One Enchanted Evening (Marriage by Fairytale Book 2)

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  ***

  Lewis shared one dance with Marcy before she said she wanted to meet some of the ladies in the room. Since she didn’t ask him to join her, he figured she wanted to do this alone. He watched her as she went to a group of ladies who were fanning themselves. She greeted them, and they turned to her. She spoke with them for a minute. A couple of the ladies shook their heads, but one nodded and replied to her.

  It was a shame he wasn’t privy to the conversation. He had a nagging suspicion that whatever she was asking them was important. He had no way to prove it was. It was impossible to prove a suspicion, after all. But there was definitely something bothering her. If she had been expecting a child, her sudden change in mood would make sense. However, since she wasn’t, he had no logical explanation for why she’d been acting so strange.

  He couldn’t even recall when the whole thing had started. She’d been vibrant and alive when she came up to him at the masquerade ball. Then, after he’d married her, she’d been excited about cleaning up their townhouse and making it a comfortable place for them to live. She’d been cheerful and full of energy.

  Then, all at once, she seemed to have retreated within herself. She was often preoccupied with something. Sometimes he would enter a room and call out to her, but she didn’t notice him. Instead, she seemed focused on something far away, something he had no way of reaching. She’d built a wall around herself, and he couldn’t get through it. And he wasn’t the only one who’d found the task impossible. Patricia hadn’t had any more success. During their visit with Patricia and Stephen, Marcy had been the same way she was this evening.

  If only he knew what to do about it…

  “I’m glad to see you here this evening,” a gentleman called out to him.

  Lewis turned to the Duke of Larkinson and smiled. “Your Grace.”

  “Did you bring your wife with you this evening?”

  “I did. She’s mingling with others at the moment, but I’m sure she’ll be here over soon.”

  “Given how much you adore her, she must be a special lady.”

  “I think she is,” Lewis replied. “But then, I’m her husband, so I better think that about her.”

  The duke chuckled. “It’s always best if a husband can say that about his wife. I’ve been just as fortunate. A love match makes marriage much better. I know Society tells us we should marry regardless of love, but I think one might be better off single than stuck with someone they don’t like. Even a marriage where you rarely see your wife can seem too long if you don’t like her.”

  Lewis was prone to agree with him. He didn’t want to think of what his life would be like if he’d had to settle for someone he didn’t love.

  The Duchess of Larkinson approached them, a disappointed look on her face.

  “Your friend isn’t able to come here tonight?” the duke asked, his tone sympathetic.

  She shook her head. “She has a terrible headache. It’s such a shame. She helped pick out the music and decorations for this evening’s ball. She won’t get a chance to see what a success it is.”

  “Well, maybe she’ll be able to go to the next one.”

  Though she didn’t seem consoled, she nodded her agreement. “It’s not like her to suffer a headache. I can’t help but wonder if something else is going on.”

  The duke’s eyebrows furrowed. “Do you think she’s hiding something?”

  “I can’t say for sure. Lately, she hasn’t been herself. She’s been...” After a moment, she shrugged. “I suppose the best way to put it is that she’s been preoccupied with something. I’ve asked her about it, but she says nothing is wrong.”

  How ironic. If he didn’t know better, he could swear they were talking about Marcy. Since they weren’t, he could only think of one lady they might be discussing. “Are you talking about Miss Charville?”

  The duchess nodded. “She was so looking forward to being here this evening. She even said she was interested in meeting your wife. She’ll be sorry she missed her since your wife is here this evening.”

  “I’m sure my wife will be sorry she missed her, too,” Lewis replied.

  “Maybe you should invite his wife and Miss Charville over for a visit so they can meet,” the duke told his wife.

  “I think that would be wonderful,” Lewis replied.

  He was sure Marcy would welcome the idea of having a friend in London. She and Patricia got a chance to see each other throughout the year, but he thought Marcy might benefit from having a friend she could have close by. She spent so much time alone. If it was him, he’d get lonely.

  “I’ll send Miss Charville and your wife an invitation to join me for tea in a few days,” the duchess said, looking pleased. “Considering the interest Miss Charville showed in learning more about your wife, I just know she’ll be excited about it.”

  “I think my wife will be excited about it as well.”

  The butler approached him. “Lord Pruett, a lad asked me to give this to you. He said it was urgent.”

  Eyebrows furrowed, Lewis accepted the neatly folded parchment. As the butler left, he opened it and read it. I’ve taken ill and had to go home. Please make haste and come to me. It was signed by Marcy.

  That was odd. Why didn’t she just come up to him and tell him she wanted to go home? To make sure Marcy wasn’t still in the room, he glanced over at the spot where he’d last seen her. Sure enough, she wasn’t there.

  “Is someone sick?” the duke asked.

  Lewis turned to him and the duchess, who were watching him in concern. “Yes. It seems that my wife didn’t feel well and left.” He folded the missive and slipped it into his pocket. “Do you mind if I leave?”

  “Not at all,” the duke replied. “We hope she’ll feel better soon.”

  “Make sure you send her our regards,” the duchess added.

  Lewis nodded then hurried out of the ballroom.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Yes, that’s Miss Charville,” a lady was telling Marcy ten minutes later on the other side of the ballroom. “She looks exactly as you describe her. I’ve only talked with her on occasion. I don’t know her that well.”

  “Do you know where she lives?” Marcy asked.

  “I know the area, but I don’t know the exact townhouse.”

  This was better than nothing. Encouraged, Marcy said, “I would appreciate anything you can tell me.”

  “She’s in the wealthier section of London,” the lady replied. “She has even more money than the Duke and Duchess of Larkinson do.”

  This didn’t surprise Marcy since her father had been very wealthy. He’d even taken Marcy and her mother with him when he traveled to other countries. Looking back on those travels, Marcy remembered more about the time with them than she did about the places she’d visited. But she wasn’t here to go over the past. Not now. Right now, she had to deal with Pandora.

  “I haven’t been in London for long,” Marcy told the lady. “Where is the wealthy section?”

  “It’s that way.” The lady gestured behind her. “You travel that way for about four blocks then go east for another three. The carriages are fancier. I believe Lord Edon lives in that section. Do you know who he is?”

  Marcy shook her head. “I don’t, but I can figure out how to get there now that you told me. Thank you so much for your help.”

  The lady smiled and headed off to talk to her friends.

  Marcy wasn’t sure if she should keep asking people if they knew Pandora or join Lewis for the rest of the evening. She was close to finding her step-sister, but she didn’t want to arouse Lewis’ suspicions. If she took too long to get back to him, he might start to question why.

  A maid approached her and asked, “Are you Lady Pruett?”

  Marcy nodded in surprise. Had she taken so long that Lewis had sought someone to find her? She had no idea where he was in the room. There were too many people.

  Instead of telling Marcy that her husband was looking for her, the maid held out a
neatly folded parchment to her. “I was instructed to give this to you.”

  Marcy swore her heartbeat came to a complete stop. All around her, people were laughing and dancing, but they seemed to disappear. The only thing she could focus on was the missive in the maid’s hand. “How did you know I was Lady Pruett?” she asked once she found the strength to talk.

  “The lad said to look for a lady matching your description who was wearing a pink gown with white gloves.”

  Marcy swallowed. Pandora had seen her this evening. She hadn’t seen Pandora, but Pandora had seen her. That was the only reason Pandora knew what she was wearing this evening. She scanned the room but didn’t see anyone who even looked remotely like Pandora. How did Pandora do it? How did she manage to always stay one step ahead of her?

  “My lady, will you accept the missive?” the maid asked, bringing Marcy’s attention back to her.

  Marcy accepted it, too scared to speak. It was an eerie feeling to know she was being watched. It left her with no sense of control. She was at Pandora’s mercy.

  I don’t have to be. Somehow, someway, I can get the control back.

  But how was she going to do it?

  She’d have to start by reading the missive. There was no getting out of reading it, no matter how much she dreaded it. She went to the edge of the room and opened it.

  Tick tock. Tick tock. Don’t delay. Each minute that passes is one more minute you risk losing your husband. Go home right away if you want to keep him.

  Despite the missive’s encouragement to hurry, there was a span of time that seemed to span into eternity where Marcy couldn’t move. Lewis. Pandora had just threatened to take Lewis from her.

  But how was Pandora going to get him? He was here at this ball with her.

  Wasn’t he?

  Marcy directed her attention back to the crowd of people in the ballroom. She went around the room, looking for Lewis. Was Pandora at the townhouse she and Lewis shared? Was Pandora waiting for her there? Or did Pandora mean that Lewis was at the townhouse and something like a decanter full of poison was waiting for him?

  The note could be read many ways. But Marcy had to find out if Lewis was here before she left the ball.

  She searched for him all over the room, noting the way her steps grew more and more anxious when she failed to find him. Her gut tightened in dread. This was worse than trying to figure out where Pandora lived. At least in that case, she wasn’t in danger of losing Lewis. She’d only been in danger of having her secret exposed. Of all the things she thought Pandora might do, she didn’t think Pandora would threaten to harm Lewis.

  This is how she’s going to get her revenge. You took her mother. She’s going to take your husband. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. A life for a life. And she wants you to be alive to live with it.

  Suffering, after all, was only effective if people had to live without those they loved. It was the perfect form of justice.

  After a couple of minutes of not being able to find him, Marcy decided to leave the ball. Even if he was here, she had delayed long enough in going to her townhouse. Pandora was expecting her. And since Pandora was willing to do something to Lewis, she needed to find out what it was.

  She ran over to the spot where their carriage had been, but the space had been replaced by someone else’s carriage. This wasn’t good. It was one thing to search for Lewis in a crowded room and not find him. In that case, there was still the hope that he was there. That meant he was fine, at least for the moment. But if he had taken the carriage home, then that changed everything.

  A new surge of panic swept over her. She lifted the hem of her gown and ran down the street. She had to get to the townhouse before Lewis drank anything. Surely, Pandora would pick poison. Somehow Pandora had figured out a way to get Lewis to leave the ball, and if he got home and was waiting for her to come to him, then he might have a drink.

  All it would take was one glass of brandy or sherry. No, not even a full glass. It would only take one swallow. The poison wasn’t necessarily going to be fast, but once in the body, it would start working.

  That’s what Pandora meant by ‘Tick tock’. She was letting me know if I didn’t get home in time, Lewis would have something to drink, and by then, it would be too late.

  Marcy ignored the carriages and darted across the street so she could get to the block that would take her home. A horse neighed in protest. A driver yelled at her. Some people stopped to stare after her. But she ignored them all. If they were in her position, they would rush home, too. Who cared if she upset some people and horses? There was much more at stake than how soon someone could get to a ball or the theatre or some other form of entertainment.

  By the time she reached the block where she and Lewis lived, she was almost out of breath. But she pushed herself to keep going. She couldn’t stop now. Not when she was so close.

  The carriage wasn’t in front of the townhouse. If Lewis had come home, he’d been here long enough for the coachman to put the carriage away.

  He had to have come home. The carriage wasn’t at the ball. If the carriage wasn’t at the ball, then Lewis had taken it here.

  She made it to the steps of her townhouse and bounded up them, wishing her gown and slippers were able to help her move faster, but she could only manage one step at a time.

  Please, don’t let me be too late. Don’t let me be too late.

  As soon as she reached the top, she threw the front door open. “Lewis?” she called out.

  The entire place was dark. She ran into the drawing room. No one was there. She ran down the hall to the den.

  “Lewis?”

  But he wasn’t in the den, either. She ran to the kitchen since it was the only other room that had anything to drink in it. And even that one was empty.

  “Lewis?”

  She took a good look around. Everything was dark. So dark. Only the moonlight coming in through the windows gave her any light, and it offered enough for her to realize that all of the glasses were where they belonged. She retraced her steps to the den and then the drawing room. None of those glasses had been used, either.

  She turned and headed up the stairs. The only other place he might possibly be was his bedchamber. But when she got there, he wasn’t in the room.

  “Lewis?”

  She stopped and took a moment to listen for anyone that might be in the townhouse.

  All was silent.

  She’d made too much noise. If her step-sister was here, she’d given her plenty of time to hide.

  Hide and then do what?

  What could Pandora possibly intend to do to her in this townhouse? It wasn’t like Marcy was dumb enough to drink something. Surely, Pandora knew that.

  She thought back over the contents of Pandora’s latest missive. Tick tock. Tick tock. Don’t delay. Each minute that passes is one more minute you risk losing your husband. Go home right away if you want to keep him.

  What did the missive mean if Lewis wasn’t at the ball or in this townhouse?

  She put her fingers through her hair and tried not to scream. She needed to think. She couldn’t afford to panic. She needed a clear head.

  The missive read, Tick tock. Tick tock. Don’t delay. Each minute that passes is one more minute you risk losing your husband. Go home right away if you want to keep him.

  Maybe it was a hint. Maybe there was something in the words that were meant to lead her to Pandora, or Lewis, or maybe even another missive.

  She took a deep breath. “Tick tock. Tick tock,” she whispered. “Don’t delay. Each minute…” She paused as a thought occurred to her. Tick tock. Don’t delay. Each minute…one more minute…right away… All of those words had to do with time.

  Was it possible there was someone or something waiting for her near or on a clock in this townhouse? She lowered her hands as she thought of all the clocks in this place. There wasn’t a clock in this room. But there was one in the den and in the drawing room. The one in the den didn’t work,
though, so it couldn’t be that. Well, it couldn’t be that if Pandora knew it didn’t work.

  She shivered. Had Pandora really been in this townhouse? Marcy knew she’d figured out where she lived, but had she come in here while she and Lewis were visiting Stephen and Patricia? Or had she just come in here tonight? Without any servants, it would be easy for anyone to sneak in here.

  Marcy took another deep breath then left the bedchamber. Her slippers were soft on the hard floor, allowing her the advantage of hearing anything that might be amiss. If Lewis or Pandora were somewhere in the townhouse, she needed to hear any subtle movement.

  But all she heard was a horse’s shoes echoing off the street as it pulled a carriage down the street. She’d forgotten she left the door open when she came home. In her haste, she hadn’t even thought to shut it. She hoped that wasn’t an error she was going to regret.

  There’s nothing to be done about it now. Just get to the clock in the den and see if there’s something by it.

  She reached the bottom of the steps and, steadying her nerves, she approached the den. She looked in the dim room. The drapes were open. No one could be hiding near the window. Her gaze went to the desk. Someone could be hiding behind that. From this vantage point, she couldn’t see around it.

  With a glance behind her to make sure Pandora wasn’t sneaking up on her, she stepped into the room. All was still. All was quiet…except for the ticking of the clock.

  Taking her gaze off of the desk, she turned her attention to the clock. It rested on the fireplace mantle. She approached it, and as she drew nearer to it, she realized there was a piece of paper next to it.

  She quickly closed the distance to it and snatched the folded parchment from the mantle. She opened it then went to a section of the room where the moonlight was pouring in through a window so she could read it.

  The lady’s maid found my mother dead at 11:34. Your dear husband is waiting for you in the Hathaway Woods Cemetery. You have until 11:34 tonight to save him. Make haste, Marcy. You don’t have much time left.