Wishing For Rainbows (Historical Romance)

by Rebecca King

  Clearly displeased at having to do so, she nodded gracefully. “Then we should be pleased to accept,” she said, although the tone of her voice it was clear she was anything but.

  Brampton nodded and looked at Ursula with his brows lifted.

  “I should be delighted, thank you,” she replied softly.

  “I look forward to seeing you both there then,” he murmured. His eyes remained locked on Ursula for a moment but, before either lady could say anything else, he bowed politely and took his leave.

  Ursula watched him go with a slight frown on her face. Sensing her aunt was about to launch into a vilification of him, she quickly stood and shook her skirts out. “I will write that letter to Papa while I remember,” she declared.

  As she walked up the stairs, however, she thought over Brampton’s visit. Everything the man did was the epitome of smooth and sophisticated charm. He had stared deeply into her eyes as though he wanted to devour her. Why then did she feel as though she wanted to turn tail and run? Where was the attraction that had held her captive when Trenton had done the same? Trenton stared at her and her knees turned to mush, and her mind wouldn’t work properly. When Brampton looked at her with desire in his eyes, her mind wandered off somewhere else.

  It was clear that there was no attraction at all toward Brampton; only Trenton. Did that mean that no man would ever create the same feelings within her that Trenton’s masterful kisses had wrought the other night? Was she ruined for any other man but Trenton? That thought left her more than a little unnerved. Especially given that Trenton was engaged. She shouldn’t be thinking of him in any other way than a mere acquaintance. Yet she couldn’t get what they had shared the other night out of her mind.

  With more questions than she had answers, she wasn’t altogether sure that she shouldn’t just go back to Yorkshire. If she absolutely refused to marry anyone and stood her ground against her father, maybe he would eventually give up on his quest to marry her off. Unfortunately, there was a very strong possibility that he wouldn’t surrender his determination that she marry, and she would be left with her life in tatters.

  Once in her room, she settled down at her writing desk, drew out some parchment, and dipped her quill into the ink pot. Unfortunately, the words wouldn’t flow. There was nothing she wanted to say right now that felt right. She stared blankly down at the parchment for several moments, but couldn’t find a way to even begin her letter home. With a sigh, she lay her quill down and sat on the window seat so she could overlook the gardens.

  She immediately began to think about Trenton and his kisses. While she was inwardly thrilled that he had kissed her, she was a little perturbed at the thought that her father had asked him to watch over her. It was humiliating to think that neither man considered her able to look after herself, even with her Aunt Adelaide as chaperone. After all, what did they expect her to do?

  Answer a request for a secret assignation in a dark corner of someone’s house, that’s what, an inner voice reminded her pertly.

  What should she do the next time she saw him? She couldn’t exactly blank him per se, but neither could she engage in casual conversation as though nothing had happened between them. Not after what they had shared the other night. However, she knew it would be better for both of them if she found the strength to at least appear as unperturbed by the encounter as he had apparently been.

  When she realised she wasn’t going to settle her mind to deciding what to do about him, she turned her attention to the flowers. She should focus on discovering the identity of her secret admirer so she could ask him to stop sending them. How though? How did one go about identifying a secret admirer who seemingly didn’t wish to be known?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on the bedroom door. She turned around in time to watch her maid enter the room with yet another arrangement of flowers.

  “Another one has arrived, miss,” the maid murmured as she slid the posies onto the dresser. “Where shall I put it?”

  Ursula studied it in dismay. “The dresser should be fine, thank you.” She studied the arrangement once the maid had turned to leave. “Was there no note with it?”

  “Nothing, miss,” the maid replied quietly. “Will that be all, miss?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Ursula replied vaguely.

  At the tea tomorrow she must remember to ask Brampton if he liked flowers. Maybe, with some discrete questioning, she could find out if he was her mysterious admirer. However, given that several of the arrangements had been in the morning room when he had called by, and he hadn’t even glanced at them, she suspected that he wasn’t the sender either.

  That left her with the continued problem of who continued to send her the flowers and why they didn’t tell her who they were? More importantly, how did she go about finding out who it was without directly asking people?

  She was still considering that problem later that night when she rolled over in bed for what felt like the hundredth time.

  “I hate London,” she grumbled as she listened to what she now knew was constant noise.

  The ticking of the clock seemed to grow louder with each passing minute and added to the headache that had started to form behind her eyes. Outside, the rumble of carriage wheels outside seemed to go on and on, even though the hour was well past midnight. It was impossible to get any peace whatsoever because there was always something that interrupted the silence, and rendered sleep impossible, like now.

  Taking an early night had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, she wished she had done some sewing, or read for a while until she was sleepy enough to fall asleep.

  “It was my only evening at home by myself as well,” she groused aloud.

  She wished now that she had asked the maid to put several more logs onto the fire. Goose bumps stood out on her arm. Although she tucked it beneath the covers she was still cold. She wondered if she should get up and put some more logs on, but the thought of leaving the meagre warmth between the sheets made her tug them up to her chin instead.

  A frown swept over her face when the soft tickle of a gentle breeze swept over her cheeks. She had closed the shutters herself so knew she couldn’t possibly have left a window open. Where was the breeze coming from then? Even through the darkness, she could see that her bedroom door was closed so it couldn’t be coming from the hallway.

  She rolled over in bed and sighed deeply in an effort to will her mind to settle. When another breeze swept over her; she sniffed and knew it was going to be impossible to fall asleep until she warmed up a little. Suddenly, the atmosphere within the room shifted and became dark and almost expectant.

  Although she couldn’t see much, something was decidedly different. The shadows at the far end of the room seemed darker somehow. It was ridiculous really; they couldn’t possibly be. Could they?

  She studied the darkness a little more closely. She was positive she had been able to see the pictures that hung on the wall moments earlier. Now, she could see nothing but darkness.

  All thoughts of going to sleep vanished. Something, some inner instinct for self-preservation, warned her not to close her eyes. Instead, she remained motionless and stared at the same spot of darkness that appeared to be moving. Were her eyes deceiving her? Her heart leapt into her throat when the shadow slowly became more defined. She watched in horror as it moved away from the wall and crept silently toward her. Fear knotted in her stomach.

  There was an intruder in her bedroom.

  She began to tremble with the need to run, but her limbs wouldn’t work. When the shadow began to change shape and the outline of a man became visible, she realised that one of the shutters now stood open. That was where the breeze was coming from, and how the intruder had gained entrance. Her eyes snapped back to the dark shadow that continued to glide ever closer. A scream locked in her throat when she realised he had reached the end of the bed.

  Without further thought, she threw the covers off and threw herself out of bed and raced toward the be
droom door. The skirts of her night-dress got tangled in her legs slowing her pace a little as she raced across the room, but she didn’t stop. Once at the door, she had no sooner placed her hands on the brass knob when cold hands grabbed her waist and began to tug her backward.

  “Get off me!” she screamed as loudly while clinging desperately to the door knob. With her free hand she thumped heavily on the door and tried to get the door open.

  Sucking in a huge breath, she screamed again, and increased the volume the more the man tightened his hold on her waist. In spite of his desperate attempts to get her to let go of the knob, she eventually managed to yank the door open. When her eyes landed on the familiar sight of the hallway, she grabbed hold of the door jamb and screamed for help.

  “Let go of me,” she gasped and kicked out behind her. Cold fingers attempted to cover her mouth, but she redoubled her efforts not to surrender. Clamping her teeth down hard on the fingers that pushed harshly against her lips, she bit mercilessly into the soft flesh. She hung on to the door frame for dear life and kicked out behind her once more. A heavy grunt met her ears and gave her the courage to redouble her efforts while she waited for someone – anyone – to save her.

  “Help!” She screamed again, weeping with relief when the sound of running footsteps came from the depths of the house somewhere.

  Suddenly, the hands at her waist vanished. Rapid footsteps behind her were followed by a rush of cold air night air. She turned around in time to watch the dark figure climb swiftly through the window and vanish silently into the night. A sob escaped her as she slumped onto the floor, terrified and trembling. For the life of her she couldn’t have stood up and remained where she was when several of the staff came rushing toward her.

  “There was an intruder in my room. He went out there,” she gasped, swallowing against the bile that rose in her throat. She lifted a trembling hand to point toward the window.

  “Go and find him,” Isaac ordered several footmen as he knelt down beside her and patted her hand in a fatherly manner. “Are you hurt?”

  She watched as several footmen immediately launched down the stairs in pursuit of their quarry while another hurried past them toward the window. Relieved that help was now at hand, she began to feel considerably calmer.

  “He got in through the window. I closed the shutters, but he got through them somehow,” she whispered.

  “Ursula? What on earth has happened dear?” Adelaide demanded as she hurried across the hallway. The sympathy on her aunt’s face immediately made Ursula begin to cry again. She couldn’t stem the flood of tears as she gave in to the fear that swamped her and leant against her aunt while Isaac explained what had happened.

  “I will get the locks on the windows changed first thing in the morning,” Adelaide declared in her usual unflappable manner.

  Ursula nodded but doubted she would ever feel safe sleeping in London ever again.

  “Did he hurt you?” Adelaide asked with a frown. “Go and fetch a doctor, Isaac.”

  “No, please don’t. It’s not necessary,” Ursula countered. “I don’t need a doctor. There is nothing he could do for a fright. I am fine; just a little shaken.”

  “You need a sleeping draught to help you settle,” Adelaide declared knowingly.

  That was the last thing Ursula needed, but she knew her aunt’s intentions were good and so forced a soft smile of reassurance. “I am fine, thank you, really, but a doctor isn’t necessary.”

  Thankfully, Adelaide’s attention was diverted by the return of several of the footmen, who looked apologetically at both women.

  “He came through the back gate, ma’am. There was a ladder at the window. It appears he got in that way but there is no sign of him now. A couple of the men are securing the window, but I doubt he will be back,” one of the footmen reported.

  “There, see?” Adelaide crooned soothingly. “He has gone. I am sure that everything will be all right now. He won’t dare come back given he was nearly caught.”

  Ursula nodded and pushed to her feet. Although she was still trembling, she refused to allow Adelaide to see just how scared she was because the doctor would be sent for.

  “I am sorry,” she murmured around a fake yawn.

  “It’s not your fault, dear,” Adelaide retorted. “Now, I suggest you try to get some sleep. After a fright like that you must be exhausted.”

  Ursula nodded and went back to bed. Once she was alone again she settled the covers around her but sleep eluded her. The window and shutters were now closed, but knowing they were secure now did little to ease her lingering fear. Her gaze returned again and again to the darkened corner of the room where the shadow had once stood and she knew it would be some time before she was able to at least rest.

  Rather that extinguish the candle, she placed it onto the table beside the bed, and stared into space while she tried to think about something else. Unfortunately, the more she tried to think of something else, the more her mind was drawn back to the memory of that darkened shadow in the corner of her room.

  The only distinguishing features she could remember about him were that he was of medium build and medium height. It wasn’t much help when trying to find out the identity of the person who had assaulted her in the middle of the night.

  The following morning, Trenton paced up and down the morning room while he waited for Adelaide and Ursula to appear.

  “Good morning, Trenton.”

  He spun around, but was disappointed when Adelaide entered the room alone. It was on the tip of his tongue to demand to know where Ursula was, but warned himself that patience was supposed to be a virtue.

  “Please accept my apologies for calling by unannounced,” he declared with a quick bow.

  “It’s all right, Trenton. You are most welcome to call by any time, I hope you know that.”

  “Is Miss Proctor not about?” he asked, casting a hopeful glance at the door.

  “I am afraid not.” Adelaide seemed to hesitate for a moment before she slumped wearily into a chair before the fire. She waved to the seat opposite and waited for Trenton to sit.

  His concern grew as he studied the dark shadows beneath the old woman’s eyes. “Is everything all right?” He knew it was not even before she spoke.

  “I am afraid not,” Adelaide murmured and explained what had happened last night.

  “How is she? Has she seen a doctor? Has the magistrate been informed?” he asked in rapid succession.

  His blood had turned colder the more he heard. By the time Adelaide lapsed into silence, he struggled to resist the urge to storm upstairs and see for himself that Ursula really was unharmed. It shook him to realise just how important Ursula had become to him in the short space of time he had known her, but didn’t question it. Somehow, the possessiveness that surged through him just felt right. She was the other half of him; if something happened to her, well, it also happened to him.

  “She was extremely shaken as I am sure you can imagine. I have cancelled all social engagements for the next couple of days, and have workmen in changing the locks on the windows as we speak,” Adelaide assured him. “I have sent word to the magistrate but have yet to hear back from him.”

  Trenton nodded but didn’t really give a damn about the house. It was of little consequence as long as it was a safe place to live in. Before he could ask about additional security, Ursula swept into the room.

  “Good morning,” she said, relieved that Trenton was there. She had heard his voice in the breakfast room and hurried to see him without thinking. Just having him in the house made her feel safer.

  Trenton stalked across the room toward her with a dark scowl of concern on his face. His hands were actually trembling when they captured hers. “How are you? Your aunt has just been telling me what happened.”

  “I am fine, thank you,” she croaked in a voice that shook with emotion.

  She sighed in relief when he escorted her across the room as though she was made from the finest porcelain, an
d took a seat beside her.

  “What did he look like?” He asked when she was settled.

  “I don’t know,” she replied quietly and carefully explained what little she had seen. She had no idea why she was going in to so much detail but, now she had started to talk, the words just flowed.

  Unlike Adelaide last night, he wasn’t pushing for her to see a doctor, take sedatives, drink alcohol, or make any attempt to offer meaningless words of comfort. Instead, he focused on everything she said and remained patiently silent while she talked. He nodded thoughtfully a couple of times, and asked Adelaide several questions about the house security, locks on the doors, that sort of thing. It was some time before he appeared satisfied that everything that could have been done had been done, and he settled back against the seat to drink his tea.

  Once silence had settled around them, he noticed the plethora of flowers littering practically every surface within the room.

  “It seems that you have had lots of well-wishers.” He was a little put out that he had apparently been the last one to find out about what had happened.

  “Those aren’t from well-wishers. Those are from her secret admirer,” Adelaide declared with a frown. “We had thought, well –”

  Ursula closed her eyes and silently prayed that her aunt wouldn’t humiliate her.

  “Don’t you know who they are from still?” The husky rumble of Trenton’s voice made her look at him.

  Some small ray of hope that still lingered within her suddenly withered and died when she realised he wasn’t hinting at knowing something she didn’t. Instead, there was a dark scowl on his face, as though he was offended that the admirer hadn’t made his identity known. She slowly shook her head.

  “We thought it might be Brampton, or Alfred Sinnerton,” she replied. She winced when his brows lifted. “Apart from you, those are the only two men who have repeatedly made their acquaintance.”

  “Sinnerton?” he repeated as he started blankly into the fire. “I can see Brampton doing something like this, although not so often. He is a little too selfish to be so generous with his money. However, Sinnerton?” He slowly shook his head. “I cannot believe for a second that he would do something like this. He just doesn’t have the gumption to be this forthright in his manner.” He turned to look at Ursula. “Has anybody else paid you a lot of attention of late?”