Papa gave her a stern look. “I told you not to ask.”
Andalin tried to swallow, but the dirt the wheels kicked up made her throat feel dry and scratchy. “I’m afraid, Papa. I hoped you were running toward something, but now I know you must be running away.”
Papa surprised her by pulling the reins back, slowly bringing them to a stop. He turned to face her. “Not from something—from someone.”
Shivers ran down her back. “Who?”
“I dare not tell you until after I speak with Lord Cadogen. Please do not keep asking. I know how uncommonly curious you are, but I must insist on this.”
A million questions froze on her lips. If it was hard to remain silent on the subject before, now it was nearly impossible.
Time seemed to crawl, though Papa kept a brisk pace. A subtle fork in the road loomed ahead. As they drew closer, she saw the right was undoubtedly the preferred route. It was wider, smoother, and strangely brighter. The left choice resembled more of a path carved through the forest with a blunt knife. Papa hesitated for only a moment before pulling his wagon hard to the left and into the thick trees.
Andalin gave her papa another sideways glance. “Papa, the sign said Beware.”
Papa’s face told her he wasn’t ignorant to the possibility of danger. “I thought my Andalin wanted adventure.”
She knew the choice of direction had nothing to do with her whims. Though, she could not deny the stories she often read fed her desire to see the world and experience new things. Perhaps she should clarify that she wanted a safe adventure.
As they traveled deeper into the Black Forest, the road became treacherous with tree roots snaking near the surface and ruts that caused their wagon to pitch this way and that. She held tightly to her seat, her knuckles white from her fierce grip. She worried for their precious glassware in the wagon bed, protected only by straw and the thin wood of the crates.
The shades of dusk seemed to melt into the trees. “How much longer?”
Papa didn’t take his eyes from the road. “Don’t know, exactly.”
“Have you never been this way, then?”
Papa adjusted his hat. “I’m not one to believe old wives’ tales, but the Black Forest is thick enough for all sorts of mischief. I’ve avoided it until now. But it’s the quickest way, and that is necessary for this trip. I wouldn’t chance the safety of my daughter or my wares otherwise.”
Andalin laughed and then choked on the dust the horses kicked up. “Thank you for putting me before your wares when you listed us together. Corbridge will never question our bravery or adventurous spirit after this!”
“Never mind,” Papa replied. “It’s a risk, plain and simple.”
“Indeed. The shadows are certainly eerie, aren’t they?” There was nothing between the thick trees but the last glimpse of daylight.
“Tell me one of your stories,” Papa urged. “The children seem to gather like hens to hear you spin a tale.”
“These days they’re all stories about the Dark Rider. I’ve collected quite a few from travelers. Everyone coming from Thornton Way, or near to it, seems to have heard this or that about the man.”
“Lies and gossip,” Papa said.
Andalin pursed her lips. “Maybe, but you must agree they’re fascinating. Did you hear the latest about Sir John Peltier, who was found unconscious on the ground with the Dark Rider standing over him? He was just about to finish Sir Peltier off when the men at the local tavern rode by, causing him to flee.”
“Sir John Peltier?” Papa chuckled. “You speak of him as if you know him. I’d wager you’ve never even heard his name before nor since.”
Andalin furrowed her brow. “No, but that really is not the point. I know you have an agreement with Lord Cadogen, but there are obvious reasons to avoid him. They say he killed his own family. He’s known far and wide to be the most skilled swordsman in all of England, and his skill is not just for sport like a true gentleman’s is. He carries a short sword with him everywhere, though he is no soldier. Truly, I’m surprised his peers haven’t revoked his title and shipped him off to New South Wales with the rest of the criminals.”
“If you think the working class is entertained by such stories, then I imagine the upper crust is too.”
“His stories are exciting. Most of the intrigue is about what’s under his mask. People speculate whether he’s hiding scars or burns or some deformation. I’ve even heard tell he’s part animal.”
“Enough.” Papa shook his head. “I agree there is something very strange about him, but he’s only a man.”
“All right, but the stories I tell are even more fantastical, so you had best think of another topic of conversation.”
“Very well,” Papa said. “I’ve been meaning to discuss your future. It’s time you found a husband.”
Andalin shook her head and whispered, feeling like the trees had ears. “Might we continue to discuss the Dark Rider instead?” She’d rather speak of him in the growing dark in the middle of a thief-infested forest than of marriage. Thoughts of Mr. Crow’s vile touch haunted her memory. No, she was not prepared for such a commitment.
“You’re of age now.”
Andalin turned her head away from her father. “Yes, but you need me in the store.” She reached for her garnet necklace, gifted to her by her mama, and covered the gem with her hand. Holding it usually comforted her, but the last thing she wanted was to be parted from Papa.
Papa patted his daughter’s knee. “You’re a beautiful woman now. I have done my best to protect you, but I am getting on in years—”
“You don’t have enough years under your belt to consider yourself old, so that won’t convince me in the slightest.”
At five and forty, her Papa was as spry as any younger man. She could not bear to think of him coming home from work to an empty house and a cold hearth. The loneliness would age him faster than the years would.
“This might not be the place to speak of it, but I feel the time will approach faster than you are ready. You’ll have to do your best to prepare yourself.” Papa’s words drifted on the breeze and seemed to be carried away into the thick darkness that surrounded the trees. Andalin wanted to call them back and wish them unsaid. Papa was right; whenever the time came for her to marry, it would be too soon.
Any desire Andalin had for travel quickly waned as the woods seemed to enclose upon them. The forest’s name seemed fitting yesterday, but today it felt even more foreboding to her imagination. Andalin thought she saw someone’s face between two trees, but when she looked again, there was nothing.
She had the sensation of being watched, and her breathing quickened. She searched the tree line and saw no proof of anyone else on the road. But no matter how she tried to push it from her mind, the feeling that they were not alone remained.
After a few minutes she sensed her papa’s discomfort as well. Her nerves were taut, so she attempted to tell Papa another story. This one was about the Dark Rider and a pirate. But for once, talking did not distract her from her worries.
When a soft sprinkle of stars appeared between the trees, Papa stopped to light a lantern and attach it to their wagon. It put off enough light for them to continue traveling, but at a much slower pace. Soon Andalin’s arms became tired of their fierce grip on her seat, but the fear of falling overcame her desire to rest her arms. An owl hooted, startling her.
“Andalin,” Papa said, barely loud enough to be heard over the horses. “If anything happens, I have an extra knife under the seat.”
“You think we will be attacked, then?” she whispered back.
Papa’s eyes did not leave their diligent watch on the path. “The cover of darkness and a generally empty road make us a vulnerable target. But fear can play all sorts of tricks on the mind. It could be nothing.” He rolled his shoulders as if shaking the tension from his body.
<
br /> She wanted to believe Papa could protect them, but she sent up a silent plea to heaven anyway. One of her hands reached for her necklace again out of habit, and she tried to remember her earliest memories of her mama to keep her mind clear.
The first howl of a wolf was not as alarming as the several that chimed in afterward. The howls seemed to last a full minute, and then suddenly there was silence. Papa brought the reins down hard and hollered at the horses, causing them to bolt down the road. Andalin’s bonnet flew off, and she held on with all the strength she possessed. The path took a wide turn, but at the speed they were going in the dark, neither of them saw the tree down over the path until they were nearly upon it.
Papa pulled back hard on the reins, but the wagon tilted severely, and he slid right off and tumbled onto the forest floor. Andalin’s body flew in the same direction, but her hold on her seat kept her from falling too. She grabbed at the reins just before they slipped out of her reach as the wagon righted itself. She pulled back with all her might, and before they hit the fallen tree, the wagon miraculously stopped.
Andalin’s panic did not, however. Several musket blasts, men’s voices, and a commotion she could not see commenced behind them in the near distance.
“Papa!” Andalin yelled.
“I’m just here. Stay where you are; I will come to you.”
Their lantern had been extinguished but still hung from the hook, despite their wild ride. Thinking quickly, Andalin lifted the wagon seat and fumbled around for the flint box. It took a few hurried attempts, but she finally managed to light the lantern again.
When she held the lantern up to find Papa, the sight before her drew an unnatural scream from her mouth. A large black stallion reared up on its back legs; the rider, clad in black, with a mask covering the top half of his face, held on and fought for control of his beast.
“The reins!” Papa called, his voice now close as he reached the side of the wagon. Their team lurched, but Papa raced forward and grabbed the harness of the horse nearest him. Andalin frantically reached for the reins with the hand not holding the lantern. As fast as it happened, it was over. The log blocking their path now aided in keeping their horses con-tained.
The Dark Rider—it had to be him, for he fit the description perfectly—sat astride his grand horse, looming over them.
Flustered and trembling, Andalin turned away from his intimidating form and called out to Papa, “Are you hurt?”
“Knocked around a bit, but I am well enough.”
The Dark Rider directed his horse closer to her. “Do you need assistance, miss?” His kind voice belied his frightening appearance.
Andalin found she could not speak.
Papa limped forward, his words soothing Andalin’s shock and fear. “We are safe now, dear. You can come down.”
Andalin let out her breath. She was not a coward. She ungracefully swung herself down from the wagon seat, causing her thick curly hair to cover her face in a tangled web. She batted the hair away from her eyes and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, wondering if she’d lost her mobcap with her bonnet and whether it was worth looking for in the dark. She moved to stand beside her papa.
“How can we repay your kindness?” Papa asked with a solemn bow to the stranger.
Andalin grimaced at her papa’s gratitude toward a man who had done nothing but frighten them.
“It was not hard to chase them away,” the Dark Rider said, his voice absent of any hostility.
Andalin’s eyebrows lifted, and she was curious as to what exactly he’d protected them from. “Wolves?”
“Men,” he said, turning to answer her, “with wolves.” He dismounted then and, with Papa’s help, easily cleared the fallen tree from the path.
She shivered thinking of what could have transpired without the Dark Rider’s surprise arrival, though that wasn’t to say they were any safer with his company than without. She moved to climb back into the wagon but gasped when a strong arm lifted her up from behind. The masked man stood near enough to the hanging lantern that when she turned, she met his unnerving gaze. She sat down hard in her seat, her heart racing.
The Dark Rider remounted. “These woods hold dangers greater than those we’ve witnessed tonight. You had best get a move on.”
Andalin finally found her voice. “We thought we were being followed.” Though, as she said it, she wondered if it were the highwayman himself after them. “How much farther until we leave the forest?”
“It’s a good hour’s ride, and then the road will fork again. Hold to the left, and another mile will bring you to my home, where someone can tend to your wounds and you can have lodging for the night. I will make sure no one else passes this way.”
By the way her papa held himself as he climbed into the carriage, she could sense his pain. But he graciously bowed his head and said, “Thank you, your lordship. We will gladly sleep indoors after such a night.”
The strange man urged his horse back into the woods and disappeared, gone as suddenly as he had arrived.
Andalin pulled a blanket from under the canvas of the wagon and placed the folded mass behind the small of Papa’s back. She cringed when she noticed the tear on his sleeve and saw the torn flesh, some parts clear to the bone. She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat. She reached across and took the reins from his fingers. He groaned but did not resist. She drove the team the rest of the way, growing more tired than she had ever been in her life.
Chapter 3
Ellison steered his horse through the trees alongside the dirt road, where he could follow it back a few miles and stay unseen. His trained ears listened for anything beyond the usual night sounds. He’d grown up near the Black Forest and spent much of the past ten years learning its secrets. So far there was no more sign of wolves or people.
It was rare that anyone was brave enough to take the road through the Black Forest. And why would they? The rumors were nearly as ugly as the truth. He hadn’t meant to trail the Durantes all evening, but he’d been intrigued by the lady’s voice. It was unusual enough for a man to take this road, but a young lady never did so. Mr. Durante was a fool to bring his daughter through the forest.
Finally, Ellison turned his horse back around toward his home. His mind conjured up a mess of black curls waiting there. He could still hear the timbre of her voice passing through the trees, while she’d told her father a silly story about pirates. From his viewpoint, he would have pegged them as farmers, but her speech was refined; it was clear she had been educated. It was just as Mr. Durante and Ellison’s own sources had promised.
As he drew closer to his home, he thought once more about the girl with wild hair, porcelain skin, and rosebud lips. His frown deepened. For the first time, he questioned his brilliant plan. Beauty had always been a curse to him.
***
Braitwood Hall, Thornton Way, England
Andalin stared up at the manor house with its tall turrets and flying buttresses. They pierced through the darkness and seemed to comb the sky. The large front door pushed open before she and Papa could climb down from their wagon. A middle-aged man and woman, most likely the butler and the housekeeper, rushed toward them to help them inside.
“Mr. Durante?” the butler asked.
“Yes, and this is my daughter.”
“His lordship let us know you might come. Your rooms are ready for you.”
They dragged their feet up the dark staircase, following the housekeeper’s candlelight. She directed Andalin to her room first, but Andalin resisted.
“My father has been injured. I must help him.”
“Your father will sleep a few doors down, and I promise his wounds will be cleaned and wrapped immediately. Now rest, child.”
Andalin’s eyes blurred from fatigue, and she easily agreed, bidding her father good night. She did not even undress before she collapsed
onto the feather-soft bed and fell into a deep sleep.
When she awoke the next morning, the sun was midway in the sky. The luxury of her guest room exceeded her imagination. Her four-poster bed was draped in a lavender canopy and matching quilt. There was even fresh lavender in a vase on her wash table. The Dark Rider lived like a king.
Andalin crawled out of bed, washed her face, and tried to push the wrinkles from her gown. It was no use. She needed a bath and a change of clothes. She spied her travel bag by the door, which seemed too providential since she had not brought it up with her the night before.
She had one other dress to her name now, and thankfully it was a sight cleaner. She brushed at her long, thick curls, trying desperately to bring some semblance of order. She tied them back with a ribbon from her bag but wished she had her cap. Papa always insisted she hide her hair because it caused the men at the store to stare at her. Whether for modesty or because it was often unruly, today she did not care to wonder.
Eager to see her father, she rushed from her room only to look in either direction, unsure which way to go. She reached forward to touch the ornately carved wood paneling along the wall. A woman she vaguely recognized from the night before exited a room a few doors down.
“Good day, Miss Durante,” the older woman greeted cheerfully. “I am Mrs. Lewis, the housekeeper. You met me last night, but you were awfully tired; I doubt you remember. Come. You must be starved!” Mrs. Lewis’s smile was wide against her thick cheeks. She was middle-aged, though her hair had kept most of its chestnut coloring, and she appeared to be a no-fuss, friendly woman.
Andalin remembered her manners only after a moment. “Thank you for your help last night. Might I check on my father?”
She smiled with understanding. “He’s downstairs. He’s already had his breakfast and is meeting with his lordship just now.”
The Masked Baron Page 2
