“Oliver rented some rambling estate near your friend,” Hugh said, eyes focusing on her mischievous grin.
“He did. That’s true. But there is no way that Antigone and Venetia won’t avoid your cousins by coming to Arathe-By-The-Sea. They come here this time of year, every year. Venetia consults at several gardens, visits the Chandler Exhibition of Curious Plants, and often presents herself.”
Hugh laughed, instantly putting all the pieces together of Alice’s plans.
“That’s why we needed the big house?”
She nodded.
“So we’ll be spending…”
“Oh some weeks, I’d imagine. We can’t visit the gardens until Venetia arrives. She never misses any of them. And, of course, their patrons will seek her out.”
“I feel like you’re speaking Greek,” Hugh said.
“You’ll catch up,” Alice replied, stepping into a shop to order her friend’s favorite treats to be delivered to the home she’d rented. She knew that Antigone and Venetia would forgive the machinations. But they’d make Alice grovel first. It was better to have the bribes on hand.
“When you’re done weaving your plots, there’s a bookstore over there,” Hugh said without a trace of irritation.
“Ooooh, do you think that the new Briory Mitchell is out?”
“No, but the new Auburn Keys should be.”
Alice grinned and rubbed her hands together as she threw caution to the wind and ordered a massive box of chocolates for herself as well. She’d discovered she had to order these things with Hugh in mind. But even Hugh wouldn’t eat that many chocolates. Her girls needed them, Alice told herself. And her girls would get what they needed.
Chapter Nine
The day of the hunt dawned bright and horrible. Venetia dressed in her riding gown and ordered her horse for early. If she and Antigone moved quickly, they’d be well on their way to the village of Maple Lake and Madame Pomeroy’s before the hunt got anywhere near their homes.
“Shopping today?” Uncle Bradford smiled his gentle smile as he asked the question.
Venetia was heading down the wide marble stairs to meet Antigone in the foyer. Days like these, when the memories of home were so stark and clear made the fairyland that was Kendawyn all the more unreal. She had dreamed dark dreams the night before, full of memories. Venetia had been born Valerie Jones. To a far different family and home than the one she had now. She ran her hand down the banister, marveling once again, over its beauty and feeling, once again, the joy she had in this home and this family.
Her pseudo-sister Antigone. The best father one could wish for in her Uncle Bradford. The meddling relation in Alice. Today showed the return of the…the underlying fear that somehow it would be taken from her. It wasn’t terrible memories that rose that morning, but a feeling of them hovering around her. And right at that moment, any memories from home, made her want to curl into her covers.
Instead, she’d curl into her friendship. She paused by Uncle Bradford. He stood so handsome in his study door that she simply had to kiss his cheek before she left.
“I don’t want to see, smell, or hear the hunt,” Venetia said, smiling up at his beloved face.
“Enjoy yourselves, my darlings,” Uncle Bradford said as the butler opened the door for them to the prepared mounts—prancing and beautiful.
Antigone’s horse was a little wild, black, and out the door that was held open for them and to their prancing, beautiful mounts. Venetia’s was a mottled gray, lovely as a storm covered sky.
Their reins were being held by, His Grace, Duke of Wolfemuir and Lord Stanwullf. Antigone’s eyes narrowed while Venetia found herself . . . amused. The shadows of memories faded in the light of Antigone’s inevitable frustration and the realization of how the day would go. Those men were dressed for a hunt. She let out a low laugh as they walked down the outside stairs. Antigone took in the view again and Venetia’s laugh and then realized what her friend had. These men were wolves. They wanted to hunt. They were about to be disappointed one way or another.
“Ready for a hunt?” His Grace asked. His stance and expression were full of triumph. They’d arrived in sufficient time to catch the ladies before the hunt and prevent them from joining other gentlemen instead.
Antigone laughed as she said, “Oh no.” Humor filled every line of her face.
Venetia couldn’t reply. She was speechless as Lord Stanwullf had simply placed his hands around her waist and set her on her horse as if she were a doll, but she replied once she caught her breath. “Never. Absolutely not.”
The Duke jumped, he was so startled, leaving the other three laughing at him.
“You don’t like to hunt,” he demanded, aghast.
“Very much no,” they answered together.
Venetia added, “Have you seen Bambi? Or Fox and the Hound?”
Lord Stanwullf shook his head as Rhys growled, “What do children’s movies have to do with a hunt?”
“Are you referring to those horrific animated contrivances that were used to traumatize my childhood and strike horror in my tender heart to this day?” Venetia was the one who sounded aghast now.
“But you’re a child no longer,” Rhys said. “We hunt!”
“We shop,” Antigone replied calmly. “And drink tea. And perhaps, we visit old friends.”
“We’re not hunting?” Rhys almost whined.
“Well you can. In fact you’re welcome to. Please, go, kill the fox.” Antigone said with a shooing gesture.
Venetia slapped her hands to her ears and began humming until Antigone motioned that it was safe to uncover her ears.
“I like tea,” Lord Stanwullf said as she pulled her hands from her head. “Especially if there’s cake.”
“Lemon cake?” Venetia asked with a smirk.
“Lemon cake was once my favorite. I have developed an unnatural fear of it most recently,” he replied.
“I want to hunt,” the Duke said as Antigone wheeled her horse towards the road to Maple Lake.
Venetia grinned and waved at them. She bet herself if they would follow. To her surprise, Lord Stanwullf didn’t even hesitate. His horse paced hers as they rode out of the gates, followed by His Grace.
“Tell me we’re shopping for ribbons,” Lord Stanwullf said. “I am an excellent judge of all things beribboned.”
“Are you,” Venetia asked lightly, realizing she was actually amused. And perhaps, just a touch, happy he’d decided to accompany them rather than stay behind and murder defenseless woodland animals. Though she had to also wonder if he was aware that he was quoting the villain of Austen. Venetia thought not and that made her grin even wider.
“Indubitably,” he replied, a grin hovering at the edge of his lips but not—quite—on full display.
“And in what other area do you excel?”
“Outside of my charming demeanor?”
“Indeed,” she said dryly. “It cannot be overstated—the level of your ability to charm the unsuspecting Uncles and dear, distant friends.”
His grin was wide and unrepentant now. The Duke had raced ahead, and he and Antigone were not quite racing each other—Antigone’s stiff posture told Venetia that her friend was not amused.
“Well, as you know, I’m a dab hand at the piano. And, of course, there’s always charming the ladies, riding horses, never, ever killing deer or foxes. Hmmmm, I’m sure there’s more.”
He was so amused by himself that Venetia couldn’t help but laugh. The sound had Antigone turning on her horse and shooting her friend a disgusted glance.
“I don’t believe your cousin has your same charming skills,” she said feeling a bit guilty that Antigone was being tortured by the Duke, but honestly, Venetia wasn’t sure that there was a woman alive capable of breaking through the that…that self-satisfied, commanding certainty that every single unmarried woman of Kendawyn secretly dreamed of marrying him. She knew that many a female would throw themselves at the feet of a man with that combination of fortune,
position and —since she was honest—looks. But he seemed to have decided upon the only one who was not interested.
“Rhys has not ever had to do the pretty.”
“Well if he is blind to the feelings of others, perhaps you should tell him that Antigone is not amused or intrigued by his attention.”
Lord Stanwullf’s laugh was instant and evil. She examined his face, and her head tilted as she realized just what he intended. He intended to watch his cousin stumble and fail at this mockery of a romance.
“We need Alice,” Venetia thought. If their distant friend had sent the Duke, she must see something in him that was not apparent to either Venetia or Antigone. Alice was not cruel and she wouldn’t have foisted this idiot off on her two closest friends if she hadn’t seen something in the Duke. That was the only reason, Venetia lied to herself, that she hadn’t stabbed Oliver with a shrimp fork. That and her Uncle’s request to give him a chance. Except. Uncle wouldn’t have asked that of Venetia if he hadn't had faith in Alice as well.
Venetia took in a deep long breath and held it. As she did, she noticed Oliver noticing. He stopped pointing out random birds or flowers as if he knew she needed a moment to gather her thoughts.
What was she doing?
Hadn’t she decided long ago that not falling in love was the safest? Hadn’t she dreamed of her parents, her father’s cruelty, the sound of her mother screaming and crying, and then his sincere and repeated protestations of love? Hadn’t that been her life until her mother had fled to some hidden house in the woods, killed herself and left tiny Valerie to fend for herself? Hadn’t Venetia, then Valerie, left the body of her mother behind and wandered in the woods until she nearly died and somehow fell through to Kendawyn?
She’d been taken to a home for Tyros like herself, tested in her magic, and when it was realized how talented she was and how much she loved plants, she was placed with Bradford Malvern. If it weren’t for the volunteer who had connected Venetia’s loves and magic to the good man Bradford Malvern, Venetia could have ended anywhere. But she’d been rescued first by her volunteer advocate who fought to get Venetia the best home possible and then by her Uncle Bradford, the widower who was willing to take her on and love her despite his loss and suffering.
Just the memory of her father and mother was enough to make Venetia’s breath quicken.
“Are you all right?” Oliver asked, genuine concern filling the air around her.
Stifling her. Venetia nodded but it was a lie. She sped up her horse to catch up with Antigone, ignoring manners to cut her horse between Antigone and the Duke and the two friends forced the others to follow them.
“Are you all right, Vee?”
Venetia smiled a plastic smile and Antigone who knew her friend like her own self understood the situation and guessed what Venetia had been reliving.
“Alice should have known better,” Antigone said. The dark circles under Venetia’s eyes, no doubt, stood out. She felt her face paling. She knew what she looked like when she felt like this, and the concern she felt from behind her—from that tall, handsome man with his brilliant, funny, kind eyes made her want to stab him. Stab him hard, and fast, and quickly.
So he would stop looking, stop seeing.
“She was doing what she thought was best. She never did understand.” Venetia said, trying to focus on Alice rather than her memories.
“Her parents adored her,” Antigone agreed. “And she always had that secret dream to be in real love.”
They rode in silence, not letting the men catch up though they heard the murmur of their conversation.
“How shall we rid ourselves of them?” Antigone asked but Venetia wasn’t certain it could be done. The Duke had Antigone in his sights and he wasn’t going to give up so quickly. And Venetia didn’t think Lord Stanwullf would either.
“I don’t envision success in that arena. Not so soon,” Venetia sighed. Thinking and speaking of Alice had worked its magic and the memories of her first life had been overtaken by the miracle of her second.
“But if we allow them to linger, we’ll just be encouraging them and lengthening our trial.”
Venetia wished she had an answer, but she didn’t. She’d made a promise to her uncle and she would keep it. But she didn’t think things would change. All this situation was doing was making her skin feel too tight, her heart race, and make her—desperately want to run.
Only once you’d arrived in Kendawyn, where else was there to run to?
Chapter Ten
The evening of the ball dawned crisp and perfect. The stars were brilliant in the sky overhead and Venetia knew she had rarely looked better. Her uncle, damn the man, had gifted her with the most beautiful of dresses. He’d done the same to Antigone. Venetia was outshone by her friend whose pale skin and dark hair were dramatic against the rose hue of her gown.
Venetia grinned at Antigone as they walked up the steps of the Wells Manor House.
“One more evening,” Antigone promised. Venetia felt her friend’s gaze on her. And she knew well why Antigone was eyeing her so carefully. Venetia had been pale on and off over the last few days. And with that paleness, she had been somewhat suffocated by Uncle Bradford and Antigone.
“And then freedom,” Venetia replied. “I can not wait to walk the gardens of Arathe-By-the-Sea and consult with Lady Everling about my research.”
“I’m going to bathe, go riding, eat too many chocolates, and sleep until noon every single day.”
“You say that as if your life were so exacting of you,” Venetia laughed. “You act like you’re from the mortal realm going on your first vacation in years instead of a spoilt Kendawyn lady.”
The light of the candles of the house spread down the steps and made the manor house magical. Of course…the Wells family might have paid mages to add a luster. They almost certainly had, Venetia thought, giving the home a critical glance. It didn’t matter to her how it was done, she was charmed. And delighted to be leaving the area for a while.
“How would you feel,” she asked Antigone under her breath, “if we traveled farther afield after Arathe-By-the-Sea?”
“You mean to Amour for a new wardrobe?”
“Elalithe, Thrence, Drynland, and yes, of course, Amour. Perhaps the Tranaxian Mountains. What if we took a long trek?”
“Yes,” Antigone said as the two gentlemen were approaching, and plans could not be divulged.
Venetia couldn’t help but shoot Lord Stanwullf a wicked grin as she deliberately turned from him to greet their hostess. While she was turned away and he was waiting patiently, Charles Donovan approached and requested the first two dances. She gave them up with an evil smirk that she didn't, quite, let show on her face.
Antigone, however, wasn’t so kind as she agreed to dance after dance until the Duke simply cut in front of other men to claim the dances before and after dinner. It was smoothly done and before Venetia could empathize with her friend, Lord Stanwullf took her dance card and filled in the same two dances without an invitation or acceptance.
“Foiled again,” Antigone said as she looked in disgust at her dance card.
“Did you expect anything less?”
“Considering we’ve been losing the battles ever since dear, sweet, evil Uncle Bradford took sides against us, no. It gives me great joy to know that Betty spent the day packing my trunks for Arathe-By-The-Sea.”
“Oh, indeed,” Venetia replied, scowling at the back of Lord Stanwullf. She had no doubt that if he were free to stay by her side the entirety of the ball, he would do so. Except it would be unacceptably rude not to dance with the other young ladies. She thanked her lucky stars, once again, that she’d been blessed enough to stumble into Kendawyn where manners kept these…horror movie monsters in more control than many a mortal man.
* * * * * *
Venetia stiffened as Lord Stanwullf took her in his arms but he pretended not to notice. She had eluded him the last few days by simply not leaving her rooms. It had been easy, her ni
ghts had been plagued by nightmares to the point where Uncle had been concerned enough to call a healer.
“Lovely evening,” she said, hoping he’d let her get away with surface conversation.
“You’re pale,” he examined her face carefully before he asked, “Are you well?”
She scowled at him in reply. She wanted to dance and discuss the weather like every other couple who barely knew each other and were probably partnered with someone who could not be trusted. Just like...
“You look lovely of course.”
Didn’t he know it was rude to comment on her appearance in that manner? She told herself that wasn’t genuine concern in his gaze, but she knew it was.
“I am well,” she said simply.
His look demanded the truth but the truth—that fickle foe—that would require the baring of her soul in a way that she intended to never do it again. Certainly not to some random gentlemen who had thrown himself into her life without ever allowing her the freedom to kick him out again. If she didn’t love Alice, she would. . . But no, honesty demanded her to be truthful, even if it was just to herself, and if Venetia were perfectly honest with herself—she would admit that she liked Lord Stanwullf. She liked his grin, the way he laughed at himself, his unfettered joy in teasing the Duke. She liked the friendly tilt to Lord Stanwullf’s eyes. She had noticed him dance with plain Helen Danvers and leave her smiling. She had noticed the way he scratched the belly of Uncle Bradford's dog and the way he remembered the servant’s names.
He had a conquest in Helen Danvers, her uncle, Alice, the servants. Everyone. Everyone but her. But Venetia also felt safe in the bet that Helen wouldn’t be pining over him. He’d have handled her somehow to let her know that she wasn’t some pity dance while also not leaving her—or any other girl—with hopes of something more. At least those capable of reading into conversation and manners to recognize genuine interest. But Helen—she had a brilliant mind behind that unremarkable exterior. She wouldn’t have pined over him regardless.
Persuaded to Love: A Kendawyn Paranormal Regency Page 8