My Lady's Choosing: An Interactive Romance Novel(78)

“I know what that is,” he says, his odd voice dropping to an even odder whisper. “Those are Mama’s struggling clothes.”

“Whatever do you mean?” you ask, and suddenly realize you are clutching one of the late Lady Craven’s negligees.

“Those shiny things,” Alexander continues. “Mama wore them when she was struggling with a man.”

“Struggling? Whatever do you mean by—oh.” You realize what the child means. He must have witnessed his mother and Lord Craven…enjoying each other. “Master Alexander, struggling is something your mother and father did to—”

“No!” the boy cries. “Mama never struggled with Papa. It was another man. A dark angel, Mama said, when she was struggling.” He changes tack before you can gather your thoughts. “Do you want to see something?”

Master Alexander shuffles over to the rug before the hearth and pulls it back to reveal a dark scorch mark, the size and shape, your late-night mind thinks, of a beautiful lady.

“I look at this sometimes, when I’m afraid,” he says. “Then I know I can’t be hurt anymore.”

Your mind reels, however sluggishly. The scorch marks. The fireplace. The forbidden room.

There are so many things you don’t know, or don’t know for certain, but now you have stumbled onto at least one fact. You finally realize why Lord Craven didn’t want you to fence with his son in here: this was the very room in which he lost his wife. Likely, you shudder to think, due to some sort of horrific, fiery accident—and possibly due to some sort of affair. Though you know Lord Craven is brooding, his brooding does not seem like that of one pining for a dead lover. Begrudgingly, you realize it is a brooding perhaps more in line with a devoted lover who has been thoughtlessly passed over for another.

Whatever the case, you realize now how Lady Craven died.

You know you must apologize for the wrong you’ve unknowingly done to Craven by fencing with his child on the site of his wife’s death.





You must apologize to Craven, but properly. Therefore, you need advice concerning the right words to say and the right time to say them. Turn to this page.

You must apologize to Craven immediately. It is unspeakably bold of you, but you know you must seek him in his chambers. Hop to and turn to this page.





Evangeline takes you on a long, twisting camel ride through secret tent towns and hidden passages. Before you know it, you are pulled through a flapping tarp into what you can only describe as a rogues’ watering hole wonderland.

“Welcome to the Wahhat Ranya,” says a graceful, dark-skinned woman, her hair braided in delicate strands tightly to her head. She smiles at you, radiating calm. “A simple tavern, run by our great proprietress, Ranya Abd al-Sayyid.” She points to an older woman standing behind the bar; she has a shock of gray hair and wears an eye patch. The older woman nods at you.

“My name is Damilola Adebisi,” she continues. “And I am leading this band of vagabonds through the desert to our next, shall we say, job?” An audible snicker rises among the women, which Damilola silences expertly with a quick, cool look.

“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance,” you say politely.

“Oh, Jaysis, she’s an Englishwoman! And a posh one at that!” The voice comes from a scowling, youthful face with a turned-up nose and a dusting of freckles, framed by a mass of red curls. Damilola sighs.

“This is Gráinne. She is an expert shot, and not too shabby with a cutlass either.” Gráinne spits and says nothing.

Damilola points to a wiry young woman whose dark hair is pulled back in a long, neat braid. Her large brown eyes sparkle with amusement.

“This is Noor, our master sailor. There is not a vessel around that she cannot work…among other things.” The rest of the women roar with laughter.

You blush as Damilola then points to a pair of heavyset women who had been arm-wrestling in the corner. “This is María José and Amirah. They can best any man in a fight, or any woman for that matter.” You don’t doubt it.

“Lastly, this is my second-in-command, Ming,” Damilola says. Ming is tiny yet gives you the impression of a tightly coiled spring, ready to pounce. “She is the deadliest woman alive when she has a knife. But I have seen her kill men with her bare hands, too.” Ming looks at Damilola with eyes full with pride and love. You gulp.

“We are all of us travelers here, and we have many women from all walks of life,” Damilola continues. “But I think that you are new to this world. Tell me, how did you come to meet Lady Evangeline?”

Before you can answer, Evangeline claps her hands. “Ladies!” she says. “I’m in need of reinforcements! Delphine must pay for what she has done. I have let this go on for too long, accepting what she does, whom she hurts, due to a lingering misspent…affection. But when she also involves those I love within her schemes? Well, then I must take action.”

“Action?” you say and stare into those bright sapphire orbs now burning with righteous fury.

“Yes, my dear,” says Evangeline as she casually rubs your cheek with her thumb. “It will be an extremely dangerous journey, and one that may end in death. I have resigned myself to it, but I do not expect you to join me in it. I ask that you leave.”