by Cheryl Holt
Boys around the kingdom had read stories about the notorious pair, and it had left them yearning to have the same adventures. Alex was no different.
“Yes,” she said, “Mr. Sinclair was extremely complimentary of Lord Selby.”
Alex grinned. “I hope we’re about to encounter Mr. Sinclair’s version—and not Mrs. Carter’s.”
Rebecca nodded. “I shall hope for the very same.”
They’d walked to the estate from the village, having gotten directions from a blacksmith. They’d found the entrance easily enough, the name SELBY carved into the wood over the gate. Then they’d continued down the lane toward the manor, winding through orchards and finally being spit out of the trees.
They staggered to a halt and gazed up at the enormous building. It was much more imposing than she’d been expecting. As a girl from the country, who’d only ever lived at Carter Crossing, she’d thought Carter Crossing was large and ostentatious. Clearly, she’d had no clue as to the type of residence real wealth could bestow.
Selby Manor was magnificent, constructed from a light-colored brick, with turrets on one end, as if the older section had once been a castle. There were hundreds of windows gleaming in the afternoon sun, and a circular driveway that, in the summer, would have been lined with flowers. An impressive set of stairs rose to ornate double doors.
There were meadows with horses frolicking. She could see the park behind the house, the paths groomed, the grass swathed. It was so beautiful, so peaceful and bucolic, like a scene in a painting.
For a minute, they tarried, taking it in. She tried to envision her father being raised in the splendid spot, but she couldn’t picture it. Her opinions about him had been tainted by Beatrice’s constant sniping about his being an unrepentant philanderer.
She pondered Nathan though and how two children, sired by the same man, could be reared in such diverse circumstances. Mr. Shawcross had claimed Nathan’s childhood was unhappy, but was that true? Or had Nathan been content at Selby? Had his life been one of tutors and expensive clothes? Had he studied fencing and languages?
She was cognizant of his years of exploring with Sir Sidney Sinclair, but what other experiences had he enjoyed?
What had she to offer him by way of acquaintance? She’d never gone anywhere or done anything, and with her being confronted by the majesty of Selby, she felt dowdy, ordinary, and completely out of her element.
Suddenly, the strangest surge of energy was coursing through her body. All day, she’d been restless and out of sorts. Initially, she’d assumed it was nerves from her traipsing off on such a wild journey. Previously, she’d never traveled more than a few miles from Frinton or Carter Crossing. Now she was off to London—where she’d never been.
She kept telling herself it would work out. They’d rent a room, and she’d find a job. She was smart and educated, and she presented herself well. She refused to think she would face adversity.
With so many changes occurring, who wouldn’t be nervous? Who wouldn’t be on edge?
Still though, she was practically electrified—as if she could point her finger and sparks would shoot from the tip. There was the oddest ringing in her ears. It was growing louder and louder, and she was incredibly dizzy, as if the world had tilted off its axis and she couldn’t maintain her balance.
“Are you all right?” Alex asked his question as if from a far distance.
She frowned, but was paralyzed and unable to respond.
“Rebecca!” He physically shook her. “You can’t suffer a fit of the vapors in Lord Selby’s driveway. It would be a very bad introduction.”
“I’m…I’m fine,” she stammered. Her head was pounding, and she rubbed her temple. “I’m just tired. The past few weeks have been so stressful.”
“They certainly have been. Let’s get you to the manor. Hopefully, they’ll provide us with some refreshments. If we can put some tea and biscuits in your stomach, you’ll feel better.”
“I’m sure you’re correct.”
She forced a smile and had spun to the house when a woman burst out the elaborate front doors. The moment was startling and disorienting, and Rebecca’s vertigo was worse by the second.
It seemed as if she had burst out of the mansion. The woman racing toward her was her exact double—white-blond hair, slender figure, same height and shape—but she, Rebecca, was standing with Alex. Her mind couldn’t process what she was witnessing, and she wondered if she wasn’t extremely ill.
The woman was laughing, crying, and shouting, “Rebecca! Rebecca! Is it you? Tell me it’s you!”
“Who is that?” Alex’s anxious gaze shifted from the woman, to Rebecca, then to the woman again.
“I don’t know,” Rebecca mumbled.
“Are there two of you? Is it possible?”
“You see her too?” Rebecca asked. “I’m not going mad?”
“I definitely see her.”
The woman uttered the most peculiar comment. “Bec-Bec, it’s me! It’s Sissy! You have to remember me. You can’t have forgotten!”
“Sissy?” Rebecca’s voice sounded young and breathless and nothing like her own.
“Who is Sissy?” Alex inquired. “Who is Bec-Bec?”
Rebecca couldn’t answer. Her dizziness spiked to a frightening level. She tipped one way, then the other, and she fainted dead away.
* * * *
Raven marched into Carter Crossing. He’d promised Beatrice and Clayton that he’d be back in three days, but here it was—two days later—and he was staggering in like a whipped dog.
But then, Rebecca had that effect on him.
When she’d trotted over to Oakley, when she’d thrown herself at him and begged him to catch her, he’d behaved dreadfully. Needing to apologize, he’d nearly ridden over a dozen times, but he’d tamped down any embarrassing overtures.
He’d spent a torturous night, where he’d convinced himself that he didn’t care about her, that she was a Carter, and he had to let her leave with the rest of them, but he had an unusual connection with her, so he could never act as he ought.
He was tormented over how forlorn she’d been, and after she’d fled, he’d meticulously reviewed their conversation. She’d mentioned that Beatrice had kicked her out. What had she meant by that? He’d been so furious over Lucas that he’d barely heeded her woeful remarks.
Mostly, he’d been shocked over her request to tarry at Oakley. As if unwed adults could cohabitate! What lunacy had afflicted the deranged female?
She had him so flustered he couldn’t think straight, and eventually, he’d decided he had to visit her. He’d use the occasion to remind everyone they’d be departing. He doubted Beatrice would have informed the staff, and they had to be apprised.
He’d confer with Beatrice too, to insist he wasn’t joking, that he intended to evict her the following morning. She’d have persuaded herself it wouldn’t really happen, that Clayton would save her, but they couldn’t change their circumstances.
Raven would arrive with a team of men, unemployed veterans who were happy to have the temporary jobs. He’d been planning to have them tear down the house, then have the fields grow to weeds, but when he was calmer and debating more rationally, he accepted that he shouldn’t be so immature about it.
The property was large, the manor in good condition, and he could sell it for a tidy profit. Why shouldn’t he?
He’d be rid of Beatrice and Clayton and make money off them at the same time.
The butler entered the foyer just as Raven entered it too, and the man blanched and shot a derisive glower. He couldn’t hide his disdain.
“If you’re here for Mr. Carter”—his tone was quite snotty—“he and his guests have returned to London, so there’s no one with whom to socialize.”
“I couldn’t abide any of them anyway. Fetch Miss Rebecca for me.”
“Miss Rebecca has left too.”
Raven scowled. “Left for where?”
“I don’t believe her whereabouts are any of your business, and if you’ll excuse me, I’m busy.” He gave a stiff bow. “I’m sure you can find your way out.”
Raven ignored him. “Fetch Mrs. Carter for me then.”
“She remains indisposed to callers.”
Raven stepped in so they were toe to toe. “Fetch her,” he commanded, “and be quick about it. If you won’t, I’ll tromp about and locate her myself. You’ll have difficulty explaining how I walked into her bedchamber without you stopping me.”
A muscle ticked in the man’s cheek. “I’ll search for her, but I can’t guarantee she’ll attend you.”
“Tell her—if she doesn’t—I’ll drag her down to speak with me.” He whirled away and started down the hall, saying, “I’ll be waiting for her in my library.”
The man trudged up the stairs, and as he reached the landing, he leaned over the railing. “Is it true we’re all leaving tomorrow?”
“Yes, it’s true.”
“Will all the servants be fired? Will you permit anyone to stay?”
Raven glared up at him, and he looked old and a bit haggard. Raven wondered how long he’d toiled away for grouchy Beatrice. It couldn’t have been easy. It was on the tip of his tongue to declare, Bloody hell, yes! You’ll all be fired!
But an irksome wave of pity washed through him. These people had worked with Rebecca. They’d been her friends, and she would hate him if he was awful to them. And what was his quarrel with them?
There wasn’t one, so he said, “I’m not certain what will occur. Mrs. Carter is departing and that’s all I know. After she’s gone, I’ll decide on the rest of you.”
“Very good, sir. The staff has been in the dark, so I appreciate the information.”
He kept on up the stairs, and Raven continued to the library. He poured himself a whiskey, then seated himself behind the desk. It took forever for Beatrice to appear, but ultimately, she did.
She stomped over, and for a moment, it was clear she’d considered circling around to try and push him out of the chair. She realized she never could though, and she plopped down in the chair across.
“You have an enormous amount of gall to have blustered in,” she complained.
“Yes, I’ve always had plenty of gall.”
“Where is my daughter?”
“She’s not here?”
“No.”
“Then she’s likely in London with my brother.”
“And…?”
“She’s likely in a lot of trouble.”
“Is that all you have to say about it?”
“Yes, except that she’s a fool to have accompanied him.”
“I agree, and I demand you rescue her.”
“I can’t.”
“Why can’t you? You inflicted him on us, and he’s kidnapped her. You must exert some energy to fix what he’s done.”
“If she’s with him, he didn’t take her. She went willingly, and trust me, after she’s adopted a few of his habits, you won’t really want her back.”
“You and your brother are immoral fiends. If your precious father, Harrison, was still alive, how would he view the two of you?”
“Let’s not wander down that road, Beatrice. I’m not in the mood to hear my father’s name spring from your lips.”
“It’s Mrs. Carter to you, and you’re not welcome in my home. I insist you leave. If you won’t, I’ll summon the footmen to have them haul you out.”
Raven rolled his eyes. “It would be humorous to have them try.”
“You think you’re so smart,” she fumed. “You think you’re so tough, but you’ll get yours soon enough.”
“How?”
“Even as we speak, Clayton is in town hiring a lawyer. We’ll have this repaired shortly, and once it’s reversed, we’ll sue you for harassment.”
“You can’t reverse it. The court proceedings have been over for weeks. Clayton was served with subpoenas over and over, but he never showed up for any of them. Eventually, he was held in contempt and adjudged a delinquent without his ever mounting a defense.”
For an instant, her wall of condescension fell, and she looked quite alarmed, but she swiftly shoved that wall back into place. “My son is completely competent. He would never have allowed that to happen.”
“Lie to yourself if you wish, but I’ve simply come to repeat that you have to vacate the premises tomorrow.”
“And I told you Clayton will return with legal papers to stop you.”
“If you truly believe that, you’re living a fantasy. There will be no last-minute reprieve, so I advise you to make plans for yourself.”
“I won’t.”
“Then I shall personally carry you out to the carriage that will whisk you away. It’s up to you whether you have a destination in mind or not.”
“You’re doing this as revenge over your father’s troubles.”
“Of course I am.”
“It was twenty years ago!”
“Yes, it was, and I’ve suffered through each one of them, imagining this conclusion.”
“How could the courts permit such an injustice? It’s not fair!”
“I guess that depends on whose vantage point you’re using.”
“We’ll see who goes and who remains,” she furiously retorted, “but for now, this house is still mine. Get out!”
She stood and huffed to the door, apparently assuming she could shoo him out, and he said, “The butler informs me that Miss Rebecca has left the property.”
“Yes, she has.”
“I need to speak to her. Where is she?”
“How would I know?”
“Why would she depart?”
“I found out she’d ruined herself with you, and I don’t tolerate salacious behavior under my own roof. I tossed her out.”
He gaped at her as if she’d babbled in a foreign language he didn’t understand. “What did you say?”
“I discovered she was spreading her legs for you. For you! My sworn enemy! How could you think to keep it a secret from me? I kicked her out—with just the clothes on her back.”
He thought of how distraught Rebecca had been when she’d arrived at Oakley. Evidently, Mrs. Carter had accused her of being a harlot and had evicted her on the spot! Because of him and their carnal antics! She’d rushed to him for help—and he’d refused to supply it! What was wrong with him?
He rose to his feet, so angry that he worried he might march over, wrap his fingers around her throat, and choke her to death.
“Where is she?” he seethed.
“I have no idea. I ordered her to go—and to take that little bastard Alex with her. In light of your conduct toward me, I shouldn’t have to continue providing shelter to your nephew.”
“My…nephew? What are you talking about?”
She smirked. “I hadn’t realized until a few days ago that his mother—stupid, gullible, deceased Lydia—was your sister. Once I figured it out, I didn’t suppose I should have to waste another penny on him. They slunk off together and good riddance!”
She started out, and he said, “Wait! You’re claiming Lydia’s baby didn’t die with her?”
“Who told you that? No, the boy didn’t die. He’s been here all these years, and I have had to support him. My well of mercy has run dry!”
She stormed out and slammed the door as hard as she could.
He was frozen in place, listening as her strides faded down the hall, then he sank into his chair, feeling more confused than he’d ever been.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I’m going to Africa someday.”
“How will you manage it?”
“I haven’t figured out that part yet. I simply know it’s my destiny.”
Noah Sinclair grinned at Alex Carter. Noah was twelve, and Alex was ten. From the moment he’d arrived with Miss Rebecca, Noah had realized they’d be fast friends.
T
he house was awhirl with activity, the adults in a frenzy, so Noah had decided it was best to get out of their way. He and Alex were out in the park, throwing rocks in the lake.
“Sir Sidney is my father,” Noah explained, “and Sebastian is my half-brother. Sebastian initially journeyed to the Dark Continent when he was ten, so I’m already two years behind.”
“I feel as if I’m falling behind too.”
“I have to finish my schooling,” Noah said, “then when I’m sixteen, Sebastian has promised to buy me a commission in the army. I’m hoping I can earn a fortune there so, in the future, I can fund my own expeditions.”
“You’re so lucky. I wish I had someone who would buy me a commission. I’d love to be a soldier.”
“We should devise a plan to make it happen. Perhaps we can figure out how to join the army together.”
Noah was a great judge of character, and Alex would be worth having by his side. He saw many of his own traits in the other boy, traits such as loyalty and bravery. He believed in Fate too. Lord Selby and Sarah had been searching for Miss Rebecca, and she’d suddenly strolled up the lane—as if magnets were drawing her to them.
Alex had been with her, and Noah didn’t suppose it was an accident that he’d appeared. Fate had brought Alex to Noah so their paths would cross.
“I want to go to Africa with you!” Alex vehemently said. “I could be your second in command. Or I could be your scout like Mr. Shawcross.”
Noah scowled. “How do you know about Mr. Shawcross? Have you met him? Or have you simply read Sebastian’s travelogues?”
“I know him—all too well,” Alex admitted.
“I found him to be a very dodgy fellow.”
“At first, I thought he was amazing, but now, I’m wondering about him.”
“How are you acquainted with him?”
“My father’s estate, Carter Crossing? He’s seized it.”
“Seized it how?”
“My father is a gambler, and he owed money everywhere. Mr. Shawcross purchased his debts and foreclosed. He showed up a few weeks ago, and he’s been causing problems ever since.”
