by Dawn Brower
“It won’t come to that.” Callista moved forward, keeping the pistol trained on the comte. “And even if it does, you won’t be here to see it.”
The comte stepped back, onto an open balcony and out of the range of Callista’s pistol. She went out after him, taking careful, precise steps. There was no need to rush. Where would he go? The balcony wasn’t a place easy to escape from. She was on the verge of finally seeing him pay for what he’d done and she had every intention of savoring the moment. Each step she took she kept her eye on him to ensure he’d not take her by surprise. A set of storm clouds were forming over head. Thunder cracked down on the earth followed by lightning filling the night sky. The wind whistled through the air as the storm surged forward. With each new development, she remained focused on her target. Before the night was done he’d take his last breath. No storm cloud or even lightning from the gods would distract her from her goal.
The comte grabbed her wrist and attempted to wrench the pistol from her hand. They fought for what seemed like forever, but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. An explosion rang through the air. Something shiny glinted in the moonlight and arched in Ulrich’s hand. A sharp pain hit her shoulder as his blade nicked her. It didn’t matter. As the wind whipped through the room and sent the curtains streaming backward. The comte clutched his chest, heaved back and tumbled over the balcony. Had she hit him when she fired her pistol? She couldn’t tell for sure.
Everything started to spin and it became increasingly difficult for her to focus. The dark red curtains wrapped around her, pulling at her waist. She lifted her arm and yanked on them, but they continued to snake around her. Panic seized her as she attempted to untangle herself. She took a step back as pain streamed through her shoulder. What was happening? Callista slipped backward and fell over the balcony following in Ulrich’s path. She closed her eyes and prayed to a God he thought she no longer believed in. Cool air enveloped her as cold seeped through her entire body. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she continued to plummet toward the ground. Nothing had gone as she’d envisioned. Once she had her revenge she was supposed to live a full life and gloat at the fools that dared to take Edward from her. Unfortunately even the best laid plans fell apart. Hers was untangling as she prepared to take her last breath. There was only one thing that comforted her as she accepted what fate had in store for her. Ulrich wouldn’t survive either...
Death was calling them both, but Callista didn’t care. Her mission, as far as she was concerned, had been a success. Her shot may not have dealt the final blow, and she was all right with that. The fall would finish him as he hit the ground. Callista closed her eyes and pictured Edward. “We’ll see each other soon my love.” Then the world went black.
CHAPTER ONE
Strands of music echoed through the room as Zane Rossington, the Marquess of Seabrook stared at his guests. The charity ball—a Regency themed masquerade—had been a success. Every year people clamored to get an invitation, and this time was no different. In fact, it was probably one of the best functions, and the designated charity would gain much needed funds.
The guests would vote on the listed ones in the brochure before leaving. They were several listed and all good causes. His personal favorite was one that aided in finding a cure for breast cancer. That wasn’t because he had a fondness for that female appendage, but because his mother had fought that disease and unfortunately lost. He always included it in the list of charities and sometimes it was the one picked. Part of the draw to his event was the guests ability to choose where their money went. They all deemed it fun and often donated more because of it, and the perceived control.
But Zane was getting tired of the balls and hosting the annual fundraiser. This one seemed like a good idea at the time. The final ball was a sea of masks and dazzling gowns, and the men were dapper in black and white. His stomach soured as he listened to the constant drumming of noise streaming through the room. All he wanted to do was escape. The obligations of his family name were starting to take a toll, and he had no idea why he bothered any more. He lifted his hand and skimmed his fingers over his own mask. He’d decided on all black for his evening wear.
“Why are you standing in a corner brooding?”
Damn it. He didn’t want to play the host and make small talk, but mostly he didn’t want to humor his friend Bradford, the Duke of Weston. If he was close by, his duchess wasn’t far behind. Regina would pepper him with questions and he’d have to keep his charming façade going longer than he wanted to. As soon as he could, he’d escape. Zane craved a few moments alone where he could breathe and enjoy the silence.
He didn’t bother to glance at his friend. He’d seen him at the start of the ball and was aware of his choice of costume for the evening. It was even more boring than what Zane had chosen. The duke wore a pearl white shirt, simple dove gray suit and matching mask. Had Regina picked out that boring outfit? Zane almost asked but held the comment back. Instead he chose to approach his friend’s statement in a way guaranteed to distract Bradford from his dark mood.
“You’re mistaken,” Zane replied. “I’m scouring the room for my next conquest.”
At one time, it had been a game they’d played. They would stand in a corner and peruse all the women and pick one they thought would be the most entertaining for the evening. It was all in good fun, and most of the time they didn’t have to work to gain female attention. Women had pursued them and they let them. The problem was now most of them realized that they were both unattainable. Bradford was happily married and Zane was content to remain a bachelor forever.
Bradford raised an eyebrow. “Single women still come to these events hoping to snare you?”
Not exactly... They perceived him as a conquest of sorts, but they’d given up on attaining a marriage. He was too cynical to consider any of them. Occasionally he’d find one naïve enough to believe they could change his mind—the female in question soon realized the error of her ways and stomped out with a full pout on her face. The fun he’d had with them died a slow death when it became apparent what their goal had been. Zane was jaded and quite frankly, tired of dealing with it all. Not that he’d ever admit that to Bradford. He wasn’t a fool.
Zane sighed. “You’re jealous you don’t have them clamoring for your attention.”
Truthfully, if Bradford gave them any indication he wasn’t blissfully in love with his wife they’d be fawning all over him. It was almost sickening... None of them interested Zane as they used to. If they ignored him, it would make him ecstatic. The women he met lately—bored him. Was it too much to ask for someone exciting to cross his path? His wife was currently on the other side of the room making her way to his side. She stopped once she reached Bradford’s side and smiled at him.
“Not at all,” Bradford responded. “Regina’s more than enough for me.”
“I’d hope so,” Regina interrupted wrapping her arm around Bradford. She pulled off her elaborate peacock mask and met his gaze. While the mask was beautiful, it didn’t compare to her. Platinum blonde hair was piled on her head in an elaborate style. Curls fell artfully down the side of her face, adding to her costume. The brilliant sapphire and amethyst gown sparkled under the lights. “Otherwise, I’d have to cut off some important parts you’re rather fond of.”
Zane smiled at her. She was different, and the kind of woman who’d always keep a man guessing. Too bad the damn duke had found her first. Nothing he could do to change that. Besides, he was happy Bradford found someone to love. The duke hadn’t had an easy life and deserved to find joy wherever possible. Regina gave him a reason to smile.
Bradford leaned down and kissed Regina’s cheek. “You’re rather fond of them too.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t separate them from your person if you look at another woman.” Her lips tilted upward. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t leave this fictitious wench unharmed. You’d both be bloody when I finished.”
How did one respond to such gruesome
intent? Zane repressed a smile. It wouldn’t do to let Regina realize how much she amused him. She already thought he lacked substance and survived on charm. In some ways, he supposed she was right. He hadn’t had to work for anything, including women. Probably was why he was so freaking bored. As entertaining as Bradford and Regina could be—he couldn’t remain at their side much longer. They were as suffocating as every single one of his guests. This was probably going to be the last fundraiser. He couldn’t stand the tediousness of them any longer.
Bradford nuzzled Regina’s neck and she giggled. “It’s a good thing you’re the only one for me.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him with Regina still facing Zane. Bradford’s hand rubbed over her belly possessively. “You’re mine, and there’s no escaping it.”
“Stop mauling me,” she slapped his hand. “You keep rubbing my stomach like that and I might lose the contents of my stomach.”
Zane raised an eyebrow. “The food not to your liking?” Please give me a reason to leave and harass the caterers. “I haven’t tried much of it myself.” He had no appetite for any food.
“No,” she replied. “Food itself makes me gag these days. It’s all his fault.” She jerked her thumb toward Bradford. “He can’t keep his hands off of me and now I’m suffering.”
Ah. So they were expecting. Explained why Regina hadn’t been drinking any of the champagne. “I suppose congratulations are in order.” He couldn’t imagine why either one of them wanted to procreate, but it wasn’t for him to decide.
Bradford smiled. “We’re not telling anyone yet. It’s still new...”
And yet Regina couldn’t help telling him. Why had she felt the need to spill their good tidings. “Your secret is safe with me.”
He stared across the room again and prayed for a reason to leave. Anything. Zane turned back to Regina and Bradford and almost gagged. She’d not been lying; Bradford really couldn’t keep his hands off of her. He cleared his throat and they broke apart.
“Sorry,” Regina said. “I’m irresistible. He can’t help himself.”
“You love it,” Bradford replied. “You want me to touch you all over.
“As fun as that sounds...” Zane was at a loss. Good grief, did they ever stop? “Yeah, I think I’ll leave you two to your love talk.”
“Don’t go,” Regina said. “There is something I wanted to discuss with you.” She paused a moment fidgeting with her mask. “It’s about Trenton.”
At the mention of his stepbrother, Bradford frowned. “He’s been obsessed with locating Genevieve.” He met Zane’s gaze and said, “The journal you loaned us helped, but it’s made him more desperate to find her. He thinks he might uncover the answers here.”
Regina nodded. Her lips formed a firm line. “We know what happened to Alys now, and it’s reasonable to think something similar happened to Genevieve. Is it possible...” She cleared her throat. “What I’m trying to say is, can Trenton come and do some more research here?”
The last thing he wanted was Trenton Quinn to make himself at home at Seabrook. He’d been rather looking forward to the peace of having no one around. Quinn was obsessed with finding his lost love, and maybe he’d find answers at this estate, but Zane was reluctant to let him. Not because he didn’t want him to find Genevieve, but because he hated people.
There, he admitted it—people got on every last one of his nerves. He wasn’t the proclaimed social monger society believed him to be. It was simple really. Over the years, he’d become a damn fine actor and it had made it easy for him to assimilate effortlessly into any situation. He could pretend forever if he wanted to, but inside he cringed whenever someone talked to him. Especially when all he wanted was for the usurpers to leave him bloody well alone...
Yes, he invited people to the fundraiser. It was only once a year, but it was tedious. They invaded every aspect of his life the entire weekend they were in his home. That was the price he paid to raise money for charities. This was his mother’s pet project, and he’d continued it after her death. At first it hadn’t been that big a deal—now he couldn’t muster up any benevolent feelings for the endeavor. So having any one at all in his home was like standing before a hangman waiting for the bottom to drop out from under him.
Zane fully realized they all meant well... It didn’t change how much they invaded his life. The yearly event wasn’t limited to one weekend. The planning took months and many wanted to offer their assistance. Some of them were mercenary females that believed if they wormed their way into the planning they could find a way to be a permanent fixture in his life.
His hang-ups didn’t have anything to do with his friends. They were the ones he counted on when things weren’t so pleasant in his life. There were even times they made him—happy—though he loathed to admit it. For that reason alone he wouldn’t refuse the request. Zane couldn’t say no to Bradford. He was one of the few people he liked and could stand to be around. “Fine. Tell him to come.”
“Good,” Regina said. “He’s already on his way. I talked to him an hour ago.”
Zane opened his mouth and closed it several times. He was about to say something he’d regret, so instead of addressing Regina’s blatant disregard, he turned on his heels and left. He couldn’t offend her if he wasn’t around to say anything. He fully realized he probably already did that by walking away, but she’d get over that. Regina, he assumed, was well aware she’d overstepped.
On this occasion, he didn’t envy Bradford. Zane might well strangle a woman who thought to rule him in such a way. Though he doubted very much that the duke let Regina have control in all things. He was too set in his ways to allow it. The dynamics of their relationship was rather interesting, more than the bloody masquerade ball had been anyway.
He pushed open a door and headed toward the conservatory. There he could find the measure of peace he’d been hoping to gain. It wasn’t lost on him that during last year’s fundraiser he’d done much the same thing. The difference was he’d found Regina there. It had amused him to flirt with her and make Bradford jealous—their relationship had been too new, and trust rare at the time. Somehow, they managed to work it all out and married in a rush soon after.
The orange blossoms permeated the air. The smell comforted him. Relaxation filled him and for the first time that evening he felt at ease. This was his favorite part of his estate. It was soothing to be amongst the foliage and look into the night sky through the glass ceiling. The best of everything was found in the conservatory. Every type of plant he could logistically obtain he did—from tropical plants to the simple English rose. There was comfort, fresh air, and a bit of protection from the elements. He could sit in there for hours and not realize it. Unfortunately, he wasn’t afforded the opportunity to indulge in that pastime much.
He moved around the room, not paying attention to anything in particular. The quiet encircled him and created the calm he needed. Zane closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
When he opened them, he was shocked silent. A woman stumbled toward him. Her ice blue gown was torn on one side and her matching mask dangled from her right wrist. What must have been an elegant coiffure was now a mess of tangled mahogany curls. She lifted her head and met his gaze. Zane was stunned by her pale green eyes. Her beauty was unmistakable, but he wasn’t an ass. The woman was clearly hurt and in need of aid. She limped as she struggled to walk and held her one shoulder stiffly—it was stained red from what appeared to be a small gash. It must not have been too deep... The bleeding seemed to have stopped.
“Pardon me,” she started to say. Her body swayed and Zane reached out and caught her. “I’m not usually so gauche as to fall at a man’s feet.”
Zane’s lips tilted upward. “Madame, I doubt you’d have to stoop to such measures.” She was breathtaking. She stepped out of his arms and he wanted to pull her back. The need to protect her was strong.
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. There was something there that broke his heart.
So much sadness reflected out of them. “My lord, I assure you I do not.”
Not many people addressed him so formally. Most of his numerous acquaintances used his first name. Only those unknown to him bothered with his title. He’d never been introduced to this woman before, and she apparently didn’t realize he abhorred being addressed in that way.
“What happened to you?” Zane helped her to her feet and kept her steady. Who hurt her? Was in another guest? After he saw to her care he’d have to investigate and call the authorities.
“I don’t know,” she replied. She brushed her hand through her hair. “Where am I?” She turned away from him and scoured the area.
Zane wasn’t sure what to make of her. She didn’t seem daft, but there was something unusual about her. The woman’s accent suggested she hailed from France. He hadn’t invited anyone with that distinction. That didn’t matter though. Anyone could have brought her as their guest. He hadn’t kept tabs on everyone’s plus one and didn’t really care. This woman was something else entirely though. For the first time in forever he was intrigued. There was a mystery to be solved and she was at the center of it. It was probably a little crass to be thrilled at her clearly frazzled state, but he couldn’t help himself. He would take care of her and make sure whoever hurt her paid for it.
“What is your name?”
She turned to him and seemed to stare through him. “You seem familiar.” Her eyes scrunched up as she studied him. “Have we met?”
“Trust me,” he countered. “If we’d met, you’d remember.”
She tilted her head and frowned. Her dark curls fell over her shoulder as she perused his face. “Something about you strikes a familiar chord—something is there. I’ll figure it out.”
He didn’t want to remind her of anyone. Zane wanted to be the only one she took an interest in, and if she believed he was recognizable because of someone else—that didn’t bode well for his desired outcome.
