The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(52)

In her own chamber, Caroline sat down at the desk and penned a note to Lady Tamar, begging for her company at the theatre the following evening if she had no better plans. Only, once she’d given it to Williams to be delivered first thing in the morning, did she bury her head in her hands and acknowledge that this was not solving the problem. She was merely covering the proprieties rather than simply ending this sham engagement.

Caroline had always tried her best to do right, and had stood steadfast in her own sensible opinions, at least until she discovered evidence to the contrary. Yet somehow, she had allowed herself to be swayed by Javan’s mischievous kinsmen into an unbecoming masquerade that had little to do with saving her reputation. Anger with Javan had mingled with the desire to win him, and somehow, she was engaged to another man she did not want. It made no sense and it was wrong.

Decisively, she jumped to her feet, seized her candle, and left her chamber. A quick glance showed her that the drawing room was empty, so she knew where to find Javan.

She knocked on his study door, and this time, after only the slightest pause, his voice bade her come in.

He was watering his plants as she entered and showed no surprise at seeing her.

“Miss Grey, what might I do for you?”

“I wish to speak to you about my engagement,” she blurted.

He stilled for an instant before lowering his watering can and setting it on top of a cabinet. “I am no expert in such matters.”

“Neither,” she said dangerously, “am I.”

He regarded her with faint amusement in his otherwise veiled eyes. “Go on.”

She glared at him. “You know perfectly well this betrothal is a sham. Mr. Benedict pretended it only to save my reputation.”

“Which was never at any risk,” Javan said with a hint of contempt that stung. “If neither of you wanted it, you should have kept quiet.”

“As you did?” she snapped.

He picked up the watering can. “Yes,” he said, opening the next cabinet. “As I did. If you don’t wish to marry him, be patient. He will leave soon enough and then you can just let if drop naturally.”

She stared at his averted face. “That is your best advice?”

“If you don’t like it, you don’t need to take it.” He walked around the cabinet until he stood too close to her. She refused to back away but met his gaze with seething indignation. With his nearness came the inevitable melting of her bones, and a twinge of hope. “What do you want from me, Caroline?” he asked softly. “Another proposal?”

Hope died in a fresh flurry of bitter anger. “Another? I have not received one yet!” With that, she flung away from him and out of the room.

*

Javan watched her go with raging disappointment and guilt. She was in an impossible situation, for a young woman in her position could not go about making and breaking engagements. And her engagement to Richard would be all around Blackhaven by now, perhaps even on its way to London and Richard’s friends and family.

Caroline had come to Javan for help, and he had not given it, mostly because he wasn’t sure it was what she wanted. He couldn’t truly believe she was the devious schemer who had first gone after Braithwaite and then him, before she had settled on his wealthier cousin, a baronet’s heir. The girl he knew would never behave so. And yet…she had not denied the engagement at the outset, although she must have known the compromising situation she’d been discovered in would never have gone beyond the Tamars and the Grants.

But could he blame her for wanting a better life than the drudgery of governessing? And Richard would make her a far better husband. Why then had she come to him about it now? He had always meant to offer himself as the alternative, if only she would come to him honestly. But then she had bolted before he could say the words. And doubts—not so much of her fitness but of his—kept him from following her.

I’m making a mess of this…

When the eerie howling began, he thought for a moment that it came from his own unhappiness and actually bit down on his lips to stop it. A bare instant later, he recognized it for the sound he’d been waiting for. Galvanized, he seized a candle and bolted out of the study and up the back stairs. As before, it was impossible to tell where the strange, echoing wail came from. Javan had no idea where the intruder was, but he knew where he would eventually have to go.

Approaching the library, he saw Marjorie’s head poking out of her bedchamber door. “Javan?” she whispered, clutching his arm. “It’s happening again!”

“I know,” he said grimly. “But this will be the last time. Don’t worry.” He had no doubt of his ability to deal with whoever this turned out to be. In fact, he wanted to deal with them. He wanted to fight, to expend energy on something tangible—a battle against someone other than himself.

The library door was closed as normal, though not completely, for it opened as soon as he pushed it. Darkness shrouded everything within. All his senses alert, in case the intruder lurked there, Javan entered, raising his candle high and quickly searching every corner of the room. Empty…and yet he was sure he sensed something…

And then he saw it. Where the left-hand side of the fireplace should have been, the tiles had been replaced by blackness. A small man-sized hole. He took a hasty step toward it and a man’s head poke out.