No one dared mention that the reason Lady Newhost had refrained from staying in London during the previous Season was because she felt the balls were too exciting and tiresome.
But really, Gwendoline thought, reflecting on her father’s insistence of new dresses and engagements. It should be quite obvious to him who I’m vying for.
Whether or not Lord Newhost agreed with such a choice remained as of yet unclear.
“Where have your thoughts gone, My Lady?” Lord Caspian asked. “Was my mother’s joke of maiming my fingers so dreadful that you have lost all your charm and wits?”
Gwendoline grinned at him. “Of course, not. I simply thought I’d allow you the first move, My Lord. I feel dreadful when my wit is so much sharper than yours.”
Lord Caspian gasped. “Why, Gwendoline—I mean, why Lady Gwendoline—”
She leaned forward and gazed at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Has my wit cut you so deeply that you cannot even remember my name?” she murmured. “It’s fine. You may call me Gwendoline. You did that once, and I recall liking it.”
“Gwendoline,” he echoed, trying her name. “I like the sound of that so much that I have no need to make a witty reply. Your name is enough.”
“And may I call you Caspian?”
He glanced at the parlor maid, still waiting in the room to ensure nothing untoward occurred. At his look, the parlor maid started suddenly, and Gwendoline wryly noted that the young woman seemed suddenly very invested in polishing the mantle of the fireplace.
Like a hawk, Caspian swooped in, and he placed a gentle kiss on Gwendoline’s cheek. But even that small token of affection set Gwendoline’s blood on fire. Color rushed to her face. She felt as though all her senses were sharpened by his touch, as if lightning had struck her and enveloped her in dazzling light.
“Is that an affirmative, or was the gesture meant as a distraction?” Gwendoline asked.
“Consider it an affirmative, a confirmation.”
Gwendoline hummed and sipped her tea, trying to time to think of something clever to say. But really, her thoughts kept wandering back to the matter of her engagement. The engagement her father wanted.
The engagement she wanted.
“What plans do you have for this season?” Gwendoline asked, placing her teacup and saucer onto the table before her.
“I plan on helping my friend James woo this young lady whom he’s long admired from affair. Lady Florence. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to use some of your charms to aid in my efforts?”
Gwendoline laughed. “Charms?”
“You know what I mean. I think it would sound quite peculiar if I went to Lady Florence and insisted that she court my friend,” Caspian said, grinning. “It’s much better to have another party to act as the go-between. The envoy.”
“You make it sound as though we’re going to war with one another,” Gwendoline replied.
“Love can be a war depending on who you ask,” Caspian said. “I’m certain there is a very famous playwright from Stratford-on-Avon who would agree with me.”
“It’s difficult to argue with a dead man,” Gwendoline replied, “And I’m sure your playwright is quite dead.”
“So he is.”
Gwendoline smiled, and with a stroke on inspiration, she tilted her head back.
“I know that look,” Caspian said. “What are you thinking?”
“If I’m going to put a word in my dearest friend’s ear—and I have no idea if she’ll listen, mind you—I think that I deserve something in return. I don’t recommend just anyone’s friends to mine, especially if it concerns matters of the heart. I’m sure you understand that.”
Caspian smirked. His green eyes widened with something like glee. “Very well, My Lady. You have my attention. Now, name your price.”
Gwendoline shrugged and feigned disinterest, while Caspian’s intrigue only seemed to grow. It was a game, and Gwendoline knew that he recognized it was such. A thrill went through her at being able to play games with him and having a player who understood.
“I think I want you to embark on a quest for me,” Gwendoline said, after a moment’s consideration, “Like the knight errands of old, you know.”
“That seems entirely reasonable,” Caspian replied. “Will there be dragons involved?”
“Depends. Do you think my father is a dragon?”
Caspian smirked. “I’d never speak ill of Lord Newhost. Those days are behind me, fair Gwendoline.”
“Well spoken,” Gwendoline conceded. “But I have developed a fancy to be engaged, and I think my father also has this fancy.”
“Does he?” Caspian asked. “So you need me to fetch some valiant soul for you to wed?”
“Indeed, I do. Would you happen to know of any acceptable man?”
His eyes shined like emeralds. “I think,” he said, “I know just the man for you.”
The End?
Extended Epilogue
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Chapter 1
A bitterly cold wind howled its way through the village, banging against any loose shutters and knocking at the entryways. Now and then, an unbarred door flew open, only to be slammed shut by a frigid occupant inside. Though only a few hours past midday, the dark roll of clouds overhead belied the appearance of the coming dusk. Days of pelting rain had dampened both structures and spirits alike, and a thick paste of mud and slosh floated above the cart trails and footpaths.
Huddled in the vestibule of the darkened blacksmith shop, one bedraggled man waited. He stomped his feet to keep the blood moving in them as he clutched firmly at the cloak fastened beneath his chin. The hood provided only the barest defense against the cold and wind, but its true purpose was served.
It concealed his identity from anyone who might chance to look his way.
Looking down at his disguise, the man sneered at the cheap cut of the blouse and overcoat, the faint smell of camphor and body stench in the threadbare cloth. He somehow managed to ignore the urge to retch in disgust at the thought it was touching his skin. These were the only garments he could procure at such short notice, and though they would serve their purpose, he longed for a lengthy scalding in a soapy tub to rid him of their filth when this was over.
A sudden movement of black against the gray outdoors caught the man’s eye. He looked out, but spotted no one. A few moments later, he imagined he saw another movement, but he couldn’t be sure this time either. The man began to grow anxious, certain that someone was nearby and having their fun with him. He kept his eyes fixed on the area in front of the shop, intent on not being taken by surprise.
He nearly screamed when a hand clapped his shoulder from behind. Whirling around, he scowled at the other man’s confident expression.
“Didn’t think I’d show, did ya?” the second man asked, taking in the sight of the other man’s haggard appearance. “And what’s all this ya wearing? You look like something a fish might have spit upon the shore! Fairly well smell like it, too.”
“Never you mind my appearance!” the man barked. “You’re late!”
“Eh, you’ll find that timepieces don’t mean much in my world, not unless I’m lifting them off a dainty and selling ‘em for a good price.” The newcomer shrugged as though that explained all. “Now what’s this business of yours that’s got you asking around for Prince Aaron?”
“Ah, a prince, is it?�
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Aaron only shrugged again, smiling broadly, before saying, “I figures ‘tis the closest I’ll ever get to court unless I’m being read me charges before they hang me. There’s no harm in laying claim to a title of me own! ‘Sides, I’m truly a prince in the circles I travel in, ‘tis why you sought me out. What’s this work you’ve got for me?”
The man looked about again to be sure no one was near, then reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small purse of coins.
“I need someone to disappear,” he explained, holding the purse just out of reach.
“If this person is you, then ‘tis done!” the rogue joked, eyeing the purse and already judging the weight of its contents.
“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I don’t mean myself!” The man took a deep breath to steady his nerves, then said, “I sought you out because you are rumored to be the best. You charge a hefty price, to be sure, but there will be no mistakes, no missteps. And most of all, no connection to myself.”
“Aye, all of that’s true,” Aaron said with a confident nod.
“And I take it you have no qualms about carrying out the most heinous of deeds? One that would turn the stomach of any man with the merest sense of morality?”
“Morals is only somethin’ you can afford if you’re monied,” Aaron replied as casually as if discussing the price of soup bones. “The rest of us? We’d slit our own mothers’ throats if it meant we go to bed with a full belly. What is this heinous crime?”
The man seemed to pause, weighing his words as though he might back out. For a moment, he seemed to wrestle with his cause.
“Good sir,” Aaron assured him, “yer payin’ me that purse there for me trouble, whether ya hire me or not. You might as well tell me the task so I can get on with it and earn the rest of my pay.”
“You’re right,” the man said. “I need you to abscond with someone.”
“Sorry? Abscond? Yer gonna have to speak more plain than that, I fear.”
“Kidnap. Run away with. Remove. Understand?” The man glowered at Aaron, still darting his eyes this way and that to ensure they were not overheard. Another fierce howl of the wind assured him that no one would venture near them without cause.
“Ah, ya want me to get rid of yer wife’s lover then, eh? Is that it? Some fool has made you a cuckold and ya want him gone!” Aaron laughed heartily at the notion, his thick black hair falling in his eyes as he looked at this simpering man who so obviously detested both Aaron and his actions.
“No! And if you half knew the entire story, you’d shut up your trap and do this task without compensation!” the man roared, ignoring his own fears about detection.
Aaron stopped cold. It was his turn to glare at this stranger, the man who was so obviously frightened of being found out. For a moment, it seemed as though Aaron might turn on his heel and reject the proposal, but then again, the other man seemed just as likely to turn tail and run. Quietly, the rogue nodded and thought through what must be done.
“What makes this ‘removal’ so detestable in your eyes then?” he asked.
“I cannot say. But you will understand when you complete the task.”
“Ya know, I was only making jest about slitting our mothers’ throats! There’s things even I will naw do for money!” Aaron hissed.
“If you knew the full of it, you’d beg me to let you do this. That is all I can assure you. But it is of utmost importance that this be done. Lives may well depend on it,” the man assured him, but Aaron was already shaking his head.
“So I’m to steal something, but I know not what—”
“Precisely,” the man interrupted.
“What do I do, grab the first thing my eyes light upon, toss it in a sack, and fling it in the river? Is that what yer after?” Aaron needed to hear the man confirm the darkest of requests.
“I don’t care how you get rid of it, just so long as you do. Again, it is vitally important that you do this. You cannot possibly understand how grave the situation.” The man looked him in the eye, imploring him to understand.
“You may be the darkest of any scoundrel I’ve ever come across!”
“I assure you, that is not the case. That is so far from it that I take full offense at the accusation!” the man said, but there was nothing haughty in his tone now. His anger put aside, there was even the faintest glimmer of shine to his eyes, as though tears may spill forth at any moment.
“What’s so important then? Tell me plain, or I walk away with yer coins there, and may chance leave you with a blackened eye just for fun.”
“I cannot tell you all without putting myself in the way,” the man said, sighing sadly. “Only please trust that this payment was only for getting you to meet me here. I’ll pay it again four times over should you follow through.”
He held out the small cloth bag and let it fall into Aaron’s outstretched hand. At first, Aaron was taken aback by the weight of it. This payment alone was surely more than he could steal in a year’s time. But then his eyes happened to affix on the purse itself, its fine cloth and excellent stitching, the small tassels at the ends of its silk cord that tied it shut.
This was no poor man’s purse.
Aaron narrowed his eyes. “Ya might pass for a common idiot in this getup yer wearin’, but you don’t have me fooled. What’s yer true name then?”
“I cannot divulge that,” the man said, growing fearful now that his disguise had been uncovered. “But I can promise you payment in full the moment the job is complete. Here. This is the name and the place. Can you do this or not?”
Aaron took the folded paper and opened it, scanning the words written in a very fine hand. “Tis lucky for you I can e’en read this, ya know. You took a real chance hiring an outlaw and expecting him to read.”
The man sighed impatiently while his criminal contact perused the paper, weighing his decision with the same gusto as he weighed the many gold coins in his hand. Aaron pushed down the rising nausea and finally nodded.
“Yeah, I can do it. Tell me the particulars.”
Chapter 2
Twenty One Years Later…
Callum paced outside the door to his mother’s chambers, staring at his own reflection in the dark polished marble floor as he walked. The hard surface altered his reflection, expanding his tall frame until it stretched out before him. His brown eyes shifted grotesquely in his face with every movement, although his golden-red hair was plainly visible.
The bottom of his boot appeared to blot out his own distorted face with every step, and it seemed fitting. He wanted no one to see his misery, to try to console him now. He knew too well what others would say: at least the disease has taken her quickly, at least you’re already a man of property and title and not some lost little boy, at least she died in the comfort of her family home and not in some far-flung colony of your father’s.
None of that mattered to Callum. Their words—and he’d already been subjected to them—were hollow attempts at easing his pain. In truth, there was nothing about his mother’s passing that would do anything other than rip through his heart and leave him to bleed out.
Despite the hushed tones and the whispered conversations, Callum knew that his mother’s time was short. He’d watched the disease take hold and seen the treatments leave her weak and thin. No matter how his concern grew, though, she had always brightened at the sight of him.
“My dearest boy!” she’d always say when he came to take his meals at her bedside, often dragging a second chair over for his adoring father. “Whatever have I done to have such a wonderful family?”
Now that he had come into his own title and lands, Callum Ahern, Marquess of Bellton, had moved back into the Duke and Duchess of Tarnton’s estate to be with his mother, Lady Jane Ahern. His own property would wait for him for as long as he wished, but he knew these days were to be her last.
Callum stopped his pacing when he heard the latch of the door. He looked at the physician’s grim face and hurried close.
> “Anything?” Callum asked, knowing the answer even before the physician shook his head.
“As usual, there is nothing more I can do,” he replied in a weary voice. Callum noted the dark circles beneath the man’s eyes from where he’d stayed so late and arrived again so early this morning. “It is only a matter of time now, I’m afraid.”
“I see,” Callum said, the breath going out of him once again. “But is there anything you can do for her suffering?”
“She won’t hear of it! I’ve all but begged, but Her Grace insists upon being of clear mind until… until the end. She refuses all medicines that might ease her pain but put her in a state of near unconsciousness.” The physician looked at Callum earnestly and said, “Perhaps she’ll take your advice on the matter? I can ease the pain with a very simple, very common treatment, but perhaps she’ll listen if you ask it of her?”
“I’ll try my best, but my mother is known throughout the countryside for her stubbornness,” Callum said lightly, attempting humor to mask his deep grief. “If you may, leave the bottle with her lady’s maid and I’ll implore my mother once again.”
The Earl That Overruled My Destiny Page 29
