I was suffocating… again.
Reaching out, I clamped my hands on the woman’s wrists, and shoved them away from my face. “St…op it,” I gasped brokenly, trying to pull air back into my lungs.
“Your face is still a mess.”
I gritted my teeth. “I don’t care.”
“Well…it is your face. I will tell you now, it does not look right, not one bit.”
I rubbed my hands over my face. It felt fine to me. What was she talking about?
“Are you sure you do not want me to clean you up a bit more?” She gave me a sour look as she scrutinized my face.
This bitch is crazy. “Yes… I mean no! I don’t want you to clean it up anymore.”
“Suit yourself little missy,” the maid said indignantly and stuffed the rag back into her pocket. She made a “harrumph” noise and then shuffled back across the room with the empty glass.
I watched her every move as questions without answers swirled in through my mind.
IT’S COMPLICATED
RAVENHURST * VICTORIAN ENGLAND
SEBASTIAN opened his eyes as one pleasant memory faded into another. This particular memory gnawed at him and filled him with dread. These were uncommon emotions for Sebastian and ones he preferred to keep buried deep inside, for good.
Turning away from the window, he poured himself another stiff drink… a habit he found himself indulging in more since the disappearance of his betrothed. Taking a large gulp of the fiery liquid, he wandered over to the mantel and set down the glass. He pressed his hands against the cool marble and let his mind return to where it was wont to go of late: his wedding day. The flames danced before him as he recalled every rotten detail of that day.
RAVENHURST*ALL HALLOWS EVE
All Hallows Eve seemed like the perfect day to marry a witch.
“She is not a witch, Sebastian,” Isabelle commented doubtfully as she looked over at her nephew.
“Who says? You, my dear aunt?” he snapped. “Forgive me for not taking your word for it.” He crossed the room to get a drink. Lifting the crystal decanter, he splashed a hefty amount of Brandy in a glass and called out over his shoulder, “Just like you had no idea about Father’s will? I know you had a hand in that codicil he added right before he died. Was that a coincidence as well? It seems fate has been on your side all along. How very fortunate for you.” He turned and looked over at his aunt, who tilted her head away, hiding her expression. He could read her like a book and she knew it. Her dark blonde hair was piled high in the latest style, something with curls and twists. It made her look much younger than her years, which was probably why she chose that style. She never let anyone know her true age. She always said age was just a number. Even he had to admit it worked, for she did look exceptionally good. He was not even sure of her age himself.
“How is this match fortuitous for me, Sebastian?” She twisted her hands together nervously. “You know you have to get married at some point. What difference does it make?” Isabelle questioned warily.
Sebastian rolled his eyes and took a drink. Apparently, she intended to continue acting as though she knew nothing of the codicil. “I did not know I was going to have to marry her,” he snapped. “I have a feeling you made Father put her name in the will, so stop acting as though it was all a big surprise.” He dashed his hand through his hair in aggravation.
“What I would like to know, is why her? Would not any woman have worked?” Sebastian tossed back the contents of his drink. The glass made a sharp ping when it hit the marble mantel.
“Is it because of Devlin?” He scrutinized her to see if her countenance would falter. “Are you afraid your young rakehell of a husband may wander over to greener, younger pastures, searching for a better…cow?”
She shook her head.
Sebastian could see by her reaction that his words were closer to the truth than she would ever admit. He felt a little bad giving her such a hard time, but it truly stung that she betrayed him in such a way. Now he had to pay the price and marry her ward to get what was rightfully his.
Isabelle tried to conceal her expression. “Well, that is neither here nor there; she is a wonderful girl and will make a fine mother for your children.”
“Not bloody likely!” Sebastian exclaimed vehemently. “I sincerely doubt I will even be able to perform my husbandly duties. She is insipid and watches me like a pathetic dog, waiting for a treat. Moreover, by the looks of her, she should eat a treat now and then. What did they do…starve her at boarding school? She looks like a bloody carcass with eyes. Oh, and do not get me started on those books she carries with her everywhere like a shield.” He waved a hand in the air.
“Sebastian, goodness, she is not as bad as all that. Where have your manners gone? I do not even know who you are right now!” Isabelle exclaimed her voice tinged with sadness...
“Oh please, do not play the innocent with me. You are no paragon of virtue, either. We both know you have had more than your fair share of bedmates. It is a shame your former husband lacked the fortitude to withstand your charms in the bedchamber. He dropped dead rather quickly. Was it a month… two?” he asked in a saccharine voice. “How kind of him to leave you Hawthorne Manor and all its entailments. Still so young with so much money. I would say you are set for life, now, are you not my dear aunt?”
“Oh, stop, Sebastian. I never claimed to be a saint.”
“What of Judith? Will she get to choose her husband?”
Isabelle glared at him, her own ire rising. “What?”
“Judith, your new husband’s sister. Is she not now living in your home and off the money from your deceased husband as well? Or have you forgotten her so easily?” he asked. “Why not give it to Marguerite?” He leveled her with his intense gaze. “Oh, wait. She has her own money from Victoria. Or does she? Where did her money go, Isabelle?” Sebastian asked snidely, even though he knew the answer to most of his questions already.
Isabelle paced back and forth, wringing her hands. “Cease. Please. Judith has no place to go and Marguerite’s money will go to you, I made sure of that.” Isabelle smoothed non-existent wrinkles from her ice-blue gown.
“Do you know what I find interesting?” He turned to face her fully. “Judith is a stranger to you, and yet you take her in and supply her with not only a home, but new clothing as well. Marguerite, your ward, you know, the one you pledged to look after ‘til the day you die… what are you doing with her?” He looked pointedly at his aunt. “Oh right, you are dumping her off on me so your husband will not try to bed her.” He shook his head and tossed back the rest of his drink.
Isabelle walked forward with her arms outstretched. “Sebastian, sweetheart…”
He lifted his hand to stay her. “I have a wedding to prepare for. Or did you forget that I am to be married in a few short hours?”
“Of course not… Can I do something for you?” She twisted her hands.
“No. I think you have done enough,” he said with finality, feeling more betrayed with each step he took towards the open doorway. He stopped mid-step. Marguerite was standing in the middle of the foyer, her face flushed in anger or sadness… maybe both. Her violet eyes bore into his own with a look of sheer, unadulterated hatred that chilled him to the bone. Gooseflesh rose on his skin. He felt frozen in place, like so many of the marbled statuaries positioned around Ravenhurst’s rooms. He knew he should say something… mayhap even sorry… but the words escaped him…
Finally, she broke her gaze and the lead weight he felt in his legs subsided. “I am late,” he mumbled awkwardly and walked briskly past her, keeping his eyes downcast on the marble-checkered tiles of the foyer. He rounded the corner and took the steps two at a time up the winding staircase without ever looking back in her direction once.
Sebastian finished off the rest of his drink as his mind returned to the present. The flames had died down and were now nothing more than red embers glowing in the dim light. He chuckled a little. It was an empty, hollow soun
d. No wonder the chit left him at the altar. He could not blame her, really. Had he been in her shoes, he would have left himself at the altar as well. He found he had a healthy respect for her gumption. He did not think she had any. Apparently, he was wrong on that count, as well as a few others. She vanished that night without a trace. No body found, no misdeeds done, even though he did entertain the notion, if only for a moment, but he was not that terrible… or was he? He would never know for sure. Apparently, she ran as fast and as far as she could, and thereby had the last laugh. For, unless she was dead–with a body for proof and no misdeeds done to said body, he could not inherit one red cent.
Had he known that little bit of information at the time, perhaps he might have been kinder to her. A bark of laughter escaped his throat at the insanity of it all.
In truth, he probably would have tied her up and dragged her to the altar instead.
OVERSTAYING A WELCOME
RAVENHURST *VICTORIAN ENGLAND
BEFORE I finally made it to the bathroom, I had to wait out the maid. Once she was gone, I ran across the room and shut the door. I looked around for some toothpaste or mouthwash but there was nothing. Instead, I made use of a folded cloth on the side of the white porcelain pedestal sink. I rubbed my teeth, tongue, and repeatedly rinsed my mouth with water that tasted like rust.
The tiles were cold under my bare feet. When I hit the carpet, I scuffed my feet all the way back to the bed to get some warmth back in them.
Turns out, I was still at Ravenhurst…where else could I be? I couldn’t help but wonder how many other people were overstaying their welcome. I hope I am not the only one.
I mentioned the other guests from the party to the maid but her only response was an owlish stare. Then right before the maid left the room, she told me not to move, that I needed my rest. I didn’t argue, since I still had a half-assed headache.
Turning, I grabbed a pillow from behind and gasped. Several, tiny sneering cherubs perched on the bedposts greeted me. I turned around and found more at the end of the bed, gathered in a group, examining me. I made a face at them.
The carvings were extraordinary, but also weird. Seriously, who in the hell would choose to be watched by a gang of little ugly sneering cherubs, hanging above your head every night before you fell asleep? That was just begging for nightmares.
They were almost as bad as the gargoyles that were standing, crawling, or hanging from every surface inside and out of the entry and the foyer. Ned said it was creepy inside Ravenhurst, and he wasn’t kidding. I just hoped he was still around, since he was my ride. If he left, I was screwed.
At least my headache had turned to a dull ache and my breath wasn’t so bad anymore. My stomach grumbled and I wished I had some food. Reaching up, I pulled the heavy puke green velvet curtain back on the bed.
A glass shade globed lamp with flowers painted on the sides cast a faint yellowish glow on the little doily underneath on the bedside table. Little figurines of animals were placed around the edges but no telephone. Dang it!
Pulling back the covers, I sat up. A dragging noise sounded from the end of the room, where I couldn’t see. It sounded like a heavy piece of furniture was being moved. A surge of panic shot through me and I froze. A faint shaft of light flowed in from a small opening in the curtains at the end of the bed. The light ray shifted…not once…but twice.
To stifle my gasp, I covered my mouth and tried to calm my growing sense of dread, hoping… saying it was only the maid, but I knew it wasn’t. I had a terrible feeling that whatever or whoever it was had to be something horrible. I could feel it. I judged the distance across the room, trying to decide which would serve me better, fight, or flight…
I heard the noise again accompanied by raspy breathing. Oh hell no!
I chose flight.
Jumping from the bed, my bare feet barely touched the carpet as I leapt to the door. Grabbing the handle, I ripped it open and bolted through. Full speed, I rounded the corner and ran into a hard unyielding object. My flight for freedom ended abruptly. I collapsed to the floor and darkness enveloped me once more.
WHAT WAS LOST CAN BE FOUND
RAVENHURST*VICTORIAN ENGLAND
SHE was back. How could that even be possible? Sebastian took the stairs two at a time, just like the last time he saw her. Except now, he ran towards her, instead of away. His mind, still too muddy from the alcohol to understand what his man Milford was saying. It sounded like “Marguerite has returned.” Sebastian was in no mood for his valet-butler’s humorless jokes. However, Milford was not kidding. He was deadly serious. So caught up in his own thoughts, Sebastian could not believe what he was seeing.
A flurry of white rounded the corner with long hair flying behind. He could not move fast enough. The girl hit him with such force, he lost his footing and tumbled backward. He strained to move, but she was dead weight. He tried again. Bloody hell! How drunk was he? He was not a weakling by any standards but still could not budge the girl.
The last time he saw Marguerite, she was no more than skin and bones. As he pushed against her now, he could see that was not the case any longer. Was she really ever that skinny? Or did she look that way because her gowns were always so large? He tried to remember, but he could not recall ever looking at her… really.
His head hurt like hell from slamming into the floor. He was stuck.
“MILFORD!” he yelled as loudly as he could. He heard footsteps approaching where he lay.
“Good heavens, my lord, what has happened?” Milford inquired, his voice tinged with laughter.
Sebastian looked up to see Milford’s eyes tearing up.
He clenched his jaw. “Get her off me.”
Milford bent down and rolled her slightly to one side.
It was enough for Sebastian to get out from under her body.
Standing up, he looked down at the girl on the floor.
“What happened?” Milford asked.
“She ran into me,” Sebastian said, stating the obvious.
Milford crossed his arms as though he were a detective investigating a crime scene. “Why?”
“How do I know?”
Milford tapped his chin. “She must have been moving pretty fast to knock you over so easily.”
“Yes. Is this line of questioning going somewhere?” Sebastian asked, annoyed.
“Do you not find it odd that she was running?”
“Why, yes, Milford, I do.” Sebastian exhaled, exasperated, and ran his hand through his dark hair. It was longer now and kept falling in his eyes. He did not spend as much time attending to his appearance as he had in the past, not since the chit ran away. It seemed like she took something from him when she left, and he did not want to ponder what that could be.
“I do wonder what she was running from.” Milford cast his eyes warily towards the end of the hall.
“Bloody hell Milford, how do I know? Mayhap she had a bad dream.”
“Yes, probably a really bad dream,” Milford, agreed readily.
Sebastian looked at Milford. He could swear his face turned paler. “Help me get her back into bed.”
Milford stared down the hall for a moment longer.
“Milford.”
“Right, sorry,” he said, and bent over. He grabbed her legs and lifted her up in the air.
Sebastian reached under her arms and lifted her up with some effort. They quickly carried her back to bed. Once she was settled, Sebastian turned to Milford. “Have you called the doctor?”
Milford straightened the bedspread. “Yes, Dr. Dandridge will be here shortly, after he attends to another patient.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. Dr. Dandridge was Annabelle’s husband. Perfect. That was all he needed.
“I will check to see if he has arrived.” Milford walked around the bed and left the chamber.
Sebastian stood over Marguerite. “Where have you been?” he asked her sleeping form. “And more importantly, who have you been with?”
Granted, he h
ad often heard stories about the fates of many young women after their so-called admirers had their way with them. Sebastian wondered if that was the case with Marguerite. Why else would she have come back?
He let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed his face. He dropped his hands and let his gaze fall back down to the bed. She looked so innocent wrapped up in the pristine white cotton of her modest sleeping gown. The ruffled collar was undone and revealed the delicate curve of her neck and shoulder. Her light brown hair contrasted against her pale complexion. He noticed her face had filled out, and her lips looked fuller, sexier, than he remembered. Visions of his last encounter with Annabelle came into his mind…her lips were not nearly as full and lovely as Marguerite’s…
Sebastian tensed, sensing a presence hovering in the doorway. Turning, he faced Milford, who had a resolute expression on his face. “Good Lord, man, what is it?” he asked more brusquely than necessary. Suddenly he felt like a child caught in the act of preparing to take a forbidden piece of candy.
Milford cleared his throat and tugged at his waistcoat to straighten his already immaculate appearance. “The doctor has arrived.”
Sebastian kept his eyes on Marguerite. “Send him up.”
“Certainly. I will return in just a moment,” Milford warned.
Sebastian looked over his shoulder and gave Milford a sidelong glance as he departed, not missing the underlying warning in his tone. His eyes drifted to Marguerite once more. She seemed so changed since the last time he saw her. Or, was he the one who had changed in her absence?
A Knight Such as This: Enhanced with Interactive Content: (Time Travel Romance) Book 1 & 2 (Ravenhurst Series) Page 4