A Dangerous Courtship
To Woo an Heiress
Book Three
by
Lindsay Randall
A DANGEROUS COURTSHIP
Reviews & Accolades
"Ms. Randall captures the Gothic ambiance and sends eerie shivers up and down your spine."
~Romantic Times Book Reviews
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Chapter 1
Midsummer's Eve Yorkshire
Julian Masters stood near the crumbling edges of a once-strong ledge, his black gaze centered on a beautiful female far below as she cautiously surveyed the vast and ghostly ruins he'd reluctantly come to call home.
He heard nothing as he watched the young lady pick a path, urging her mount closer to the unroofed and uncared-for abbey. He heard not the ever-present wind, not the sounds of the River Skell that emptied the wide valley spreading out in all directions around them, heard not even the sounds of his own breathing that grew faster with every pace she marked off.
But even though he could not hear, he felt everything: felt the lady's fear, the trepidation that clearly churned deep within her daring soul... and felt, most especially of all, her desperation.
Here, Julian thought to himself, is a female on a mission.
But for what and for why... and above all, for whom?
Julian's black gaze narrowed as he leaned slightly forward, having to stretch and straighten his muscular body to get a clearer view as the lady moved directly beneath him, guiding her mount to the very lip of an opened archway far below.
He noted the stylish cut and expensive fabric of her riding habit, the richly dyed plumes of the hat situated atop her inky locks, and he admired the lean, powerful haunches of the pricey horseflesh she sat atop so regally.
No milkmaid was this. No farmer's daughter or rector's ward, but a lady born and bred. Perhaps she was the daughter of a duke or a marquess....
Whatever her blue-blooded lineage, she'd obviously been bold enough to steal away from any chaperon and had clearly chosen to invade Julian's domain.
His gut clenched at that latter thought and at the sight of the lady now sliding down off the saddle of her mare.
She clearly had no clue she was being watched, and just as obviously hoped she wasn't being watched. Her violet eyes scanning the area behind her, she looped the reins of her mount about an outcropping of ancient stonework, took a deep breath, then was lost to view as she entered beneath the archway.
Julian silently moved to the opposite side of the small expanse he stood atop just as the lady stepped carefully into the huge inner expanse of the abbey below. There was no ceiling above her, no doors or windowpanes—all had been carted away centuries ago, along with the riches this once-wealthy abbey had housed.
There was now just a lace of intricate, dove-gray wall surrounding her, punctuated by more than a dozen massive pillars and huge arches cracked and crumbling with age.
She came to a standstill, sucking in a breath, those stunning violet eyes growing wide. By degrees, she forced herself to relax, to become accustomed to the vastness of the old abbey, and to the somber grayness of the walls that now held little more than weeds and memories and traces of the mist that would soon creep down in earnest from the heather heights of the far-flung moors.
Julian watched. He waited.
Was she friend or foe? Did her presence here signal danger... or was she merely some lovely sprite of the coming evening who'd lost her way?
Whatever or whoever she was, Julian thought her exquisite. Tall and slender, with midnight hair that could rival any night sky, she was beauty personified. The violet of her eyes matched the color of her superb riding habit, and her hands, encased in what looked to be the softest of kid, were finely shaped.
Julian let forth a long-held breath. It had been an age and longer since he'd espied such comeliness. The past ten months had been filled with little more than mere surviving and dealing with the oppressive silence that banged about in his mind.
This female's unexpected presence was like a burst of wondrous sound in his ears. Though her appearance at the abbey could doubtless pose a threat to him, it proved at the moment to be like a much-needed rain atop the barren desert his soul had become.
Julian wanted to dash down from the ledge he stood atop, wanted to enter into the area where she now stood.
Reason forbade such an action, of course. He had not stayed alive—albeit just a mere shell of the man he once was—for these many months by being careless. He needed to remain hidden and not make any rash decisions.
He backed away from the edge of the ledge, letting the slanting shadows of the setting sun swallow him, content for the moment to just watch the woman from his vantage point.
Her nervousness evident in the sweep of her gaze, in the quick, jerky turn of her head at something—some sound perhaps?—she once again took a steadying breath, then began a search of the abbey's ruins.
She navigated her way to the crumbling wall nearest her and meticulously examined every crook and crevice, getting down on bended knee to dig her gloved hands through the fallen masonry, then reaching high on tiptoe to do the same farther up the wall.
Not finding what she sought, she moved to the next section of the wall, and several minutes later to the next. Julian saw her frown when she came up empty-handed once again. Instead of the lady being deterred, however, her resolution seemed to increase tenfold. With determination, she continued her bottom-to-top search.
Julian wondered what she hoped to find in this desolate, forgotten place. He stamped down an urge to call out to her, to yell that there was naught but emptiness and memories within these luckless ruins.
But even if he dared to let himself be known to her, speaking aloud would be pointless. He hadn't spoken since that dreadful night August last when all he'd held dear had been taken from him in one swift, cruel act.
As he watched her, the setting sun turned the western sky a blaze of colors—from rose to lavender and then a dusky purple. The abbey walls reflected that breathtaking light, surrounding the lady in a rhapsody of shades.
Never, in all the weeks he'd been at Fountains, had Julian seen a sight so beautiful. It seemed this woman had brought the very light back into his world.
Julian watched as the lady turned her head to the side again, pausing in her search, as though something more had startled her.
In the sky above, a lone bird that had been soaring and dipping instantly reeled away, doubtless cawing loudly as it flew.
Julian's black gaze narrowed.
Something was amiss.
Julian felt it just as surely as he had the lady's approach little more than a half hour ago when he'd been drawn by some unknown force up and out of the abbey's cellars and warren of prisons below. He'd climbed to the highest reaches of Fountains, where he'd hidden himself and watched her reluctant but brave approach.
He now stepped out of the shadows, his gaze hard on the surrounding area. There... in the distance, Julian discerned some motion beyond the walls.
In another moment, several dark figures came into view, pushing through the flowering meadows that sloped down from the moors.
Julian stiffened, his heart kicking in an uncomforting beat at the too-familiar sight of four enormous animals slinking forward.
Acting more like predatory wolves than dogs, the animals were wild, hungry beasts with matted fur and feral eyes. They were members of a pack he'd had to frighten off numerous times since he'd come to Fountains.
As one, they shot forward, their bodies low to the ground, their huge paws making fast work of clearing the distance between them and the unsuspecting female below.
Julian turned his gaze back to her. She'd resumed her search, obviously unaware of the animals that were closing in.
Didn't she realize what a reckless choice she'd made in coming to the abbey, unescorted and unprotected? Was she merely foolish—or did her presence here indicate a grand and dangerous scheme on her part?
Unfortunately, Julian had not the time to dissect the situation, let alone consider fully the woman's motives.
If he did not move, and do so quickly, the lovely intruder would never have a chance to explain her presence. She would be dead in a matter of minutes.
Julian made his decision. Ignoring his own need to stay hidden, unmindful of the danger this curious lady might present—and forgetting his own predicament—he instantly moved into action.
Chapter 2
Lady Veronica Carstairs of London Town wished herself anywhere but the ruins of the place called Fountains Abbey.
Situated outside of Ripon in Yorkshire, and just north of the River Skell, the sprawling complex of monestary buildings had risen in front of her like some ghostly specter filled with secrets. Forgotten for countless years, areas of the mammoth place reeked of neglect and of a bygone greatness that now held only echoes of the past.
"Gracious, but 'tis a huge, forbidding place," Veronica said aloud to herself upon approaching, needing to hear the sound of something other than her horse's hooves, the wind, and her own maddening heartbeat.
She slowed her bay to a manageable pace, swallowing past the lump of uncertainty mounting in her throat.
Dare she go through with what she'd promised to her dear friend, Lady Pamela Beven? Dare she enter this deserted abbey and search for a package neither she nor Lady P knew more than just an inkling about?
Their plan had seemed so simple when concocted within the familiar confines of her family's London home.
"You must do this for me, Ronnie," the blue-eyed and very pretty Pamela had begged just a few days ago.
"I know without a doubt his lordship is not being as truthful with me as he should be." Pamela's pouty mouth had formed a frown in the face of Veronica's hesitation and obvious suspicions about Lord Rathbone's true character. "Now, do not go casting stones his way just yet," Pam had insisted, then added, "But it is my feeling that Lord Rathbone is caught up in something sinister... though this 'something' is not wholly of his own making, of that I am almost certain. I do believe there is someone plotting against him. And I do believe this—this someone will be sending a package to him... a packet that will be left at the Fountains Abbey in West Riding—or so my brother, Sidney, overheard at one of their clubs. Will you go to this abbey, Ronnie? Will you intercept this packet? And will you do so in the name of the Venus Society?"
'Twas a tall order, but Veronica found she could not decline the request. Pamela had become Veronica's closest friend in the year and a half since Veronica, with her sister, had moved from their family's country estate to live in London with their father, Earl Wrothram, so that Lily and then Veronica could be introduced to Society. Without Pamela, Lily's first Season would have been a disaster, Veronica knew.
Lily was now three-and-twenty, just a year older than Veronica, but she had the mind of someone far younger than that, which was the very reason her introduction to Polite Society had been held off for as long as possible. She was as naive as she was beautiful, and just as Veronica had feared, her sister had not acquired the Town bronze she needed to navigate her way through the sea of less-than-honorable gentlemen who sought to take advantage of her.
Lady P had taken Lily under her wing during that first Season since Veronica had yet to come out, and so there was nothing Veronica would not do for Pamela—even undertake a Venus Mission.
The history of the secret club known as the Venus Society was something not even Veronica could totally recount, even though she'd been its founder. The club had taken on a life of its own in the past year and a half, which amazed Veronica no small amount.
She'd formed the Venus Society as a way to help keep Lily out of the clutches of rakes who would lure Lily into their orbit with pretty phrases and empty promises. Every member of the club—and that number now totaled fifteen—took an oath to help aid the others in overseeing the gentle matters of their hearts. Sometimes, one of their members was called upon for a "mission," which usually involved the scouting out and, if need be, the thwarting of any plot laid by a possibly less-than-honest gentleman with whom one of their members had developed a tendre.
Veronica was certain it was because of the Venus Society that Lily's virtue was still intact. Her sister's breathtaking beauty, childlike innocence, and propensity to be reckless in her choices were a dangerous combination. Lily was continually falling in and out of love, casting her affections at men who were highly undeserving of such devotion. Though the Venus members had been effective in keeping Lily's virtue safe, they had not been able to stop the lovely Lily from giving her heart away again and again.
Veronica, unlike her sister, was not a female given to displays of great emotion. She'd learned at an early age to keep her feelings tightly reined, and she could still recall with alarming clarity the first time her father had raised his hand to her. She'd been but a child of four. As Veronica had grown older the earl's outbursts at her had grown in intensity. She had been vastly relieved when the earl took up permanent residence in their London home. Their parents' marriage had been one in name only, and Veronica did not wish for her sister or any of her Venus friends to ever have a marriage like the one her parents had shared. The Venus Society was her way of ensuring such a thing.
As for herself, Veronica had decided long ago that she would never marry.
Now, stepping inside the unroofed structure, Veronica wondered again if she dared to see this particular Venus Mission to its end.
"Just get the package and get out," Lady P had said.
Of course, thought Veronica, finding that dratted package within these lofty ruins will be another matter entirely.
Veronica attempted to settle her nerves and tried to think like a person intent on hiding a packet within these walls.
She looked about her. Where to begin?
The place was a vast complex of pillars, bays, and weathered stone, much of it having been originally built on arches over the River Skell. The foundations of the abbey had been laid during the 1100s by monks who named it St. Mary of Fountains. Hundreds of years later, the Cistercian monks long gone, the grounds were now in the hands of a private family. While the mill remained operative, and other areas of the land surrounding Fountains were bein
g renewed, this particular area was not.
Veronica deduced she was standing now amid what must at one time have been the great hall. The space was enormous. Daunting, even.
How naive she'd been in thinking she could simply spirit off to Yorkshire, locate the abbey, then find the packet Pamela sought, as simple as that!
The abbey was monstrously huge, and everywhere Veronica looked she saw crumbled stone that could easily hold a package behind a well-placed rock.
Letting out a breath of frustration at her own lack of foresight, Veronica decided she'd best set to searching while there was still daylight to be had—and before her father's coachman, Shelton, who was little more than a jailor as far as Veronica was concerned, caught up to her.
Veronica began a diligent search, investigating from bottom to top the wall nearest her, then the next section of wall.
Several times she was disturbed: first by the setting of the sun, which turned the massive walls about her into a brilliant display of colors; then by the ever-present wind, the nicker of her horse, even the cawing of a bird overhead. Heavens, but she was growing uncommonly nervous.
It would not do at all for her to allow her emotions to escalate into the boughs, Veronica knew. But though she tried to remain calm, the disturbing anxiousness she'd felt when first approaching the abbey began to ride her hard, fraying her usually strong nerves.
It was then that the first wild dog presented itself. Veronica's eyes widened as the animal landed its fore-paws atop a tumbled fall of stones. The beast bared its fangs.
Veronica gasped, spun to the right, and was greeted by a similar sight through what had at one time been a window. Another dog, with gleaming eyes and dirty fur, clambered into view.
"Sweet mercy!" she gasped aloud.
A Dangerous Courtship (To Woo an Heiress, Book 3) Page 1