My Lady's Choosing: An Interactive Romance Novel(42)

“Oi! Dodger! No! Bad dog!”

You are broken from your reverie just in time to see Dodger racing back into the building—and little Timmy chasing after him.





Bloody Dodger. Turn to this page.





You race Craven to young Alexander’s room, and once there, you find the child crumpled in a sobbing heap on the floor.

Almost all the paintings of Blanche that hung elsewhere in the home have been gathered here, which is impressive considering their sheer number. Even more impressive, and horrifying, is that the eyes of every face have been ripped out.

You are struck by the sick poetry of it—if Blanche could see you now, trysting with her husband while her child screams for help…

Master Alexander turns his reddened eyes to you. “Mama’s coming to get me again. Just like she got Helena!”

Helena?

“We NEVER speak that name, child!” Craven roars.

“But Papa,” Alexander pleads, “she still plays with me every night!”

Something darker and more pained than any of the dark and pained looks that you’ve seen cross Craven’s face. “Never!” he rasps. He flees the room, leaving you and Alexander alone with…

“Helena?” you half whisper.

“My sister!” Alexander cries. Sister? But you did not know of a sister…Your heart drops as the child grips your hands in his tiny fingers and weeps into your outstretched palms. “Helena says that she’s not at peace, and neither is Mama.” Hearing these words, a chill runs down your spine.

“She says to watch out for the bad man,” Alexander whispers, and your blood runs cold.





Enough of this.

If you wish to go straight to Craven and demand to know exactly WTF is going on, turn to this page.

If you would love to get a straight answer from Craven but know that such a thing isn’t possible even on a good day, let alone a day with a marathon passionate interlude just before his child brought up his dead other child’s ghostly warning of danger, maybe you would be better off doing some sneaking around on your own first. Turn to this page.





Constantina struggles against her captors the whole way back to the castle.

“Scum! You are all scum!” she cries.

“Of course, dear,” you say, as though she is merely another recalcitrant orphan. “Now behave or you’ll be sent to bed without supper.”

Fortunately, the castle is old enough to have an actual dungeon, which yet more fortunately has been untouched by the ravages of time. You and Mac leave Constantina there, screaming about Napoleon.

No sooner have you stepped back into the fresh air than you run into a smartly dressed man, who can only be—

“Lord Fleming!” Ollie cries.

“The top spymaster in Britain,” Mac whispers to you. “No doubt our friend’s chief of command.”

“We came as soon as we heard,” Lord Fleming says briskly. “Well done, Ruston.” Ollie whispers something in Lord Fleming’s ear. The spymaster frowns, but Ollie whispers something more, and then Fleming hands him two packages, which he brings to you and Mac.

“Colonel Abercrombie’s older brother died without issue several months ago,” he explains. “That made Colonel Abercrombie the laird of this place. Of course, given the circumstances of this case, all his assets were seized for the crown…”

“So we’re out, then,” Mac interrupts, taking your hand in his own rough, manly paw. “Us and the orphans. Homeless.”

Your heart sinks. But Ollie hands Mac the packages.

“No. You saved my life. And Lord Fleming has pulled a few strings. Since this was once property of a man who betrayed his country and caused the deaths of so many of his countrymen, it is only fitting that his lands should go to those who have suffered from such actions.”

“You don’t mean…” you say.

Ollie grins. “Captain Angus MacTaggart, it is my pleasure to inform you that this castle and all the land belonging to it is now the property of the Society for the Protection of Widows and Orphans of the War.”

You and Mac exchange astonished glances. Ollie shrugs and then looks around at the crumbling structure disapprovingly.

“I may also be owed a considerable reward for finally finding the mole and uncovering rather a large amount of information that will help us find other traitors. Thanks, again, to you two,” he says. “It is money I have no interest in, given the circumstances, and it seems to me you could do with some repairs around here.”

“Oh, Ollie, you can’t—”

But Ollie waves his hand dismissively. “I want you to have the money so you can make this hovel a suitable place to raise these children. I can think of no better purpose for it.”

Mac shakes Ollie’s hand vehemently. “I don’t know how to thank ye.” Ollie fixes his gaze on you.

“Some time alone with her would be more than enough.”

You smile at Mac. You feel his gaze boring into your back as Ollie leads you to the other side of the room. “What is it, Ollie?”

He cups your face gently, and you gasp.

“I realized something tonight,” he says. “That all this time, I was in love with a mirage.” Suddenly, his russet hair and the hopeful expression in those rich brown eyes make him seem once more like the boy you used to love. “The only woman I have ever truly loved is you. And I don’t want to lose you a second time.”