven’s eyes lit with a flash of keen wit. “For a man who derides optimism, you continue to amaze, sir.” She leaned forward slightly and dropped her tone conspiratorially. “I will wager you a shilling that Mrs. McWhorten’s youngest is dispatched and even now hurdling his third stone wall on his way to Oakwell. The house will be abuzz with every detail of your fall before you’ve achieved the lane. What say you?”

  “I say I’d forgotten the charms of country living.”

  She grinned as she straightened to take one prim step back. “Come, Kitty! We will leave Mr. Warrick to finish his journey and see if that bolt of purple silk is still set aside in Mercer’s.” She curtsied sweetly. “Thank you again, sir, for your chivalry on my behalf.”

  She retreated with her maid in tow before he could think of a clever reply and he was left to ignore the apothecary’s impassioned invitations for him to sit for a while and “take a powder for his pains”. Phillip waived the man off as politely as he could, remounting his horse and heading out of the village.

  But not before risking one more look back at the figure in bright blues and greens who had thrown him in more ways than he’d ever dreamed possible.

  Chapter Two

  “He wants to see you in the library right away, miss,” Mr. Walters, the butler, took her wrap but she kept a good hold on her new bonnet.

  “Of course.” She did her best to hurry to the library without appearing to seem rushed. It was always a balance to please the vague rules of the house and her guardian’s erratic moods. Running was forbidden but so was keeping the Earl of Trent waiting a second more than he considered reasonable.

  “You’re back sooner than I expected.” He stood from his chair the instant she crossed the threshold of his sanctuary.

  Raven smiled. “Mercer’s hasn’t gotten in anything new since I was last in though I did land on a purple silk that pleased me. And…I was under the impression that your guests may have started to arrive.”

  Lord Trent nodded. “They have indeed. I take it that you met Lord Warrick?”

  “Is he a lord? He did not say!”

  “Did he not? How interesting! Only a baron but yes, a peer to be addressed as such,” Geoffrey said dismissively. “What did he say, Raven? And how exactly did you meet?”

  She straightened her shoulders, accustomed to Geoffrey’s need for full reports. He was a very attentive guardian and while not affectionate, she took his interest in her every move as a sign of his care. “I rushed out of the milliner’s without looking where I was going and the poor man fell off of his horse to avoid running me down. Kitty was beside herself and I had quite the lectures as soon as the excitement had waned.” Her eyes dropped to the bonnet in her hands as she continued, “But Mr. Warrick—I meant, Sir Warrick, was unharmed except for his pride which I fear suffered a terrible blow.”

  “Was he surly?”

  She looked up, startled at the question. “No! He was—sweet and then mortified when Mr. Bircher revealed who I was. I think he was very distressed to think how upset you would be. He said something about being fortunate to be your guest and…”

  “And?”

  “And made a very gallant comment about being fated to meet me.” Heat flooded her cheeks and she knew there would be no hiding it. But Geoffrey had no patience for lies of omission and if he sensed there were more to the story than she was sharing, he would grind every detail from her and she would risk childlike banishment from the house party. Weeks of anticipation made such a punishment unthinkable!

  “God, that’s perfect!” Geoffrey exclaimed and Raven nearly started in surprise.

  “Is…it?” Raven blinked. “What part of the story earned such an accolade?”

  He laughed and relief flooded through her.

  “I’m delighted you made a memorable impression on the man. That is all.”

  “Well, perhaps the cobblestones made a far more lasting impression on him than I ever could. I want to make it clear that I—behaved properly and hope you’re not concerned at—”

  “Raven!” He stopped her with a smile, resuming his seat and stretching out his legs. “My delight allows me no room to bother with the niceties. Besides, you’ve done just as I asked.
You’ve always been attentive to your tutors, kept yourself in good order, demonstrated a weakness for fashion and for the most part, stayed out of your curmudgeonly guardian’s way.”

  Relief coursed through her. Geoffrey’s temper was mercurial but his sunnier moments were impossible not to enjoy. “You’re a generous dragon and the very best of guardians! And you’re the only man in England to think a weakness for fashion is a thing to be required of a woman when I’m fairly certain every female breathing will happily volunteer to drown in ribbons and silk if it is an option.”

  “Not every woman,” he countered. “And I think a healthy dose of vanity suits you.”

  She smiled. “And to think I thought modesty was the better virtue…”

  “Modesty is highly overrated,” he said, adding to the jest with a wild lift of his brows. “And what does a goddess need of such camouflage? Bright feathers win the day as is proven by that bonnet. Is that your newest?”

  “It is! Do you approve?” She held out the bonnet, showing off the plumage.

  “Naturally.” He reached out to gently touch its rim. “I want you to have the trappings of a rich heiress.”

  She blushed and bit the inside of her cheek to keep a nervous laugh from spoiling the moment. He was generous to a fault but recently these hints that he would settle some great amount on her were difficult to absorb. He never said as much directly but his speeches in the last few months about her appearance matching her “station”, the plans for an elaborate debut season in London and an increase in every account she possessed in the village, all added to her speculation.

  “Is Mr. Warrick a good friend then? That you would be so pleased if he—“

  “Warrick is nothing.”

  Warrick is nothing? Why in the world is he delighted in me impressing a man if he is truly nothing? Raven held herself very still and waited for him to continue.

  “Be yourself, Raven, and keep those feathers preened and bright. If I require more of you, I’ll let you know. Make sure you are rested this afternoon and I will see you this evening for dinner.”