by Jen Turano
“I’d climbed out that window numerous times without a single mishap. And if Mr. Kenton had not stopped me when it was imperative I make my escape, I wouldn’t have been forced to run away in the midst of my engagement party.”
Bram’s ears perked up. “I never knew you had an engagement party.”
“That’s because it was not a party of my choosing, nor was the intended outcome seeing me engaged to your father.” Iris shot a glare to Abigail before turning her attention back to Bram. “Your grandmother came to the unfortunate conclusion that your father was not good enough for me. She staunchly refused to listen to my professions of love for Phillip and insisted that I would outgrow my feelings for ‘that German man,’ as she referred to him. She then proceeded to go about the troubling business of arranging a marriage for me—one that would see me wed to a Mr. Wilbur Something-or-Other. It was completely archaic, the notion of her handling my future, which is why I took matters into my own hands and ran away.”
“It was Mr. Wilbur Gilbert, a gentleman with stellar connections, and a distant relation of the Schermerhorn family,” Abigail said. “Poor Mr. Gilbert was completely distraught after you left him floundering in the middle of the ballroom floor with a ring in his hand, but no blushing fiancée in sight.”
Iris’s eyes turned dangerous. “There would have been no cause for him to become distraught if he’d simply approached me about the whole engagement matter instead of taking your advice and trying to spring it on me in the midst of a ball. I was completely appalled by the events of that evening, and have yet to recover from the idea that you, my mother, tried to corral me into a marriage I didn’t want.”
Iris drummed her fingers against the curved edge of the fainting couch. “Do you honestly believe that I would have been better served to turn my back on the man I was desperately in love with—and still am, mind you—and marry your Mr. Gilbert, whom, again, I barely knew and had nothing in common with, so that I could . . . what . . . attend all the right parties in town?”
To Bram’s surprise, Abigail nodded. “At the time, yes, that’s exactly what I thought was best for you, as did your father, God rest his soul. If you’ll recall, your Mr. Haverstein wanted to sweep you off your feet and all the way to Cuba, a land I thought was somewhat savage, and a land where he’d gotten involved with a sugar refinery, of all things.”
“Since that sugar refinery, along with the sugar plantation we eventually purchased, ended up making us millions, and continues to do just that, Mother, I’m not sure you’re aiding your case by bringing it up.”
Abigail narrowed her eyes. “Can you truly say that if Ruby, your one and only daughter, came to you and told you that she wanted to marry a man you knew absolutely nothing about, and that the gentleman wanted to spirit her away to the wilds of some mysterious land, that you and Phillip wouldn’t try to put an end to her nonsense?”
“We’re not talking about my daughter at the moment, Mother. We’re talking about you and your meddling ways.”
“A subject that, in my opinion, is less than riveting and certainly doesn’t need to be discussed further.” Abigail narrowed her eyes another fraction. “Why don’t you want to discuss Ruby?”
For a second, Iris looked a little shifty, but then she lifted her chin. “I never claimed I didn’t want to discuss Ruby. But, I do believe, given the odd circumstance of you being here at Ravenwood, as well as bringing Miss Lucetta Plum along with you, that we have more important matters to discuss than my daughter.”
Abigail’s gaze sharpened on Iris’s face. “Ruby’s causing you difficulties, isn’t she?”
Before Iris had an opportunity to respond, a loud noise, one that almost sounded like some type of animal, suddenly drifted into the drawing room from the hallway—mixed with the sound of what could only be pounding feet.
Immediately heading for the door, Bram stopped in his tracks when he reached the hall and a sight he’d certainly not been expecting to see met his gaze.
Miss Plum was running toward him, her gown practically falling off her, as if it hadn’t been fastened all the way up in the back. She didn’t seem at all concerned with the idea that she was giving him, and anyone else, an eyeful of her chemise, corset, and . . . charms—probably because she was running as if her very life depended on it, holding up the skirt of her dress as she flew ever closer to him, the lifting of that skirt giving him an unobstructed view of legs that were well turned out and feet that were . . . bare.
“Don’t just stand there, Mr. Haverstein. Do something about your goat,” she yelled as she pounded past him.
The word goat had him looking down the hallway, and sure enough, a goat was charging his way, and not just any goat, but Geoffrey—one of the meanest goats Bram had ever had the misfortune of owning.
What the beast was doing inside the castle, he really couldn’t say, but since Geoffrey held an intense dislike for females, or more specifically, females wearing dresses, Bram surged into motion, hoping to intercept the goat before it managed to catch up with Miss Plum.
Unfortunately, Geoffrey seemed determined to get past Bram, so with a butt of its head, it sent Bram sprawling and continued charging after its prey, bleating in a menacing sort of way.
9
Running as fast as she could, even though her lungs were beginning to feel as if they were on fire, Lucetta yelled a word of thanks to the man dressed in formal black attire who was holding the front door open for her. A few seconds later, though, she longed to call her thanks back because the man, for some unknown reason, had kept the door wide open, making it possible for the rampaging goat to continue charging after her.
Lifting her skirt a little higher, she headed for the drawbridge, sending up a quick prayer of gratitude when she made it to the other side without taking another dip in the moat. Dashing across the well-manicured lawn, she set her sights for the trees but slowed her pace when Mr. Skukman burst out of those trees and ran her way. Looking over her shoulder when he blazed past her, she slowed to a stop because while she’d been running, Bram had somehow managed to catch up with the goat and was even now lying on top of the creature. That state of affairs was probably responsible for the mournful bleats the goat was now emitting, as if he couldn’t believe his quest of running Lucetta down had come to such a rapid end.
Lifting her head, Lucetta saw Abigail, Archibald, Iris, and Mr. Kenton hurrying out of the castle.
“Everyone wearing dresses, stay back,” Bram called, which Lucetta found to be a slightly curious thing to say. Before she could contemplate it further, though, Mr. Skukman reached Bram’s side, and as calmly as could be, pulled a length of rope out of his jacket pocket, the sight causing Lucetta to grin.
Mr. Skukman was the only man she knew who always had the right tools available to him, no matter the circumstance.
Looping the rope around the goat’s neck, Mr. Skukman nodded to Bram, who rolled off the goat and rose to his feet, earning a bleat of reproach from the goat as he did so. To Lucetta’s annoyance, the goat then moved right up next to her guard and actually nuzzled the man with its head.
“Aren’t you a good boy?” Mr. Skukman crooned as he began leading the goat directly Lucetta’s way.
“He’s a horrible boy,” she called. “Had murder on his mind from what I could see, and don’t even think about bringing him over here to me.”
“Honestly, Miss Plum, get ahold of yourself,” Mr. Skukman said as he veered to the right and walked the goat around her, although it looked as if he was having to exert some extra pressure to keep the goat moving. “I’m taking him to the barn that’s right past those trees behind you.”
“How do you know that?”
“Found it when I was scouting the perimeter, checking for safety issues.”
With that, Mr. Skukman tugged the goat along, completely ignoring the fact that the creature kept turning its head to eye Lucetta in a very disturbing manner.
“Your Mr. Skukman is a man of few words, isn’t he?”
Bram said as he walked up to join her.
“It’s one of the reasons I hired him.”
Bram frowned. “You prefer men who don’t speak much?”
“Would you be insulted if I admitted I do?”
To Lucetta’s surprise, instead of looking insulted, Bram sent her a look of understanding as he stepped closer to her. “You’re obviously overcome by the shock you’ve recently experienced because of my goat. And while I would love to be able to say that Geoffrey was just out of sorts today, I’m afraid he’s been out of sorts ever since someone abandoned him at Ravenwood a few months back, in the middle of the night.”
“Your goat’s name is Geoffrey?”
“My sister, Ruby, named it after a gentleman she’d once set her sights on, but a gentleman who turned out to be a bit of a disappointment.” Bram shook his head. “The man had the audacity to go off and marry some well-connected society miss, breaking Ruby’s heart in the process.”
Lucetta smiled. “I do believe I’m going to like this sister of yours, Mr. Haverstein, especially since it appears she has no qualms about naming a cranky beast after a gentleman she no longer holds in high esteem.”
“Please, since you’ve been set upon by my dogs, and practically mauled by my goat, feel free to call me Bram.”
“Very well, since I have experienced all of that madness at the paws and hooves of your animals, I will call you Bram and you may call me Lucetta.” Her smile began to fade. “But pleasantries aside, why do you think your goat tried to attack me, and what was it doing in the tower room in the first place?”
Bram blew out a breath. “Geoffrey attacked you because he has a problem with dresses—something we learned when he chased poor Mrs. Macmillan, who’d been trying to help get Geoffrey to the barn the morning we discovered him.” Bram shook his head. “Mrs. Macmillan has not been back to the barn since. As for what Geoffrey was doing in the tower room, I must admit that I can’t even fathom how he got up there without someone noticing.”
“It’s certainly a mystery,” Lucetta said as she stepped forward, wincing when something sharp dug into her foot. Looking down, she felt heat traveling up her face when she saw that, in her mad dash to get away from the goat, she’d completely neglected to realize that not only had she forgotten her shoes and stockings, she’d also forgotten that she hadn’t buttoned her gown up all the way.
“Goodness,” she muttered as she yanked the neckline of her dress up as high as she could.
“If it makes you feel better, I don’t believe anyone took note of your somewhat questionable state of dishabille.”
Her head shot up as she met Bram’s eyes. “You obviously noticed.”
He sent her a charming smile. “Noticed what?” He extended her his arm. “There’s a lovely grove right through those trees, which is nowhere near the barn, I might add. It’ll afford you a bit of privacy to set yourself to rights since I don’t believe you’ll be keen to face all the people still lingering outside the castle doors.”
Glancing to where Bram was now looking, Lucetta found a small cluster of people looking her way, although Mr. Kenton and Archibald were walking back toward the castle, the skirts of their dresses fluttering in the breeze. Abigail, however, seemed to be in the midst of a heated conversation with her daughter, both women gesturing wildly with their hands as the remaining members of Bram’s staff edged ever so slowly away from them.
“Should we intervene?” she asked with a nod Abigail’s way.
“I willingly admit I’m not that familiar with my grandmother when she’s in a temper, but my mother is not a woman who would appreciate an intervention. I suggest you get yourself straightened about, and then I’ll take you for a lovely walk around the grounds. By the time we get back, they’ll have hopefully settled a few of their differences from the past thirty years.”
“It’s fortunate your grounds seem to be extensive.”
“Quite,” Bram agreed as she took the arm he was still holding out to her. He turned his attention back to Abigail and Iris. “I’m taking Miss Plum for a tour of the grounds,” he called. “We’ll be back in an hour or two.”
Abigail and Iris stopped arguing and turned their attention Bram and Lucetta’s way. It was immediately clear that Abigail took no issue with Bram giving Lucetta a tour of the grounds. She lifted her arm and sent them a cheery wave before she spun on her heel and headed back toward the castle, spinning around again a moment later. Putting her hands on her hips, she marched her way back to Iris—who’d not moved at all—took her daughter’s arm, and with what looked to be a bit of wrestling, hauled Iris inside with her.
“Perhaps we’ll mosey around the grounds for more than an hour or two,” Bram said as he steered Lucetta toward the trees. “We can always pass some time visiting my herd of sheep.”
“I think I’ve seen all the animals I care to see today, thank you very much, and even though the thought of avoiding whatever unpleasantness is transpiring between Abigail and Iris is tempting, I really won’t be comfortable leaving Abigail for long, even with Archibald and Mr. Kenton to keep an eye on her.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Bram said, sending Lucetta a charming smile that had her knees going a little wobbly.
Shoving aside the idea that he was far too attractive when he smiled, and ignoring the curious condition of her knees, Lucetta fell into step beside him and began chatting about the weather, of all things. As they walked into a stand of trees, the temperature dropped, easing some of the heat that still remained on Lucetta’s neck, heat that immediately returned when Bram drew her to a stop and smiled at her again.
“If you’ll turn around, I’ll help you with those buttons,” he said.
His suggestion had the heat traveling up her neck and settling on her face, a reaction that took her by complete surprise. Being an actress, she’d become used to having many people button her up over the years, male and female, but their assistance had never bothered her before. Out of necessity, she’d rarely given much thought to modesty over the past few years, but now, surrounded only by trees and a gentleman who had one of the nicest smiles she’d ever seen, thoughts of modesty were pushing their way to the forefront of her mind.
“Tell me about your sheep,” she said as she stood rooted to the spot, unable to turn around, and unwilling to take him up on his offer to help with her buttons just yet.
She was thankful when Bram didn’t press her to turn. “It’s a diverse herd, made up of a wide variety of once abused and neglected sheep, all of them having a mistrust of humans.” He shook his head. “They’re becoming fairly well adjusted now, and I have high hopes that the longer they’re here, the more they’ll realize they’re finally safe and will settle into happy lives, chomping high grass on the castle grounds.”
“Where did you get them?”
Bram shrugged. “Here and there. It’s become known that I’m always willing to take in strays, so . . . people drop off all sorts of animals at Ravenwood, or people send me letters, letting me know of animals that might need my help. My staff and I spend a lot of time tracking down neglected animals, and once we find them, we bring them here to live out the rest of their lives.”
Lucetta’s heart gave a lurch. “You’re a collector of misfits.”
Bram smiled. “I like misfits, probably because I’ve always been a bit of a misfit as well.” He moved an inch closer to her. “Shall I button you up?”
“I should probably do it myself.”
His smile turned remarkably sweet. “I won’t look, in fact, I can close my eyes if it’ll make you feel better.”
Drawing in a deep breath even as she realized she was being a complete ninny because there was no way she could reach the buttons on the back of her gown, she presented Bram with her back. A second later she nearly jumped out of her skin when his finger slid against the nape of her neck, pushing hair still wet from her bath out of the way before he began securing one button after another.
“There, all done,
and I didn’t peek—not once.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him.
Still feeling a little jittery from his touch, she lifted her head, trying to think of something witty to say. She found herself at a complete loss for words, though, when she looked into his eyes—both of them now twinkling back at her—and lost herself in his gaze.
While he’d previously had the look of a pirate about him that she’d found rather appealing, she now found him to be devastatingly handsome—not simply because he’d been born far too attractive, but because she believed she saw genuine niceness residing in his very soul.
When he suddenly lifted a finger to push a damp strand of hair off her cheek, his touch caused any reasonable thoughts she still retained to flee from her mind, and everything surrounding her disappeared except Bram.
“You’re very beautiful.”
Just like that, the world returned in a flash.
“Thank you,” she said before she stepped back from him and felt a sliver of temper—not at him, but at herself—begin flowing through her veins.
She’d known he was infatuated with her, as most of her admirers were. And yet, instead of nipping that immediately in the bud, she’d allowed herself to believe he was different, different because his touch sent her pulse racing and his smile turned her knees a little weak, which, in actuality, did make him a touch different, although . . .
“Forgive me, Lucetta, but have I done something to upset you?”
Lucetta caught Bram’s eye. “To be perfectly honest, I’m more upset with myself.”
Bram’s brow furrowed. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“I should have addressed the misconceptions I’m certain you’re holding about me straightaway, and yet . . . I’ve let matters fester too long.”
“You do recall that we only met a few hours ago, don’t you?”
