Wicked Game 02 - Something Wicked

by Olivia Fuller

  “There is no ‘we,’” she said evenly as she turned away from him. “Now go. Please. Just leave me be.”

  “But…”

  “Go!” she pushed out. Her voice was like spitting fire.

  Greg began to tremble with fear and anger and confusion. He clenched his fists at his side, and at first he didn’t move. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she pulled away without a word and without turning around to look at him. Greg exhaled deeply, and then reluctantly decided to leave. With the heightened emotions and tension they were experiencing, he wasn’t going to figure out anything more right now. He needed time to collect his thoughts and calm his body, and she needed the same.

  “Someone told my step-father,” he heard Mary say from behind him as he walked away.

  Greg stopped in his tracks, unable to move as a crushing weight settled on his shoulders. “Told?”

  “You know what I mean,” she answered so quietly he nearly couldn’t understand her. “Someone told. About me. About everything. I have to marry, you see. And Brad offered…”

  “You didn’t have to accept. You didn’t…” Greg shook his head as the reality of what he’d done, and what Brad must have done, came crashing down on him. “You could have… what about…”

  What about me? He couldn’t bring himself to say the words after what he’d done. Everything hurt too much.

  “What if… what if there was another option?” he finally asked.

  “No. No Greg—” She shook he head as he saw her tense up.

  “But what if—”

  “No, Greg…” she said forcefully, cutting him off. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t you see?”

  Then she smiled the saddest smile in the entire world as she turned her head back to him and spoke one last time.

  “It’s always going to end like this. Even if there had been another option, there was never another choice.”

  Chapter 9

  June 1814

  “Bloody hell… now what?”

  Mary stared down at the paper in her hands and re-read the beginning of message for a third time:

  Dear Mr. Andrew Wilson,

  It is with great regret that I write to inform you of the deaths of my son, The Earl of Dillard, and my grandson, The Viscount Winthrop, following a tragic carriage accident this past week. I write to request your presence during this initial time of mourning…

  The message, intended for the husband of Mary’s estranged cousin Angela, was signed by the Dowager Countess herself and from all appearances been written by her as well. As the message was not intended for her, Mary only allowed herself to read far enough to know that it was indeed an important matter that could not be ignored. And while she cursed herself for becoming involved she was grateful that she had.

  Her motives weren’t entirely selfless though.

  It was just shy of a year since Angela’s elopement and much of the family had gone about their lives as if she’d never even existed. Not Mary. Mary was desperate for news from her cousin. She understood why Angela hadn’t written to her and she fully expected that Angela never would. Her cousin’s sweet spirit probably feared shaming Mary simply by her acquaintance, and so Mary had respected this decision and chosen not to reach out to Angela either.

  But Mary still missed her cousin and Mary still hoped. For the past year she had taken every opportunity to visit Angela’s family in hopes of discovering something new. Today had been no different.

  Mary had been reading a book in an upstairs room that overlooked the garden while her mother and Angela’s mother visited. Mary was thoroughly absorbed in the story but she was directly pulled from that world when she heard a commotion coming from downstairs. She had not, of course, been able to ignore the commotion and immediately left her book to see what was going on.

  “You will never come to this house looking for that—that—person again!”

  From the top of the stairs Mary was able to see Lord Cheston, Angela’s father, screaming as another younger man cowered at his words.

  “Forgive me, my Lord. I meant no disrespect. I am only attempting to deliver a message from my mistress, the Dowager. She knew Mr. Wilson was no longer employed here but she thought that perhaps your daughter might—”

  “Daughter? What daughter?” The Baron’s words whipped through the air and stung Mary.

  How could he write her off so easily? Mary knew that Angela’s actions had shamed her father and her family but it was still hard for Mary to understand how he could say this.

  “The Dowager was very insistent about the importance of this message and that it must be delivere—”

  “Well, you shall have to tell your mistress that you have failed. Good day, sir.” And with that, the Baron pushed the messenger out the door and slammed it behind him.

  This was exactly what Mary had been waiting for.

  Mary’s heart raced. She drummed her fingers on the banister in a rapid staccato as she waited for the Baron to leave the entranceway, and then, before she even realized what she was doing, Mary ran down the stairs, threw open the front door and began to run down the street.

  The street was very busy and so Mary didn’t see the messenger at first.

  “Wait!” she called, hoping that he would hear her from somewhere in the crowd. “Wait! Please!”

  No one responded but then Mary saw him off in the distance.

  The messenger glanced over his shoulder and when he saw Mary running after him he picked up his pace, obviously afraid after his confrontation with the Baron.

  Mary picked up her pace too. Her legs burned and her chest ached as she breathed, but she couldn’t allow herself to slow down or stop. If she did then this messenger would be gone forever and with him, her chance to reconnect with her cousin.

  “Please. Wait!” she called again desperately. “I can deliver the message to its intended recipient!”

  At this, the messenger slowed his pace and turned around. He looked at Mary, his eyes wide and skeptical. “You know how to reach Mr. Wilson? You know where he’s located?”

  “Yes.” Mary had finally caught up to him and she forced the word out through her panting breaths.

  The messenger reached his arm out to hand her the message and then quickly pulled it back. “If you know where he’s located then please, tell me so that I may deliver the message myself.”

  “No,” Mary shook her head as she caught her breath. “It’s a confidence I must keep.” And while this was true it was also part selfishness on Mary’s part. It would finally give her a reason to seek out her cousin.

  The messenger pondered her, the look in his eyes a clear indication that he was trying to decide if she was tricking him and actually had no desire to deliver the message. Mary knew she had nothing to worry about. If he took even a moment to really look at her he would know she was truly concerned and telling the truth. Finally, he slumped his shoulders.

  “This message is extremely important. The Dowager made it clear to me that it absolutely must be delivered to Mr. Wilson….” He held out the message to her but hesitated again and pulled away.

  Mary sighed. “After you leave me, go back to the house, to the servant’s entrance in the rear, and my lady’s maid, Madge, will see you fed and paid for your time.”

  The messenger clasped her hands as he reached out and gave her the message. “The Dowager wanted me to place this in Mr. Wilson’s hands myself… but since it appears you’re the only person who knows where he’s located and you won’t tell me, I must entrust it to you.”

  Despite trading the message for payment and food, the messenger seemed legitimately concerned about the note reaching its intended recipient.

  “I understand. I promise the message will make it to Mr. Wilson.”

  And Mary had been telling the truth even though she had no idea how she would accomplish the task. But she had not expected the message to be as severe and important as it actually was. She had also not expected it to have a time limit.
<
br />   What had she gotten herself into?

  She knew she had to find a way to get this message to Andrew. She had promised and besides it was the right thing to do. And the thought of seeing Angela set her heart into somersaults. But how would she do this? It was too important of a message to be sent second hand. She would have to deliver it herself, but how?

  Mary toyed with the edges of the paper as she tried to figure out what to do.

  And that was how Greg found her later that morning. He’d come back from University for a visit but she’d been so consumed with thoughts of Angela that they’d hardly spent any time together.

  “What’s wrong, my girl?” He could tell immediately that something was on her mind.

  She didn’t know what to say and instead just handed him the note in silence. She watched his eyes as they darted across the page, growing wide and full of emotion as they reacted to each word. At last he sat down beside her, shaking his head.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “A messenger came to deliver it. After Lord Cheston forced him away I intercepted the messenger. I chased him and took the message myself.”

  Greg was still looking down at the paper, pondering. “And why did you do that?”

  Mary let out a long sigh. “You know why…”

  Greg twisted his mouth. He knew very well how much she missed Angela and how desperately she longed to know her cousin was alright. “So now what?”

  “I promised the messenger I would see the message to Andrew.”

  “Mary…” Greg shook his head again. “You should have given the message back to him as soon as you saw its contents so he could find someone who actually knows where Andrew and Angela are. This message is too important… Why would you tell him you would do this?”

  Mary smiled dolefully. “Well, that’s the crux of this all. I’ve known where they are all along.”

  Greg lips curled upward with a twitch. “Oh do you? And how do you know that?”

  “Oh.” She dismissed it with the wave of a hand. “The cook. He needed spices from a northern town—servant gossip—you know, the usual…”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Mary allowed herself a small chuckle. She knew exactly what he meant.

  “You have always been a resourceful woman.” Greg exhaled sharply and then slapped his hands against his knees and stood up. “Well, then. I guess there’s only one thing left to do?”

  “And what’s that?” Mary murmured, still lost thinking about Angela.

  Greg took Mary’s hands and helped her up.

  “My girl, we are going on a trip.”

  ***

  Greg was snoring loudly against Mary’s shoulder as the carriage bumped along the road. He nuzzled against her, wrapping his arm around her waist as he slept. And Mary felt exceptionally ecstatic. Perhaps it was the fact that everything about this trip had worked out just perfectly.

  There had been no objections from Mary’s family to her traveling with Greg as he was such an old family friend and she was, after all, over the age of one and twenty. Of course they had not indulged the full details of their trip to anyone other than Angela’s brothers who had been just as concerned about Angela as Mary—officially they were visiting an old friend of Greg’s to pay respects after a family death, which at the root of it was the truth.

  They made very good time, traveling day and night for two straight days until they finally reached the little village of Beldon when Andrew and Angela were living. Greg had offered to go with Mary as she tracked down the couple and when she’d turned him down he insisted. In the end though, she’d made him realize it was something she must do on her own and he’d reluctantly agreed to let her head out alone.

  And she was glad for it.

  The reunion with Angela was incredibly short lived as husband and wife had to leave for the funeral almost immediately, but the few moments that Mary and Angela were able to spend together, just the two of them, had been exactly what Mary needed to lighten her burden of worry. Her beloved cousin was well and safe and in love (How could the silly woman not see it? Mary thought with an amused chuckle), and for the first time in a very long time everything felt right in the world.

  She would never be able to thank Greg enough for all he’d done to make this happen. Besides his time she was almost certain he’d spent a considerable amount of money to expedite their travels. But he’d just shrugged it all off and hugged and told her, “I’d gladly do it again, my girl. Always.”

  And she felt content for the first time in a long time. Weightless, even, and awake.

  Greg fell asleep almost immediately after Mary returned and they set off towards home. But Mary could not sleep. Every sense in her body was flipped on, as if by some magical switch. Perhaps it was the fact that she had been so consumed by worry this past year. Or perhaps it was the overwhelming and overflowing gratitude she felt for Greg. Regardless, as he leaned up against her, his head nestled on her shoulder with his warm breath grazing across her neck, and his hand draped across her middle just so, something overtook her.

  Mary felt a sudden surge of energy flow through her body. It radiated out of her and swelled to a head everyplace that he touched her. She wanted to feel it more. She wanted to feel it more intensely. Mary wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer to her until she felt her entire body pulse and thrum. She brushed his hair from his face, laid her hand on his cheek, kissed the top of his head. She breathed in deeply of his vitality and she thanked him. With every fiber of her being she thanked him.

  Greg stirred again, embraced her, and then, still sound asleep he kissed her neck right in the delicate place where her neck met her jawline. She felt her insides melt and she felt the pulsing energy grow stronger. The energy of the moment buzzed in her ears with a calming hum. She leaned into him, wanting more, wanting something…

  But then there was a bump and a loud crack and the carriage jerked forward throwing them both from their seats.

  Greg fell on top of her with a thud.

  “Well, hello, my girl.” Greg’s eyes were heavy and dreamy. He wiped her hair from her face, sending electricity through her skin. “Are you all right? You’re breathing rather heavily…”

  “I’m just fine…” she said.

  Other than the fact that my breathing became erratic when we touched…

  “What?” he asked.

  “Other than the fact that you’re lying on top of me…” she said quickly.

  “Oh, yes. I thought I heard… Never mind…”

  Greg looked around and dismissed confusion as fatigue, only then realizing that they were on the floor together.

  “Sorry about this,” he said as he righted himself. “What happened?”

  The moments before they fell from the seat rushed through her mind and body. “Yes, what happened, indeed…”

  ***

  “This is a disaster. A bloody, damn disaster…”

  Greg raked his hands through his hair. He had stopped pacing and surveying the damage of his carriage only long enough to get into the hired hack. But now that he was sitting inside next to Mary his energy continued to pulse rapidly as if he was still striding about.

  More like a catastrophe than a disaster, he thought with a sigh.

  “It’s just a broken wheel, Greg.” Mary shrugged.

  Greg threw his hands in front of him and moved them about vigorously. “This is going to set us back at least a day… at best! Most likely it’s going to take at least two days to find someone who can fix this properly and then perhaps another day to complete the repairs…”

  “Are you in a hurry to get somewhere, Greg? Or am I just that poor company that you can’t wait to return me home?” She placed a reassuring hand on his arm and smiled contentedly.

  Greg saw something shift in Mary’s eyes and he realized that she was reading his face. He diverted his gaze from hers, momentarily calming himself and sighing, but as he look
ed away he noticed that he was not the only one diverting his eyes. Was she blushing? Greg shook his head. He must be imagining things in his attempt to keep her from reading him.

  “No, my girl,” he finally said. “I’m always happy to spend as much time with you as possible… I’d just prefer that it be planned and not because we’re stuck in some random town with a broken wheel, that I’m sure will cost me more than it’s worth to fix…”

  “Oh, come now, Greg. Where’s your sense of adventure?” Mary teased with a playful push, she too having apparently decided to move on rather than delve into the other’s feelings just now. “I know you’ve spent plenty of time away from your home but until this week I’d never been more than a few days travel away from the place I was born. This may not be a large city but it is someplace new and I’d like to take advantage of the situation.”

  Greg looked back in the direction of the carriage and sighed deeply.

  “Please?” Mary took his hand and smiled. “It will be fun.”

  “I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?”

  “In being stuck here? Absolutely not. In enjoying yourself?” She smiled playfully. “Absolutely not.”

  Greg squeezed her hand in acceptance. “What do you have in mind, my girl?”

  “Oh, I’m not entirely sure yet. We have plenty of time to figure that out, right?” Mary looked out the window and surveyed the town as they passed through, while Greg forced his mouth into a placid smile. “I’m sure we’ll find something. But first, I think we should find some place to eat.”

  Greg looked over at her and watched her reaction to their surroundings. She was contemplative and dreamy eyed all at once. As a titled man attending University, he’d been fortunate enough to travel a great bit around the country, but as he watched Mary now he was suddenly struck with the realization of how fortunate he’d been and how much he’d taken for granted. Life did not provide the same opportunities for women—even ones of Mary’s status—as it provided for men.

  Her eyes held a glimmer of wonder and amazement that made his heart pulse and throb. He loved to see her this way. He loved the look on her face as the gears inside of her head churned away. There was no saying Mary’s family would ever let her leave again now that the trip was delayed and they would be late arriving home, especially if the truth of the trip was ever discovered. Greg could not deny her this opportunity, no matter what the consequences. He would benefit in the end anyway just by knowing that she had lived for even a day.