The Secrets of Shadows

by Waite, Tabetha

  “Are ye mad? That man is crazy aboot ye! And ye’re willin’ t’ throw that all away, just because ye don’t think ye’re good enough fer him?”

  The dam that had held Cosette’s emotions at bay finally broke free. Tears slid down her cheeks in rivers of misery as she turned to Charlotte, hands clenched at her sides. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Charlotte! In case you don’t remember, I am a half-breed. Don’t you know what that means?”

  Charlotte crossed her arms and tossed her red hair. “It means tha’ yer locket is gone and—”

  “I will always be cursed,” Cosette finished. “I will not subject Davien to anymore pain when I can prevent it! I owe him that much, at least.”

  Charlotte was quiet for a moment, before she said, “And ye don’t think if ye just leave, walk out o’ his life without so much as a goodbye or an explanation, that it won’t hurt him?”

  Cosette grit her teeth. “Don’t tell me how to handle this. It’s my heart that’s being broken too. I’m doing this so that Davien has a chance to move on, to start over, and so I can deal with the loss before he chooses to leave me.” She put a hand to her chest. “I’m setting him free. How is that wrong?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “It sounds t’ me as if ye’re just scared.”

  “What do you even know about love?” Cosette countered with a sneer. “Have you ever felt as though your entire soul has merged with another person? To dare to sacrifice your own happiness so that the other one might have the chance to finally be at peace?”

  Her friend was silent for a moment before she said, “Not in th’ same manner o’ speakin,’ but when my parents died an’ I lost th’ bakery, I was devastated. I thought I’d dishonored their memory somehow.” She shrugged. “After that, I felt that th’ workhouse was th’ best place fer a girl with nothin’ else t’ show fer her life. It was my personal penance fer failin’ their trust in me.”

  “That wasn’t your fault,” Cosette said softly.

  Charlotte shrugged. “Whether it was or not, it’s done. There’s no goin’ back. If ye do this, Cosette, ye’re goin’ t’ make a terrible mistake, one that ye might not be able t’ fix.”

  Cosette considered everything that Charlotte said, but in the end, her mind was set on what needed to be done. “I will always be different, Charlotte. I will always have my parentage looming behind me, following my every footstep. I can’t change that, no matter how much I might reverse time and pretend none of this nightmare has ever happened. But in this, at least, I have a choice.”

  She turned and started to walk away.

  Cosette heard a heavy sigh, before Charlotte joined her. “I wouldna be a very good friend if I let ye head out on yer own with only that robe on yer back. Let’s go t’ Th’ Lion’s Share. Mr. Durant owes me some coin, and I’m sure we can get ye a decent dress. It won’t get ye far, but it’ll be a start.”

  Cosette took Charlotte’s hand. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 28

  “Are you sure you haven’t seen her at all today? Perhaps she came by when you were out?” Davien was trying to decide if the older widow in front of him was lying, but since she had seemed equally perplexed by his appearance, either she was simply a talented actress, or she was telling him the truth.

  “I haven’t left at all, Your Grace,” Mrs. Woodard replied, standing on the steps of the House of Perpetual Hope workhouse. “And I haven’t seen Cosette in weeks. I do hope ye find her. In a city like London, one can’t be too careful.”

  She offered him a tired, but polite smile as she turned around, leaving Davien standing beside his carriage with a perplexed frown.

  He hadn’t meant to wait until dusk to return for Cosette, but it had taken hours for the bedlam around his smoldering estate to settle down. Once the fire brigand had arrived, it brought the curiosity of the rest of the city to his doorstep. There was a mob of onlookers, everyone from men, women, and children, in the midst of the men who were working to put out the remaining flames. For hours, the men of the brigand worked, pumping water onto the site, while a steady stream of buckets filled with water were passed around some of the others, all in an effort to douse the roaring flames.

  In the end, the efforts had been valiant, but the entire structure was a loss, along with everything in it. His father’s once grand estate had finally burned down to nothing more than a pile of charred wood, ash, cinder, and stone rubble.

  Davien supposed that he could clear it all away and rebuild on the site, but since it wasn’t entailed, he would probably just sell the land and move on. His dream was not to rebuild an impressive manor, but to turn one of his estates into an actual home. With Cosette by his side, he realized that was possible.

  She was his foundation of hope.

  As Davien finally left the remains of Shadowlawn behind later that day, he had nearly gone to Cosette right then, but considering that he was in a sorry shape of disrepair; he thought it would be best to make himself more presentable first. That way, when he asked her to marry him, he wouldn’t look as though he had just faced death and come out on the other side—even though that’s exactly what had happened.

  In spite of this, he vowed not to waste any more unnecessary time lamenting the past. Cosette was his future, and that’s what he intended to focus on right now.

  So Davien had headed for Mayfair. He rented out a townhouse there, and while he was currently in between tenants, he’d gone there for a much needed bath. The modest staff he employed was eager to see to his every need. A footman had been dispatched to the tailor to procure Davien some clean clothes, and a maid was sent to Madame Louvre’s to take care of Cosette’s attire. The Cook set to work preparing a meal while the butler directed a handful of footmen to fill the copper tub in the master’s chamber.

  Davien felt it was strange to have people waiting on him hand and foot again, for he’d managed on his own for more than twenty years. Then again, he’d had a dark secret to hide, not to mention the ability to take care of himself. Things were going to be a lot different now that he was a ‘normal’ duke.

  As he’d waited for his bath, he’d sat on the bed in his chamber and contemplated many things, the foremost of which he hadn’t let himself consider until that moment. The beast had been fearsome, intimidating, whereas Davien was just . . . a simple man.

  Would Cosette still want him?

  As he watched Mrs. Woodard go back inside the front door of the workhouse, Davien felt his coachman come up beside him. “Where else could she have gone, Quinn?” he murmured.

  The other man shrugged. Davien had always let Cosette believe that Quinn was under some sort of spell, but the truth was, he really couldn’t speak. He was born with the disability. It had just been amusing at the time to pretend otherwise.

  “Come to think of it,” Davien added, “have you seen Charlotte lately?”

  Quinn shook his head.

  “Then my guess is that where one is, we will soon find the other.” He walked toward the coach. “The Lion’s Share,” he instructed.

  As Quinn took his place atop the carriage, Davien looked out the window at the city beyond. Where are you, Cosette?

  ~ ~ ~

  Cosette hugged Charlotte. She was dressed in a simple, brown bedgown, not in much better condition than the one she’d originally worn the first night Davien had taken her to Shadownlawn. While it was only a few short weeks ago that she’d passed through the gates of that grand estate, it seemed like an eternity had passed.

  She kept telling herself that she wasn’t being a martyr, that she really had Davien’s best interests at heart, but there was that one small part of her brain that kept nagging at her that Charlotte was right—that she was making the biggest mistake of her life. She pushed it firmly aside.

  “This isn’t goodbye,” Charlotte sniffed. “Ye bette
r write th’ minute ye make it over th’ border into Scotland. Just tell Mrs. O’Malley that ye know me an’ she’ll give ye safe room an’ board until ye find respectable employment.”

  The reticule Cosette carried was weighed down with the coins that her friend had pressed into her palm. It was enough for her to secure passage on the bone-rattling public coach. Her throat ached with unshed tears even though there was surely no way she could cry any more. She’d already managed enough during the past twenty-four hours to drown an army.

  She forced a smile. “I’m sure there’s some village in Scotland that’s in need of a seamstress.”

  Charlotte’s mouth drooped. “Are ye sure ye won’t reconsider—”

  Cosette shook her head as she climbed into the hired hackney and shut the door. “I promise I’ll write as soon as I can,” she whispered, and then knocked on the side of the coach to let the driver know she was ready to depart.

  Two hours later, she was in the public coach, crammed between three other occupants as they bounced over one of the uneven roads leading out of the city. She leaned her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes, feeling her heart break with each turn of the carriage wheel.

  ~ ~ ~

  Davien found Charlotte in the back room at The Lion’s Share. She was bent down, searching through the numerous bottles of ale stored there. He stopped in the middle of the doorway. “Where is she, Charlotte?” he asked huskily. “I know you can tell me.”

  She immediately halted what she was doing and rose to her feet. She wiped her hands on her apron as she turned around to face him. “Aye, I know.”

  When she didn’t say anything more, he demanded, “Are you going to tell me or not?”

  “That depends.” She crossed her arms, and he knew that meant a battle of stubborn wits was about to ensue.

  “On what?” he ground out.

  “Wot exactly are ye planin’ t’ do with her?”

  He snorted. “After everything that we’ve been through I can’t believe you would even ask that of me.”

  Those green eyes remained steady on his face. “Tha’ wasn’t an answer t’ my question,” she pointed out.

  He couldn’t help it. He threw back his head and laughed. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “It’s no wonder that Cosette considered you her best friend. Men could cross mountains and conquer nations and not be as determined as you are.”

  Finally, her lips twitched. “I’ll take tha’ as a compliment, Yer Grace.”

  “It was meant as one,” he returned in all sincerity. He had come to respect this bold, Scottish woman in the short time that he’d known her. He’d already decided that she would make a wonderful ladies’ maid for Cosette, if he could survive it.

  Then again, he’d lived most of his life cursed with the soul of an aswang. He was rather confident he could manage two, strong-willed females under his roof.

  “In answer to your earlier query,” Davien said evenly. “I love Cosette, and I plan to marry her at the earliest opportunity.” He lifted a brow. “Now does that satisfy your curiosity enough to tell me where she is?”

  “Aye.” Charlotte nodded. “But I’m afraid tha’ it’s not goin’ t’ be as easy t’ convince her.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she thinks tha’ bein’ a half-breed, tha’ ye won’t want her.” Charlotte rolled her eyes, as if she didn’t understand her friend’s reasoning any more than he did.

  “Did I give any indication to that affect?” he asked.

  “Not tha’ I could see, but then Cosette thinks she’s savin’ ye by runnin’ off t’ Scotland an’ disappearin’.”

  “Scotland?” Davien ran a hand through his hair and uttered a curse. “How long ago?”

  “Aboot a couple hours. She took th’ public coach up th’ Great North Road.”

  He turned to go, but paused and handed Charlotte a card with the address of the townhouse on it. “This is a townhouse that I’ve been renting out, but I’ve it made my temporary residence. Tell the housekeeper, Mrs. Sundry, that I have recently employed you as a ladies’ maid. She’ll see that you’re properly settled.”

  She snorted. “An’ who is it tha’ I’m supposed t’ be servin’?”

  He clenched his jaw and then said, “My future wife. Even if I have to throttle some sense into her first.”

  He thought he caught a glimpse of a smile on her face, as he turned on his heel and walked out.

  ~ ~ ~

  Cosette woke with a start, palms damp, and her heart pounding. She feared that she’d suffered another blackout, but . . . nothing. There was no disembodied voice instructing her to wreak havoc, no carnage strewn about where she was to blame.

  So what had disturbed her sleep?

  As if reading the confusion on her face, a gap-toothed woman sitting across from her, probably in her mid-fifties, said in a cockney accent, “It’s fine, dearie. We just hit a rut in th’ road, we did.”

  Cosette managed to nod, offering the woman a reassuring smile.

  A moment later, the conveyance listed sharply to the left. Cosette put her hand out to steady herself as she heard the coachman give a shout, followed by a rather obscene curse. The entire coach came to a shuddering stop.

  Cosette looked at the other three occupants.

  “That dinna sound good,” said a short, somewhat rotund, Scottish gentleman with red hair and a beard. He glanced out the window, but Cosette knew there was likely little to be seen in the dark.

  “Damned English roads,” the other man muttered, his brogue not quite as defined. He had dark hair and rather striking blue eyes. Cosette thought he was probably Irish.

  The gap-toothed woman tried to ease over the situation. “I’m sure it’s only a slight delay.”

  About that time the coachman wrenched open the door. “Ev’rybody out. We snapped a wheel. I need all able bodies t’ help lift th’ coach so we can get it sent t’ th’ local village fer repairs.”

  The two men instantly looked at the other woman in the coach, where she only shrugged. “I didn’t say I was always right.”

  They grumbled something else rather derogatory toward the English, before they stepped to the ground. The woman and Cosette followed suit. As they exited the coach, it was to hear the sound of thunder in the distance, and to see a flash of lightning in the night sky.

  “Isn’t that great?” the Irishman noted. “Not only are we going to be traveling all night, but now we’re going to be drowned rats.”

  “Aye,” the Scotsman agreed. “We’ll be lucky to make it to Stilton to the Bell or Angel Inn by daybreak.”

  Cosette did her best to ignore their grumbling as she silently took her place on the left side of the coach. She didn’t care to be stranded either, spending the night out here with a trio of strangers, but she was going to make the best of it.

  When they were all lined up in a row along the side, the coachman joined them, and then nodded toward his companion who was ready to remove the busted, left front wheel. “On th’ count ‘o three,” he said. “One . . . two . . . three!”

  A chorus of groans came from the passengers as they lifted the coach high enough for the other man to work. Cosette prayed that it wouldn’t take long for the wheel to be removed, for already her muscles were beginning to ache under the strain. A clap of thunder rumbled nearby, followed by a brilliant flash of lightning. A gust of wind ripped through the valley, causing some of Cosette’s dark hair to escape from the simple bun at the back of her neck to whip across her face.

  “It won’t be long now,” the Irishman noted dryly.

  Cosette didn’t dare reply; afraid that she would lose the tenuous grip she had on the edge of the coach. With each second that ticked by, her strength was waning. When she heard the sound of an approaching carriage, the only thing
she could think of was that salvation had arrived. Another set of hands would be just enough to ease the weight causing her fingers to go numb.

  It wasn’t until the first drops of rain began to fall, and an alarming shriek of, “It’s a highwayman!” did full pandemonium begin to ensue.

  Chapter 29

  The man repairing the wheel shouted as the coach began to fall while he was still in the process of working on it. He scrambled away as the gap-toothed woman’s cry startled everyone else into action. She threw up her hands and fled, causing the coach to tilt precariously, fully splintering the already weakened wheel, and sending shards flying over the road. The sudden weight also managed to crack the back-left wheel. As it began to bow, the coachman, along with the two male passengers, quickly ran off—just as the heavens opened up.

  Rain pelted Cosette, quickly drenching her as she stood in horror, watching as the coach began to tumble sideways. She felt a firm grip on her arm, as she was thrust out of danger—just as the coach crashed to the ground mere inches from where she’d been standing. Unfortunately, the force that had pulled her to safety, combined with the slippery earth beneath her slippers, caused her to lose her balance. She fell to the ground in a messy heap of skirts and splattered mud.

  Now that the ordeal was over, Cosette took a deep breath, and shoved her wet hair out of her face. She looked up to thank her rescuer, highwayman or no, but felt the blood drain from her face. Surely, that dark figure looming over her was an apparition. It was the silhouette of a man in a black-tiered greatcoat holding a silver headed cane. He wore boots that encased long legs, and hair that was as dark as a raven’s wing. Rain lashed his handsome face, but it didn’t seem to faze him as those dark, penetrating eyes fixed on her.