My Lady's Choosing: An Interactive Romance Novel(28)
“…not knowing what the future holds, only that you are unwanted in this world and that—”
Fabien falls silent as you smack him over the head with the rock. As he slumps to the ground, you use the edge of the knife tucked in his waistband to cut through your ties.
“Adieu, Fabien,” you whisper, and then kiss his bleeding forehead. Taking the knife, you mount a camel and head into the desert.
Unfortunately, you are not exactly skilled at camel riding and can barely make the animal move in the direction you wish. Still, it is enough to give you a head start and lose your captor.
You do not know how far you must go to reach safety, and before long it is morning. The blazing Egyptian sun beats down on you mercilessly. Your throat burns and your lips crack, but you dare not take a drink. You are running low on water, and you fear there is much more desert ahead of you.
Perhaps this was a mistake. Perhaps you may die here…
Suddenly you spot an object, far upon the horizon. Some large structure out here in the middle of the Sahara. Is it a mirage? No, as you draw closer you can hear, coming from within the structure, shouts, raucous laughter, wild music, and what sounds like several fights happening at once.
You fall off your camel and stagger to the door, your legs buckling and your vision blurry. As you tumble through the doorway, several curious faces turn toward you. To your unfocused gaze they all appear to be…women? Strange women, wearing all manner of dress…and undress.
Some stare at you with hardened ferocity, some gaze with sharp-eyed curiosity, and some seem not to mark you at all. The effect is unsettling, and yet…impossibly exhilirating. Where could you have found yourself now?
This cannot be real, you think. And then the world turns black.
Seriously, where have you got to now? Turn to this page to find out.
You raise an eyebrow haughtily and bore your gaze right back at him. You are damned if you will let yourself be intimidated.
“Of course, Sir Benedict,” you trill as sweetly as you can manage. “I shall do as you wish. Don’t mind me, I am now off to do something demure. Needlework, perhaps.”
You smooth your skirts daintily and trip off to find someone to interrogate. To your misfortune, almost immediately you are waylaid by Nigel Frickley.
“Oh, it is marvelous to see you looking so well!” he exclaims.
“Thank you, Mr. Frickley, but I have to—”
Nigel summarily cuts you off with a stream of boundless enthusiasm. “I say, would—would you care to take a turn around the room with me?” he yelps, an overexcited puppy as always, and you cannot bear to reject him.
“Of course, Mr. Frickley,” you say politely. “A turn about the room would be most—”
“Mind if I cut in?”
“I-I, er…,” splutters Nigel, as none other than Cad grabs your arm and leads you away.
“Mr. Caddington?” you say pointedly, trying to fight the sinking feeling that the raft of your well-being is about to be upended on the stormy seas of Cad’s whims. His eyes devour every inch of you.
“That’s Sir Rafe Granville now, sweeting,” he says, backing you into a corner with that fallen angel’s body. He leans to whisper in your ear. “You would do well to remember that.”
You realize with shock that you have aroused his body. Now if only you could get him to let something slip without arousing his suspicion as well…
Now that this blackguard has you cornered, it is the perfect opportunity to coax more information out of him. Turn to this page.
“I’m sorry,” you say to Lady Evangeline. “But my heart still beats for one impossible, infuriating, wonderful man, and for him alone.”
Lady Evangeline smiles gently.
“I completely understand. And may I say, it is gratifying to see that my dear cousin Benny has at last found love.”
“A love that cannot be,” you say with a sigh.
“You might be surprised at that.”
Before you can ask what she means, your heart lurches as you spot a familiar dark head coming through the crowds.
“Benedict?!” you cry. “What are you doing here?”
“I have news for you. News that I knew I had to deliver myself.” He is out of breath but continues his story, his eyes afire. “You see, inspired by you I have taken upon an investigation. I have long suspected my Aunt Aurelia, your employer, of intrigue. However, my suspicions were fully aroused when I saw her receive what must have been legal documents—documents with your name on them.”
“But what could they be?” you ask.
“Well, it took some pushing, and some probing, and finally some outright threats, but it seems that Aunt Aurelia has been hiding the fact that your father left you a rather large inheritance.”
“But Papa died penniless!” you cry. “Bankrupted from foolish investments!”
“Not all of them,” Benedict says. “It seems there was a diamond mine that was thought to have been spent, until a rather large amount more was discovered a year ago.”
“So…I am an heiress to diamonds?” you say.
“In part, yes. But the real bulk of your fortune comes from an investment in an innovation for canning fish. You are rich beyond measure, thanks to kippers.”