My Lady's Choosing: An Interactive Romance Novel(76)

“We did it, my darling!” you say. “We won!” Benedict turns to you, his expression that of a lost soul in the inferno.

“Have we?” he says, his voice hollow. “I am glad that you tried to intervene peaceably with Cad, and that your clever words put us at an advantage. But don’t you see, my darling? It doesn’t change a thing.”

“What do you mean?” you cry.

“I mean that Henrietta will still be ruined if the truth comes out. I mean that I have opportunities as a man that she will not have. Don’t you see? I have a better chance in this world as a penniless bastard than she does.”

“And so you will allow yourself to be ruined in order to save her? Even if she doesn’t want it?”

“I’ll do it because she needs me to. A fortune and legitimacy will give her a chance at making a match with any number of men—it is her best shot at escaping the clutches of Cad. As much as it pains me to see him as owner of Manberley.”

“But it isn’t fair!” you sob.

Benedict only shrugs.

“Life generally isn’t. But still. Whatever am I to do with you?” he murmurs into your hair as you cling to him.

“Well, whatever it is, you best do it far away from here,” Lady Evangeline says gently. “Go, take my carriage. I’ll follow you shortly after I’ve cleared up this mess.” Benedict smiles at her gratefully.

“You’re a lifesaver, Vange.”

“Believe me, Benny, I know,” she says. She winks at you as you beat a hasty retreat from the room.





Turn to this page.





You and Mrs. Butts take tea. It is a balm for your soul. “You see and hear strange things at all hours in a house like this. I know, for truly I am a strange thing myself!” She laughs warmly, and you find that the sound softens the sharp edges of your fears.

“Ghosts, aye,” she continues. “What be they but memories having a look around? I wouldn’t worry about ghosts. I did wonder, though, if such things could be, when her ghost would come and say a piece about how she met her end. He were with her when she died, as were the child, but of course you can’t get him to breathe a word of the ordeal. Too pained about it, I’d wager.”

You choke on your tea. “Master Craven witnessed the death of his wife?” you ask gravely as you refill her cup.

“Of course he did, love.” Mrs. Butts regards you with twinkling eyes. “Haven’t you heard talk of how he might have caused it himself?” Upon hearing this you spill the tea all over your lap. You leap up and yelp, in part due to the tea and in part due to this revelation. She dabs at your lap with a napkin. “Not for sport, mind you, or for jealousy, though it were oft said she had a wandering eye. Pretty woman like her could have her pick of men, and she liked to, I suppose. No, the real problem were that she weren’t much for mothering. She did not want to be tied down in the family way, and she certainly did not want to be at Master Alexander’s beck and call.”

“Did you…,” you begin to say, but then swallow hard. “Did you observe her mothering? Often?” Your words feel thick on a clumsy tongue.

“I would say…,” Mrs. Butts thinks a moment. “I observed her being upset about her lot in life. Some of the other servants might say harsher things, like she hit the child, or broke his spirit with words lashed like a whip, or turned him away like a beggar in a storm. And that by doing so, she broke Lord Craven’s heart.”

You visibly start when she mentions Lord Craven’s name. She smooths your hair with her hand. “Oh, love, you mustn’t worry,” she says. “If he did kill her, I’m sure it were an accident. Even if it were on purpose, whatever happened that night surely has not let the man rest since. So take that as a cold comfort, whatever you do. Biscuit?”

Mrs. Butts extends a small silver tray. You take a biscuit and eat it dumbly while considering your next move.

Your next move turns out to be eating another biscuit. Then another. And another. Finally, Mrs. Butts snatches the plate, not unkindly, from your hands.

“Perhaps it’s time to gather your thoughts, love?” she offers. You nod. It’s time for you to gather something, all right.





Do you decide to gather information and confront Craven directly to find out what the devil is going on? If so, turn to this page.

Or do you decide to gather resolve, be the Best Governess Ever, and teach Master Alexander some swordplay? If so, turn to this page.





“Run, Kamal!” You pull his arm and flee in the opposite direction.

Though your escape is hindered by the teeming crowds, you push on, pulse racing, as Fabien and his henchmen close in.

“Miss! This way!” Kamal points to a narrow alley. You force yourself through the small gap between a market stall holder and a haggling customer, and have almost made it to freedom when a small child nods, as if on cue, and upends a barrel of apples. The bright red fruits roll underfoot, causing several bystanders to lose their balance. One older man lands upon Kamal as he falls, breaking your grasp on him.

“Run ahead, please! I will try to distract them!” Kamal pushes off the old man and staggers to his feet.

“No, Kamal!”

“You must go! It is you they want!” Kamal runs back toward your pursuers, the crowd closing around him. “Save yourself, I beg you!”