She hurried down, thoroughly distracting Mark. Over her pale blue gown, she wore a darker blue, long-sleeved pelisse that complimented her curves and wore a pretty matching bonnet that cupped her beautiful head. Aside from a reticule, she carried a stack of rolled documents tied with a blue ribbon. A maid trailed after her, looking as pleased as Nevara about this outing.
Nevara came to a breathless halt beside him and he could not help smiling. He pointed at the rolled parchment. “What is that?”
“For an errand I must run after our ride.”
Mark nodded absently. It was probably related to the research her friends said she was interested in. He made a note to ask her about that on their walk once they reached Hyde Park.
He led Nevara outside. She climbed inside his curricle while her maid took the seat at the back where his tiger would also ride. Once seated beside Nevara, Mark gave her a quick side-glance to ensure she was comfortable, arranging a carriage blanket about her lower limbs.
Nevara thanked him as if she appreciated his attention. If only he could tell her exactly how much her welfare mattered to him. Still, pleased with the start of this excursion, he accepted the reins from his tiger.
Before long, they arrived at Hyde Park and Mark helped Nevara descend, holding onto her hand for a moment longer than perhaps required. She glanced up in surprise and then blushed. She looked adorably confused before glancing away and reaching for her document resting on the seat.
“Leave it here,” he said, wanting her undivided attention.
“But,” she protested.
“It will remain safe until our return. Joseph will ensure no one touches it.”
His servant nodded his acknowledgement while assisting her maid to descend. As Mark escorted Nevara on a stroll by the Serpentine, her maid followed several paces behind. He tucked Nevara’s hand within the crook of his arm, looking forward to showing her this park. He had brought many a young lady here to see and be seen during the height of the Season.
Since it was now the middle of September, the Season was long over and only the occasional nanny and her young charges were about. The weather was also cooler and overhead, rain threatened. If he wished to keep Nevara warm and dry, this must be a short walk. It would be enough time, he hoped, for him to make friends with the adult Nevara, as his brother had so easily befriended the younger version. He searched for a topic of conversation that would eventually lead to the subject of Nevara never leaving England.
Why should she want to? This country, this city in particular, had much to commend it. For instance, even in autumn, the beauty of Hyde Park never withered, but only transformed with the change of seasons. The oaks were currently shedding their acorns and beechnuts fell randomly. Squirrels eagerly collected their winter fare from the plush harvest in a park scarce with human traffic.
Nevara was the first to break the silence. “Mark, I am so sorry for missing our appointment yesterday evening.”
“Sir Phillip mentioned that you have an interest in research. Was that what occupied your time?”
“No.” She glanced away.
Mark’s shoulders stiffened. Wherever she had gone, she did not want him to know about it. His mild curiosity instantly converted into intense interest. Mark had to forcefully soothe his alerted hunter instincts and slow the rapid surge of his pulse. Nevara was not prey, and he was not hunting her.
They had reached the middle of the Serpentine, a portion that stretched away from the main path. Mark paused and nodded to her maid to stay back and give them privacy.
With a conspiratorial smile, the girl turned her back to them and moved out of hearing range, but not out of sight. She probably expected Mark to kiss Nevara. Sadly, that was not in the cards. It never could be.
Mark casually leaned his staff against a nearby tree and then rested his back and a heel against the trunk as he observed Nevara approach the shoreline. “I do not mean to pry,” he said, in a quiet calm tone.
“Mark, I so wished to go with you to that play.” She turned her back to the water and glanced at him. “But I received some bad news from Sir Phillip. He and Lady Roselyn have cancelled our trip to Spain.”
Mark could have shouted for joy. Instead, he hid his smile and closely observed Nevara’s sad face with rising compassion. “I am sorry for your disappointment, but it is for the best.”
She came a few steps toward him, putting them within arms-reach. She looked as if she wanted to say something and then, biting her lips, returned to the water’s edge to stare moodily at some swans swimming by. “After they gave me that news, I went to visit Daniel Trenton. The Duke of Morton is a friend. I had hoped he would take me to Spain or at least fund my journey.”
“You did what?” Abandoning his casual pose, he strode toward her, ready to shake her.
“He declined.”
Mark paused two feet behind her, his hands clenched at his sides. He purposely breathed slowly, trying to calm his panic. For a moment, his mind had gone numb with terror, as he envisioned losing Nevara, as he had Miguel and his father and grandfather. Although his mother had died from catching a cold shortly after he was born, every other death in his family had been preventable. He swallowed to loosen his constricted vocal cords and asked a question that confounded him. “Nevara, why do you want to go there so badly? Are you not happy here?”
She swung around and then backed up as if startled to find him so close. Her shoes splashed the Serpentine’s edge. Mark quickly tugged her onto firmer ground. This lake was shallow, but it would still ruin her day if she fell in.
As he held her against his chest, her breath hitched. The temptation was too much. Mark had dreamed of kissing Nevara for years. This morning, he gave into his desire and claimed her.
Instead of pulling away, Nevara kissed him back. Had they both been waiting for this moment of contact? Mark was the one who pulled back first as an alarming sense of danger brought him up for air.
“Oh Mark,” Nevara said, then scrunched her eyes as if they pained her.
“What is wrong? What do you see?” he asked, frantic to spot where the danger came from.
“My head is pounding. It is one of my megrims, making everything too bright again,” she said in a frustrated voice. “What rotten timing for my sight to act up.”
Mark’s alarms clanged. Wrapping a protective arm about her waist, he drew her toward the tree where his power staff rested, needing to reach it but unwilling to leave Nevara alone.
A ripple from the Serpentine snagged his attention. He turned to see the swans beating their wings frantically, as if something in the water frightened them. He had almost reached his staff when a long green cord, covered with dripping weeds, whipped out of the water and wrapped around Nevara’s waist.
She screamed as he clenched his staff. In an instant, she was out of his arms and in the water. Then before his astounded eyes, she was dragged below the surface.
“Nevara!” Heart pounding, he tore out of his coat and boots, and holding his breath, dived in after her. The water was cold and muddy. Luckily, the Serpentine had little depth, so he should have little trouble finding Nevara. Still, it was hard to see, so he used his staff like a divining rod, and sent it hunting after her. Its tip lit up like a lantern and led him to the right and downward.
He swam lower, alarmed at the unnatural depth of this man-made lake. He let loose a spell that created a gentle breeze about his face to help him breathe and clearly see what was in this murky environment. Everywhere there seemed to be overgrown weeds blocking and entangling him. Where was she?
Then his staff brushed against something solid. He felt his way below until his hand touched what felt like Nevara’s waist. He took firm hold of her and tugged her upward.
She did not budge. Fighting down his panic, he sent winds swirling around them, like an underwater cyclone, whipp
ing weeds aside to reveal what held Nevara in place.
A plant, long, thick and emerging from the dark depths below, had her firmly wrapped in its tentacles. He pointed his staff at the base of the thing and mentally ordered, Release her!
Power rolled out of him, through the staff and struck the plant, slicing it in two. The tentacles released their fierce hold on Nevara, allowing Mark to tug her toward the surface. Toward shore. Toward safety.
Once on land, he carried Nevara away from the shoreline and gently laid her on the ground, his heart thundering at how still and limp she was in his arms.
People were running toward them, crowding close, asking after both of them in concern.
“Why is she not moving, Mama?” a little boy whispered.
Mark turned Nevara over and pressed on her back, again and again, hoping to expunge any lake water she might have swallowed. “Nevara, breathe!”
On his next press on her back, a trickle came out of her mouth and then water poured out. She coughed and dragged in a labored breath.
“Oh, thank the Lord,” a woman cried.
Mark echoed that prayer as he helped Nevara sit up. “You are safe.”
As he held her tight, his heart thundered. He had come so close to losing her. That had felt a hundred times worse than when news had arrived of Miguel’s death. He sat with her in his arms, rocking her and realized that his face was as wet from tears as it was from being in the lake.
“Oh, sir, she is all right,” her maid cried.
Mark nodded and rose to his knees.
Nevara had finally stopped coughing and was slumped against him, resting a trembling hand on his chest. She was shivering uncontrollably.
“Pass me my coat,” he said, and a man grabbed it and gave it to him. Mark tucked it around Nevara’s shoulders and asked her, “How are you feeling?”
“Mark,” she gasped, “you saved my life. Again.”
“He did indeed, miss,” the man who fetched Mark’s coat said. “I saw it all. You splashed into the water, and before I could shout in warning, he had chucked his coat and dived in after you. You were both in there for so long. I was sure we had lost both of you!”
Mark’s gaze was trained on Nevara. Did she realize what had just happened? That something unnatural had tried to kill her? How could he have allowed his attention to wander like that? After his grandmother warned him, too. “I should have guarded you better.”
“This was not your fault,” Nevara said, frowning.
“We shall discuss it later. For now, you need to get warm.”
He put on his boots and without asking permission, picked her up and carried her toward his carriage. Within a few steps, he glanced back. “Would someone please bring my walking stick?”
Nevara’s maid, who had been following him, immediately ran back to fetch it.
Allowing his tiger to drive his curricle, Mark held Nevara, cuddling her safe in his arms while she clutched at her rolled up papers. Dripping wet, with her spectacles missing, she looked more adorable than ever, reminding him of all the times she used to run wild into the woods as a child. Only now, she was all grown up. No longer stick thin, she was curved in all the right places.
Halfway to Ravenstock Manor, she moaned when she realized her papers were soaked through and the ink was running. She looked so miserable, his heart contracted.
“Is it the only copy?” he asked gently.
She nodded and pushed back a dripping strand from her face. “I suppose I could rewrite it. Only, I had hoped to take it to a publisher today.”
“A publisher?” He had not expected that. “Is it a poem?”
“A story.”
“Yours?”
“Yes.”
“I did not know you aspired to be a writer.” There was so much about the adult Nevara he knew little about. He decided then that he would make it his mission to get to know his charge and ensure that she achieved every one of her heart’s desires, however outlandish. Nevara had been miserable long enough. With the exception of allowing her to go to Spain, he would do all in his power to make her happy.
Finally, they arrived at her home and he carried her up the steps. He rapped on the front door with a booted foot and stood impatiently while Stony cracked open the door. “Who be there?”
“Let us in,” he said. “Miss Wood has had an accident.”
The footman opened the door wider, and Mark strode in. Walking straight up the stairs, he shouted, “Order a hot bath for her.”
Her maid raced past and directed him to the right door. Inside her room, he set Nevara on a chair and knelt before her. “After you have warmed up, you are to eat something hearty and then rest.”
“Yes, Mark.” She smiled, her first one since her near demise. “Will you please fetch my spare spectacles? They are there.”
He did as Nevara bid, knowing he would have to leave this room soon, but wanting to delay as long as possible. Once he had set her spectacles on her nose and pulled out a stringy weed twined in her hair, he knelt beside her and asked, “What am I to do with you?”
“I promise that if you invite me again, I will be better behaved.”
“Even if I kiss you again?” he asked with a wry grin, brushing a streak of dirt off her wet nose.
“Do you still want to?”
He enjoyed watching her blush. The color gently highlighted her pale cheeks. If servants were not coming and going out of this room with buckets of hot water, he would kiss her again right this minute. That thought evoked all sorts of delicious ways in which he could kiss her.
Her maid came over, ruining the moment. “Miss, your bath is ready.”
Though he was annoyed at the interruption, it was for the best. This flirting was leading where he dared not wander. According to his grandmother, Nevara was half in love with him. She had suffered enough in her young life without him leading her to believe in a future with him. Mark stood.
“Must you leave?” Nevara asked.
“Yes,” he said. If he did not, he would say to perdition with the interfering maid and attempt to bathe Nevara himself. He hastily retreated toward the door.
“Mark, wait, I must tell you something before you go.”
At the doorway, he paused. “What is that, Nevara?”
“Mark, I do not want you to gain the wrong impression. You see, I cannot marry you.”
He froze, stunned at her declaration. “I beg your pardon?”
“My aunt told me that it would be wrong for me to marry. So there would be no point in you kissing me again.”
“Ever, miss?” the maid asked. “What would be the point of livin’ then?”
Mark echoed that sentiment, starting to like this servant. Wrong indeed. He could have strangled Cora Wood, if she were still alive. However, this was not the time to have this discussion. Instead, he said, “Once you are dry and warm, remember to eat and get some rest. I have an errand I must take care of. I will return soon to check on you.”
“Not today,” she said. “Tomorrow would be better.”
About to leave, he turned back, suspicion rolling up his back. “Why not today, Nevara?”
“I have much to do today,” she said, fiddling with his coat still wrapped around her.
“I am sure Sir Phillip will excuse you from your duties. I shall speak to him.”
“There is no need for that,” she said quickly, confirming she was up to no good. “I have the day off. But I wish to visit a publisher about my story.”
His tension dissipated. She was not thinking of Spain. “I had forgotten about your manuscript. What kind of story is it?”
“A children’s tale.”
“Well, then I can help.” Finally, here was something he could offer her. “I know a gentleman who publishes children’s f
ables in the form of chapbooks. His name is John Preston. He began the business as a lark, to delight his granddaughter, but the enterprise turned out to be quite successful. He belongs to the Four-Horse club. That is how we met. He has his office on Parker Street.”
“Oh, Mark, would he look at my work?”
He was delighted by her enthusiasm. “Was it your lifelong dream to write stories, Nevara?”
She hesitated and then blurted out, “I need the funds.”
The comment rocked his equilibrium. Since she was employed, there was only one reason for Nevara to have need of funds.
“Why?” he asked in a deceptively soft voice.
Nevara met his direct gaze. “Oh, Mark, you know why.”
“You are being deliberately stubborn and obstinate. Do you know how dangerous it is for a woman to travel alone on a packet ship? And who is going to accompany you? What will you do once you arrive in Spain? You do not know anyone there. You would be alone, unprotected and in danger.”
Mark paused for breath and stared at her. Then another thought crossed his mind. She still planned to approach John to sell her manuscript; he saw her intention in her gaze. He had to speak to John. If Mark could not stop Nevara, then he must ensure that his friend did.
She stood and stepped closer, but he withdrew, wearing a mask of polite indifference to hide his hurt. “It seems your mind is made up. Since you know where I stand regarding your traveling to Spain, I shall assume my objection means little.”
“Mark,” Nevara said.
“Good day.” He bowed and left.
ONCE THE DOOR slammed shut behind Mark, Nevara dismissed everyone, even Hannah. Despondent at having disappointed Mark, she shivered and set about disrobing. Shrugging out of Mark’s coat, she tenderly set it aside, relishing the concern he had shown when he wrapped it around her shoulders. His scent remained with her and despite her chill, which was due as much to displeasing Mark as to her fall into the Serpentine, she regretted washing away that reminder of him.
A Perfect Curse Page 7