My Lady's Choosing: An Interactive Romance Novel(49)
You clutch the letter to your chest. The prospect is tempting. Still, you are loath to leave the children. And Mac, for that matter. The realization gnaws at you, and you open the other letter in a huff.
It is printed in a hand that seems strangely familiar. It is also unsigned. All this would be mysterious enough, but it is the content that truly sends a chill down your spine.
You are in grave danger. Leave this place—lest you suffer the fate of poor Constantina!
You stare at the skull-white page, reading the two sentences over and over. Is it a warning…or a threat?
Well, cripes.
Do you take the letter’s advice and get the hell away from the Highland mist—and potential attempts upon your life—in favor of warmer climes and Egyptian adventure? If so, turn to this page.
Anyone could have sent that letter, and you cannot tell if that person’s motives are proper. Plus, there is something about Mac that compels you to trust him and stay…and it isn’t just his caber. Perhaps some sleuthing is in order? Turn to this page.
You enter the great estate of Manberley solemn and bow-legged. You must ready your mind for a future so undesirable, so colorless, that to dwell on its reality would only be a disservice to the wonderful dream you have just had the opportunity of living.
You resolve, at the very least, either to flee the Dragon’s employ for someone less detestable or to ratchet up your kindness toward her so that you may see Benedict as often as possible. You look over only to catch him burning a look of love into your eyes.
“Your breeches are still unbuttoned, my love,” you whisper solemnly and watch his face riot with panic as he attempts to right his wrong. When he realizes you have bested him, and that his buttons are in fact entirely in order, you snicker.
“Made you look,” you whisper, hoping he has not heard your voice—or heartbreak.
You take one last breath of happiness before entering the mansion, only to be greeted by an extended shriek from the Dragon, who exits the estate in an angry, agitated hurry.
“SCANDAL!” the Dragon cries. “SCANDAL AND SHAME!” Her dancing, beady eyes alight on Benedict’s fine, jaggedly walking frame. “Where have you BEEN, Benedict? Henrietta! She is gone! She has run off with—with—a FARMER!” She breaks into a fit of pitiful wails.
“Now! Here! What is all this about?” Benedict asks, a man in command once more, a king returning to his kingdom.
You look about you and witness a mad scene: servants in confusion, furniture upended, and no sign of Cad or Henrietta anywhere. There, looking serene and beautiful as ever amidst the madness, is Lady Evangeline, reclining on the settee with a cordial in hand and a smile as wide as the great moors.
“How the devil did she beat us here from London?” Benedict whispers to you, his voice husky with postcoital satisfaction.
“Women have their ways,” you respond, in awe of everything. Turning to Lady Evangeline, you say, “What’s news with you, my lady? It seems a great happening has, erm, happened while we were away.”
“It has indeed,” Lady Evangeline responds calmly. “It appears someone, certainly not me, sent hard proof of the living existence of one Mr. Caddington, signed by a warden of Bedlam, to all the papers in London. Cad disappeared, as did his claims on the Granville name and fortune, as quickly as said papers were published. Oh, and Henrietta has eloped with her farmer. Do you have the time, dear cousin?”
Benedict, his beautiful face broken into a full grin, glances at the timepiece on the mantel. “It appears that it is one o’clock.”
“Ah, yes.” Lady Evangeline smiles. “Henrietta and Farmer Sam should be making excellent stride to Gretna Green by now.”
“GRETNA GREEN! To elope?! Oh! Oh, I shall faint!” The Dragon has reappeared, if only to feign fainting dramatically.
“Please hold your faint, aunt, for a moment,” Benedict says. Then, still grinning, he takes your face in his. “Cousin!”
“Yes, Benny?” Lady Evangeline says. You beam. Joy is contagious.
“Can you see about publishing the banns? I would like to make this young woman my wife as soon as possible, if she’ll have me.” You gaze at the man you love, the man you ferociously bedded in the carriage. There will be many carriage rides in your future.
“She will,” you say, smiling. “I suppose. Certainly you need someone to keep you on your toes.”
Benedict chuckles. “She supposes! It is settled then! We are to be married!” he shouts, his voice a waltz of joy you have danced before.
“No!” cries the Dragon. “Scandal! Shame! SCANDAL AND SHAME!”
“Scandal and shame, indeed, Auntie darling,” you whisper, practically into Benedict’s mouth.
“Scandal and shame, indeed,” he says, laughing. And you drown out the rest of your laughter by kissing, kissing, kissing to the tune of the household’s happy cheers—and the Dragon’s pitiful cries of disgust.
The End
Two can play that game. You also storm out to the moors, in what you assume is the opposite direction Lord Craven took, judging by the trail of broken brandy bottles.
You have been storming for about half an hour before you realize you are lost. Mist swirls around you, obstructing your view so you cannot see where you have come from or where you are going. In the distance, a creature howls. The lump of fear in your throat only grows when you see a black-clad figure coming toward you. You gasp and feel about in your reticule for something that may offer some defense against the…