Cast in Shadows

by Laura Landon

  She pulled her shawl tighter around her head and shoulders then put her head down and walked as fast as she could. She didn’t stop until she was once again concealed in the shadows of the trees.

  “Finally,” a masculine voice said from deeper in the trees. “I didn’t think you would ever get here.”

  “I had to wait until everyone had gone to bed. You don’t want anyone to know you stepped onto Townsend land, do you?”

  He ignored the reprimand in her voice, but that didn’t surprise her. He never did like to be chastised.

  “So what’s so important that you needed to meet at this hour? We weren’t scheduled to meet for another week.”

  “Sheffield didn’t die.”

  She ignored the vile curse that came from him.

  “Are you sure?” he demanded.

  “Of course I’m sure. His Grace was sick with worry that Lord Sheffield wouldn’t survive, but he did. Lord Benjamin was to see him yesterday and took his sisters with him. They came back happy as larks ’cause Sheffield was well enough to sit up and have a piece of cake that old nurse made as a celebration.”

  “I told you to make sure you finished the job, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “We couldn’t rush it,” she answered. “We had it all planned so no one would suspect anything. Instead, that young female butted her nose in and ruined everything.”

  “Well, it’s not my fault he didn’t die. He should’ve. The bullet went right where it was supposed to go.”

  “But it didn’t kill him. Next time you’re supposed to make sure he dies.”

  “What next time? There ain’t gonna be no next time.”

  “You were paid to make sure his lordship died,” she reminded him.

  “It ain’t my fault he didn’t die.”

  “Not everyone thinks that.”

  “I don’t care what they think. Besides, it’s too dangerous. Have you seen the army of guards that protect the cottage night and day?”

  “Yes, but there’s extra pay to cover any risk you have to take.”

  Cook’s son shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t what?” she said in an angry tone. “You don’t have a choice. You either do what you’re told, or you’ll be facing a hangman’s rope for that murder you committed. This is your way out. Kill Sheffield and you’ll have enough money to leave and start fresh.”

  “I don’t like it,” he argued.

  “You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it.”

  The woman breathed a heavy sigh, then reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope. “This is half of what you were promised. You’ll get the other half when he’s dead.”

  He grabbed the envelope from her and tipped the open side toward the moon. His eyes opened wide when the clouds parted and he could see the thick stack of notes. “Bloody hell,” he whispered. “They must want him dead real bad.”

  “Just make sure the next time you don’t fail. This will be your last chance.”

  CHAPTER 14

  From the moment Gideon sat up and dangled his feet over the side of the bed to eat that first piece of chocolate cake, he made amazing strides toward getting better. Every day he was up longer and did more than the day before. Over the next two weeks, Eve worried that he was doing too much and that he was going to suffer a setback. But nothing she said or did convinced him to slow down. In fact, he seemed more determined than ever to get well. And Eve knew the reason he was so resolute.

  It wasn’t in his nature to sit back and let someone else take care of him. He’d suffered through enough of that his whole life. He wanted to start an investigation of his own into who might want him dead.

  She knocked on Gideon's door, then entered when he answered. She halted in the open doorway. “What are you doing?” she asked when she saw him.

  He was dressed in black pants, a snow-white lawn shirt and cravat, tan and burgundy print waistcoat, and a burgundy jacket. He looked like the Marquess of Sheffield. He looked as if he intended to leave Shadowdown and wouldn't allow anyone to stop him.

  “I need to go out,” he answered.

  “Out, where?”

  His hand sliced through the air and when he turned to face her, she noticed an impatient expression on his face. A look of frustration.

  “Just...out.”

  She entered the room. “I don't blame you. You've been confined inside the cottage for more than three weeks. I'd want to leave these four walls, too, if I were you.”

  His eyebrows lifted and he looked at her as if he couldn't believe he'd heard her correctly. “Finish dressing and I'll meet you by the back door.”

  Eve left the room before he could say anything. She knew he had no intention of going out the back of the cottage. That door only led to a well-tended garden surrounded by a wall of tall hedges. And beyond the hedges, a brick wall without an opening.

  She heard his footsteps follow her. “I didn't plan on going out the back. I intended to—”

  “Matthew and Thomas are in front,” she interrupted, “along with at least six other men His Grace hired to guard you. You wouldn't get three feet from the door without being ushered back inside.”

  “I didn't intend on leaving Shadowdown, but the least I could do is find out if anyone has discovered anything yet.”

  “If you'd like, I'll ask Matthew or Thomas to give you a report later, but I'm sure if they knew anything, you would have been informed. We can, however, go out and enjoy the beautiful sunshine for a while.”

  His expression fell, but he was disciplined enough to know that even though he hadn't had a seizure for nearly two months, he wasn't free to leave Shadowdown. Now, because of the threat to his life, he wasn't free to leave the cottage.

  He sighed in resignation. “Will you join me?” he asked, opening the back door that led to the garden.

  Eve smiled. “I'd love to.”

  She stepped out into the warm sunshine and waited until he stepped beside her. Together they walked down the path toward a small cordoned off area with cement benches and circles of flowerbeds. But they didn’t sit. Instead, they walked in silence for several minutes before he spoke.

  “Do you think they're over?” he asked.

  “The seizures?”

  “Yes. It's been seven weeks and I haven't had even a small one.”

  She turned her head and looked into his eyes. They were filled with hopefulness. She wanted to confirm the hope she saw, but couldn't. “I'd like to assure you that you'd suffered your last seizure, but I can't. Not until we know for sure what caused them.”

  “What if we never figure that out?”

  “We’ll cross that hurdle when we come to it.”

  He stopped abruptly and Eve stopped a step later. She turned to find him looking at her.

  Ever so slowly, a grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “I’m being a horse’s arse, aren’t I?” he said with a full smile on his face. “I apologize. It’s not becoming of me.”

  She reached for his hands and clasped his fingers in hers. “You’re not being a horse’s anything. You’re confused, as you have every right to be. And you’re angry. You can’t imagine why you were shot, or by whom.

  “You’re the heir to the Townsend dynasty and you’ve been brought up to assume the responsibilities that will someday be yours. To be kept from taking your rightful pace, and forced to helplessness is something you’ve had to live with your whole life. You’ve simply reached the end of your patience. No one can blame you for your frustration, and for wanting to do everything you can to discover what is going on. And who is responsible for it.”

  His hands slowly moved up her arms. The warmth of his flesh consumed her, heating her body as it swirled inside her chest, then wrapped around her heart. She tried to pretend his nearness didn’t touch her like it did, but it was useless. Everything about him affected her. Her heart stuttered, then seemed to swell inside her, then slowly sped up until it stole her breath. And he seemed to reali
ze it.

  “Do you know how special you are?” he whispered. He took a step closer to her until he was so close she could feel the heat from his body.

  “You only think I’m special because I’m here at a time when you need someone you can feel close to.”

  He shook his head, then wrapped his arms around her. His gaze lowered to her mouth and she knew he was going to kiss her.

  Her lips tingled before he even lowered his head. Before his lips touched hers. When they did, she skimmed her palms upward over his chest and wound her arms around his neck.

  His lips pressed against hers with such tenderness she felt as if Gideon was taking this opportunity to get to know her. As if he’d never kissed her before and wanted to introduce himself to her. Then his kisses deepened.

  He tilted her head for better access, then opened his mouth. She knew what he was asking of her, and although she’d told herself she shouldn’t react to his kisses like she had before, she was helpless to heed her warnings. She pressed her body closer to his and opened her mouth.

  His tongue breached her entrance, searching, seeking, engaging in a battle for submission. For dominance.

  Eve fought to play an equal role in the encounter. Fought to satisfy the desperation she felt in his kisses, the need. The passion increased.

  The desire in his kisses drew every ounce of her strength and she met his lust with overwhelming furor. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. His kisses weren’t supposed to overpower her. Weren’t supposed to carry her to such heights. But they did.

  She answered his passion with an overwhelming need of her own. She wanted nothing more than to give Gideon a response to the demands he made, and yet…

  How could she allow him to think she expected to be a part of his life, of his future, when she knew she never could be?

  She had a goal. She wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps. She’d wanted that from the day she’d seen the difference he’d made in another person’s life. She wanted to make that same difference.

  And Gideon was the heir to the Townsend dukedom. There wasn’t a possibility of a future for them. She couldn’t allow herself to think there was. She’d only be hurt if she allowed herself to imagine there could be.

  She moaned into his mouth, then turned her head to break their kiss. She wasn’t strong enough to step away from him, but lowered her arms to wrap around his waist and leaned into him. She rested her cheek against his chest.

  The thunderous pounding of his heart echoed in her ears to evidence that the kiss they’d shared had affected him as deeply as it had her. But that meant nothing, other than the two of them were compatible. That the two of them shared a connection with one another.

  “What's wrong, Eve?” he asked after several gasping breaths.

  She shook her head, hoping he'd accept that as her answer, but knew he wouldn't. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her to the nearest bench.

  They sat next to each other for several wonderful moments, then he placed his finger beneath her chin and tipped her head upward. “Why do I have the feeling you're trying to dismiss our kiss as something less than what it is?”

  ”Because we can't allow our kisses to mean anything. Nothing that is happening right now can mean anything. What’s happening to us isn’t real.”

  He smiled, then laughed. “You could have fooled me,” he said. “That kiss felt pretty real to me.”

  “But it shouldn’t.”

  “Shouldn't it?”

  Eve broke out of his embrace and rose from the bench. “Too much has happened, my lord.”

  His eyebrows arched. “My lord? When did you forget my name?”

  “I didn't forget. But I need to. I need to remember that you are the Marquess of Sheffield, heir to the Duke of Townsend.”

  “And you are?”

  “I am Miss Eve Cornwell. The daughter of a country doctor. That, and nothing more.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s important that you do,” she said. “And important that you don’t forget it.” She returned to the bench, and when she was seated, she took his hands in hers. “I am certain that you won’t always be plagued with seizures. I feel it deep inside me. And when that happens, you will return to the life you were meant to live. The life the Marquess of Sheffield was meant to live. The life of the future duke.”

  Eve looked into his handsome face and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “And you will leave here. You’ll go to London so your father and stepmother can introduce you into society. You’ll attend more parties and balls than you ever dreamed of. You’ll meet more beautiful young females than you can fight off.”

  Eve smiled. At least she tried to smile. She hoped he knew she was attempting humor. But he didn’t return her smile. The expression on his face remained somber. The look in his eyes darkened.

  “Are you telling me you’ll no longer want anything to do with me then?”

  “I’m saying that you will no longer be able to stay here to be part of this life. And I can’t be a part of yours.”

  “Can’t?”

  She released his hands and turned her head. “I don’t want to be hurt,” she said, unable to let her gaze lock with his. Instead, she lowered her head and stared at her clasped hands in her lap.

  “And caring for me will hurt you?”

  She looked up. “Losing you will hurt me. Letting myself believe the impossible is possible will hurt me. Allowing myself to forget who you are, and who I am, will hurt me. Not today. Perhaps not tomorrow. But some day in the future.”

  Eve rose to her feet and held out her hand. Gideon stood and tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Let’s walk,” she said, heading in the direction of the hospital.

  “Why do I have a feeling you have a purpose in mind?”

  She smiled. “Because I do. I need your help.”

  “That’s a remarkable turnaround,” he answered. “It’s about time I can help you instead of always the other way around. With what do you need my help?”

  “Finding your mother’s diary.”

  . . .

  Gideon put the box he’d finished looking through back on the shelf and took down another. “I can’t believe there are this many files to go through,” he said lifting the lid on the new box and thumbing through the first file.

  “Dr. Milton kept meticulous records on all his patients.”

  “I guess I didn’t realize there had been so many.”

  Eve rose from the stool on which she’d been sitting and stretched. “You have to remember, Shadowdown has been here for more than twenty-five years.”

  “That doesn’t seem possible. Father still seems like a young man to me.”

  “He is,” she argued. “He’s not yet fifty if I’m any judge.”

  “No, you’re right. He and Mother married young. I was born shortly after the first year of their marriage. And he built Shadowdown for her when I was only three.”

  “It’s sad,” Eve said, stopping her work. “Your parents had so little time together.”

  “I know. Father’s talked about Mother many times over the years. Oh, never when Ernesta was around. He’s much too considerate of her feelings. But he wanted me to know my mother. Know how special she was. How wonderful, and loving. He didn’t want me to only hear the bad parts. He often told me he was fortunate enough to have two perfect years with her.”

  “I’m glad. I know it helps you to know your mother was a special person before her mind betrayed her.”

  “Is that how you think of it?”

  “I truly believe that’s how it is. None of the patients are here because of anything they’ve done to deserve being here. Their minds have just failed them.”

  “That’s a wonderful way to look at it. I know if my mother would have had a say in it, she wouldn’t have chosen to be the way she was. And neither would I.”

  Eve smiled at him and the dingy, lantern-lit storeroom suddenly seemed as bright as the out of doors. She ro
lled her shoulders again, then returned to her work.

  “Are you getting tired?” he asked, noticing a look of fatigue on her face.

  “Are you?” she asked. “Maybe we should stop for today. I don’t want to overtire you.”

  “Let’s finish these boxes, then we can stop.”

  She returned to her work.

  Gideon sifted through the remaining files in his box, then stood. He hadn’t found anything. But when Eve stopped, she had a small stack of papers beside her.

  “Did you find something?” Gideon asked.

  She tucked the files against her, then took the lamp she’d brought with her and together they walked to the door. “Not really. They’re just files dated around the time of your mother’s death. I wanted to look through them where I could see better, and had more time to go over them.”

  Gideon took her lamp, and let her lead the way. “How many more rooms are there to search?”

  “Only one. But it’s small and there aren’t as many boxes as the room we just left.”

  Gideon carried the files while they made their way from the asylum, to his cottage. He tucked her hand into the bend of his elbow, and held her close. He wanted to keep her as close as possible.

  Gideon wondered if she felt the same. He wondered if she felt the same connection to him as he felt toward her. Wondered if she realized that their friendship was developing into something more. “Would you like to come in for a while?” he asked when they reached the lane that would take her home.

  She looked at the lowering sun. “It’s getting late and Lettie brought over some stew and a loaf of fresh baked bread. I want to have a meal ready for Father when he gets home. It’s been a long time since we’ve eaten together.”

  Gideon suffered from a spike of guilt. It was his fault Eve hadn’t been home to spend time with her father. She’d been with him night and day since he’d been shot. So had Lettie. But now that he was better, he was able to stay by himself.

  Of course, the guards were always near. As were Thomas or Matthew. And occasionally, Ben came to visit and stayed the night. So, even though he was never entirely alone, at least he felt more independent than he had for a while. And more confident that maybe…just maybe, he’d had the last attack from which he would ever suffer.