The Second Seduction
Page 23
e rest
of the cuts sting, but they should heal quickly.”
At least he was spared tears and hysterical crying, Lucien
thought. He washed the knee with warm water and a soft cloth.
“I have some salve in my room.” She started to move, but
Lucien stayed her with one hand on her bare leg.
“I’ll get it.” Lucien sprang to his feet, pleased to leave
the room. Her perfume fi lled his senses making him want to
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haul her into his arms, while her quiet bravery, when she was
clearly in pain, won his admiration.
In Rosalind’s chamber, he came to a halt. He hadn’t
asked her where she kept the salve. He hesitated, then decided
to try the bag she toted to the village whenever she was treat-
ing the sick.
Rosalind’s chamber had been restored to order. Lucien
noticed how few personal items she had in the room. Th
ere
were no perfume pots or small glass jars. He wandered
through to her dressing room during his search for her satch-
el. One dress hung on a rail. Made of coarse, brown wool, it
looked like servants’ attire to him. He frowned, remembering
Francesca’s many gowns of silk and satin.
Lucien fi nally found the bag sitting by Rosalind’s bed.
Th
e catch was open and the contents were haphazardly ar-
ranged inside. He decided to take the whole bag and let Ro-
salind fi nd the salve.
“You found my bag,” Rosalind said. “I wasn’t sure it
would still be there.”
“You need to order gowns,” Lucien said, his mind on the
borrowed gown in her dressing room. As well as numerous
gowns, Francesca had delighted in matching shawls, shoes,
and hats. Gloves too. He didn’t remember seeing a single hat
in Rosalind’s chamber.
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“Summon the seamstress. She will come to you here,”
Lucien murmured as he opened her satchel. Th
e array of
herbs took him by surprise. “Do you use all of these?”
“Yes.”
Dried twigs were tied together with a red ribbon and
slid into a small groove inside the bag. Small jars fi lled with
crushed leaves jostled for space with others containing pastes.
All containers were neatly labeled.
“Which jar do you require?”
Rosalind pointed at one that held a white paste. “Th
at
should bring out the bruising.”
Lucien heard a sound behind him and turned his head.
Noir slunk along the ground on his belly. His ears pricked,
his compact body vibrated, ready to spring on his prey.
Lucien smothered a chuckle. Th
e tassels on his boots were
in extreme danger.
Th
e kitten leapt. Lucien caught him mid-air. A loud
hiss resulted. “Steady there,” Lucien murmured. Th
e kitten
clawed at his jacket sleeve. “He’s a ferocious beast.”
“He likes to play. Usually, it’s the maids he terrorizes.”
Lucien carefully disengaged the kitten’s claws. He stilled.
His eyes narrowed and he glanced at Rosalind. She stared
back, her face expressionless.
“Th
e kitten has extra toes.”
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Rosalind nodded.
“Th
e servants? Have they noticed?”
Her chin edged upward. “I’m sure they have.”
Witch’s cat. Th
e knowledge shimmered in the air between
them.
“I’m keeping him. You’re not taking Noir away from me.
He’s a baby. A harmless kitten.”
“Th
at’s why you found him washed up on the beach.
Someone tossed him in the sea to drown.”
“Lucien, he’s an animal with nothing magical about
him.” Rosalind fought to contain her fears. Surely Lucien
would not take Noir from her? During her last trip down
to the village, a young lad had skipped up to her and asked
if she were a witch. His embarrassed mother had whisked
him away, but she’d have to be blind not to notice that fewer
people were asking to see her.
“What about rumors? God, Rosalind, they still talk of
burning witches at the stake.”
“I’m not a witch!” A sick feeling made her stomach sink.
Was her gift to ruin life in St. Clare too?
“I never said you were. All I’m saying is, be careful. Keep
Noir out of sight. Don’t give people fuel for their gossip.”
Rosalind’s eyes narrowed while she considered his words.
“Are you saying that I shouldn’t treat the people in the village
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if they are sick?”
“Yes. If that’s what it takes to keep you safe.”
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XIV
Safe? Th at implied Lucien cared. Hope sprang to life like a
fl ower blooming after a long winter.
“Let me carry you through to your chamber. I need you
to show me where the entrance to the passage is.”
Rosalind stood. A jarring pain shot down her leg, but
she ignored it to concentrate on Lucien. “I will explore the
passage with you.”
“You couldn’t make it up to your chamber on your own.”
Her mouth tightened. An excuse to exclude her. Th
e
hope that had fanned to life withered.
“Stay here and rest,” he suggested.
His words were more like an order, no matter how po-
litely he couched them. Th
e calm face told her he expected
SHELLEY MUNRO
she’d follow his orders with little argument. Rosalind decided
to choose a better time to argue the point. “Th
e passage en-
trance is behind the bureau. It’s a simple matter of moving
the bureau to open the passage. It’s part of the wall. Th
ere’s
a handle on the back so you can close it back up when you
leave my chamber.”
Lucien picked up her candle, lit it, and followed her
instructions. Th
e bureau slid aside with a quiet groan. He
ducked into the dark space revealed and vanished from sight.
Frustration burned within Rosalind. She hobbled to
the opening in her wall and stuck her head inside. Cautious
footsteps slowly receded and she glimpsed a brief fl ickering of
candlelight before it, too, disappeared from sight. If she were
Miranda, she would have a full out tantrum. Despite Lucien’s
transparent doubt, someone had pushed her this morning.
Th
e sounds from above, the fl ash of color and the tumble of
rocks and stones that had rained down replayed in her mind.
A shudder worked down her body at the remembered horror,
the helpless sense of dangling above the needle sharp rocks.
With a grumpy sigh, she tugged the bureau back into place
in case one of the maids entered her chamber.
She sank onto her bed and almost immediately stood
again. She was not going to stay in her room like a well-be-
haved child. While Lucien investigated the passage, she’d go
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THE SECOND SEDUCTION
to the village and ask more questions about Mary. Rosalind
missed Mary’s cheerful presence and uneasiness assailed her
each time she thought of Mary’s unexpected disappearance.
It didn’t make sense.
Rosalind rang for a servant. “I would like to go to the
village,” she said when the maid arrived. “Please have Tick-
ell summon a footman to escort me. I will require a pony
and cart.”
Th
e young maid curtseyed. “Yes, Lady Rosalind.”
Almost two hours later, a footman helped her into the
cart and handed an irritated Rosalind her bag of medicines.
Th
e pony fi dgeted, eager to leave. Rosalind felt the same im-
patience and prayed that they’d depart before Lady Augusta
decided to summon her again.
Once the footman swung up beside her and fl icked the
reins, the black pony took off at a fast trot. His pace barely
slackened as they approached the avenue of trees after exiting
the castle forecourt.
Rosalind seized her bag when it started to slide from
the cart. She shoved it under her feet and gripped the edge
of the cart until the color bled from her knuckles. “Do we
need to go so fast?” she shouted above the creaking cart, the
pounding of the horse’s hooves on the dusty road and the
footman’s curses.
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“Whoa!” the footman yelled, hauling back on the reins.
Th
e cart shot into the avenue of trees. Sunlight faded
to dark, forbidding black. Branches whipped across her face
and torso.
“What’s wrong?” Rosalind shrieked.
“Whoa! Whoa! I don’t know, Lady Rosalind!” Matthew
leaned back, pulling with all his strength.
“Turn the pony up the steep path, the one at the exit of
the avenue,” she ordered.
“Aye. Th
at should slow him.” Grimly, the footman sawed
on the reins, trying to turn the pony’s head.
Rosalind thought they were would shoot past the turn-
off , but at the last second the pony grudgingly turned. Th
e
cart hit a hole in the road. Rosalind screamed. Her bag fl ew
off the cart, hitting the ground with a thud.
“Hang on, Lady Rosalind! Th
e brute is slowing.”
As the slope increased, the pony reduced speed. When he
fi nally halted, his coat was white with foamy sweat. His sleek
sides heaved as he sucked for breath.
Th
e footman leapt nimbly from the cart, holding the pony
fi rmly to prevent fl ight. “Are you all right, Lady Rosalind?”
“I’m fi ne,” Rosalind said. With the footman’s help, she
clambered from the cart.
Th
e footman scratched his head. “I’ve never known old
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THE SECOND SEDUCTION
Sambo to take a start like that.”
“Check his harness,” Rosalind directed in a terse voice.
“Righto, Lady Rosalind. I’ve heard of animals being
stung by insects. Do you think that could have happened?”
“I don’t know.” Rosalind limped back to where her bag
lay on the ground. She opened it cautiously, expecting the
worst. Th
e pungent smell of dry herbs was strong. Rosalind’s
eyes watered. She wiped them impatiently and restored her
medicines to order. Only two jars broken. “It could have been
worse,” she muttered.
“Lady Rosalind.” Th
e footman waved with excitement.
“Come and see what I’ve found.”
Rosalind hurried to his side as fast as her throbbing
knee allowed.
“Poor Sambo was stung. Look!” Th
e footman peeled
back the harness. Sambo danced uneasily, rolling his eyes
and snorting. Th
e footman held him steady.
Rosalind bit back a gasp as she saw several wasps trapped
under the leather strap. Some of them were still alive. “No,
don’t pick them up with your bare hand. Th
ey’ll sting. I have
gloves. Let me.”
She brushed the insects away rather than picking them
up. Some fell to the ground dead while others fl ew away once
released. “Who harnessed up?”
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“I don’t know, Lady Rosalind, but I intend to fi nd out.
If this were meant to be a joke, it’s not funny. We could have
been killed.”
Rosalind’s anger echoed on the footman’s face. An ac-
cident was probably the idea. She pushed aside her uneasiness
for practical considerations. “Is Sambo all right?”
“I won’t hitch up the harness again, but we can manage
right enough if I lead him. It’s not that far to the village.”
“Th
ank you, Matthew.”
Th
ey arrived at the village fi fteen minutes later without
further mishap. Th
e usual assortment of children and dogs
and chickens greeted them on arrival. Matthew helped her
from the cart.
Billy shoved his way to the front of the crowd. “I will
carry the lady’s bag.”
“Th
ank you, Billy. How is your brother?”
“He swore today,” Billy said.
Rosalind bit back a smile. “Th
at must mean he’s on the
mend.” Against all her predictions, the boy’s injuries had
responded well to treatment. Billy’s brother was the perfect
person to ask questions.
Th
e chickens and dogs soon gave up interest in her ar-
rival, but the children tagged along behind. One small girl
with plaits and a missing front tooth tugged on her hand.
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THE SECOND SEDUCTION
Rosalind slowed her steps to smile down at her. “Hello.”
“Are you the witch lady?” she asked.
Rosalind came to an abrupt halt. She gasped at the
shooting pain in her knee, but didn’t take her gaze off the
small girl. “Where did you hear that?”
“Of course she’s not a witch,” Billy declared.
“Who said I was a witch?” Rosalind said icily, drawing
herself up straight.
A frightened look fl ashed across the girl’s face. She cowered
as if she expected Rosalind to strike her. “I heard ladies talking.”
“When?” Rosalind demanded. “Have you heard the
same thing, Billy?”
He hesitated and then nodded. “Aye. I’ve heard talk.”
“Today?”
“Are you going to burn?” the little girl whispered.
Rosalind fl inched. “Who told you that?” She looked
askance at Matthew.
He gave a clipped nod. “I’ve heard rumors too, Lady
Rosalind.”
“No, I’m not a witch. I’m the same as you.” Nonethe-
less, apprehension laced the forced smile. “Billy, let’s see how
Harry is getting along.”
Rosalind and Billy left the small group of children to
continue with skipping rope and their game of tag.
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SHELLEY MUNRO
“Witches are evil.” Billy said without warning. “Th
ey
keep frogs and cats for pets and ride a broomstick.”
Grim amusement fought with horror. Lucien had been
right. Th
e rumors were fl ying as fast as the fabled broom-
sticks. She considered the visits she’d made to the sick, the
treatments she had given, and the reactions of the people.
She’d been so careful. She knew she had, especially after
her experience in Stow-on-the-Wold. How had the rumors
started? Who had started them?
Billy led Rosalind inside the small cottage. Harry lay
on a pallet in front of the fi re. Smoke fi lled the small room,
making her eyes water. Billy’s mother stood at the fi reside
stirring the contents of an iron cooking pot. On their en-
trance, her head jerked up. Her eyes widened and her spoon
dropped from shaky fi ngers. Liquid splashed from the pot
into the fi re with a loud sizzle.
“Good day, Mrs. Green,” Rosalind said, smiling despite
the other woman’s reaction.
“Billy, where have you been?”
“With my friends.” He cast a quick look at Rosalind.
“Lady Rosalind has come to see ‘arry.”
Mrs. Green glanced at Harry. Her face softened for
an instant but the tenderness had disappeared by the time
she gave her attention to Rosalind. Her expression and the
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THE SECOND SEDUCTION
whispered chant under her breath indicated she’d heard the
rumors and believed them.
Rosalind sighed. “Is now a good time to look at Harry?”
she asked.
Mrs. Green hesitated. “Since yer ‘ere,” she murmured
refusing to meet Rosalind’s gaze. “I ‘ave to go. Billy, show
Lady Rosalind out when she;s ready to leave.”
Billy nodded, and Mrs. Green hastened from the cottage.
Th
e woman was probably murmuring all sorts of supersti-
tious chants under her breath so Rosalind didn’t do anything
to her precious son. It was obvious Harry was the favorite.
Rosalind smiled at Billy. “Why don’t you go back and play
with your friends?” she said. “Harry and I will be fi ne.” Best
if Billy didn’t witness her interrogation of his brother.
“No,” Harry croaked. “Don’t go.”
Th
e boy hadn’t uttered a word the whole time, but Rosa-
lind was aware of Harry’s wide, anxious eyes. He’d heard the
rumors of witchcraft too.