The Cursed One

by Ronda Thompson

  The man had acted strangely toward her all morning. He kept looking at her, as if he expected some type of reaction from her. Did he expect her to be embarrassed about what had happened between them upstairs yesterday? Truth be told, Amelia wasn’t as embarrassed about it as she should be. She wasn’t positive she was embarrassed at all. Instead, she was rather hoping for a repeat of the incident.

  The terrifying incident that had taken place last night she chose not to dwell upon. If she did, she knew she’d go into hysterics. Instead she had focused on this one normal task, something that made her feel as if her world was not crumbling around her.

  “Will you accompany me upstairs?” she asked Wulf. “I thought we might go through the rooms and find you something better to wear. Not to mention a razor and a strop.”

  He ran a hand over the dark whiskers on his cheeks. “You do realize we have more to worry about than how well turned out we all look?”

  She frowned at him. “My mother has always said just because your life is a shambles is no reason to let yourself go.” When he rolled his gaze heavenward, she added, “Please, I need to do this right now. I don’t want to think about last night, or later today, or tomorrow. I only want a hot bath.”

  His eyes softened upon her—the expression that turned her insides to pudding. “All right,” he said. “Mora, keep watch down here,” he instructed the girl. “So far, these creatures only seem active at night, but we mustn’t let down our guard. Call up if you see or hear anything suspicious.”

  Mora wiped an arm across her damp brow. “I will for a fact, my lord. I think the lady is right. It feels good to be doing something normal. And I’ve never seen the creatures stirring about except during the night hours, either. We can take some comfort in that.”

  “Not too much,” Gabriel warned the girl before he turned and followed Amelia from the kitchen and up the stairs. They reached the second landing and she stopped by her room to fetch her soaps and a fresh change of clothes. She had trouble making a decision between a silk striped pink frock and a lilac taffeta.

  “Neither.”

  She turned to see Gabriel leaning against the door frame watching her. “Beg your pardon?”

  “Neither gown,” he specified. “Something more sensible. Something you can move in.”

  Amelia frowned and glanced back into her wardrobe. Truth was, she had nothing very sensible. She spotted a bland gray day dress and tugged it out.

  “That one will do,” Wulf commented.

  “It’s ugly,” she protested. “I’m not even certain it’s mine. Looks like something one of my maids would wear.”

  “Serviceable then,” Wulf said. “Sensible.”

  She wanted to argue. Perhaps she did need something easy to move in. Amelia hadn’t thought to bring “running for one’s life” clothes along with her. Perhaps it was just as well this gown had obviously been included with her things by mistake.

  “Robert’s shaving items should be in the room next door,” she said. “I’d fetch them for you, but I don’t want to go back in there. Not ever.”

  “Understandable,” Wulf said, and shrugged away from the door and disappeared into the hallway. She heard him in the next room a moment later. Amelia fetched a clean shift and a pair of drawers and hid them with her bundle.

  “I have what I need.”

  She turned to see Gabriel in the doorway again, a small bag in hand. Amelia eyed his dirty clothing. “I’m wondering if we might find something for you to wear in one of the other rooms. I know you’re too big to wear anything other than Robert’s nightshirts.”

  Wulf shrugged. “His father was a big man. I’m sure Robert kept some of his things up here somewhere.”

  Amelia moved toward him. “You knew them both, then? Robert’s parents?”

  Stepping back to allow her to pass, he answered, “When I was younger. Before … before things changed.”

  Lord Gabriel was obviously speaking about the supposed curse that haunted the Wulf brothers. The scandal that had caused their once influential family to be shunned by all of society, with the exception of a few … well, only one whom she knew of, the Dowager Duchess of Brayberry.

  “I don’t believe you are cursed, you know,” she said, moving across the hall to the first room. “I believe your parents were unfortunate.”

  “Given our circumstances, how convenient.”

  She glanced at him from over her shoulder. “I danced with your eldest brother in public,” she declared. “I believe society will soon forgive you.”

  A slight smile settled over his disturbing mouth. “Forgive us for what? Being insane?”

  Amelia moved to a dark oak wardrobe and opened the doors. “Well, for everything, I suppose,” she answered.

  “My heart leaps with joy over the possibility.”

  His sarcasm made her lips twitch. “They are a rather boorish lot,” she admitted, realizing the garments inside of the wardrobe were mostly old linens and such. She closed the doors and moved past Wulf back into the hallway. “I, for one, find all their rules and silly traditions a bit tiresome. Scandalous people are much more interesting.”

  “Which is why you married a man you did not love to please them all.”

  Amelia wheeled around, nearly running into Wulf. “What do you know of love?” she demanded. “Who are you to judge me?”

  He wore a hint of a sarcastic smile. It faded. “As you well know, I am no one. And you’re right; I know nothing of love. Nor do I care to.”

  Although Amelia had declared to him that she did not believe in love, it stung somewhat to hear him echo her sentiments. She supposed it was all right for men to be in love with her; she simply would not return so strong or so silly an emotion. “Then we both agree on something.” She turned back around and marched into the closest bedchamber. Together, she and Gabriel searched drawers and the wardrobe. They found nothing but were more fortunate two rooms down the hallway.

  “And what was last night about?”

  They hadn’t spoken since they had both declared a disinterest in love. Both were going through a wardrobe where a few items of clothing hung. Items that looked as if they’d come close to fitting Gabriel.

  She glanced at him. “Last night?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t pretend nothing happened.”

  Her stomach suddenly twisted. “You mean the man … or whatever he was? Please, it disturbs me to think of it. I wanted to forget for a while longer.”

  Gabriel shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean that. I meant later, when you came downstairs.”

  Amelia had trouble recalling much of last night. She strongly suspected Mora had doctored her tea so she would sleep. Suddenly she thought she knew what must have happened. “Oh good lord, don’t tell me I was sleepwalking.”

  He blinked. “Pardon?”

  Heat rushed into her cheeks. “A nasty habit I’ve had since childhood. What did I do? Sing? Dance? Play an instrument? Lord knows I was invited over as a guest more often than other girls when I was growing up for just that reason. I understand I am quite entertaining.”

  He blinked again. “Quite,” he assured her. “And you remember nothing?”

  She tried. “No, not a thing. What did I do?”

  He glanced away and ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing. You just came downstairs and stood over me for a moment, then went back to bed.”

  Amelia sighed. “Thank heavens. I’ve been known to carry on whole conversations while I’m asleep. It’s very embarrassing. I warned Mora about it while she was brushing my hair, maybe sensing that events of the past two days might set me into motion. Since we are bed partners for safety’s sake, I thought she should know all of my bad habits.”

  Gabriel was the one who had insisted the two women sleep together in the same room. Amelia had been uncomfortable at first, but she found she felt safer with someone else in the room with her.

  “I guess that explains what you were doing,” he finally responded, although h
e still looked a little confused. “I’m glad to know you sleepwalk. I won’t have to wonder what you are doing if it happens again.”

  “And it might,” she assured him, holding a white lawn shirt against him and deciding the fit would be acceptable. “I do it more when I’m upset over something. Or so I assume, since reports of my wild antics usually have centered around an event which had disturbed me in some way.”

  “And you are certain you don’t remember anything?”

  Glancing up at him, she answered, “I’m positive. Why? Did I do something I should remember?”

  He stared down at her for a moment, than answered, “No.”

  Amelia shrugged and laid the shirt over her arm along with her gowns. “If you find a pair of trousers, bring them downstairs. You don’t mind if Mora and I have our baths first, do you?”

  Gabriel glanced down at himself. “Probably a wise idea, since I will get the water the dirtiest. It’s been a while since I’ve had the luxury. I’m sure the water is heated now. I’ll be down in a moment to carry it to the tub for you.”

  “Your shoulder,” she worried.

  He shrugged. “It’s nothing. I’ve had worse scrapes.”

  They stood staring at each other until the moment grew awkward. Amelia wondered if he was remembering yesterday morning when they were alone together upstairs. She was. Remembering and wishing he would kiss her again, regardless of how inappropriate her thoughts were. Perhaps she simply wanted another diversion. Anything to keep from thinking about last night and what she had seen outside.

  “Did you want something else?”

  His voice, already low pitched, bordered on seductive. She roused herself. “No,” she answered. Since she wasn’t certain what to say, she walked from the room and downstairs. After she deposited the clothing and necessities for bathing in the parlor, she returned to the kitchen. Steam whistled from the kettles on the stove. She glanced around, looking for Mora.

  The door to the root cellar stood open. The heavy items Gabriel had stacked against the door were moved out of the way. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. Why was the door open? And where was Mora?

  “Mora?” Amelia called down the stairs. “Mora, are you down there?”

  Silence.

  Amelia took a step into the doorway. “Mora, answer me!” she called again.

  “It’s me, my lady,” Mora finally responded. “Just gathering some potatoes for a stew tonight. I thought I’d told Lord Gabriel to fetch me some, but couldn’t find any upstairs.”

  “You should not be down there!” Amelia called. “Come back up this instant!”

  “I know, been telling myself over and over it’s not right, me being down here by myself, but I didn’t want to ask the lord to come down here again. His body will not heal if he keeps exerting himself like he’s been doing. And besides, he said we were safe in the daylight hours.”

  “What’s going on?” Gabriel stood at the kitchen entrance, a pair of dark trousers draped over his arm. “What’s that door doing open?”

  “It’s Mora,” Amelia told him. “She’s gone down to fetch some potatoes.”

  “Foolish girl,” he swore, then draped the trousers over the back of a chair and crossed the room. He was through the doorway, moving down the stairs in a matter of seconds.

  Amelia held her breath until the two of them came back up a moment later. Mora had a few potatoes cradled in her apron and Gabriel looked as if steam might come out of his ears. He quickly closed the door and began stacking items against it again.

  “Never go down there alone!” he said to Mora once he’d finished. “What were you thinking? Are you daft?”

  The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “I just wanted to make a nice stew … and I didn’t want you to hurt your shoulder again. It won’t mend if you keep moving things about. Besides, you said yourself whatever is in the woods, they don’t come out until dark.”

  He got in the girl’s face. “What if I’m wrong about that? What if one of those creatures had been waiting down there for you? Not only did you put yourself in danger, but the rest of us by leaving the door open into the house.”

  Tears slid down Mora’s cheeks. “I listened for a long while before I went down. I knew no one was there.”

  He opened his mouth, Amelia felt certain to continue berating the girl, but she intervened. “Please stop,” she commanded him. She walked over and placed an arm around Mora’s shoulders. “Can’t you see how much you’ve upset her? She didn’t mean any harm.”

  Gabriel took a step back, but the anger remained stamped on his handsome features. “I need Mora to understand how dangerous what she just did was,” he persisted. “Do you understand, Mora?”

  The girl nodded. “It was foolish. I’m just so used to doing for others instead of having done for me, it seemed natural for me to handle fetching the potatoes.”

  Amelia squeezed Mora’s shoulders. “We’re all safe,” she said to Gabriel. “The girl understands that she made a mistake. Please carry the kettles into the parlor and fill the tub. We’ll let Mora bathe first so she can collect herself.”

  “All right,” he finally agreed, but only after staring at Mora long enough to make the girl burst into fresh sobs. “After we have seen to our cleanliness, we will discuss what we need to do to get ourselves out of this predicament.”

  Sensing it was best to be agreeable with Gabriel when his temper was up, Amelia nodded. She steered Mora to a table and helped her unload her apron of potatoes as Gabriel set about hefting the heavy kettles into the parlor in order to fill the tub. Amelia had claimed they were all safe, but in the back of her mind, in the far recesses, she knew that was a lie. They were safe for the moment. But for how much longer?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mora had gone sniffling to her bath. Amelia felt rather sorry for the girl and had offered to help her, but Mora had shaken her head and mumbled she wanted to be alone. Amelia admitted she had probably only made the offer because she’d never seen Mora without that dreadful bonnet covering her hair. Amelia was always the first to fall asleep and the last to wake; therefore, she never saw Mora undress for bed or re-dress in the morning. Amelia did suspect Mora had tried her perfume and could hardly blame the girl, so she’d made sure to lay out her soaps and such to be shared.

  While the girl saw to her bath, Amelia sat at the kitchen table across from Gabriel. He wore a brooding expression, and she kept silent for the most part. What Mora had done was foolish and dangerous, but as Amelia had already pointed out to him, no harm had come from it.

  “You must let it go,” she finally said.

  He glanced up as if he’d forgotten she sat across from him. “I don’t understand what possessed her to do something so foolish,” he said.

  “She’s young,” Amelia defended the servant. “And as she said, used to doing for others rather than having things done for her.”

  His expression did not soften. “Still, you’d think she’d be too frightened to venture outside of the house alone.”

  Amelia shrugged. “She said she listened at the door to make certain she heard no one stirring about down there. She also said she didn’t want you to strain your injuries. Mora was just being considerate.”

  He grunted in response but said nothing further. The silence stretched between them. The air grew thick and Amelia had trouble breathing … and his scent, it seemed to waft around her head. She glanced across the table and saw him staring at her. She could get lost in his deep green eyes … and she did. His pupils seemed to dilate as she stared, to grow long and slitted rather than round. His gaze lowered to her mouth and she swore her lips tingled as if he’d touched them with his own again.

  “Pardon me, but I’ve finished my bath.”

  Only when Gabriel glanced away could Amelia do the same. Mora looked well scrubbed and she had fetched a clean work dress, but the girl still wore the ugly bonnet upon her head.

  “Don’t you find that bonnet stifling in the house, Mora?” Amelia asked.
“Please don’t feel as if you must wear it to keep up an appearance of servitude. Lord Gabriel and I don’t care under the circumstances.”

  The girl bowed her head. Her cheeks bloomed with pink. “It’s against my religion to show my hair, my lady. To do so is a sign of pride, and everyone knows pride is a sin.”

  Amelia glanced across the table at Gabriel. He merely lifted a brow. Although she’d heard of such a religion, Amelia had never really thought pride should be a sin. If one couldn’t take pride in their appearance, then what? Realizing it was a rather shallow thought, Amelia rose from the table.

  “I’ll hurry so the water stays warm for you,” she said to Gabriel. “Be nice,” she added under her breath.

  Be nice? No woman had ever ordered Gabriel to be nice, well, except his mother. He watched Mora as she tied an apron around her slim waist and set about peeling the potatoes she’d risked all of their lives to fetch. He didn’t want to be mean to the girl. Her tears had affected him, but she must understand what she’d done had put not only herself in danger but him and Amelia as well.

  “I apologize for being so short with you, Mora,” he finally said. “I was upset that you would put us all at risk. I only wanted you to understand the seriousness of what you did.”

  “I do understand,” she said softly, never turning to look at him. “What I did was wrong and I won’t do anything like that again.”

  He tried to relax. Ever since he walked into the kitchen and saw the cellar door open, his body had been poised to defend. He liked to fight, Gabriel admitted. In the past, it had been a way to relieve the tension that arose from being a solitary figure—from his infrequent visits with women and his even more infrequent visits to London. He’d been involved in many a tavern brawl over the years, but he’d never faced what he was facing now. He wasn’t even certain what he was facing.