“Of course, Papa,” she said.
“Very well,” he said. He reached into his jacket and pulled a single piece of paper out. He slid it and a pen toward her.
It was a contract.
“The Dowager Countess of Payne, Bellamira Granville, does hereby employ the services of Miss Isoline Beresford as a companion for the foreseeable future at the stipend outline below…” Isoline read out loud. She then turned to her father. “What is this?”
“You remember your Grand-Aunt Bellamira?” he asked.
“I know of her,” Isoline said. “But I’ve never met her.”
“My God, is she even still alive?” Royston asked.
“Somehow, she is,” their father said. “She just turned ninety. And she still lives in old Thornrush Manor on the coast. I wrote to her myself, on your behalf, Isoline, and offered your services as a companion. To my shock, she accepted.”
Isoline was touched that it was her father who had found her a placement, even if he had been the reason she needed to find a placement in the first place. She wondered what he would have done if grand-auntie had turned the offer down, but she supposed it didn’t matter now.
“Who is Grand-Aunt Bellamira?” Eunice asked.
“I’m not even sure how she is related to us anymore,” Lawrence said.
“Great-great-great-great Aunt, ten times removed or something, I think,” Royston helpfully explained. “She was married to the old Earl of Payne decades ago. He died before they had children, and there were no other male heirs at the time. The title left the family, went to some lucky bastard who was a friend of the king while she inherited the money and estate. But she never remarried or had children, so she just sits up there in the manor house with her money all alone. She’s never named an heir. No idea what will happen to it all when she finally kicks it.”
“With any luck,” their father spoke up, “it will go to Isoline.”
Geraldine gasped. “Surely, she didn’t make Isoline her heiress?”
“Not yet,” he said. “But with Isoline there as her companion, if she pleases the old bat, who knows?”
“Wait.” Isoline finally dared to speak up. “You want me to be a companion to grand-auntie with the hopes that she will name me her heir?”
“Yes,” her father replied simply. “If you refuse to help the family by marrying well, then you can still be of service by inheriting well.”
“I can’t force her to make me her heir,” Isoline said. “What if she doesn’t choose me?”
“At least you won’t be any worse off than you are now,” her father said with a clear hint of warning.
Isoline needed to come home an heiress, or not come home at all.
Chapter Three
“All will be well…”
How did he know? Isoline pondered the man’s words as the carriage rumbled along. She lazily looked out the window at the encroaching sea. She had never been to the coast before. She had always imagined it would be bright with sunshine and fresh air, but she was wrong. It was the beginning of summer, in the middle of the day, and the sky was dark and grey as a winter evening. It was not as cold as winter, but the black clouds and wet air gave her a chill that had her clutching her wrap to her throat.
While the mysterious man’s words should have been a comfort to her—they did come to pass, after all—she wondered just how much he knew. How could he have known that her father was making arrangements with Grand-Aunt Bellamira? She would have to ask him, though she had no idea if he would reply. She had been asking him questions for years, but he had never responded. She shook her head as she thought about just how much faith she had put into this man who walked in her dreams. Even if she hadn’t called off her wedding, she had delayed courtship for years because of him. She had been a foolish girl, but was she much better as an adult? She had not thrown herself at the feet of Cyril as she should have the moment the man returned to her dreams. How many more decisions would she make based on a fantasy? She hoped none, but she knew better.
It began to rain.
She leaned over to look out the window, and the clouds that had only been a gentle covering before had bellowed into a frightening summer storm.
“Should we stop somewhere?” Isoline called out to the driver. The lanterns strapped to the side weaved about wildly. She wondered how they stayed attached.
“Nah, miss,” he said. “A bit of rain never hurt no one. Hai-yah!” He whipped the horses, sending them into an even faster gallop, tossing her back in her seat.
She pulled herself back upright and looked out the window at the road ahead. She gulped when she saw that it narrowed and hugged the upcoming cliff edge. She wiped a few raindrops from her brow. She pulled the curtains closed and tied them tightly shut. The driver might feel confident, but she did not, and she certainly did not have to watch while he faced down the dangers of the road. Unfortunately, with the heavy curtains drawn, the inside of the carriage was nearly pitch black. There was nothing she could do except sit back and feel every bump and jolt.
“Whoa! Look out!” the driver called, and Isoline was pitched from her seat to the floor. Thankfully, the seats were cushioned, so she did not injure herself greatly, but she could not help but scream for fright.
She heard the horses whinny and the driver yell as she felt the carriage start to tip onto its side. She felt herself thrown into the air and scrambled for something, anything to grip onto. She finally grabbed the edges of the window as the carriage crashed to the ground. Her fingers slipped from the wet windowpane and she fell hard against the other door.
“H-help!” she called out, but she could hear nothing over the panicked whinnying of the horses. “Driver? Are you there?”
She got to her feet, but she could not reach other door to open it. It was now too far above her. The window covering had come partially undone, so she could see the dark sky above, but not much else. A few drops of rain fell on her face, but it was not raining heavily, only drizzling. She felt as though she were in a dark, wet pit.
She sighed in annoyance. There was nothing she could do but wait. The driver must have been injured in the fall. Surely, someone would come along eventually and help her out. She started to feel around for a blanket or pillows she could use to sit on to make her wait more comfortable when a distinctly unpleasant smell wafted past her nose.
Smoke!
She listened and heard a crackling and realized the smoke was filling the carriage.
“Help! Help me!” she screamed as she realized that the carriage lanterns must have caught the wreckage on fire. The horses cried, and she could feel the carriage shake. They must have still been attached to it and were trying to escape.
The smoke filled her nose and burned her eyes. She jumped up and down, trying to grab the door above her, but it was always beyond her reach.
“Please! For the love of God!” she yelled. She knew no one was there, no one to hear her pleas, but in the moment, there was nothing else she could do. She was going to die on an abandoned road in a fire in the rain. What an unceremonious end to a pathetic life not yet lived.
The carriage started to grow hot and the smoke filled her lungs. She coughed and leaned against the wall of the carriage, waiting to pass out. But then, she heard a snap, and blue light filled the carriage. She looked up and saw a hooded man standing over her. He had opened the door and was now leaning inside, holding his hand out to her. She did not say anything, she only jumped and grabbed his hand. With uncanny strength, he pulled her from the wreckage. He held her tightly in his arms and leaped down, carrying her a safe distance away. He deposited her under a tree, which shielded her somewhat from the rain.
“The horses,” she mumbled, her voice gravely. “And the driver! He’s hurt!”
The man nodded and ran back toward the carriage. Only then did she realize the extent of the danger she was in. The carriage was nearly engulfed in flames. Surely, she would have been dead very soon had she not been rescued at that moment. O
ne horse was on the ground, most certainly dead. She could not see the driver, but the other horse was in a complete panic, rearing up on his hind legs and kicking his front ones in complete terror. She saw the man draw a knife and attempt to cut the poor beast loose.
Her eyes burned from the smoke and exhaustion. She closed them and let the tears come, partly from fear, partly from relief, and partly to allow the tears to clear the smoke and ash.
“My dear, are you all right?” a voice asked her.
She looked up as the man kneeled down by her and pulled down his hood. She could only shake her head.
“Was there anyone else in the carriage?” he asked.
“N-no,” she managed to say. “Only myself, and the driver.”
“I fear the driver is dead,” he said sympathetically. “As is one of the horses. The other one took off like the devil himself was on his tail. I doubt we will see the poor creature again. Thank goodness I happened by! Here.” He wrapped a blanket around her.
“Th-th-thank you,” she managed to say. “What happened?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he said. “But these roads can be treacherous.”
She nodded. A freak accident.
“Where were you headed?” he asked. “Not many people live in these parts.”
“Thornrush Manor,” she said. “To see my grand-aunt.”
“Your aunt?” he asked with happy surprise. “Lady Bellamira is a grand-aunt of mine as well! We must be cousins! Well, quite distant ones anyway.” He gave her a smile and squeezed her arm.
She chanced a look at his face. Distant, indeed. He must have been from a completely different branch of the family because she was sure she had not seen him before. He looked to be in his late twenties with fair hair and eyes so green she could see the color even in the dark light of the stormy sky. She tried to give him a smile in return, but felt exhausted and cold. She shivered.
“Dear cousin, are you injured?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Then let me help you,” he said. “My own horse is here. I can take you to Thornrush myself.”
The idea of moving from the safe spot on the ground sent her heart to racing, but she knew she could not stay here forever. She gave a small nod. He leaped up and was back in barely a moment with his own brown horse. He took her hand and helped her to her feet. He then climbed up on his horse and pulled her up in front of him. She sat sideways and snuggled into his chest. He kept a protective arm around her as he started the horse into a slow trot.
“By the way, cousin, I didn’t get your name,” he said.
“Isoline,” she said as she felt herself start to relax.
“I’m Tristan,” he replied.
Isoline wondered if she had fallen asleep because it seemed like she had only blinked her eyes and they were trotting up to the largest manor house she had ever seen.
The house looked nearly cobbled together from many other smaller ones. Windows of every shape and size lined the front, and spires reached up into the dark sky. As they approached the front of the house, the door seemed to open automatically and a well-starched butler stood by.
Tristan leaped down from the horse with ease and then helped Isoline to her feet. He reached down as though to carry her, but she gently pushed him away.
“I think I can walk,” she said. “I’m much better now, thank you.”
In truth, she was stiff and her head still swimming from the ordeal, but she could not suffer the indignity of being carried inside to her meet her aunt for the first time.
Tristan nodded and held onto her arm protectively nonetheless, and she did not refuse his aid.
“Talbot,” Tristan addressed the butler. “There was a terrible accident on the road and Miss Beresford’s carriage toppled. All of her luggage was left behind, if it survived. Can you send someone to fetch what is left? And arrangements will need to be made for the driver. He didn’t make it.”
Talbot nodded. “I will take care of it,” he said in a short but not curt manner.
Tristan led her inside, and she could not help but gasp at the grandeur of the inside of the house. It donned on Isoline then that it was truly what only the wealthiest of people considered to be a “comfortable” country house. Before her was a large staircase lined with red carpeting. Up above, the gallerys for the second and third floors could be seen. She turned in a slow circle as she tried to take in every aspect of the imposing foyer. A crystal chandelier larger than a person hung above her. On the walls, the faces of former occupants of the house were framed in gilt. Two Ming vases stood on either side of the base of the staircase.
“Don’t just stand there dripping,” a voice called down to her.
Isoline looked up and saw a woman standing at the top of the staircase. Isoline was sure she had not been standing there before. She must have appeared while Isoline was busy gawking.
The woman gingerly lifted the edge of her gown as she carefully descended the stairs.
“You wouldn’t believe the cost to have a rug of this size cleaned,” the woman said as she approached.
“Now, Aunt Bellamira,” Tristan chided. “Isoline has had quite a fright. Be kind.”
The woman stood in front of Isoline and clasped her long thin fingers together in front of her.
Isoline couldn’t help but stare at the woman in surprise. This was her ninety-year-old, great, great, great, great, too-many-greats-to-count Grand-Auntie Bellamira Granville, the Dowager Countess of Payne? The woman had grey hair, but that was the only indication of her age. She didn’t look a day over fifty, in Isoline’s estimation. Her eyes were clear and bright blue. Her face was surprisingly smooth, with only a few lines around her eyes and mouth. She was thin and stood ramrod straight. The deep purple of her old-fashioned gown brought a healthy color to her cheeks.
“A fright?” Bellamira asked. “Of what sort?”
“The carriage,” Isoline explained. “It crashed and burned. The driver was killed. I was so fortunate that Tristan happened by when he did.” She looked up at him affectionately and he smiled back with a gentle squeeze of her arm she realized he was still holding.
Bellamira pressed her lips, her only reaction to the harrowing tale of Isoline’s near-death experience.
“I still don’t see what that has to do with ruining a perfectly fine rug,” Bellamira said with an exasperated sigh but the edge of one side of her mouth turned up. Isoline thought this was her aunt’s way of making a joke, but she wasn’t sure. “Come this way.”
Bellamira walked them through two other large rooms, each furnished with tables, chairs, and paintings, before opening the door to a parlor room. There were two couches sitting opposite each other next to a roaring fire in an elegant fireplace.
“Please sit,” Bellamira said, motioning to one of the couches. She sat first, and then Isoline sat across from her. Once he was sure she was settled, Tristan released her arm and sat on the couch next to Bellamira.
Isoline didn’t realize just how chilled she had been until the warmth of the fire wafted over her. She sighed and held her hands to it.
“Oh, thank you,” she said. “This is just what I need. My nerves are so taut.”
The door to the parlor opened and Talbot came in with a tea tray complete with biscuits. Isoline’s mouth started to water instantly. Talbot prepared her a cup of tea with cream and two sugars and placed a biscuit on the saucer as he handed her the cup.
“Talbot, you seem to have read my mind,” Isoline said as she accepted the tea eagerly. She sipped the tea and then ate the biscuit in nearly one bite, she was so famished. “Please, forgive my manners. I have no idea how long it has been since I have eaten.”
“Not at all,” Bellamira said. “It is only natural after your experience. Talbot, what is the current situation?”
Bellamira must run her house like clockwork, Isoline thought. She had only just heard about Isoline’s accident herself, yet she knew that Talbot would already have a hand
le on the situation. If nothing else, Isoline knew she would learn a thing or two about running a house from her aunt.
“I sent James to fetch the lady’s things, if there is anything to salvage,” Talbot explained. “Marcus has been sent to town to alert the vicar and the constable regarding the driver.”
“Very good,” Bellamira said as she accepted her own teacup. Talbot then handed a cup to Tristan before retreating to the edge of the room to await any further instructions.
“So,” Bellamira said, “other than the dramatic end, how was the rest of your journey? It was quite far, I think.”
“Indeed,” Isoline said as she placed her cup on the saucer. “I was able to take a train to York, but then had to hire a carriage to bring me here. The driver came highly recommended. I can’t imagine what happened…” The crash began to replay in her mind and she shuddered. She shook her head to try and push the images away.
“Men can be fools, reckless,” Bellamira said, then she glanced at Tristan. “Present company excluded, of course.”
“You are too kind, auntie,” he said, and the two shared a laugh. Isoline smiled but was still too out of sorts to find humor in the situation.
“Grand-Auntie,” Isoline said, hoping to change the subject. “Tristan believes we may be related in some way. Would you know how?” She held her teacup up for seconds and hoped Talbot would include a few more biscuits as well. He did not disappoint.
Bellamira waved the question off. “Oh, one brother had a mess of daughters and a brother-in-law had a few of his own. They all married and left and had children of their own. At my age, who can keep track? If I even considered sending them all cards for Christmas I would have to start at New Year’s.”
“Maybe we should hire a genealogist,” Tristan suggested. “Surely, as the family’s matriarch you would want to see just how large the tree has gotten.”
“Matriarch, am I?” Bellamira asked, mock surprise on her face. “I can’t remember the last time a family member wrote to me for advice, or just to check on me. The only letters I receive are requests for help and money.”
Dangerous Passions Page 3
