Very Truly Yours, Simone
greenwriter · 34 chapters · 72,922 words
Very Truly Yours, Simone
Miss Simone Priest met Daniel Cavendish when she was sixteen through a letter and a miracle. But her innocent and unrequited love turns mysterious when Daniel suddenly disappears.
Now at twenty-five and stripped of her girlish hair ribbons and fantasies, Simone meets Daniel again. But he’s completely changed. Long gone is the charming actor who inspired her to pursue her passion and dreams. He’s now surrounded by an air of cold mystery and authority that makes him even more unreachable. It will not be long before Simone discovers why he disappeared, and why, when it seems that his feelings have changed, she is not the one he should want.
The Abberton Series will center on the Stratford cousins and their life in their beloved home, Abberton.
I hope everyone will enjoy this new family as they did the Haverstons and the Everards.
Very Truly Yours,
J.D. Ruiz
OTHER STORIES BY J.D. RUIZ
The Stratfords
Part I
When she was sixteen and everything was innocent.
1. the letter
Dear Mr Cavendish,
It is with great respect that I write this letter. My name is Miss Simone Priest and I
’m your neighbor. While I do love our quaint neighborhood, I’m afraid that there is much to improve on our villas, most particularly the walls. It is not your fault, of course, that they are somehow built too thin with too little space in between.
I have learned that you are an actor and must be passionate about your craft because last night I heard you, with no intent to eavesdrop, practicing your lines with a fellow actor, a woman who has such an amazing voice. However, I could not sleep because of the noise. It pains me to write this letter after what I heard last night. Your dear friend must have met an accident as I heard her crying. She must have been in pain. I heard her whimpering for quite some time throughout the night, and did not miss the shout of pain. I hope she is doing well now.
My other concern, of course, is that you may find my request troublesome. Again, this is no one
’s fault but our poorly constructed walls. As to my request, if it is of no consequence, perhaps you can find a different room, one that is not northward, to practice in. That would be thoroughly appreciated.
Please accept the small gift that comes with this letter. Consider it a sign of my gratitude for taking the time to read my concerns. It is a concoction that will help you sleep at night. I know you have trouble sleeping as I can always hear the squeaking of your bed, last night being particularly stronger and more frequent. I also hope you can pull the bed a few inches from the wall (I also hear the banging along with the squeaking).
Again, I apologize that I have to write this letter. Welcome to the neighborhood, Mr. Cavendish.
Sincerely,
Miss Simone Priest
Simone was looking out the window, her cousin Lydia at her side. Both girls were roughly the same age, Simone sixteen and Lydia fifteen. They were best friends, they would say, but really, they were more like siblings. As the only girls in their family who were close in age, they always believed they should be sisters.
“There,” Lydia excitedly whispered, elbowing Simone. With wide ribbons above their heads, they perked up to their knees and pressed their nose against the windowpane.
“Do you think he’s famous?” Simone asked as they watched their neighbor cross the street.
“Not quite,” said Lydia, eyes narrowed. Mr. Cavendish looked young, maybe the same age as their eldest cousin, Harry. “But the maids know him.”
“The maids know him because they know everyone,” Simone said.
Lydia pushed away from the window and away from the afternoon sunlight.
“Do you think he got my letter, Lydia?” Simone asked, looking over her shoulder at her cousin.
“What letter?” a low voice asked from the doorway of the parlor. They turned and found Gale standing there, apple in hand.
The villa of the Earl of Abberton in Picadilly Street was full of young people. Sure, the earl could afford a larger housing, but the quaint Picadilly Street was special to him. It was where he realized his dreams, Abraham Stratford had said so many times before. And so, every social season in Coulway, the capital city in the kingdom of Sutherland, he would gather everyone here. All nine Stratford children would leave the spacious Abberton House and squeeze themselves into the seven-bedroom villa in Picadilly. Nine! Well, at least most of the nine because the older ones were quite busy going places.
It would have been fine if things were not chaotic most days, but they were. Their grandfather liked the chaos. He welcomed it even at the age of seventy-eight. But not Simone and Lydia. Peace and quiet for them only came at night when the two youngest Stratfords were asleep or when the older cousins were out for business or their clubs.
That’s why Simone wrote the letter to their new neighbor. He was just a bit loud at night. Well, maybe she was also curious. It was not daily that they get a young, handsome neighbor. However, he was not very social. Even Lydia, who could catch gossips even when asleep, could not gather much about the man.
“Nothing,” Simone and Lydia chorused, nonchalantly taking their place in the chaise. The two youngest Stratford girls of age four and five rushed past Gale’s legs and into the parlor, laughing at something or nothing, brown hair bounding with them. They climbed on Simone and Lydia, and both, with perfect synchrony they mastered over the years, lifted the two girls off their lap and back onto the floor. Roxie and Freda turned and ran toward Gale who, in a move he mastered over his eighteen years, stepped to the side, taking a bite from his apple, stepped back when the girls chased, and again to the side until they gave up and exited the room to cause havoc elsewhere.
“I saw the neighbor cross the street. Were you talking about him?” he perfectly guessed, settling in the opposite chaise, crossing his leg over the other.
“No,” they both denied in a manner so strongly unconvincing.
“Hm,” Gale hummed in a very taunting way. “Of course,” he said. He continued chewing, not letting go of their gaze as his gaze narrowed. “I wonder if I should tell Harry.”
Simone shrugged one shoulder. “What good would it do?”
“None for you both, certainly,” he said with an evil curl at the corner of his mouth.
“We’re too old to be intimidated, Gale,” Lydia said.
Gale tilted his head to the side and took another bite, the crunching sound as irritating as his grin. It did not help that his light brown hair looked golden where the sunlight touched. It made him look like an angel, which he was not most of the time. They knew because they were his minions and he theirs depending on the situation. “Yes, you’re probably right,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Harry doesn’t have time for such trivial things such as his two young cousins spying on the new neighbor and writing him letters. However…” He let the anticipation linger for a while. “Web and Damon might be interested,” he said. At the mention of her brothers, Simone glowered while Gale wiggled his perfect brows at them.
“You’re worse than Price,” Simone groaned.
“What do you want?” Lydia wryly asked, crossing her arms.
“Ah, good question.” He straightened in his seat. “I need you, young ladies, to help me with something. For my silence,” he added the last part in dramatic whisper.
They groaned.
“Ah—” Gale said, pointing his apple at them. “Do I hear a protest?”
Simone and Lydia sighed and rolled their eyes.
That very afternoon, they accompanied Gale to the Paragon Exchange, the famous bazaar near Bridge Street where the jewel of his season could be found.
“You could have just gone on your own,” Lydia said, looking around the crowded place. The entire building was filled with shops. One side mostly catered to women, the other men. But that’s not where Gale intended to go. He guided them to the courtyard which was the brightest in the building, much thanks to the glass dome ceiling. Chairs and tables for the outdoor cafe scattered the place along with men and women who batted their eyes at one another. The first time they witnessed such act of flirtation, Simone wondered how it worked. Was it even possible to see each other’s eyes from yards away?
“He’s not confident enough,” Simone noted, glancing at Gale’s face. A bead of sweat ran down his temple, his eyes flickering back and forth to their table and the small dress shop to their right.
“If you get her name, I’ll forget about the letter you sent to our neighbor,” he said, leaning over his tea.
Simone and Lydia turned their heads at the direction where his brown eyes were glued, seemingly enchanted. Their own brown eyes narrowed. “Don’t you think she’s a bit too old for you, Gale?” asked Lydia.
“Too tall, too,” added Simone.
“What are you on about? She’s perfect!” their cousin said with heartfelt wonder.
Both ladies shook their heads. Gale always fancied himself in love with someone. Their fingers and toes combined were not enough to count the number of girls he claimed to be in love with back home in Abberton. “I can’t quite agree,” Simone said, “But she must be a good modiste, cousin. Women are lining outside.”
Lydia nodded, but still looking quite baffled.
Simone faced Gale. “Cousin, you’re not looking for a mother figure by any chance, are you?”
Lydia’s eyes widened, then sympathetically softened. Her hand went to her heart as she said, “Oh, Gale. We all miss our parents, that’s for sure. But I truly think you’re just going through a phase this time.”
They reached and held each of his hand in comfort. Gale’s handsome face crumpled in confusion, his brows fusing in an angry line. “What in the hell are you two talking about?” he hissed, pulling his hands free to gesture at the shop. “She’s perfect! She’s not old, and she’s not tall! Just look at her!”
Again, Simone and Lydia turned. And there, they saw her. “Oh,” Simone said. “I thought you meant the modiste.”
“I thought you mean the one being fitted,” Lydia said with a wave of her hand. “And oh, look at that! She’s a beauty, isn’t she, Sisi?”
“Indeed,” Simone replied, smiling conspiratorially. They tore their eyes off the young lady with chestnut hair assisting the modiste and back to their cousin. “Her name must be very precious.”
“Utterly,” added Lydia. “I wonder why you asked no one for her name?” she asked Gale.
“I just saw her this morning,” he said. He leaned forward and caught Simone’s gaze. “Remember Web and Damon, Sisi,” he said with a smile, some wavy brown locks hanging between his eyebrows.
“Oh, I’m sure they’ll let it pass if grandfather steps in,” she said, feigning nonchalance. She knew Gale was desperate. It was written all over his face. She shared a look with Lydia before she added, “In exchange for her name, you’re going to take us to a play,” she said.
“He will?” Lydia asked, blinking rapidly. “Then I would also love to get a few things from the art store, Gale. I need some fresh paints.”
Simone did not break eye contact with Gale who was clearly struggling. Growing up together like siblings, she could read him like the back of her hand.
“You are not yet old enough to enter a theater.”
Simone sighed and stood. Lydia followed. “Very well. See you at supper, cousin.” They started to walk away.
“Wait!”
They stopped but did not turn.
“Bloody hell. Just one play.” Lydia turned to him with an expectant look on her face. “Fine. And paints.”
Without another word, Simone and Lydia turned toward the direction of the shop. Nearly three hours later, they both got dresses (paid for by Gale), new paints for Lydia, and a name for Gale. And another hour later, before supper, they acquired tickets for Mr. Cavendish’s play.
2. the miracle
The sunny Tuesday was perfect for the younger Stratfords who had nothing to do during a social season. Too young for ballrooms, they had more time for other things. One of them, of course, was laying out bribes and threats.
“If this doesn’t go as planned, it’s not my fault,” Gale murmured under his breath.
“This will go as planned, Gale. You are of age.”
“And you look like infants,” he growled out through pursed lips.
Simone’s heart was racing, but she lifted her chin and tried her best to look like a proper lady. Lydia was clinging to Gale as if she’d faint any moment.
“Crazy infants, I might add,” Gale added. “Lydia, let go!”
“I don’t feel well,” Lydia said. “Sisi, maybe we should leave.”
“Yes. Perfect. We should,” Gale immediately said, turning away from the line.
Simone pushed him back. “No, we’re entering the theater! Lydia, here.” She placed a tiny bottle under her cousin’s nose. “Breathe.”
“Is this grandfather’s?” Lydia moved away from the bottle. “The same one he injects into his nostrils?”
“Maybe.”
Lydia shook her head and looked around, her lips pale. “If we get caught, we’ll be in trouble. Harry will kill us.”
“Yes, definitely,” Gale said, attempting another turn.
“No, he won’t. He’s in Strait for business.”
“And we’ll be in hell if he finds out!” Gale hissed over his shoulder, smiling at the gentleman behind Simone. His eyes landed on her head. “Get rid of those ribbons,” he ordered.
“But—”
“They don’t only make you look like bloody infants—they make you look like forgotten Christmas gifts.”
“That’s rather harsh of you,” Lydia snapped, her face flushing with color.
Gale plucked the ribbons off their heads and threw them inside his coat. “I can’t believe I’m condoning this. All for an actor!”
“And I can’t believe you’re willing to condone this. All for a lady!” Simone answered back.
“Hush,” Gale ordered, pulling Lydia with him toward the doorway. “Oh, for God’s sake, Lydia, move your feet!”
“They’re quite flimsy at the moment. And if you’re not so brusque, I might manage a step, Gale.”
Gale forced out a patient breath. “You know, if you’re both unsure, I suggest we go home.”
“We’re sure,” Simone said.
“Lydia isn’t, Sisi.”
“My mind is stronger than my legs, Gale,” Lydia said. With a determined look in her brown eyes, she said, “We’ve been through more challenging things than this in Abberton. Truth be told, breaking into the village chapel was scarier. I still pay for that sin every Sunday.”
“We’re going in,” Simone said.
They were nearing the door. “Remember—If this doesn’t work, it’s not my fault. You tell everyone you got the ticket from the neighbor as a gift and you didn’t know there’s an age limit to the show.”
But it did work. The man guarding the door did not even spare them a look. His eyes focused on their tickets and then on the next ticket. All three of them let out a sigh of relief.
“Our ribbons, Gale,” Simone said, holding up her hand.
“Good heavens,” Gale complained in a pained voice as his cousins searched his coat.
Lydia and Simone faced each other and expertly replaced their silk ribbons on each other’s head—pink for Lydia and gray for Simone—then stepped back and inspected each other’s dresses (the one Gale paid for) and excitedly closed the distance between them, hands tightly clasped together.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Gale groaned, turning away as if he could pretend he did not know them.
“I feel like a lady just being here,” Lydia squealed, looping her arm around Gale’s. Simone did the same on the other side.
“Let go,” Gale growled under his breath.
Simone and Lydia tightened their hold, not hearing him. They were now busy looking around, eyes wide with wonder. The ceiling was so high, with lamps hanging in midair. They pointed with awe at anything they found interesting and amazing, drawing some attention where they passed.
Gale squirmed away from their hold and expertly maneuvered around and behind them, pushing them toward an arcade and through one of the arches, emerging into a wide space with rows of seats. Theirs were in front, right below the stage.
“Do not be too obvious, please,” Gale pleaded as the two of them gaped with excitement, their ribbon-ridden brown head turning in every direction. He sank into his chair, hooding his face with one hand.
“Oh, balderdash! You barely even have any experience on these things,” Simone said, staring at the stage in anticipation.
They went on like that until the lights were shut, the stage lit up, and the magic began. And when he walked out, dressed expensively, presenting himself as the Duke of Weshire, Simone and Lydia squeezed each other’s hand.
And when Daniel Cavendish faced the audience, eyes strong as his character, his voice whole and resounding, every emotion of a cold but miserable man there on his handsome face, Simone knew.
She knew she was enamored.
He was perfect—just like the books talked about. His brows were thick and had a life of their own, moving as he willed them into different expressions. His jaw was sharp, his mouth firm when shut, but could spill words so delicately, so touching that twice or more, Simone and Lydia brought their hands to their chest in response, as if they could also feel his suffering and little joys. Even his nose was perfect, not too tall nor too slim. Just perfect for his deep-set eyes.
But it was not just the way he looked. It was the way he moved, his body lean yet fluid. He could have walked and Simone would have thought he was floating and dancing. His hands were as graceful as a woman’s when the scene demanded it, and screamed of security when he pulled his love toward him for a thorough kiss.
Simone and Lydia hid behind their fans with an “Oh!” while Gale snickered behind his hand. Cheeks heated, Simone forced herself to look over the edge of her fan. And to her surprise, his eyes landed on hers. She ducked back behind her wall of lace, blindly gripping Gale’s hand, twisting her cousin’s finger as if she could wring out her utter embarrassment.
Gale’s cry of pain echoed around the theater. Before the music drowned it, Gale slumped low in his chair, hissing, “Let go—Sisi! Ow!” His foot stomped on hers. She let go, and he slapped her hand away.
The lights on the stage dimmed. Simone peeked and sighed in relief. He was gone. The other actors were now doing another act.
“Don’t touch me,” Gale warned when she reached for his hand.
“Gale,” she said, “Did you see that?”
“See what?” Lydia asked, hearing her.
“He looked at me.”
“No, he didn’t,” said Gale. “Stop dreaming.”
“He did!”
“Well, maybe he did because you were murdering my bloody finger!”
“Shh!”
“Apologies,” they murmured over their shoulders. Two ladies were glaring at them. And far behind the ladies, in the third row, someone else was scowling. She knew his eyes were brown like hers, but at that moment, they were as dark as the days that would follow this one. Simone went cold.
She whirled her head back to the stage. “Gale,” she whispered, swallowing.
“What now?”
“Did Webster say he’s joining us in Coulway?”
“I thought you said he’s in Birth?”
She slumped lower in her chair. “He’s here.”
Lydia, with an uncanny ability to hear everything, abruptly slid lower in her chair. “Where?”
“ Here! “ Simone said.
Gale stiffened, eyes quaking at the stage. “Did he see you?” he managed with lips barely moving.
“Yes.”
His eyes slowly closed in defeat and in a single breath said, “Bring my body back to Abberton. I want nothing but lilies for my funeral. And I want Pauline Baker to say a few words about me.”
“What should we do?” Lydia asked.
“Prepare our funerals—That’s what I’m doing,” Gale retorted, standing.
“B-But—Gale!”
She shot to her feet, clearing her throat, and with a forced smile, dared to look where Web was moments ago. Her brother was on his feet as well, looking at her as he made his way through the rows of audience who craned their neck to look at the stage as he passed. She jumped to reach for Gale while Lydia did the same to her. Gale skittered toward the nearest exit and they gathered their skirts in breathless haste.
“Simone, my dear sister, where are you going?” Web’s amused (and scary) voice called behind them.
Simone was the youngest of four. Her three eldest brothers were men (as they claimed) and ever since their parents died four years ago, many things remained the same. It was as if time had frozen when their parents died and Webster, Damon, and Price still believed she was the same twelve-year-old girl. At twenty-three, Webster could be scary, but Simone preferred his anger than Damon’s, the second brother, older than her by three years, whose anger was silent and deadly. Price she could deal with most often, perhaps because he was just a year older and could be quite as problematic.
However, there was a rule amongst all Stratford cousins. Harry, a year older than Web, and brother to Gale, should always have the last say. And Harry was a different scary. Because he could be quite arrogant and unemotional if he had to. And Web always reported everything to him.
Since their grandfather, the Earl of Abberton, after taking in all his grandchildren after all his children and their spouses died in a very tragic shipwreck, lacked the enthusiasm for control and disciplining, Harry, who became his heir after the accident, took it upon himself to inherit the task before he could claim the title. If Web reported this incident to Harry, he would give them his own punishment after they suffered Web’s.
“The three of you, stop at once.”
Simone and Lydia continued to follow Gale into a narrow corridor. “Gale should have known better, shouldn’t you have, Gale?”
“Oh, God,” Simone prayed under her breath. “Drop a miracle. Anything.”
The miracle was not dropped. It crashed against Gale, sending him to fall back against Simone and Lydia. The three of them fell to the ground in a series of thuds and yelps. When Simone rolled to her knees, she looked up and found her brother standing above them, hands on his hips, brown eyes narrowed to slits.
“Ow, ow! Lydia—Ow!” Gale was screaming.
Web’s eyes rolled at the mess on the floor before they landed on the man that caused it all. “Daniel?” His face broke into a smile. One thing everyone knew about Web was his substantial number of friends.
“Priest?” a man’s voice—one Simone grew too acquainted with in the last hour or so—replied. “Webster Priest!”
Simone snapped her head around and gasped, jumping to her feet, mouth dropping open at the beautiful miracle . Mr. Daniel Cavendish, their neighbor, the actor, was grinning at her brother. Without tearing her eyes off him, she stepped beside Web and murmured, “Introduce us.”
Lydia, getting up, hastily fixed the ribbon on her hair and stood beside Web. “You are friends? From where? Butler?” Simone was thinking the same. Nearly everyone Web knew was from university.
Handsome, talented, and educated. The perfect miracle.
Ignoring his sister and cousins, Web stepped forward and extended a hand to Daniel Cavendish. “I knew it was you the moment I saw you on that stage,” he said, pulling the man none-too-gently off the floor and slapping his arm in greeting. Simone stepped forward and tugged at her brother’s coat with an expectant smile. He elbowed her away as he asked Daniel, “But what are you doing here in Coulway?”
3. the second letter
Simone did not find out more after Mr. Cavendish was called for the next act and he hastily said goodbye before he could even answer Web’s question, and after Web returned to his earlier demeanor and ordered the three of them to go outside and into the carriage.
As her luck would have it, Simone did get in trouble. But as she would later find out, it was a fated trouble. Web, in his rare frightening air (because most days, he was a very charming man), forbade her, Lydia, and Gale from exiting any doors in the villa that was not their own. In short, they were confined to their respective bedrooms for a week. Their meals and bath were delivered to their doors on time and the servants could not talk to them.
“And I don’t want to hear any complaints,” Web said after them as they strutted up the stairs, growling at each other.
“What’s going on?” their grandfather’s voice asked from somewhere.
They paused, hopeful, but then Web said, “Go on. Upstairs in your room. Now.” And as they climbed, they heard him relay the situation to their grandfather. If they hoped the earl would intervene, they were left disappointed.
On the first day, Simone enjoyed the peace and quiet. Through the thin wall that separated her room from Lydia’s, they read books to each other. As for Gale, Lydia, who was between his and Simone’s rooms, complained about his pacing. “He’s now practicing his waltz.”
By the second day, they were looking out their windows that faced the street, counting the passersby, even calling out to Roxie and Freda’s nanny to wave hello. The woman, under Web’s orders, ignored them with a disappointed shake of her head. Gale later joined them through his window, reminding them of their promise. “You are yet to introduce me to Pauline Baker, cousins. I’m not going through this week-long suffering for nothing.”
On the fourth day, Lydia was immersed in painting, which left Simone to do nothing but write letters. She wrote a dozen to their friends back in Abberton, one or two to their tutors, and even another one for Daniel Cavendish.
She told him about her boring week, how she practiced painting her face and curling her hair, her reading progress, and her love for his acting. She did not blame him, of course, for the punishment she endured for going to his play. And she also relayed that she was glad he was her brother’s friend. As she thought of how she should close her letter, a gush of wind blew through the street-facing window, carrying her letter with it.
Now, that would have been no trouble at all if her desk was not facing another window, but it was. And the said window was open, and that’s where the letter went.
Out.
Then in.
Into the window opposite hers.
Daniel Cavendish’s window was never open. Never. Ever since he moved in, it was always closed. But today it was.
And to her horror, he had not heeded her request to transfer to a different room because he was there, picking up the letter.
Simone, in her horror and embarrassment, docked down and hit her forehead on the edge of her desk. She cried out in pain.
“Are you all right?” His voice was still the same. And it still sounded magical.
Simone opened her eyes, hand on her forehead. He was at the window, holding her letter. She nodded.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Hm?” Oh, stupid! She should at least say a word.
“You’re bleeding,” he repeated, his brown eyes both concerned and amused. He was wearing a brown waistcoat over white shirt. Truly, he did not need anything else. His words did not register as fast as it should have until he said, “Goodness, go find something to stop it.”
“What?” As she asked the question, she felt the trickle over her upper lip. With a reluctant finger, she touched it and looked down. Blood. “Nosebleed.”
“Yes. Find something.”
She looked around in panic. Was she dying? Her breath started to quicken as she thought of the many things she still wanted to do, the people she loved, her grandfather, her brothers, Lydia, Roxie, Freda, Harry, Gale. Another drop of blood dropped on the floor and she whirled around and around, unsure if she should call the maids. What if they took her to the doctor? What if the doctor told her she would not live past midnight, or that she might live, but since she hit her head too hard, she’d lose her mental capacity and would have to live with the mind of a sixteen-year-old forever?
“Here, get this,” Daniel Cavendish said. She turned to face him, her lips and chin smeared with blood, her forehead still throbbing. He was holding out a kerchief. Without thinking, Simone pushed her desk aside and reached for it. She could not quite take a hold so he swung the white cloth until she caught it. “Hold it against your nose,” he said, frowning like how Web or her other brothers would whenever she hurt herself for something stupid. “And don’t panic.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re still panicking.”
She closed her eyes because the look on his face reminded her too much of her brothers. “Will I die?”
“No. I’m quite certain you’ll live.” She nodded and he added, “Don’t move your head. Just look ahead and count.”
“Until what number?”
“A hundred,” he said, voice laced with amusement.
She swallowed and began counting. As she reached sixty, she started to believe she was not dying, so she opened her eyes and found him reading her letter. His reaction was not as she had expected. He looked up with a disarming smile. “I’m flattered. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He folded the paper. “Can I keep this?”
She started to nod, then remembered his instruction not to move her head. Instead, she shrugged one shoulder. “If you want to.”
“You are my first fan,” he said. “Thank you for appreciating my acting.” And then his eyes narrowed. “But you shouldn’t have watched. There’s a reason young girls are not allowed in that theater.”
“Oh, well… We wanted to see your play.”
“You got in trouble for it. I wonder if it’s worth it.”
Taking the kerchief away from her nose, she studied it. The blood had stopped flowing. “It was worth it,” she said. “I’m sorry for your kerchief.”
“You can have it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cavendish.”
“Do you feel well now?” he asked, arching a brow.
“Yes.” She sensed he was going to end it there, so she asked, “May I know, if it is of no consequence, how you became friends with my brother?”
“We are friends from Butler.”
“Web has many friends, I’m afraid. He never said anything about you and if he did, the information must have been buried by dozens of others.”
He chuckled. It was low and died slow. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” An awkward silence followed his statement. Then he smiled. He smiled so easily, she realized. “I shall leave you be.” He stepped back and bowed. “Thank you for your letter, Miss Priest. And thank you for the concoction.”
“Was it of any help?” she inquired eagerly.
A knowing, amused smile curled his lips. “It was.”
“I’m certain it was. I have not heard anything since I sent you the concoction.” She beamed and offered a small curtsy. “See you around, Mr. Cavendish.”
When they were finally allowed out of their rooms the next week, Simone announced to Lydia that she was no longer smitten with Mr. Cavendish. In fact, after their interaction through the window, she realized he was just like her brothers.
On the third day after their release , Simone found her brother rushing downstairs dressed for travel.
“Leaving already?” she asked, disappointed. “I was hoping to spend more time with you.”
He sighed and rumpled her hair, sending her blue ribbon to the floor. “If you have not been so naughty, that would have happened.”
“When are you coming back?” she asked, keeping up with his pace to the door.
“In a month.”
“And Damon and Price?”
“The same.”
She pouted. “That’s not fair. Price gets to spend time with you and Damon.”
Web stopped and looked at her with a smile. Then he leaned down to plant a kiss on the crown of her head. “We’ll see you soon.” Leaning back, his eyes narrowed again. “And behave this time, Sisi, for God’s sake.”
Their grandfather joined her in the doorway, leaning on his cane. He was a big man with white hair, but he had the gentlest heart. And he could also be quite mischievous. “You should have insisted more.”
Fighting back her tears, she tore her eyes off Web’s departing carriage. “I never liked Birth, anyway.”
He slowly turned because that’s how he moved nowadays, and said, “What say you to cookies? And where are my dear Roxie and Freda? Their nanny’s keeping them away again, isn’t she?”
Simone quickly brushed her tears off the edge of her eyes and rushed to her grandfather’s side. Looping her arm around his, she said, “Am I no longer your dear Sisi?”
“You’re my precious Sisi, dear. You!” he called out to Gale who was crossing the hall to the parlor. “Ring for tea and cookies. And prepare our game.”
“But Harry’s not here.”
“What do you mean? You’re playing with me.”
Gale groaned. “Why can’t Sisi?”
“I’m going to watch over Roxie and Freda while you play.”
“No, you’re going to make me my favorite pie while we do it.”
Gale snickered as Simone said, “But I thought you said I’m your precious Sisi.”
“You are still. And you, young lady,” he said to Lydia who was holding freshly cleaned brushes from the kitchen, “are going to continue painting us.”
“But I’m painting flowers, Grandpapa.”
“Then put the flowers in that giant vase of my portrait.”
“But—”
“I’m dying. Will I never see my granddaughter’s finished portrait of me?”
“Grandpapa!” they all chorused in horror.
After their imprisonment, Gale refused to discuss anything about anyone going into a theater. However, they had a promise to honor. They fulfilled their part of the bargain and went for another fitting. The modiste’s daughter and their heir new friend, Pauline Baker, was merely a year older. And oh, how fascinating it was to see the rather fast incline of Gale’s disappointment.
Pauline Baker, as they discovered, was the most notorious gossip in town. And she was proud of it, much to Gale’s dismay. The beautiful young lady was too far from the timid and shy Gale hoped. She filled their ears with the latest gossips about everyone she laid her eyes on during their tea and biscuits together.
“And what about you, Mr. Stratford?” she asked Gale, who had not moved at all in his seat, perhaps still in shock to see his dreams shattered one gossip at a time. “Do you think Lord Tuttle should marry her?”
Gale blinked a few times. “Who?”
“Miss Perkins,” Pauline said, waving her hand impatiently. “The bastard from London.”
“The one who told Pauline’s mother her dresses are lacking in taste,” supplied Lydia. “Which is not the case. Horrible woman.”
Simone nodded, amused by the look on Gale’s face. “I think Gale is still in disbelief,” she said, throwing him a secretive look. He snapped his head at her. “That Lady Tuttle could do such horrible things and still be found wanted.”
“Oh, of course!” Pauline said, leaning closer. “And can you imagine? After what she said to my mother, she had the audacity to write her an invitation.”
“Invitation for what?”
“To come to her villa. She’s gathering all modistes in town to vie against each other so that whoever wins shall have the privilege to see their work worn by her.”
Simone and Lydia gasped. “Horrible!”
“Certainly! But I heard Lord Tuttle’s mother is doing her best to end the engagement.”
And so there it was… Gale’s love for Pauline Baker ended before it even flourished.
“She talks too much,” he complained very much later.
“Maybe because she was only nervous.”
“Believe me, Lydia. If she was nervous at all, she would have not said a word about those people.”
“They’re just gossips.”
“Precisely. And someday, she’ll get in trouble because of them.” He turned to face them, walking backwards. “And I’m having none of it.”
As much as the season was disappointing for Gale, things became interesting for Simone. Now that they had a new friend in Pauline, they had more access to gossip. One being, of course, was Mr. Cavendish.
“Oh, yes, I saw him yesterday. He was just at the tailor to get new clothes.”
Not only did they get to know the color of clothes Mr. Cavendish ordered, they also learned the names of his valet. Although she wanted to think she was not too interested in the man, Simone always found herself trying to open a conversation that would hopefully lead to him.
She was always curious about him, always wanted to know about his play and how people perceived him as an actor. But there was only enough information she could gather. As much as Pauline had tiny details to share, she did not have valuable ones. It was becoming clear that Daniel Cavendish was a private man.
And oh, if she only knew his secrets then.
4. the accident in the rain
Perhaps the things the novels told her about were true. That it was not love if you did not long for that person after some time of being apart. Simone wondered if her affection for Daniel Cavendish was just a passing thing. Like that first time she wanted the gold ribbon for her hair but their governess convinced her it would not become her. When she insisted, the woman had said, “Very well. Let us wait a fortnight. If you still want it, we shall procure it.” As it happened, two weeks passed and the ribbon was completely out of her mind.
And as her interest in their new neighbor waned, and as his side of the villa remained quiet, Simone grew fond of other things. One of them was designing dresses. She did not have a gift for painting like Lydia, but she found she could deal better with charcoal on paper. And with Pauline’s help, she was able to design her first dress, which impressed Mrs. Baker. Soon, she was also designing a dress for Lydia and the two girls.
They were not perfect, of course, simple as they were. But she wanted to learn more. Thus, she spent more time in the bazaar and with Pauline and Mrs. Baker. Most of the time, Lydia would come with her, carrying her own drawing book. And they found that Pauline’s gossips were entertaining if not harmless. It was not like the ones the servants would whisper about. It was always about something interesting and fun.
But as the days passed, and as she finished all the books, as she learned more about dress designing and the latest fashion, Simone grew mellow. Even the thought of Daniel Cavendish could not make her smile. She could not even remember his play. What remained was the memory of his talent, his act.
She was missing her brothers. This must be the longest she had not seen all three of them. Would this be their life from now on? Web had started to engage more in their shipping business, the one he inherited after their parent’s passing. Since last year, their father’s trusted advisers said that it was time for him to learn the business. To make matters worse for Simone, Web wanted to learn with Damon and Price. The more the better, he said. The earlier the better, he added when Price whined about it.
That was before this season and that was when they were still in Abberton. Back home, she did not feel their absence as much because there was always interesting happening in the estate. They had friends they called on to, or called on them. There were always activities in the nearest village, and there were acres and acres of land to explore.
Not here in Picadilly, where the house was too small, the sounds became noises, the days interesting only for those who could attend balls and enter the theaters. Never for young girls who could not do more.
One particular evening was especially lonely. Lydia, who would often come and sleep in her room, was immersed in finishing their grandfather’s portrait. Ever since that day he reminded them that he was dying, Lydia became obsessed with it. The children were with their nanny, the woman particularly strict about their bedtime. And Gale was out with his friends (or so he said) and he was a man now (or so he claimed) and he was enjoying the balls and the ladies (or so he boasted). Their grandfather was a good company, and she stayed with him in his bedchamber until he fell asleep while she massaged his feet. After kissing him goodnight, she crept into her room and sighed when she found Daniel Cavendish’s window closed.
Rain started to pour outside. She walked over to close the windows and her tears just flowed. All of a sudden she just remembered her parents, their kisses when they said goodbye that last sunny afternoon she saw them. She had begged to come along but they said they were going away with her aunts and uncles and it would be boring for young children. “We will be back,” her father had promised. They all never came back.
The pain in her chest had never eased in four years. It was always as fresh as the day she realized she would never be seeing them again. That they would never see her get married. Or her brothers.
And her brothers… Oh, how she missed them. She sniffled and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “They must be having fun without me,” she choked.
She stopped when she heard a loud thud. Frowning, she turned and went back to the window. Looking around the room, she knew the sound came from here. Curious, she lifted the windowpane. Wind and rain gushed inside. She looked out and tried to find what caused the noise. And there, on the ground beside the street, was a bird. Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. Without thinking, she turned and ran out of the villa through the servant door, which was closer to the bird.
In less than a few seconds, she was soaked as she searched for the poor thing. And when she found it, she scooped it in her hands. Unsure of what to do, she decided it was best to show it to one of the servants. They would help.
Well, they would have if she could enter the house again. Somehow, the wind must have pushed the door closed and caused the latch from the inside to fall into place. Simone tried to call out for help, but her voice was drowned by the storm. After great attempts to catch anyone’s attention, she gave up and ran to the front doors, where there was at least a roof. It was of no help because the rain was too strong.
And now she was shivering. The bird seemed alive though, and she cupped it in her hands as she waited for the rain to stop. It waned once, but only for a second or two before the wind howled and drowned her cries again.
Thinking she would die if she waited, Simone stepped away from her shelter and gazed at her open window. Lydia’s was closed, the windows drawn. She threw stones with one hand, shouting over the sound of rain, but failed to get her cousin’s attention. Once Lydia started painting, there was no distracting her, not even hunger.
If this was in Abberton, she would have already found a way in. There was always a ladder leading somewhere. But not here in Picadilly. There was not even a soul awake or aware to help her.
Her only hope was Gale at that point. She tried to remember where he went and if it was possible she could go there and ask for his help. Was it Wheeler’s? He had just gained membership there and would not shut up about it for weeks as if it was an achievement he should be proud of.
She looked down at the empty Picadilly Street. Wheeler’s was merely a few blocks away. With her dress heavily drenched, the tiny bird in her hands, Simone walked. And as she did, she started crying, her tears joining the rain that washed down her face. She sobbed, thinking about her brothers, missing them. If they were here, this would not have happened. One of them, if not all, would always check on her, make sure she was in bed. That she was not having nightmares or crying for their mother.
And then she thought of her parents again, how her grief, despite having a big family, was lonely. It was hard whenever she would remember them because she could not tell anyone. Because it would remind them of their own loss and she knew how it felt. So whenever attacks like these came to her, she chose to suffer it alone.
She felt pathetic, walking in the rain with a bird in hand, crying for her parents and missing her brothers. This was the worst season yet, she thought.
A carriage rode past her and she quickened her pace when it stopped.
“Miss Simone?” a familiar voice called out behind her.
She looked over her shoulder without her steps faltering.
“What in the hell are you doing out alone in the rain?” Daniel Cavendish asked, rushing toward her.
But she did not stop. Girlish crush aside, she did not know him well to trust being alone with him in the middle of the night.
“Where are you going?”
“W-Wheeler’s,” she said, then realized she should not have told him that. “Gale’s waiting for me there,” she added.
“Let me take you there,” he said. “Please. You’re soaked.”
She kept walking. “I can’t ride your carriage, Mr. Cavendish,” she said.
He caught up with her and she quickened her pace. “Then let me walk you there. It’s too dark.”
He signaled for the hackney to go on ahead.
“You don’t have to, really. I’m… I’m getting late, you see. I need to walk fast.”
“Why would you be walking alone in the rain at this hour?” he asked, walking a good distance beside her. He took off his coat and placed it over her head and shoulders. She did not protest because it was a good cover. Her brothers had warned her about gossips, after all.
“I c-can’t tell you,” she said through chattering teeth.
“Are you in trouble?” he asked, bending down to peer at her face. “Have you been crying?”
She lifted her cupped hands. “It’s the bird. I think it’s dead.”
His eyes went to her hand. “Let me see?”
She carefully placed the bird in his palm. “It was alive when I picked it up, but I think it’s dead now.”
He peered at it and murmured, “I think not.”
“Oh. Good then.” She gathered the bird back. She never stopped walking, and he never stopped following.
“Why were you crying?”
“I told you—the bird.”
His eyes narrowed, unconvinced. He adjusted the coat over her head.“Really?”
She shook her head, wiping rain off her face. “I just miss my brothers. And my parents.”
“I know about your parents. I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “Thank you.” Her initial fear was gone, but she still felt she should remain guarded. Web’s words rang in her ear: “You should never feel safe until you find family.”
“Maybe I should escort you home. I can have my valet go to Wheeler’s to inform your cousin.”
“No, it is fine. I will go. Gale would not be happy if he finds out you took me home.”
“I would feel the same if you were my sister,” he said.
Silence reigned between them as they neared her cousin’s club. “Do you have cousins, Mr. Cavendish?”
“A lot,” he said with a smile. “But we’re not quite chummy as you are with yours.”
“Sisters?”
“Three,” he said. “They are younger than you, I believe.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Cavendish, are you the same age as Web?”
“Has he turned twenty-three this year?”
“Yes.”
“Then we are of the same age.”
She nodded, not quite sure what to do with the information. And since she was walking alone with him, she might as well remind him why he should not do anything wrong. “You must be a very good brother,” she said. “Your sisters must feel utterly safe whenever you’re around.”
His face hardened for a second before he broke into one of his easy smiles. “We’re here.”
“Oh,” she said, angry at herself for feeling disappointed. She should not enjoy his attentions in this situation. It was just not safe.
“Should I call for your cousin?”
She stared at the tall building and its brightly lit windows. And then at the footmen at the door. “Yes, please, if it’s not a bother.”
She waited as he walked to the footman. When the man entered the club to find Gale, Daniel returned to her side.
“Aren’t you a member, Mr. Cavendish?”
“I’m afraid not,” he said.
They both faced the building across the street. She felt his head turn toward her. “You should write to your brothers if you miss them so.”
She shook her head and forced a smile, looking down at the bird in her hand. “They rarely answer, anyway,” she said. “They always say we’ll see each other soon.”
A little quiet followed with just the sound of rain on the pavement. “You can send me letters. Just like the one that flew into my window.”
Her face heated. “W-Why?”
He shrugged. “I would read them and write back if my sisters do the same.” He grinned at her. “As you said, I’m a very good brother.”
5. the punishment
As you said, I
’m a very good brother. That one statement sealed the decision for Simone. Daniel Cavendish would never be interested in a girl that reminded him of his sisters. Perhaps she should treat him the same. He was not the only man out there. She was still young and would soon blossom to a lady. By then, she could meet more men like him. Even better men. Men who would see her as a lady.
Yes, that’s what she should do, she thought as she lay in bed, flushed with fever. The bird was alive and had not left her room. Gale, too, she assumed, seeing him sleeping in a chair, his legs propped on her bed. “Gale,” she called out, voice cracking. She nudged. “Gale.”
His eyes opened. And as he realized she was awake, he dropped his leg and jumped on the bed to plant his hand on her forehead. “You’re still burning,” he sleepily said, reaching for the bell.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“No, you’re not. You’re so pale, Sisi.”
She watched him roll his shirt up to his elbows, brow furrowed. She could not tell if he was angry or worried, but that’s the thing about Gale. He could be annoying most of the time, but he was also the sweetest. That’s why Simone and Lydia liked his company the most, although they may pretend to not to. “Where’s Lydia? She said she’ll sleep here,” she asked.
“Out painting your portrait. She started crying and said you may not live long enough to see it.”
She groaned and chuckled at the same time. “Make sure my brows are perfect. She usually gets them wrong.”
Gale’s shoulders shook as he wrung a cloth over the basin. “I shouldn’t be laughing. She was quite inconsolable, you know.” He placed the cold towel over her forehead, covering her brows. “You will do well without your brows,” he said, playfully flicking her nose.
She weakly slapped his hand away. “I’m hungry.”
“Good!” He jumped to his feet when a servant walked in. “Bring Sisi something to eat, please.” When they were alone again, he went back to her side and whispered, “Harry’s home.”
Her eyes widened. “He knows I’m sick?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know why?”
Gale winced. “I had to tell him.”
Simone groaned. “Gale, you promised!”
“Everybody knows, Sisi. They’ve been bombarding me with questions for two days.” He reached for her hand. “I’m sorry. I should have been home.”
“That’s fine.”
“But you should have not gone out.”
“And left the bird?”
His eyes went to the bird who had transferred to the windowsill. Then he sighed. “I tried to reason the bird, but you know Harry.”
“He’s not pleased?”
“Well, of course! You walked in the rain, in the middle of the night, with—” He leaned over and nearly hissed, “—our neighbor!”
She groaned, closing her eyes. “What are the chances I won’t survive this fever?”
“Not fairly high, I’m afraid. You’re hungry. It means you’re likely to live and face his wrath.”
“And what would be his wrath? Has he told you?” Many times in the past, they had seen many of Harry’s wrath, as Lydia would call them. And it was always the four of them—Simone, Lydia, Price, and Gale. Price was just lucky he was not here. But then, if he was, this would not have happened. He always had the best plans.
And their offenses were always committed in Abberton. To do something reckless here in Coulway was different because Harry only had two golden rules: No stupidities in Coulway. No scandals.
“Well?” Simone asked again. “What am I facing once I get out of my deathbed?”
Gale winced again.
“Gale, what is it?”
He bit his lip and then broke into a smile. “We’re going home, Sisi.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Home to Abberton. With everything—our trip to the theater, your adventure in the rain—Harry is cutting our season short.”
She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Home to Abberton?”
He nodded.
“But you were enjoying the season.”
“Well, I was actually getting bored with Price not being here.” He straightened, hands on his hips. “Now, Harry might come by later. You might as well attempt a look of horrid disappointment.”
Simone, of course, did not have to feign disappointment. After Gale left her alone with her thoughts, she realized she would miss a few things if they left early. One, was their new friend Pauline. Two, the trips to the Paragon Exchange. And finally, the lessons she was getting for free from Mrs. Baker.
If only Daniel Cavendish did not walk with her! If only she had secured the door before rescuing the bird.
She groaned, thinking about Harry walking into her room to deliver his wrath. He did so that evening the moment he got word that Simone was up and a little healthier .
The Stratford cousins all had brown hair, some in lighter shade, others darker; some curly, others wavy or straight. Once, the earl said that their temperaments could be easily based on their hair. Lydia, for example, had curly, light brown hair. The color mirrored her sunny personality, and the curls were just like her constantly changing moods, which could spiral up or down, depending on the weather or the people around her.
Harry, the future Earl of Abberton, had straight, dark brown hair. He wore it with pride, brushing it up over his forehead. It was untouchable. His valet was proud to say that he was the only one who, apart from his lordship, could touch the hair. Harry, of course, like Web, could be quite sweet. He showered them with gifts and he could throw a good joke now and then. But there was always a fine line between cousin Harry and future earl Harry. Sometimes, he could also be quite deceiving. Just like now.
He walked into Simone’s room, hands in the pockets of his trousers, brown hair perfectly brushed over his forehead. His white cravat was as pristine as she last saw them, his black coat without a wrinkle. And he was smiling.
“How are you feeling?”
Like jumping off the window, she wanted to answer, but said, “Better.”
“Good.”
“Well, a little dizzy,” she added for security. He might think she was well enough to take some scolding.
“Dizzy,” he repeated in an almost amused tone. Walking closer to her bed, his eyes flew to the window, the one that faced Daniel Cavendish’s, then landed on her desk. “But not dizzy enough to be writing letters, I assume.”
“I’m writing letters to friends.”
“Hm.”
“To tell them I’m leaving,” she said.
“Is that the bird?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, looking down at her in bed. She held her breath until he took the seat Gale occupied earlier. “Sisi, you know why I have to send you all back to Abberton.”
She bent her head. “I know. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry for being careless.”
“You were deliberately careless—at least for the most part,” he added when her head snapped in retaliation. “You deliberately went to the theater,” he said, cocking a brow.
Oh, he was talking about the theater accident. “Well, yes. And Web already punished us for it,” she murmured.
“And you sent our neighbor a letter.”
“With good intentions,” she reasoned. “He was being loud at night.”
He frowned. “Loud how?”
She told him about the banging and the crying actress. By the time she was done, Harry was shaking his head, lips pursed in contained laughter that she did not understand until many years later. “Still, you could have told someone. It’s not proper to send letters to young gentlemen.”
“I didn’t know that. Everybody in Abberton does it.”
“You would if your tutors had been teaching you anything,” he said. “This is not Abberton, Sisi.”
“Our tutors had been teaching us far more interesting things than those, for sure,” she retorted.
Harry massaged his temple. “Web will not be pleased if he hears of this.”
She blinked in surprise. “Then you have not told him yet?”
“No,” he said, “but I eventually have to.”
“You don’t have to.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “You were sick, Sisi. I have to.”
“Is that why you’re not scolding me now? So he could?”
“Web will not do anything if you give him one of your bloody puppy eyes, Sisi,” he said with a sigh. “But Damon might.”
“Damon will dig a hole, drop a bed there before throwing me inside with a basket of pies from Mrs. Poppet.”
The corner of his lips quirked. “I can imagine him doing so.”
Simone groaned. Damon had curly, dark brown hair. His temperament was dark, silent, and eccentric. “Then can you postpone telling them until we’re back in Abberton? I’d prefer the hole be located there.”
Harry stood and looked down at her. “This is no laughing matter, Sisi. What you did was—”
“Irresponsible and definitely not proper for a young lady, I know.”
“No, what you did was very dangerous.”
“I also realize that now.”
“And even if Mr. Cavendish is Web’s friend, he is still—”
“Not family.”
“Precisely.” This time, Harry’s tone was different. It hardened as he continued, “The moment you return to Abberton, you cannot go out of the manor for a month.”
Her eyes rounded. “A month!”
“Yes. No climbing out the windows, no sneaking out of any doors.”
“What about my bedroom door?”
“I said you can’t go out of the manor, Sisi, not your bedroom. But no visit to the courtyard. No climbing on the deck.” He stepped back and continued with a litany of things she was not allowed to do, obviously enjoying the horror on her face. “No visitors, especially the Poppets. No animals.”
“No animals! But that’s—you know the animals just walk in and out, Harry. Surely, I could not just ignore them.”
“You will also help the children learn their alphabets,” Harry continued. “It’s time they learn a few lessons about being proper humans. And no writing letters for you other than the girls’ alphabets.”
She sagged back in bed. “You’re being terrible, Harry.”
“Then do you prefer Damon’s hole?”
Groaning, she rolled her face into the pillow. Damon would do worse than Harry’s wrath. “No.”
“We’re set then.” On the way to the door, he stopped. “And before I forget, Lydia will also be punished.”
“But she did not know I was going out. She was painting.”
“She knew you wrote our neighbor a letter, and she was with you and Gale in the theater.”
“But—”
“And Gale shall also be punished.”
“Can you at least tell them I tried to take their punishments?”
This time, Harry chuckled. “Quite funny, Sisi.”
That evening, Simone was well enough to pack her writing articles. While sitting in front of her desk, she stared at the bird whom she named Mr. Peck. “Why aren’t you flying away?” she asked. “You seem well now.”
The bird tilted its head at her, as if trying to understand.
“You’ll like Abberton,” she said with a sigh, bending over the desk, resting her head on her hand.
“Are you feeling well?” the voice asked.
She straightened in her chair and found Daniel Cavendish smiling at her from his window. “Yes. Thank you for asking.”
His eyes flew to the bird. “And the bird as well?”
“Yes, but it won’t fly.”
He nodded. “Are you writing letters?”
“No, actually. I’m packing.”
“Packing?”
“We’re going home to Abberton.”
He did not immediately answer. He considered her for a moment before slowly nodding. “Abberton is a very nice place.”
“Have you been there, Mr. Cavendish?”
“Yes, of course. I grew up in Dafield.”
“You did! Abberton is just between Dafield and Parlton.”
“I know.”
“Of course, you do,” she grinned. “Well, perhaps you can come and visit us when you get the time.”
The smile on his lips wavered for a second before he forced them back. “Perhaps I will.”
She cleared her throat and awkwardly looked at her stacked papers. “Can I still send you letters?”
“Yes, of course. Tell me all about your adventures back in Abberton. I have heard amazing stories from Web back in Butler.”
“And I hope you can also share your adventures with the theater,” she replied. “I wish you the best, Mr. Cavendish. I hope you get more roles and act in more plays. No, I know you’ll get more roles and more plays. It’s only a matter of time.”
“You do?”
“Of course. I know a master when I see one. And you master your craft. It’s all there in your face when you’re on the stage.”
His smile widened, his brown eyes twinkling.
“I hope you don’t lose it.”
“Lose what?”
She paled. She did not realize she voiced it out. Oh, balderdash. She was leaving. Why should she care if she said something stupid? “The sparkle in your eyes. I hope you never lose it, Mr. Cavendish. It speaks of an entire world uniquely yours.”
He did not laugh at her words. In fact, he scratched his head, seemingly shy. “I will try my best.”
She had nothing further to say. At that moment, she just wanted the best for him. And she also hoped, if time would be good to her, they might meet again. Nothing more. Just that they’d meet again and fate could just have its way.
Part II
When she was eighteen and everything seemed lovely, interesting, and exciting.
6. the actor
Abberton House was constantly flowing with activities. The four wings enclosed the courtyard that, in itself, was teeming with life. Of all kinds—crawling, slithering, flying. Whenever the gates to the courtyard were open, which was also the only way to the front doors, anyone might spot an animal or two crossing it to get to the back side of the manor, or staying for a few hours for a nap or a taste of the bushes.
But animals were not the only ones enjoying the Abberton courtyard. Servants, neighbors, and sometimes even strangers, pass through it as it was the easiest way to get to many parts of the manor, particularly the back garden. The strangers were mostly merchants hoping to sell something (bread, milk, meat, candies, cakes, toys, fabrics, and even entertainment).
One very important purpose of the courtyard was to house gossip. Eighteen-year-old Simone and seventeen-year-old Lydia were in the courtyard doing just that with their friends and neighbors, the Poppet sisters Bridget and Charity. Both sisters had red hair, and both were nearly the same age as the two Stratfords. Their current gossip, of course, was the Poppets’ eldest sister, Arabella, who, at one-and-twenty, was not only unmarried, but was left on the altar two days ago.
“We never saw it coming,” Bridget said. “Ara has not said anything.”
“Perhaps she is still in shock,” said Simone. “She was completely distraught in the chapel.”
“Terrible. I saw the blood drain down her face.”
“Thank goodness Lord Harry was there to catch her when she fainted,” Bridget said.
“I heard her crying the whole night,” Charity said. “Mama tried to open her door, but she did not want to see anyone.”
“So we left her alone until the morning,” Bridget continued.
“And what would you know,” Charity said, leaning closer, “She woke up for breakfast all pretty and dressed as if nothing happened!”
Simone and Lydia looked at each other. “But surely she must feel terrible inside.”
“We wouldn’t know. It truly doesn’t show.” Charity sighed. “Oh, if I could only get my hands on that brute.”
“Mr. Haskett seemed such a charming man,” Lydia said.
“Apparently, he’s also a scoundrel,” Bridget heatedly retorted. “Now, I worry about Ara. I don’t think she can ever trust anyone again.”
“You know, if your brother only offered for her,” Charity said, looking at Simone. “We would be sisters-in-law by now.”
Simone and Lydia laughed. Oh, how they once fancied Arabella with Webster, but the pair had no interest in becoming a pair .
“Or we could manipulate Harry and they could marry,” came Gale’s voice. He threw his leather gloves at Simone and Lydia before narrowing his eyes at the two Poppets. “It’s too early for gossips, Prophets .”
Since they were children, Gale and one of Simone’s older brother, Price, had always called the Poppets Prophets , particularly Bridget and Charity.
Simone threw his gloves back at him. “We’re not gossiping.”
“Of course, you are.”
“Gale, you know Mr. Haskett, don’t you?” Bridget asked. “Have you seen him?”
“Of course,” Gale said. “Was out riding with him just now.”
The two Poppets jumped to their feet.
“He’s not serious,” Simone said. “That’s not a good joke, Gale.”
“My bad,” he said, bowing to their friends. “I’m off to breakfast.” To his cousins, he said, “You should be packing by now.”
“Too eager to return to Coulway, Gale?” chided Lydia. “You must miss Pauline.”
“Ha-ha! Funny, that is, Lydia,” he said, walking away.
“Grandpapa wants to ask if it’s you who let the bear in earlier!” Simone called out.
“No, I did not.”
“You were the first to get out!”
“Not the first to open the gates!”
Simone sighed.
“Another bear came through?” Bridget asked, looking around the courtyard.
“A brown one. Roxie saw it.”
“Roxie has a wild imagination. I’m certain it was just a rabbit,” Lydia said.
“Roxie is old enough to know that a bear is far larger than a rabbit.”
“Now, ladies,” said Charity, extending a hand, “Before the argument between which animal is which begins, Bridget and I came here for a favor.”
“What favor?” they chorused.
“We heard that Mr. Haskett may have gone off to Coulway.”
“And you want us to find him?”
“Yes.”
“So he could marry Arabella?” Simone asked. “But why? Him running off should mean he isn’t worth it. If this is about her reputation, then I believe it’s going to be just fine.”
“No, we want him found so he could return my sister’s dowry.”
“Oh.”
“Papa has already paid it to the ba—” Bridget clamped her mouth. “Sorry. As I was saying, Papa has already given it to him. And his family has already disappeared out of shame.”
“Or because they cannot afford to pay what their son stole,” added Charity.
“Why would he run away with the dowry of the woman he ran away from?” Lydia asked.
“He’s a scoundrel, Lydia,” Simone said, squeezing Bridget’s hand. “We will try to find him.”
“It would be of great help. We…” Bridget’s voice faltered. “The farms have not been doing well. Papa will need the money back.”
“Of course. You can count on us,” Simone reassured. “Right, Lydia? We’ll spend the season in Coulway searching for him if we have to. In fact, we’ll ask for my brothers’ help. Damon and Price will join us in Coulway as our companions this season.”
Charity sighed. “I can only hope to have my own season.”
“Perhaps we can ask Harry to sponsor all of you next season!” Lydia said. “Isn’t that right, Sisi?”
“Of course!”
The two Poppets shook their heads. “Oh, no. Papa wouldn’t be able to afford us dowries that would satisfy a rich gentleman in Coulway.”
“But if it’s true love, the man will not care for dowries,” Simone said. “He would take whatever you can give. You should be enough for the right one.”
“We’ll be fine,” said Bridget. “We love it here in Abberton.”
“Or Dafield,” Lydia said. “Or Parlton!”
“Yes,” the two sisters chorused. “Or a pirate. I’ve always wanted to meet one,” added Charity.
The three of them laughed and went on to have biscuits and tea in the parlor. Not long after, Simone and Lydia were packing for another season in Coulway.
A year ago, Simone debuted along with Lydia. It was a magnificent season for them both, but nothing they had not anticipated. The Stratford men had already spoiled them of everything they should expect, from the gowns to the food and music. Even the latest gossips. It was to prepare them for the worse, they said, but truly, it was just so they did not act so naive and gullible.
Their grandfather accompanied them in their first three balls, but soon after retired to their villa in Picadilly to spend more time with his two little angels , Roxie and Freda, who were both growing up to be worse than the jungle trio, Simone, Lydia, and Gale.
Well, there was also Price, but he was the one who named them, so he was technically not part of the trio. He was the bloody mastermind as Gale would put it every time they were punished for something they did, which they only did because Price suggested or planned it.
Price was only a year older than Simone, but nevertheless more protective, especially when they were not home in Abberton. Like this season, where he and Damon were tasked to be the guards because Gale was either easily manipulated to be a part of any recklessness, or he was the planner of said recklessness. Damon’s role, of course, was to be an extra eye just in case Price assumed his mastermind role.
Simone jumped out of the carriage and into Damon’s arms. Her brother chuckled and put her down, ruffling her hair. “Where’s your ugly ribbon?”
“They’ve long retired,” she said, kissing his cheek. Turning to Price, she squealed, “Price!” wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Ow, ow, Sisi, my neck,” he complained, pulling away after she showered him with kisses.
Lydia was giving Damon a hug, and blocking Price’s attempt to tug on her hair, she proceeded to the utmost business at hand, which was to ask for their help in finding Mr. Haskett.
“Good heavens, Lydia, can we first go inside?” Gale asked, brushing past Damon to wrap an arm around Price in a playful wrestle. “What have you been up to?” he asked. “Come on, tell me—have you met someone lovely while I’m away?”
“You children always forget you’re carrying an old baggage,” their grandfather said from inside the carriage.
Damon laughed and reached his hand inside to help the man out. The two little angels , Roxie and Freda, jumped right after, collecting hugs and a few circles in the air from Damon and Price, before running up the stairs and into the villa to find the playroom.
Simone planted a kiss on her grandfather’s cheek, saying, “We never forget about you, Grandpapa. You’re saving the best for last, aren’t you, Damon?”
“Of course,” Damon said, guiding their grandfather up the stairs. “He’s worth a bloody fortune.”
With a laugh, they all reached the front doors. Inside, Simone could hear Lydia calling out to Damon, asking him to join them in the parlor. And where was Simone?
“I’m here!” she shouted, pausing at the top of the stairs, watching the villa next door. She smiled and stepped through the threshold of the doorway.
The first order of business the very next day was to track down Mr. Haskett. Damon, of course, was the most reliable one. Merely a year younger than Arabella, he considered the woman a dear friend like Harry did. And to hear that she was left at the altar by the man, he did not need more convincing in tracking the runaway groom.
“He might attempt to get out of Sutherland, Damon says,” Simone informed Pauline as they were having tea. “And the only way to get out of Sutherland is through a ship.”
Pauline’s eyes mirrored understanding. “Perhaps one of the ships your brothers own.”
“Exactly,” Simone said, sipping tea.
“I don’t think it’s wise to tell her everything, Sisi,” Gale wryly said, waving a hand at Pauline. They were back in the Paragon Exchange with Lydia who was currently shopping art supplies in one store.
“Pauline is an excellent source of information,” she murmured through her teeth.
“And why not? I never divulge such sensitive information,” Pauline said in response to Gale’s sentence.
“Well, sometimes, Pauline, you get carried away,” Gale said. “Do you remember that time I specifically asked you not to tell Ms. Blanchet you saw me?”
“That was a different matter,” Pauline said. “You asked me to lie , Gale. That’s different. I never lie.”
“Are you trying to convince me that all your gossips are true?”
“Not all of them are gossips!”
“Then what are they?”
Pauline was about ready to cry, her beautiful face crumpling as she pursed her lips, tears welling her eyes. “They’re information I would otherwise not divulge if no one is interested.”
“Well, I’m always not,” Gale wryly said.
“Well, you should have told me so I could make certain you don
’t hear,“ Pauline said, voice shaking.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because you make me angry—and that
’s information.“ Pauline looked at Simone. “Why do you even bring him here?”
“He insisted,” said Simone.
“I thought you said your brothers are here to be your companions?”
“Well, they are, but they’re out now to help find Mr. Haskett.”
Pauline sniffled, blotting her unshed tears with the back of one finger while throwing Gale a sharp look. “I’ll try to find information on the man. I’m certain if he’s on the run and traveling, and with the money he stole from his poor bride, he would most certainly spend lavishly on new clothes.”
“Thank you, Pauline. My family and our friends will be terribly grateful.”
“You’re welcome,” Pauline said, now completely ignoring Gale. “Have I told you that Mr. Cavendish has a new play?”
Simone’s face broke into a bright smile. “He does?”
“Yes. They’re selling tickets.”
“Oh, marvelous!” Simone said, clapping her hands. “Thank you for the information , Pauline,” she said, throwing Gale a look.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Would you like to see Mama now? I’m certain she has information on the current fashion trend.”
“Oh, good Lord,” Gale groaned. “You’ll never let me forget, are you?”
Pauline’s face hardened. “No.”
That night, Simone was writing letters to Bridget and Charity, updating them of their promising quest, when she heard a clearing of throat. She looked behind her, thinking it might be Damon, but her door was closed. She faced the window again and there he was, just as she last saw him two years ago, smiling at her.
“Mr. Cavendish,” she said, breaking into a wide grin. And before she could think, she said, “It’s me, Simone. Remember?”
He chuckled. “Of course, I remember. You’ve been sending me letters, silly.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the frame of his window. “You told me a month ago you were coming back to Picadilly.”
“Yes, of course, I did.” She could not believe it. He was here. Last year, he was somewhere in Strait for a play. “You did not tell me you’d be here this season.”
“I wanted to surprise you,” he said, scratching the back of his head. Simone smiled, believing now that it was a habit of his.
“Well, I’m surprised. I bought tickets to your play, by the by.”
“Are you old enough to watch?”
“Well, of course! I’m now eighteen.”
“A young lady.”
She nodded, grateful that she had somehow retained the flair of being one from one of the lessons she and Lydia had to suffer in the past. She wanted to ask him many things about his plays, his friends he talked about, the nasty actors and directors he worked with.
“Well, I’m glad you got tickets. Our shows in Coulway are ending soon.”
“Why?”
“Well, because the more famous ones have secured the theaters for the season.”
“What?”
He frowned. “Didn’t I write it in my last letter? I must have missed it.”
“Missed what?”
“That we’re a traveling play. It means we’re moving on to the next city in four days.”
And just like that, her exciting season did not seem so exciting anymore.
7. the little changes
Of course, she told him she was excited for him. That he she was happy he was pursuing his dreams. She asked where they were headed next, and he said it was uncertain. “And that’s the exciting part.”
The exciting part.
He always said that. In his letters, he was always looking forward to something new.
Deep inside, Simone was envious. He was traveling to places she had not yet even been to. He was doing what he loved. While she only had to content herself with studying how to design dresses. Of course, he asked how her designs were doing. She told him about the new dresses she designed for her and Lydia and the little girls. He wanted to see them, but she was not confident yet, so she promised to send some by the post in the near future.
She told Lydia, of course, who asked, “Well, is he married?”
“I never got to ask. Perhaps not. He never mentioned it in his letters.”
“One would think he would have already found a wife by now.”
“I’m certain he would have told tell me.”
“Of course, Sisi. You’re friends.”
Simone smiled. “Do you think he considers me a friend?”
“Well, you’re not his sister, or his lover. Certainly not a stranger. You’re a friend.”
“Who is your new friend?” Price asked, squeezing himself between Simone and Lydia, resting his arms over their shoulders. Price had straight, light brown hair. He was easy to be around with, but he was cunning and sharp in a very nonchalant way. You would never know what bit you until he bared his bloody teeth.
“Someone from last season, a woman we met in one of the balls,” Simone lied. “Have you any news on Mr. Haskett?”
“No, but we’re hoping to find him soon.” The three of them stopped outside the carriage. “I’ll drop you both in the bazaar and return in two hours.”
“Where are you going?”
“Business,” he said, flicking her nose.
Price was also the forgetful kind. Two hours later, Simone and Lydia were still talking to Pauline.
“If he only settles here in Coulway, he would already be quite famous,” their friend said, talking about Mr. Cavendish again. “I saw his play, and he was marvelous.”
Simone smiled with pride. “Of course, he is. We tried to tell you.”
“I know, but to see him with my own eyes—it was magnificent. I felt every emotion he portrayed.”
“I’m quite excited to see his play tomorrow,” said Lydia.
Simone said nothing, because she did not want her cousin to read more into her friendship with Daniel Cavendish. Or hint at the affections Simone may still have for the man, even after two years, and even after how she said many times before that she did not fancy him, which was slightly true. What she felt for Daniel Cavendish was adoration, but she was not hopeful.
They may merely have a foot between their windows, but their worlds were too far apart. His was exciting and magical, hers barely had little changes. He seemed to not be tied to any place or anyone, and she was tied to her family, to Abberton. He was living his dreams, she was still dreaming hers.
Lydia walked home alone after she got bored watching Simone and Mrs. Baker discuss about skirts and laces. Another hour later, with no sign of Price, she decided to go home as well. Saying goodbye to Pauline and Mrs. Baker, Simone walked the familiar streets back to Picadilly.
And there, by happenstance or fate (as she would prefer to call it), Daniel Cavendish found her.
“Miss Priest,” he greeted with a small bow. “I’ll walk with you,” he announced with an easy smile, hands behind him.
He was wearing nothing special or fancy. Nothing like the character he played two years ago. A haphazardly knotted plain white cravat, a white shirt and brown vest, a black coat that might have seen a number of years. Yet he had an elegant air around him. Unlike Harry, his black hair was all over the place, slightly longer and caressing his nape, the front tresses tucked behind his ears.
“I never got the chance to ask about Mr. Peck. How is he?”
“Oh, he’s in Abberton. He’s now grown a red breast.” Her face crumpled, thinking about the robin. “But he comes and goes now.”
“He can fly then?”
“Of course. He’s a bird, after all. It just took him a while.”
“That’s good to hear. Does he come on the deck?”
She nodded. Birdwatching decks were scattered around the woods near Abberton, and they also had one on the western roof. She told him all about it and he found it fascinating.
She fell into an easy pace next to him. This was no longer the same walk they shared that night in the rain two years ago. She felt safe with him. Maybe because she was quite certain she knew him well.
She stole him a look and he did the same. Simone was not certain about his, but her heart was fluttering, flying like her steps. With a smile, she bent her head to focus on her toes poking in and out of her dress. Then she thought she should have worn something more appealing—something not yellow. It made her seem like an infant, as Gale would put it. She should have worn white or blue. A wind blew past them, tugging her hair back. She should have asked Roxie and Freda to clip more pearls on her hair when they played with it that morning, she thought.
Again, she tilted her head to the side and up. “And how was that actor you talked about, Mr. Cavendish? The one who got into your nerves.”
His face soured. “He’s somewhere else now. Married, I believe. Still acting, the bastard.”
Her laughter rang down the quiet street of Picadilly. Night was approaching, and in mere minutes, it would no longer be proper for her to be seen walking with him.
He was smiling at her when she stole another look. It was a gentle one, a friendly one. “I’m glad I can finally have a sound attached to your so-called laughter.”
She frowned in confusion.
“Whenever you write, sometimes you include ha-ha , which I believe means you are laughing as you write.”
“Oh,” she said, face heating. “Well, internally, I am. Sometimes I chuckle, but that’s the extent of it. I only imagine myself laughing because I would if I have company, which I don’t, because I’m only writing a letter. My family would think I’m crazy.”
The laughter in his eyes did not die even as he said, “I don’t think there’s nothing wrong with laughing alone.”
“I’ll take your advice and try, but I hope you will still send me your letters, even if my family confines me somewhere.”
She relished his laughter until it slowly died. Their footsteps echoed down the street, but they were not in haste. In fact, it seemed that they were both trying to be as slow as they could. Or perhaps he was because she was the one being slow.
Another gush of wind blew and this time, it messed with her hair. She gasped and cried, “My pearls!” One or two clips had dropped to the ground, but one pearl broke free from its clasp and rolled away.
He started to run after it as she bent to pick up the clips. “Don’t bother, Mr. Cavendish!” she tried to stop him. He did not. He crossed the street, stopped as a carriage drove past, and then picked up the pearl.
He jogged back to her with a grin, eyes twinkling. Mayhap she would never forget this imagine of him, running toward her. Perfect just like that.
She laughed as he dropped the pearl in her hand. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he said, looking at her hair. “May I?”
Biting her lips, she nodded. He was careful as he brushed aside strands of her hair, flipping them back to one side where they should be. “Why do women wear these?” he asked, picking some more pearls.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Fret not, I should tell Roxie and Freda to do a better job next time.”
He stepped back and dropped more pearls on her hand. “Are they still the little devils?”
“Most certainly.”
He just nodded, and they fell back into an easy pace. “How is your brother?”
“Web? He’s in Birth, taking care of business, of course.”
“It is not easy to be a Priest.”
She burst out in laughter. “You just gave me a different picture of my brother, Mr. Cavendish, and it’s quite blasphemous.”
It took him a second to realize what she meant, and he laughed, too. “Ah, yes, of course.” His laughter faltered and for a moment longer than she expected, he just stared at her, as if he finally saw and realized something. But whatever it was, she never had the chance to find out. “And please, it’s just Daniel, Ms. Priest.”
She wanted to scream then, because she was excited and her stomach felt funny. “Then it’s just Sisi for you, Daniel. No Priests, please.”
Another chuckle. A nod. “Will you be watching the play on the morrow?”
“Yes, with Lydia and Gale. And maybe Price and Damon if they’re done with their quest.”
“Quest?”
“They’re looking for someone,” she vaguely supplied.
He nodded and did not press the matter. “Will I be seeing you in the front row again?” he asked, stopping outside her door. “If you and your cousins would love to, I could give you a tour of the theater after the play.”
Her heart soared high up in the sky, along with the emerging stars. “That would be splendid!”
His grin widened, his face as bright as it would get if there was sunlight. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something more, but then he closed it again and shook his head like he was laughing at himself. “Have a nice evening, Sisi.”
“You too, Daniel,” she said with a curtsy.
They stared again, her light brown eyes to his, their smiles reaching a painful stretch. Then they both snorted and chuckled as she turned and ran up the stairs to the door. He waited until she reached the door to give him a wave goodbye.
The play would have been the perfect end of the day.
At breakfast, after Price got an earful from Damon about forgetting to pick up the girls from the bazaar, he proceeded to tell them that Mr. Haskett had finally made a purchase for one ticket bound to the Americas.
The ship was bound to leave in two months. Harry had already informed the Royal Watchers and they would be ready to pick up Haskett before he could step a foot on the ship.
By afternoon, before the play, Simone and Lydia visited Pauline who told them that a man with the same description of Mr. Haskett has had fittings with the tailor in the bazaar. He was due to pick up his new clothes in two weeks.
“Marvelous! We might catch him earlier than we think!” Simone gleefully said. And to make their trip to the bazaar even more exciting, Mrs. Baker informed Simone that she had reached out to a friend in Parlton, another modiste, who would be willing to give Simone more lessons. “It’s closer to home. It’s perfect, Mrs. Baker, thank you!”
It could easily be understood why Simone was in a very jolly mood as they went home and prepared for the play. But as it sometimes did in the past, a perfect day did not always end the same.
Damon and Price accompanied them to the theater. They sat in the front row, expectant and giddy. The pearls on her hair were clipped more securely, and her dress had lace sleeves and it was not yellow. Nothing was amiss until the lights went out and the stage lit up.
And the actors filed in one by one, scene after scene.
There was no Daniel Cavendish.
He did not show.
He never did.
Not for a very long time.
Part III
When she was twenty-five and everything became quite clear and heartbreaking.
8. the many letters
Dear Daniel,
I truly hope you are doing well. It is not quite easy to tell since your last letter had been four years ago. If you ever received mine, I hope they never bothered you. I have sent you many letters since your last, but this would be the last.
Please know that I do not hold it against you, but I also hope you don
’t hold this letter against me. Since that night you did not show up in your play, I have always wondered why. You said you had an urgent matter to attend to, and although I was curious, I never pressed. After all, I am just a friend. And I was your friend, yes?
But you stopped talking about your life in the theater. You stopped telling me about the dirty curtains and how they made you sneeze whenever they closed. You started asking questions instead. About my life in Abberton, the animals in the courtyard, and everything mundane. I even told you about the goose that chased Gale and me around. I told you about my new teacher in Parlton. And I even dared send you my drawings of a wedding dress I designed. I told you about my suitors, hoping you would share a bit more.
It was only when your letters came less and less that I realized you asked the questions simply so I could not ask mine. And I reached the conclusion that perhaps you no longer find our correspondence worthy of interest.
Wherever you are, Daniel, I hope you are living the life you want. Someday, should we ever meet again, I hope to be the one to ask the questions. I hope to hear exciting stories of travels and crazy plays.
This letter shall be addressed to your villa in Picadilly where my many letters had been sent. It has remained empty, but I was told you still own it.
Very truly yours,
Simone
She sent Daniel Cavendish her first letter when she was sixteen.
They wrote to each other for two years since then until she was eighteen.
His last letter was six years ago when she was nineteen, a year after they last saw each other in Picadilly and never showed up in his play.
She sent her last letter two years ago when she turned twenty-three, after having not heard from him for four years.
Nine years. It had been nine years since she met him. She had been young and childish and hopeful.
Now, at twenty-five, she was a lady.
“A spinster,” Gale said with a gesture of his hand at her. “That’s what you are, cousin, if you continue to lock yourself inside this bloody room.”
Simone looked at him wryly. Her hair was not entirely curly, but the ones at the side of her face were, and they were a mess. “What do you want me to do, Gale? Go out and marry the first man I meet?”
“I would not go as far as that, Sisi,” Gale said, walking closer, hands in his pockets. He looked around her workshop, a room connected to hers which their grandfather ordered to be transformed the very day Simone made her first dress. The sewing machine he procured for her from England was still the same one she sat behind every day. “Well, at least you open the windows,” Gale murmured before veering back to the subject of her apparent marital condition. “What I’m saying is that you might consider dressing up and come down to greet the three gentlemen waiting for you in the parlor.”
“I already told Susan to relay that I’m indisposed.”
“Sisi, I told them you’re not indisposed before you sent the maid,” Gale said. “Come down.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Their flowers are wilting.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“And they’re all waiting there looking like they’re at a bloody funeral, the funeral being mine because I have to entertain them in awkward one-word sentences.”
“Ask Lydia to entertain them. They might realize she’s a far better prospect than I.”
Gale rolled his eyes. “Lydia is with the Prophets.”
“That’s a sad thing then. Send them home. And thank them for the flowers for me.”
“Sisi,” Gale whined. “What will they think of me? I told them you’re—” He was not able to finish his sentence because Simone was suddenly on her feet, grabbing her shawl, and out the door. “What are you going to do?”
She did not answer, already walking down the corridor, along the veranda, and down straight into the parlor, surprising the three gentlemen inside. The flowers in their hands were far from wilting, but the petals sprinkled the floor at their feet, an obvious sign of their impatience which did not show on their bright faces when they recognized her. “Good morning, gentlemen,” she said with a smile, walking over to collect the flowers, saying thank you to each one, dropping a word of praise for the lilies and daisies (some with less petals), before facing them with her most charming smile.
In the doorway, Gale was already holding the door. “I would have enjoyed your attentions, gentlemen, but Gale must have forgotten when I told everyone over supper yesterday that I have commitments today. “I’m actually on my way out.”
“Then allow me to escort you, Miss Priest,” said one of them, the son of one of her former tutor, whose name she could never get right, just like his father’s teachings.
“I’m afraid I already have a companion,” she solemnly said. “Perhaps some other day. I’m truly sorry, gentlemen,” she added. “Have a good day.”
Turning on her heels, she met Gale with the smile still pasted on her lips. He rolled his eyes and dramatically swung his arm to the side for the gentlemen to leave. She went straight to the kitchen and handed the flowers to one of the maids.
“I’m quite busy today, Gale,” she said when she turned around and found her cousin stalking toward her with a frown. “I have a dress to complete for Miss Burke.”
“What’s going on?” Price asked from the stair’s second landing.
“Good morning, brother!” she greeted.
“She just shooed away three suitors with a bloody obvious lie!” Gale said.
“Again?” Damon asked from behind. His curly hair was almost black, damp with sweat as he strode toward them with riding gloves in one hand. His thick brow furrowed at Simone. “I’m sure they’re not as short as the last ones. I saw them dragging their feet across the courtyard just now.”
“There’s nothing wrong with them,” she snapped.
“Then it’s you?”
“I would not say so,” Price said, bounding down the stairs. “The old man wants to see you,” he told Damon. “No, he’s in the garden,” he added when Damon started for the stairs. When he reached Simone, he waited until Damon was gone before he patted her cheek and said, “It’s not you, Sisi, it’s that bloke you’ve been waiting for.”
“I’m not waiting for him.”
“You can just ask Web again, you know,” Gale said. “He might have heard something. He would not mind you asking.”
“Web doesn’t know where he is and if we ask again, he said he’ll burn us.,” Price wryly said. “And even if he wouldn’t mind,” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder, “Damon would. He was never fond of the idea that Sisi’s been in correspondence with an actor.” His face softened when he looked at her again. “Tell us—Are you still waiting for the man?”
“No.”
“You always run down to meet the post, Sisi. Do you still write him letters?”
She sighed. “No, my last letter was two years ago—I told you. I’m just waiting, not obsessed. There’s nothing wrong with waiting for a friend’s reply.”
“His letters had stopped coming five years ago—”
“Six.”
“Precisely. Waiting for another one is preposterous.”
“I’m not waiting for him ,” she groaned. “Not to marry him. Goodness. Do you think me naive? I’m not waiting for him .” Her eyes jumped between men. “Am I being clear?”
“Yes. Honest? Not quite,” Gale said. “But,” he said, grabbing her hand and looping her arm around his, “We don’t care.”
“Because we have someone in mind for you,” Price conspiratorially added, hooking her other arm around his.
“Who?” she wryly asked. The last time they tried to introduce her to a gentleman, it was a friend from Butler whose eyes would not meet hers because they were busy looking at others.
“The duke.”
“The duke of what?”
“Dafield,” Gale said, breaking into a grin. “He’ll be gracing the Hutchinson Ball this weekend.”
“Surely a duke would not bother attending a small-town ball.”
“Oh, but he is because Lady Hutchinson has three young ladies,” Price said. “All of them just slightly more charming than you and Lydia.”
“Then he must be already eyeing one of them. Why are we even talking about this?”
“Because we don’t like the Hutchinsons, Sisi,” Price said. “Remember what Lady Hutchinson called the old man?”
“The old man , just like you did.”
“He’s our grandfather. Of course, I can call him that. No matter, you know how she has made our lives miserable—during functions, the church, even a simple walk in the park.”
“You’re being dramatic. She never made us feel miserable—”
“Just agree for once, Sisi,” Gale said.
“I don’t want any part of this plan,” she said, breaking away from their hold. “You’re both insane.”
“You’ll be a duchess,” Price said.
“I care not.”
“You’re attending the ball with us.”
She whirled around and faced them. “Why are you being desperate that I find a match?”
“Because the old man is dying, and he wants great-grandchildren. And you want a husband. You’ve said so many times.”
“Of course, I want to be married. Just not with the men you throw in my direction at every turn. I’m quite certain you have not missed the obvious,” she told them, “but you can also give the old man great-grandchildren.” She pointed her finger at them. “And don’t you dare tell me it’s because you’re men and you get to decide when to marry.”
They gasped. “We never said anything about any gender being—”
“You once said it,” she told Price, pushing a path between them.
They tailed her to the stairs. “That was years ago, Sisi, and I’ve long regretted it. The scar between my eyes is proof of that!”
Simone was about to say something about the scar not being visible enough when she stopped, spotting Damon and their grandfather walking in from the garden. “Grandpapa,” she begged, “please tell them I’m not attending the Hutchinson Ball.”
Their grandfather, now eighty-seven, smiled at her and said, “Of course, you are. We all are.”
“But we don’t like the Hutchinsons! Remember what Lady Hutchinson called you? And the many times they made our lives miserable—during functions, the church, even a simple walk in the park!” she desperately said.
“Of course, we don’t like the Hutchinsons. But we like their guest,” the earl said.
Her eyes widened. “Grandpapa, you cannot be utterly serious!”
“What’s wrong? You always wanted to marry. None of your suitors seem to meet your standards. Perhaps it’s time to step up and aim higher, eh? A duke is quite high up there.”
“And he may have warts all over. Or—or a terrible man who would not respect me and make my life miserable. He might not even allow me to visit—” She stopped when she saw Damon’s reprimanding look.
With a groan, she turned to the stairs and climbed in silent resignation. There was no backing out of this. She had tried that many times before. Price and Gale followed, telling her about all the good reasons she would want to be a duchess.
“We’ll make certain you keep your rights and wishes. You can choose to live wherever you like, Sisi. You can build the manor in the woods you’ve always wanted, have as many servants as you want. Perhaps even own your own dress shop in town and Harry and Web would not even lift a finger against it because they could not—not if you’re a duchess !” By the time they reached the second landing, she was convinced.
A dress shop. A manor in the woods.
A duchess. She, Simone Priest, a duchess.
Well, why not?
9. the ball
Considering they did not have any mother to dress them or even shop with them, Simone and Lydia mostly relied on Mrs. Poppet for guidance. With their governess long gone, they had no one but their kind neighbor and her terrible taste in fashion.
“You should not send the dress you made for Miss Burke and wear that instead,” Freda, who was now fourteen, said from where she sat on the windowsill, her brown waves a wash of gold over her shoulder. Under, sitting on a pile of discarded fabric on the floor, Roxie added, “That was your best piece yet, Sisi.”
Lydia, who had been sucking on her thumb, said, “We should just go to Parlton, Sisi. I don’t think I’ll ever finish sewing on these bloody feathers. The needles never liked my fingers, I tell you that.” As she said that, a feather floated across the room, which Roxie caught and stuck in between her dark curly tresses to join the other white feathers already there. “Are you sure I won’t look like a goose when this is done?”
“No, you’ll look like a woman wearing one,” Freda said with a laugh.
They had been spending days redoing the gowns Mrs. Poppet chose for them. To be fair, they were not the worst ones in the shop, but they were not the best either. But they had to do with what they had. Ordering a new gown from Simone’s teacher in Parlton would take weeks. The Hutchinson Ball was in three days. Simone refused to use any of their older gowns because they were no longer in fashion and could not be rescued. How long had it been since their last season? Two years? No, they needed new gowns. And they needed to make them stunning. She may not enjoy the ball, but that did not mean she should not enjoy wearing a magnificent gown.
Simone, inspired by the number of birds in the courtyard, wanted to have feather skirts. Hers were black, Lydia’s white.
“You’ll both look odd, don’t you think?” Freda asked.
“It may appear odd to many at first, but it shall be the rave soon after,” Simone said with confidence. “Remember the last time I wore that ribbon hat?”
“Oh,” Roxie and Freda said with a snort. “We thought Gale was praying for your soul when you did that.” And Freda added, “Price dragged you toward Geneva Withers and said he was delivering a gift.” They all snorted, remembering the furious look in Geneva Wither’s beautiful face.
Months ago, Simone went to church in a hat that was not a hat. It was a ribbon she starched and formed into a hat. People looked, but a day or two later, they filled the shops.
“And if it doesn’t work this time? If people laugh at you?” Roxie asked.
Lydia paused and said, “Well, we can just fly away.”
The four of them were still laughing when their grandfather walked in with an expectant look on his face. “Are those your dresses?”
“Yes, Grandpapa,” said Sisi.
“And why feathers?”
“So we can be chased around,” said Lydia.
“And be served on a plate,” finished Simone.
He chuckled. “You’ll make fantastic turkeys.” He turned to Freda and Roxie. “Walk an old man around the garden, will you?”
The two girls jumped to their feet and followed him out the door, sticking feathers into this collar as they walked out.
Lydia laughed and Simone said, “You also have one above your head.”
“How did they manage it?”
“They’re sneaky, that’s how,” Simone murmured, attention on her work. But she could feel Lydia’s eyes on her. “What is it?”
“Sisi, perhaps Gale and Price are right. Maybe you’re waiting for him.”
Simone sighed. “Lydia, if I am, I would not be entertaining suitors.”
“You’re not giving them enough attention either.”
“Because they can’t make me.” She snipped a thread, picked up another black feather, and repeated the process of stitching.
“Maybe the duke will,” Lydia said. “Do you think he’ll be handsome?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never even seen his father.”
“Harry had. And Webster, too, I believe. But I heard he’s quite handsome. I wonder why he never showed up while we were having our seasons.”
“You can ask him in three days,” she suggested. “Steal a dance. You’re quite good at it.”
Lydia laughed. Simone did, too. The memories of their seasons in Coulway came back to her, the fun times they had after they debuted. The little adventures of sneaking in and out of gardens to meet young gentlemen, the horrible and quite magical kisses they shared with said men, and the little heartbreaks when they were forgotten after another year apart.
Oh, if she could only tell her brothers and cousins about the things she and Lydia did, maybe they would not think she was still hoping to be reunited with Daniel Cavendish. But she was not even hoping to have a match with the man. Not anymore, at least. He clearly had other priorities, wherever he may be. He may no longer even be in Sutherland.
No, Simone was just waiting for a letter of farewell. So she would know he was well and that he was still living his dreams. Because that was important to her. To know that a dream could be lived.
Damon was already waiting for them in the hall, dressed just as he was: quiet, simple, and quite… Well, dark. It was his resting face, Simone thought. The inner ends of his brows just had a natural curl that made him look like he was always frowning. Thus, he always seemed to be brooding. Beside him, their grandfather was motionless as Roxie fixed his cravat.
“Don’t tell me everyone is attending,” Simone said, looking at Gale and Price.
“Roxie and Freda are not,” Web said, appearing from the parlor.
“And when did you arrive?” Lydia asked him.
“An hour ago,” he said, dropping them a kiss each. “You both look like feathered pieces on a chessboard.”
“Where’s Harry?”
“Escorting Arabella to the ball. He’ll meet us there.”
Damon checked his watched. “It’s time.”
Gale and Price rushed toward Simone and Lydia before Roxie and Freda could reach them. “If you ever see Geneva Withers,” Roxie said, “Tell her hello from us.”
“Why? What have you done this time?” Price asked, guiding Simone to the door.
“Nothing.”
“The two of you disappeared for five minutes last Sunday in church,” Gale said, facing the pair. “What did you do?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Damon and Web. “Tell us now.”
“Why?”
“So we’ll know what to do before Geneva Withers tells them,” he said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.
“We placed a bug inside her purse, that’s all.”
“What bug?” Price asked.
Roxie blinked. Freda moistened her lips. “Bug.”
“What kind of bug?” Simone insisted.
“Freda,” Lydia told her sister, stealing a look at Damon and Web as they escorted the earl into a carriage. “Tell me now or I swear I’ll kill you myself.”
“A small toad.”
“A toad bug?” Lydia hopefully asked. The smaller the problem, the better.
“No, an actual toad.”
“A toad is not a bloody bug!” the four of them hissed.
“Oh, right,” the two devils said, cheeks puffing as they smiled. Of course, they knew a toad was not a bug.
“You’ll both get your own trouble someday,” Price said, pointing at them before he whirled around and Gale, Simone, and Lydia followed. As they walked off, he said, “We can’t let Geneva Withers come close.”
“Or open her mouth,” said Gale. “Once she does, these two will be painted badly.”
“Harry will be in a foul mood.”
“Harry’s not here.”
“He’s escorting Arabella to the ball. Do you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because he’s helping her find a match, and childish distractions don’t help,” Gale said, narrowing his eyes on Roxie and Freda. “You know how he hates his complications.”
“Harry made an effort to secure her an invite because they’re friends. That’s all,” Lydia said. “Bridget and Charity said Ara has no plans of ever getting engaged again.”
“Well, no matter, if Geneva Withers ever gets the chance to spread the horrible deeds of our lovely cousins, you may never have a chance to dance with the duke,” said Price.
“And that is not a problem at all.”
But of course it was for Price and Gale, who had always been so passionate about finding them matches. They had made and lost friends for their quest, even made enemies because of it.
Simone, however, might know why they were doing it. And why Harry and Web, even Damon, never stopped them. They were both with Simone and Lydia when their parents said goodbye. They stood outside as their parents boarded their carriages. And it was them, Price and Gale, who got the last order from Hilton Priest. “Take care of the young ladies, the two of you.”
Many times, she had heard them repeat those words, most often in a jesting way, but Simone knew they had taken it to heart, and perhaps always would. And for both men, taking care of Simone and Lydia meant finding them suitable husbands. Just like Hilton Priest and Raymond Stratford, their fathers, said.
The Hutchinsons lived five miles from Abberton House. Although the Stratfords (at least most of them) claimed that they did not like the Hutchinsons, they were not as horrible as Price would paint them. It was just Lady Hutchinson, the mother, the wife, the tormentor of every young man and woman who walked into a church with a little less ounce of holiness as she did. The two daughters were not as bad, Price would say. Gale somehow also agreed, saying, “Better than the Prophets, if you know what I mean. They only gossip with their eyes. You see them flickering here and there whenever there’s a buzz in church. Pay more attention next Sunday. You can seat with me.”
As to Lord Hutchinson, who was not a peer, but was only given the honorary title of lord because he was one of the many sons of the Earl of Monfort, the man might be deaf and mute, as Lydia would say. They never heard him speak to them in church, and he would look at the vicar with the look of someone who was sleepwalking.
An odd family, Simone would say, but then the Stratfords were also considered odd. A bunch of cousins living in a manor that was an animal crossing. “And a marketplace,” she also heard one say. Which was true, of course, with the number of merchants coming by now and then to sell goods.
But that’s what Simone loved about Abberton. She loved the diversity of characters, the exciting events unfolding everywhere. Even this Hutchinson Ball was strangely amusing. Almost everyone in town was invited, even the enemies. And they would not even attempt to hide it, which was the case with almost all functions in Abberton. Everyone would always be poured drinks spiked with animosity, gossip, and fun.
Tonight, however, was different. The air seemed…quiet. As if everyone was nervous. Or anxious.
Anxiously waiting for the much-awaited honored guest.
And of course, he did not appear as early as the other guests.
He was a duke, after all.
“He might not even come,” Lydia droned as she checked her dance card. Price and Gale had approved seven dances. “Watch me limp my way home and I’d never get the chance to dance with a duke.”
“Those are handsome names, Lydia,” said Gale. “Good families.” He popped the last piece of his shortcake into his mouth.
“Geneva Withers,” Price’s alarmed voice said behind them. Gale spun on his heels and craned his neck. “South window.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Gale said, rushing off to greet Geneva Withers, a young woman with a sharp tongue she especially reserves for Roxie and Freda every Sunday.
“People are looking at us,” said Simone.
“Maybe because they’re afraid you’ll take flight,” Price said, the small scar between his eyes, the one caused by a fork Simone threw at him many years ago, disappearing as he frowned while clearing his throat. “I think I might have swallowed a feather.”
“You’re horrible,” Simone said with a snort.
The sudden hush made them pause and look around. Geneva Withers, who looked like she was in the middle of escaping Gale, did the same along with him and everyone else.
From somewhere in the giant doorways of the Hutchinson ballroom, someone intoned, “The Duke of Dafield!”
10. the duke
The Duke of Dafield was used to getting all the attention, but not in a venue like this. He would rather be somewhere else, but he had a few good reason he was in the Hutchinson Ball.
He had seen far more lavish balls, but this one would do. He was here for a Stratford. Specifically, the heir to the earldom, Harry Stratford. He smiled at the greetings he passed by, murmured a good evening, and soldiered on. A man on a mission. The first of three he would have to do.
For the first order of business, he went straight to the hosts. Lady Hutchinson prattled; Lord Hutchinson mumbled. It was easy, paying respect when you’re a duke. It was not expected, and a short one was enough should one opt to do so. Because the host would want to leave and brag about their immense influence at having a duke in their home. It took him one question: “Is that the Earl of Abberton?” and Lady Hutchinson promptly jumped on her feet and ushered him to the old man laughing with two gentlemen. And while she filled him with information of her friends, the Stratfords, his eyes roamed the vicinity, looking for Harry Stratford, the heir. It was easy to spot the man, because he was currently talking with a young woman with red hair not far away from his grandfather.
As they neared, his gaze jumped back to the earl and the younger Stratfords laughing with him. One of them turned and grinned.
“Ah, you bloody bastard,” Webster exclaimed, much to Lady Hutchinson’s surprise. “How have you been?” Webster Priest said, shaking his hand with only the familiarity of men who shared years in Butler ever would.
Without answering his friend, he offered the Earl of Abberton a slight bow and greeted Damon Stratford. And before he knew it, the old man caught his arm and said, “Are you here for a wife? Certainly not one of them Hutchinsons, boy.”
“What did he say?” Lady Hutchinson asked, to which Web answered, “Nothing, my lady. I think your daughters are currently surrounded. Might want to save them.” With that, the host left them, muttering about her daughters dancing with a duke.
“I’m telling you, the Hutchinsons are the worst choice,” Abraham Stratford continued, ignoring his grandsons. “You’re better off marrying into the Stratfords. I have a name in mind.”
“Good Lord,” Damon groaned. “Don’t listen to him.”
Daniel Cavendish only laughed. “As a matter of fact,” he said, bending down. “I have a plan quite similar to what you just proposed, my lord,” he said to the earl.
Web and Damon looked at him in surprise. “You do?” Web asked, almost with a scowl.
He smiled at his friend. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Good, good. My grandchildren have rich dowries,” the earl said, steering him away from his grandsons.
With a small smile, Daniel stopped him. “I believe you misunderstood, my lord.”
“What do you mean then?”
He smiled and gestured his hand to the side. Looking at Damon and Web, he said, “We should find a library. And perhaps we should invite Harry.”
“Sisi,” Lydia nudged. “Sisi.”
“Lydia, I see!” she hissed.
“See what?” Price asked.
But they were not hearing him. A force was propelling both women away from the refreshment table and toward the path the duke was taking. Lydia gripped Simone’s arm tighter. “Sisi.”
“Lydia, I know!” she hissed. “Now, stop calling my name.”
“But he’s—Sisi, he’s—”
“That’s the actor,” Gale’s voice said beside Simone. “What in bloody tarnation—Do you know?”
“How would have I known?” she asked. “Did you?”
“No.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you certain you had no idea?”
“If I did, I would have not worn feathers.”
Gale joined them across the ballroom, the three of them looking like geese walking across the courtyard in Abberton House. They stopped, hid, walked, slithered their way toward the target who was now leading their grandfather, Harry, Web, and Damon toward the nearest exit.
“What’s going on?” Price asked behind them.
“Hush!” they all hissed, smiling innocently at those who turned their way.
“Are we following them? Why? I’m sure the old man can secure a dance for both of you. There’s no need—”
The rest of Price’s words were left unheard as they rushed out into the corridor where they crowded because Gale had stopped and turned to them. “Talk,” he ordered Simone. “Laugh,” he added to Lydia.
Simone moved her mouth without saying a word while Lydia broke out into chuckles, their eyes over Gale’s shoulders. Web and Harry had turned their way. Price waved at them before joining Lydia’s phony laugh. “Why are we even doing this?” he asked before laughing heartily again.
Again, they did not reply. The men had entered a room, and they rushed.
“I have secured a dance after this one,” Price reminded them when they all stopped outside the doors. Like the many similar moments in the past, the four of them took their positions: Lydia with her reliable ears against the door, Simone behind her pretending to fix her hair, Gale and Price, a few feet away in opposite directions, leaning against the wall to watch both ends of the corridor.
No one said a word, no one asked. Lydia hated being distracted. They all did their part with a calm expertise that only years of practice growing up in a large estate like Abberton House could ever provide.
However, they might have lacked some practice. Or Lydia did.
Without warning, her cousin suddenly straightened, butting Simone’s face with the back of her head. “Ow!” Simone cried out.
“Sorry,” Lydia said, turning to face her. “Oh, you’re bleeding again.”
“What’s happening?” Price asked, coming toward them. “Sisi, are you hurt?”
Gale was on his way to offer his kerchief when suddenly, the door opened and Simone, in an attempt to hide, whirled around and tripped on Price’s foot as he reached her. And worst of all, he was not fast enough to catch her because he, too, was falling.
They landed with a thud, black feathers floating about.
“What are you—” Damon’s voice started, but then stopped when he noticed Simone. “Good Lord, Sisi,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “What happened?”
She tried to say something, but Gale pressed the kerchief over her nose and mouth. “We were talking and laughing and suddenly she tripped,” Gale provided with a straight face as he helped Price to his feet.
“Let me see,” Damon said, brow furrowed in a frown as he peeled the kerchief away. “Hm. You lost a tooth.”
Her gasp of horror was followed by Lydia’s, “He’s lying. You only have bloody teeth.”
Damon looked at her. She looked away. He looked at Price and then Gale, then at Lydia who just let out an awkward laugh. “We were talking and laughing and she tripped, that’s all,” Lydia said. Damon just nodded unconvincingly before he stepped away from Simone.
It was only at that moment that they realized he was not alone. Behind him were their grandfather, Web, and Harry. And the Duke of Dafield.
Simone became arrested, bloodied kerchief in midair. She gazed. She looked. She ogled. He was looking at her . In that moment, Simone saw the countless letters she had written and received, the many more she sent unanswered.
There he was, finally standing there again, as if he was on a stage about to deliver a line. But this time, he was not playing the role of a duke. He was the duke. Yet he did not seem like her Daniel Cavendish either. He seemed…different.
“I’m sure you’re quite familiar with the rest of the Stratfords,” said their grandfather’s voice from behind Daniel. He came into view, leaning on his cane.
“Yes, my lord,” replied the duke—Daniel—eyes still on Simone.
Summoning the courage she never thought she had, she opened and mouth and said, “Dan—Your Grace.”
He did not offer a word of reply. Not even a smile. He just gave the slightest of bows to her and to the rest of her family. “I wish you all good evening.”
And then again, he was gone.
Daniel entered the ballroom, shoulders stiffer than it was before he left. He should be at ease now. His talk with the Stratfords was a success. No accident occurred inside the library. In fact, the earl was only eager to listen to his proposition. And Harry Stratford said he shall consider. Web was, of course, naturally surprised. Damon had no opinion on the matter. And so it was that another meeting was scheduled. A longer one. And they shared a quick drink to seal their promising agreement.
So it was not the time in the library that made him want to escape. It was the accident that followed. Not his, but of the other Stratfords.
A crowd gathered around him—men and women who hungered for his attention. Was he staying long in Abberton? He would enjoy the lake nearby, the woods, and even the fairs. He should come often, they said.
He gave the proper replies, the proper nods and smiles. Just one more glass and he would go.
He saw her enter the ballroom again, her face pale, perhaps from the accident. But when their eyes met across the room—just short of a second—she flushed. He looked away, jaw tight. He noticed her confusion earlier, heard the unspoken questions, but he wanted none of it.
After another glass and another round around the ballroom, with no dance spent with anyone, Daniel said his goodbye. It was only until his carriage drew away that he let out a sigh.
He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose.
Simone Priest’s beautiful light brown eyes came back to him. And suddenly more—the unruly curls at her temple, the full-cheeked smile, and the laughter. He only heard it once or twice and it had been years, yet they all came back.
The sparkle in your eyes. I hope you never lose it, Mr. Cavendish. It speaks of an entire world uniquely yours.
After nine years, he could still hear it clearly. As if she was just there, sitting across from him, telling him the words she said from across his window.
It speaks of an entire world uniquely yours.
Along with the words were the memories of the things he once loved. Every bit of them. Every fractured dream.
11. the picnic
“But isn’t she too young for Harry?” Simone asked.
“Grandmama was fifteen years younger than the old man,” said Gale with a shrug. “And she still died first.”
“And what’s your point?”
“That age hardly matters,” Price replied.
The four of them were walking through the garden, the one at the back of the house, while not far away, in the vast lawn near the edge of the woods, the servants were battling the winds with the tablecloth.
Mrs. Keating, the housekeeper with black hair and slender figure, shouted for Price. “The chairs, Price!”
One thing people also found odd within the Abberton House was that the masters could be ordered around by the servants as much as they could do the same to them. They grew up doing whatever they fancied. If they wanted to cook, they were not just allowed to—they were taught to. Clean the windows? Of course they could climb the ladder to clean the windows. The girls ruined gardens, collected worms, and later learned how to grow the same foods they cooked in the kitchen. On more summers than they could count, Price and Gale had joined the workers in the field to plant new crops to escape the schoolroom.
No one stopped them from doing anything, and if any of their tutors ever showed them the distinct line between laborers and masters, they were dismissed. There was respect, but it was never one-sided.
Astonishing it may be, odd as it may be, it also had its disadvantages. For one, most of the children had an unruly side to them. They could not easily distinguish class whenever they were outside. Rarely would one catch them address anyone correctly, especially those with vague titles.
It was Price who eventually found the perfect solution. “Just call everyone lord or lady. Those without title would either correct us or be flattered and not bother. But we should always recognize a bloody duke and duchess. They’re addressed differently. But they’re quite few, so we’re quite safe.”
As Price delivered two chairs to Mrs. Keating, they followed in an easy pace. Lydia looped her arm around Sisi while Gale asked, “Have you asked Web?”
“Never had the chance. He’s always busy.”
“Oh, the curiosity is killing me,” Lydia said. “I think Web is trying to evade our questions.”
“I guess so, too,” Gale concurred. “I tried asking myself, but he brushed it off.”
“We can invite them to Charity’s wedding,” suggested Lydia. Bridget had married three years ago. This year, Charity finally found a match, and she had asked Simone to make her dress.
“I doubt a duke will attend a small-town wedding, Lydia.”
Gale picked up a fallen twig and thoughtfully asked, “Do you think Harry will accept the offer?”
“It’s quite advantageous. Her brother is a duke. That in itself is good enough connection.”
“I don’t think Harry will take it,” Lydia said.
“He’s in love with Ara,” Gale pointed out.
“No, he’s not,” Lydia said.
“He’s my brother. I know.”
“He told you?”
“Not in words, but—”
“Then it’s all in your head,” said Simone before she scoffed. “What do you know about love?”
“I happen to know a lot about love. It just would not come to me.”
“Like it did with Pauline and the many other ladies before and after her?” Lydia asked.
“Oh, please, those were just fleeting moments. And Pauline’s case barely lasted a week.”
“It was more than a week. You spent an entire week practicing your waltz when Web locked us up after our fiasco in the theater.”
“Well, no matter, that was just a passing boy’s fancy,” he said, throwing the twig to the side. “But I’m willing to wager Harry is in love with his best friend.”
“Arabella swore to never marry.”
“I swore to never pose for any of your paintings,” he said to Lydia. “But I still do because I love you, my dear cousin.” He opened his arms wide and walked over to Lydia.
Chuckling, Lydia escaped his attempt to embrace her. “Stay away from me, you crazy man!”
Simone watched Lydia run away, Gale fast behind her with arms spread wide. “Sisi, help!” Lydia shouted with a laugh.
She broke into an excited giggle, bent down, and plucked her slippers off her feet, shouting, “I got you!” And with the precision of someone who had practiced shooting birds in the woods (and perhaps also throwing many slippers before), she hit her target right in the back of his head.
“You’re dead!” Gale growled, whirling around to attack her.
She jumped on one foot, warding him off. “Lydia!” she shouted for help.
Lydia’s slipper missed its mark and landed on Simone’s foot. She bent and picked it up, but was not fast enough. Gale had tackled her to the ground, and they rolled, squealing with a trace of laughter that bordered imminent fury.
“My dress, you bastard!” she shouted, pushing him off her.
“You hit my head!” he shouted back.
“You know, there’s good reason that I really wanted to lock you all up before the picnic,” Damon’s voice said above them.
They both looked up, still laughing, to find him looking down at them with a frown. Not far away, Lydia slowed down, her other slipper in one hand. “Your Grace!”
Your Grace?
Simone poked her head to the side of Damon’s leg and found another pair standing not far behind. She did not even dare look up. She scrambled to her feet, silently asking how many times should Daniel Cavendish see her on the ground.
Three times now. Three!
Damon pulled her up, Gale followed. “Bloody hell, Sisi, you’re too old for this,” he gritted out under his breath. “Go inside and change your dress.”
She nodded, head bowed, and walked, but then she realized she was walking right into Daniel Cavendish, so she stopped, turned around, and walked to Damon’s other side. Gale was right behind her, murmuring a good afternoon to their guests.
“Your slippers,” Damon said behind them.
“Right,” she murmured, walking back, eyes on the ground. She hastily picked up the slippers, saying, “Lydia,” giving the other to her cousin. They both struggled to put on their slippers and half-ran-half-walked away without looking back.
The three of them stumbled into the hall. It was Gale who snorted, and Simone and Lydia broke into a fit of laughter. “We should really stop acting like children,” Gale told them. “If you both want to find husbands.”
“We’re not acting like children. We’re just carefree!” Lydia breathlessly said.
They ran up the stairs, met Harry who was dressed for the picnic, and Web who frowned, saying, “What happened?”
“Oh, it was Price,” Simone quickly said. “We’ll be down shortly.”
Two maids ran after Simone and Lydia. “You’ve ruined your dresses!” Susan shrieked. “Was it the geese again?” asked Juliet.
“I want the blue dress, Juliet,” Simone said, entering her room. Across hers was Lydia’s and before she entered, her cousin said, “Sisi, I think he fancies you.”
It was Juliet and Susan who asked, “Who?”
“And you made the conclusion how?”
“He looked at you like he wanted to pick you up and kiss you, that’s how,” her cousin said. “Oh, this is going to be interesting!” She looked down the corridor and shouted, “Gale! You saw it, didn’t you?”
“What?” their cousin asked.
“How he looked at Sisi.”
“Like he wanted to murder her?”
“Not, Damon, you dimwit! The duke!”
“Oh, like he can’t believe he’s seeing a giant infant?” his drifting voice asked before he completely disappeared.
Lydia looked at Simone. “He’s interested.”
“He’s interested in marrying his sister to Harry, that’s all,” she said, truly not wanting to entertain any sort of hope. As Damon said, she was too old for this.
“Oh, wait until what Price has to say.”
Simone groaned. “Lydia, you would not dare—”
But her cousin had already closed the door with Susan.
“Hm,” Juliet muttered. “You may want to finish that wedding dress, Miss Sisi.”
“Which one?” she asked. She was making two: one for Charity and the one she started five years ago.
“Why—yours, of course!”
Harry Stratford was very polite to Emmeline. He listened to her, paid her enough attention. Who wouldn’t? His sister was not particularly beautiful with black hair and brown eyes common among other women, but her eyes and demeanor always glowed with interest and curiosity. She was easily fascinated, and showed it without hesitation. She did not pay much attention to how she should dress in public like many women her age, but she cared if people would consider her stupid. She was confident. And for men like Daniel and many others, confidence was attractive.
However, one could not yet determine if something would blossom between the two, but it was clear that it was an important thing for the Stratfords. Daniel could easily surmise that no one would order Harry to marry anyone he did not want.
“Why him?” Emmeline asked with curiosity.
“Why not?”
“He’s older than you, Daniel.”
“By a year.”
“We have eleven years between us.”
“Does it matter?” he asked.
“No, but why him?” They were taking a leisure walk on the edge of the woods as the servants, and even the Stratfords, prepared the picnic. He had been to many estates like this one, with the woods at their disposal, with lush gardens, and a humongous manor. But nothing quite like the Abberton House. It was… interestingly different.
There was something in this place that was absent in their own home in Dafield. No, not the odd courtyard he had heard a lot about.
It was laughter.
Of course, they also laughed back in Boatbell Manor, but the one here in Abberton House was a different kind of laughter. It was wild, unruly. Loud. Everything he and his sisters were not accustomed to.
“They’re rich,” he said.
“Then perhaps you should marry one of the ladies,” Emmeline said. “They’re quite fun, aren’t they?”
“They also like climbing windows,” he said, eyes on the roof. A young woman in a white dress was climbing out of the attic window and she was followed by another. The two of them walked on the roof as they would if they were on ground. One was holding a basket, the other a folded cloth.
“Goodness,” Emmeline said, looking around frantically. “Someone’s on the roof!” she shouted.
“What?” asked Price, looking up.
“The roof! Two girls!”
“Roxie and Freda,” explained Web, approaching them with an unbothered smile. “It’s their turn on the deck today.”
“Deck?” Emmeline asked.
“Birdwatching deck,” Daniel said. Web turned to him with a curious look on his face. “You mentioned it before,” he lied.
“Funny,” his friend murmured. “I don’t believe I ever did.” Then he turned to Emmeline to explain. “If you circle around the west wing, you’ll see a birdwatching deck attached to the roof that extends outward. Old man didn’t want another infrastructure just for stairs, so we had to be creative.”
“So you climb out the windows instead?” Emmeline asked in astonishment.
“It’s safe,” Web said with a shrug.
“How is climbing out a window of a roof safe?” asked Emmeline.
“You may want to see the decks we have in the woods,” Harry said, smiling at Emmeline as he approached. “Aren’t you curious?”
“If they’re still alive, of course!”
The two Stratfords smiled. “If you would allow me, I’ll escort you to meet Roxie and Freda,” Harry told her.
“I don’t think I can climb out a window.”
Harry offered his arm and asked, “Can you shout?”
“W-Why?”
He shrugged, exchanged a look with Daniel, who just nodded. “If you let me escort you, you’ll know.”
Web stood beside Daniel and they watched the pair walk away to the western side of the manor. “Is it because of the stories I told you about my family while we were in Butler?”
He turned to his friend and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Why you’re choosing to marry your sister into our family,” he said.
A small laugh escaped him. “Maybe.”
“You have always been fascinated by my stories which may have been told with exaggeration.”
“Having passed through your courtyard, I know you were not exaggerating.”
“Well, it’s true. The courtyard reveals it all, I’m afraid,” Web said. A comfortable silence passed between them. The trees in the woods rustled as the wind blew past them, carrying Emmeline’s voice. It sounded like she shouted a question, which was answered by a series of more shouts from the two younger-sounding Stratfords up on the deck. He felt his friend’s gaze on him.
He and Web had always been the same. They wanted different things from what their family expected. But circumstances had forced them both to take the exact paths expected of them. His friend lost his parents and had to face the gigantic responsibility of running one of the biggest shipping lines in Sutherland. And he, albeit only a little later, had to step into the role of a duke.
“Why do I feel like you are rushing, Daniel?” he asked.
“Emmeline is of marrying age. It’s about time.”
“And I’m quite certain you’ll do the same for Eliza and Elizabeth in a year or two.”
He took in a long breath. “I have to secure their future. As their brother, it’s my responsibility.”
“You mean before the time runs out?” His head snapped at his friend, and Web lifted both hands and stepped back. “I’m not on the list of your enemies, Dafield.”
“Don’t call me that,” he said. “It crawls on my skin.”
Web laughed and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Well, if your sister ends up in the family, you’ll understand what crawl on your skin actually means. We get into each other’s skin quite often here.”
They started to walk back to the picnic which was now finally ready. From a distance, three figures were walking toward them, carrying plates. The servants walking behind them were carrying refreshments.
“I heard they were rolling on the ground again when you arrived,” Web said, eyes on his sister and cousins.
“They were, yes,” he replied, eyes on just the sister.
She was wearing a blue dress, the sleeves sheer and light, flowing with the wind. Her hair was glorious under the afternoon sunlight, freely flying with the wind, reminding him of a vague memory of an afternoon in Picadilly, of him running after a pearl.
Then her eyes found his again. He looked away in the most nonchalant way he could muster.
No , he reminded himself. Not her.
12. the reminder
Simone could not tell how she ever survived the picnic sitting so stiff with a smile pasted on her face the entire time. Roxie and Freda were free to join them and the pair chose not to, opting to take the only time of the day they were allowed on the birdwatching deck. And she wished she also had the freedom to choose not to be there because it was notoriously draining.
Not only did she have to pretend that she was fine and that the presence of Daniel Cavendish was naught but an honor, she also had to keep an eye on Price, Gale, and Lydia. The three had been throwing not-so-surreptitious glances at the duke, and worse, at her, then back, as if they were telling everyone they knew something. Which they didn’t, of course, because they knew nothing.
Yes, they knew Simone and Daniel Cavendish had been exchanging letters for a duration of three years, but they truly didn’t know the contents of those letters. They didn’t know the depth of those conversations, the hearts she poured in hers, and the dreams in his.
However, they knew Simone had kept writing letters for another three years without a single reply from the man. And that was the excruciating and shameful part. There she was, sitting in a chair, fully aware of him from two seats away, remembering all the stupid things she wrote to him while he never wrote a word in return.
It was shameful at best.
And her last letter. Good Lord, what had she been thinking two years ago? To write to him as though they were lovers, practically telling him she was hurt for not getting any replies.
Shame was a terrible thing. And that’s what made the picnic draining and excruciating.
“Do you think he’ll marry her?” Price asked beside her. Following his gaze, she looked at Harry and Emmeline talking not far away, just the two of them. Harry had always been a charmer when it came to women. But it was rare to see him chummy with them with the exception of Arabella.
“No,” she said.
“Are you feeling well?” Price asked, studying her face.
She slapped his hand away.
“You’re a little testy, aren’t you?” he asked.
“I’m just feeling hot. It’s the sun,” she gritted out.
“Surely, it’s not the sun,” he taunted.
“Don’t push it, Price,” she warned.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll walk out.”
He laughed, and she stood, getting the attention of everyone around the table, including Daniel Cavendish. She made the mistake of looking at him, and he looked away, as uninterested as he was when a bug flew past him earlier. And she hated that. “I’m going for a walk,” she said to her grandfather.
“I’ll be your companion,” Price volunteered, guiding her away before she could protest. “Your Grace, would you like to join us? I’ll show you some interesting things in the woods.”
“Oh, lovely! I’d like to stretch my legs too,” Lydia piped in.
Simone walked on, very certain the man would say no. He could not even look at her with interest. Why would he be interested in a walk with them?
But to her surprise, she heard him say, “My pleasure.”
Fortunately, she still had some control over her body. She did not turn even when the instinct was there. She just walked on, intent on overusing her muscle so she could later tell everyone that she wanted to retire early.
“Sisi, slow down!” Price called behind her.
“Keep up!” she snapped over her shoulder.
And he did. They did. Daniel Cavendish, still in a coat, silently walked beside Price. Lydia looped an arm around her and the two of them walked ahead of the two men.
“We spend most of our time here,” said her brother. “There are dozens of birdwatching decks scattered around.” He pointed at one tree. A ladder made of rope and wood was the only way up, which had never been a bother to all Stratford children. They grew up climbing up things.
Simone said nothing as they moved deeper into the woodland, the path growing thicker. Lydia, thank goodness, knew how to act whenever Sisi was cross. She remained silent, walking with her as the men talked, only saying a word or two if she thought Price’s statement needed more elaboration.
“You also have to be careful with your steps,” Price was saying. “Traps are everywhere.”
“Not deadly, of course. Harmless ones, but still…traps,” said Lydia, mirth in her voice.
“Over the years, we built traps for each other,” Price said. “Most of them are forgotten now, but some of them might still work.”
“And has anyone ever fallen victim?”
“Of course. Lydia has the most count,” Price said.
Lydia broke free from Simone’s arm and whirled around to playfully kick Price. “It’s Gale. Do your math right.”
Simone wanted to laugh with them, remembering the many times they all fell into each other’s traps, even their own.
“Have you?” Daniel’s voice asked beside her.
Startled, she looked at him. He was looking right at her. “What?”
He tore his gaze away from her and looked ahead. “Got into one of the traps.”
“A few times,” she murmured under her breath, then admittedly added, “a lot of times.”
“Now that I think about it, it must be Sisi,” Price said with a laugh. “She’s the clumsiest.”
Simone cleared her throat. “I can be quite boorish,” she said.
“As I remember,” Daniel said. She looked up at him and blinked, seeing the corner of his lips curled in a smile.
She was about to ask him what he remembered when suddenly she fell. Not on her face, but straight down. Well, not all of her, but just half a leg. Her shout rang in the woods, sending birds to fly away in alarm.
Price was fast to take her hand, but as he pulled, she let out a sharp cry, growling, “Whoever made this trap is going to die!”
“Sisi, what is it?” Lydia asked, alarmed.
Daniel Cavendish bent down on one knee, a frown on his face. Now, he must think she was the clumsiest. Which she was, but not as often as she was whenever he was around!
“Can’t you get out?” Price asked, trying to pull again.
She pushed him away. “Price, no! I’m stuck.”
“What do you mean?”
“Whoever dug this hole threw in some twigs and they’re all sticking into my skin!”
“What?” He pushed Daniel aside and pushed aside her skirts. “Let me see.”
She wrapped her arms around her brother’s shoulders, trying hard not to cry. “We’ll need a shovel.”
“I’ll get help.”
“I will do it,” said Daniel, sounding almost irritated. What was wrong with him? She was about to tell him he could just go and not return, but Price stopped him, saying, “No, you stay here.” Daniel may be older and the one with the title, but at that moment, Price was the concerned brother. And master planner. “We’ll be in trouble if they find out about this dangerous trap. By the looks of it, it could be the two girls’ doing. Let’s not bother the rest for now. Lydia will get something for her wounds—”
“Wounds?” Simone asked, voice thin in her attempt to not sound frantic.
“Just a precaution,” her brother lied.
“Is it bad?” she asked.
“You won’t die,” he said, standing to his feet. “Lydia will get something for her leg while I get the shovel from the garden. If they ever find us, we’ll tell them we’re just on our way back to show you the treasures.”
“Treasures?”
“We have some buried not far away,” Lydia explained. “Just silly things, really.”
“Right,” said Price. “And we’ll tell them we left you and Sisi on a deck.”
“Price,” she said, squeezing his hand.
“I’ll be back,” he promised. But as he realized his words, he corrected by saying, “I won’t take long.”
And that was how she trapped the duke in the woods, Simone thought as she watched her brother and Lydia walk away and as she realized she was alone with Daniel Cavendish. The duke, of course, not the man she liked years ago.
She wiped her tears with her hand and tried to hide a sniffle. Her leg was in pain, the ends of the twigs inside biting into flesh. She could only hope it was not deep enough that the doctor would think of cutting it off to save her. He had done that many times with some of the villagers.
“Are you feeling all right?” His voice was so unfamiliar, lacking the one she remembered, the one she could hear whenever she thought of him.
What happened to you? She wanted to ask. He looked impatient standing there, waiting for her answer. “I’ll be fine,” she said. She could not even muster a smile because her disappointment was growing as she spent more time with this Daniel Cavendish. Was this truly him? Was this the real him?
“Are you certain? You look pale.”
“This is not the first time, Your Grace.”
He opened his mouth to say something, as if to tell her she could just forget the formality, but he closed it again. Nodding, he paced in front of her. An owl hooted somewhere. And from somewhere quite far, a bleat.
“Is that a goat?”
She winced as she changed the position of her free leg. “Yes.”
He walked away and she was just about to say he did not have to put that much distance between them because she was not planning anything, but then she realized he had bent down and dragged a log toward her. “Here. Sit.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
She gritted her teeth. “Please, help me ignore the pain by not asking.”
Again, he just nodded. With her previous emotions spent on the event of her accident, Simone felt more relaxed. And somehow, a bit brave as she studied his features, his movements. Impatient and uncomfortable. Why?
“Would you answer one question, Your Grace?” she asked.
His face was unreadable when he faced her again. He did not answer yes, but he waited for her question.
“Do you…” She wavered at the sudden attack of fear, but then she realized he had nowhere else to go. He was just as trapped as her. “Do you remember me?”
His already existing frown deepened. “Whatever do you mean?”
“We met nine years ago,” she said. “I wrote you a letter.” He stayed quiet. “Oh, but of course, you don’t. I hardly remember it myself,” she said with a scoff. She still had her pride. Of course, she should act nonchalant about the past. “But I was hoping you would remember at least a little.” She cleared her throat and smiled at him. But, really, she was crushed. How could he just stand there and look so clueless? “We had a bit of a correspondence.” A bit , of course, was an understatement. He wrote dozens of letters. And she, hundreds.
As the silence between them lingered, she was drowning in shame. To be reminded of the things she wrote him, of her childish stories, of her open admiration toward him, was just embarrassing. Did she really send him those horrible drawings of her designs? She wished she didn’t. She wished she could not remember all of them. Just like he could not.
“I remember,” he said. She wondered if he was telling the truth because his voice was as lifeless as her injured leg. Was he just being nice?
“Why did you stop?” she asked, swallowing hard. Whoever said she was not brave should bite their tongue. Then, surprising them both, she laughed. “I’m jesting, Your Grace. It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to answer that.” Maybe she wasn’t that brave after all. His reasons could stay hidden. He was here, a duke, and she was here, half a leg buried under the ground. Clearly, they were both different people now. And clearly, they regretted the many silly things they did in the past. Like writing those letters. And as if she needed to convince herself more, she added, “That was a long time ago. I don’t even remember half of it. And I’m certain you received many letters from other fans.”
His face did not even change. Not a flash of something. “I understand,” he said.
“You’re not acting anymore, are you?” That question got a reaction. His jaw had tightened and she knew she had said something wrong. “Well, anyway, I was childish back then. I truly hope you burned my letters.” Again, she forced out a laugh. She may be swimming in shame, but she refused to drown in it. But she should probably shut up. “It was—”
“A thing of the past,” he interjected.
Her mouth remained half-open with the words he did not let her speak. A thing of the past. No, that’s not what she wanted to say. To hear it from him was quite different. It hurt, really. He just told her that everything else in that part of his life—their letters about the theater, his plays, their friendship, her —were naught but a thing of the past.
She was the only one who had been clinging on to the memories of him, after all. Her past was just a speck in his memory. His dreams, the theater, were just not a part of him anymore.
A thing of the past.
Slowly, Simone nodded, biting her lips. “I understand.” This time she did not hide the crack in her voice, nor hide the tears. But she refused to let him think it was because of him, so she said, “Oh, my leg hurts. I hope they come back soon.”
His gaze was on her, his almost stoic face showing slight concern. As if he could read her mind, but really, he didn’t. He couldn’t. Because he was no longer the Daniel Cavendish she met across her window in Picadilly. The concern on his face was just about her injured leg. Not about what he just made her feel. He did not understand that he just shattered her embarrassingly beautiful childish memories. And yes, they were childish indeed. And she was too old for those.
“I’m sure they’re on their way back,” he assured her.
She took a long breath and nodded, hoping he would be away soon so she could finally convince herself that her life could now go on. That she no longer had to remain curious about him. That dreams could be lived and then forgotten.
But of course, fate had a different plan as they would soon find out.
13. the guests
The doctor said she should not fear an amputation. “However, I wish you did not walk the two miles to get here,” he said. “I could have come by the Abberton House, Miss Priest.”
“Oh, we were just around the neighborhood,” Price easily lied, squeezing Simone’s shoulder.
“Thank you for your time, Doctor,” added Lydia.
“Make sure to come back in three days. I want to check that puncture wound again.”
“Thank you, Doctor. We will.”
“We would be very grateful if you don’t mention our short trip to anyone,” Gale added, putting on his hat while Price guided Simone out the door.
Doctor Peters just shook his head before he turned away. Simone limped to the gate of the doctor’s house and waited for Price and Gale. The two men stood in the middle of the road, a pebble in their hand. Lydia stood ten paces away and waited as each threw their pebble. They ran toward Lydia and bent. Gale soundlessly jumped in triumph when he found his pebble an inch closer to Lydia’s feet. Price dutifully walked toward Simone, turned his back on her and bent on one knee. She leaned down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
Then he carried her for one mile. When they reached the church, Gale took over to carry her all the way home. It was not a strange sight. In fact, now and then, at least twice a year, the Stratfords would always be found carrying one or two of their own. Most often, it was Roxie and Simone, both of which quite clumsy and always had little accidents that should be kept a secret. Also, on more than one occasion, they had to carry one of the older Stratfords. One time, they carried Damon after he fell down on a horse. They could have called the doctor, of course, but the horse was Harry’s favorite and he didn’t know Damon took it for a ride.
They would never bring any vehicle because the said trips were always a secret. Well, sometimes they would borrow a wheelbarrow if it was not in use. Just like that time Web broke an ankle after a bad evening of drinking.
“It’s understandable if he doesn’t remember you, you know,” said Gale as he adjusted her weight on his back.
“Why?”
“Because it has been years, Sisi,” said Price.
“But why can I remember?”
“Women remember the smallest details,” Gale reasoned. “Men don’t.”
“We wrote letters to each other, Gale. We were supposed to be friends.”
“Mayhap you were not his only friend-Ow!” he cried out when Lydia smacked his head. “Well, it’s true. I’m sorry, Sisi, but he was an actor. He must have received quite a number of letters from admirers.”
“No, their correspondence was different,” Lydia indignantly said.
Simone, on the other hand, agreed with Gale. Maybe Daniel Cavendish just had to answer too many letters. Hers might have been buried among hundreds of others. “Then I hope he never read my letters,” she said. “Because if he did, I don’t think I can live with myself. I wrote him thinking we were friends.”
“What could you have told him that’s shameful?” Price asked. “Surely, he understands you were too young back then.”
“That’s the point, Price, my letters were childish!”
“The important thing, Sisi, is that you’re no longer a child,” said Price. “And he should see that.”
“Oh, goodness, Price. You cannot still be thinking of making a match between the duke and I. Please, spare me of the humiliation.”
Gale stopped walking and dropped Sisi to rest. A few villagers came across them and they chatted some more. Back on the road, Gale asked, “Do you think Harry likes Emmeline?”
“I think it’s promising,” Price said, looking thoughtful. His straight, light brown hair was tucked behind his ears and they looked glorious under the sun, as bright as the ideas that must be forming in his head. And like always, when something very good came to him, he grinned and looked at them with such immense satisfaction curling his lips. “And I think yesterday’s picnic is not the last.”
Simone groaned. “Oh, please. Stop it.”
“We have to be ready with some plans,” he told Gale. “Sisi, you’ll need new dresses. Even gowns.”
“No, thank you, I’m quite fine.” She let out a frustrated laugh. “If you really want to find us matches, then find one for Lydia first. She’s quite willing.”
“Yes, I am,” said Lydia.
“Lydia’s going to get her turn,” Gale promised. He dropped her and breathlessly said, “We’re home.”
She tried not to limp as they crossed the courtyard. Susan, the maid, met them with her eyes round with excitement.
“I think Juliet and I will win the wager,” she announced.
“Which wager?” Simone asked.
“Truly? How so?” Price asked, suddenly excited.
“Yes, Sir, I’m sure we’ll win.” The maid conspiratorially leaned closer. “We’ll be having guests.”
“My, my,” said Gale, putting an arm around the middle-aged maid. “And how much did we wager, Susan?”
Susan, grinning, said, “A hundred from you, and a hundred-and-twenty from you, Master Price.”
“What is this about?” Simone interjected.
“The duke and his sister are coming, Miss Sisi,” said Susan. “And they’re staying for two months!”
“We’re going to be rich, Susan!” Price said, kissing the lady on the cheek. “Tell Leroy and the others to prepare their monies. We’re winning.”
“What are you wagering on?” Lydia cried out in frustration.
“A wedding,” said Gale, pulling Susan closer.
“Harry’s?” Simone asked.
“No. Yours,” said Price with a laugh. “Two months, Sisi. That’s enough work for us.”
Susan nodded her head vigorously. “Yes. That would be enough.”
“You wagered on me and the duke?” Simone asked in disbelief. “Grandpapa will-”
“Oh, he’s going to be rich, too,” said Gale. “How much did he put in, Susan?”
“Five-hundred,” the maid said.
Simone groaned. “Oh, you’re all horrible!”
“And who are betting against you?” asked Lydia.
“Well, most of the male servants,” said Susan. “Leroy’s handling their monies.”
Simone stormed away, limping. “Then where’s Leroy? There’s no chance you’re all winning at my expense!”
Web was rarely home nowadays, and whenever he was, he was always in his study. When the door was closed, it meant it should remain closed. But in some very rare instances, Simone could wave her little sister privileges. She did just that the night before the Cavendish siblings were due to arrive.
If she had to live with Daniel Cavendish for two months, she needed answers. And at this point, she was beyond ashamed to remind the duke about the things that happened nine years ago, which he clearly considered a thing of the past . So, no, she would not dare get answers from Daniel Cavendish.
“Sisi?” Web asked, looking up from his desk. He looked tired, like he always did whenever he was facing work. “What is it?”
She closed the door behind her. “Answer some questions for me, Web, will you?”
Things were different now that she was older. Somehow, over the years, her brothers had considered her an adult. But she was still their little sister, and she had to be careful.
“What?” he asked, although it was clear in the way he carefully regarded her as she sat across from him that he already knew what she wanted to ask. She had asked it a few times since the ball, but he always brushed it off. However, now, Simone was tired of wondering alone.
“You never told me.”
“What?”
“That he’s a duke. You never told me before.”
“It never crossed my mind to tell you, Sisi.”
“You knew he and I were in correspondence.”
“For a short time, yes. He told me you have been quite lonely.”
She froze. “He told you that?” Was that why he answered her letters? He felt sorry?
Web frowned. “What is this about?”
“It’s about the fact that he did not act like he was heir to a dukedom. And he never told me.”
Web sighed. He leaned back against his chair. “Because he has his reasons,” her brother said. “He was having the time of his life, Sisi. Who was I to ruin that? I know what it’s like to carry a burden of responsibility. He escaped that for some time. And it was his secret to keep. I was his friend who had to keep it. I still am.”
“You know I’ve been waiting for his letters. You could have told me where he was. Something.”
Her brother’s frown deepened. “You were quite serious about the letters?”
“Of course, I was! You could have saved me many years of curiosity!”
This time, his face darkened. “How deep was your correspondence with Daniel Cavendish, Sisi?
Without answering, she said, “Just tell me why he disappeared.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, forget it. I know now. He became a duke.”
Her brother looked at her for a while, then shook his head. “It’s far more complicated than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that it’s none of our business. Now-Answer my question. How deep was your correspondence with my friend?”
“Friendship deep.”
“How long?”
“I can’t believe you don’t know.”
“Perhaps because no one told me. You, Lydia, Price, and Gale, keep many secrets.”
“Just a few years. It stopped six years ago.”
“But?”
“I kept sending him letters until two years ago.” She stood and walked closer. “We kept asking you about him. You kept ignoring us. You could have just said, ‘Oh, I forgot. He’s a duke now. Maybe that’s why he never wrote you back again. He’s quite busy now.’ That would have been helpful, Web, yet you chose to not tell us.”
“Because he asked me to not tell anyone.”
“When?”
“Before he left Coulway. When he tried to get away-” He stopped, almost revealing something big. “I can’t tell you. I have his confidence as a friend.” He looked at her sternly. “Are you interested in the man?”
She felt defiant then. And she wanted to taunt him. “Maybe. He’s a duke, after all. Nearly everyone is betting on my future with him. Are you aware of that? The household is having a wager.”
Web shook his head. “No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“Just no, Sisi.”
“No to the betting, or no to him?”
“No to him.”
“Why? He’s your friend. He’s a good man. He’s a duke.”
“Just no.”
“Then tell me why. I hate it when you don’t explain things.”
“Because he does not want you.” She swallowed. Mayhap that hurt a little. He walked up to her and cupped her face. “I don’t want to see you broken over a man, Sisi. Daniel Cavendish is bound to do that.” And under his breath, he added, “And it’s a good thing he knows it.”
She stiffly nodded, then sighed. “Just so you know, I’m betting against our match.”
He did not smile. He just nodded.
She turned and walked to the door.
“Why are you limping?”
“Was chased by a goose,” she lied.
Five days after the picnic, Daniel and Emmeline were back in Abberton. “I think we’ll enjoy this vacation,” said Emmeline as the carriage drew closer to the Abberton House.
“I truly hope you do,” he said, looking out the window, frowning as he saw four familiar figures walking down the road. Three were walking-one was on the other’s back. And as they drew nearer, he realized he recognized them. He ordered for the carriage to stop.
Those who were on foot stopped and looked up. Simone’s face looked arrested.
“Your Grace!” Lydia greeted with a wide smile.
He just nodded while Emmeline leaned over to look out the window. “Miss Priest! What happened?”
“We were just at the doctor,” said Price. “Last visit.”
“Please, climb inside,” Emmeline offered.
“Thank you!” Gale said, dropping Simone on the ground. He climbed in first and escorted her inside. Daniel scooted over to give more room as the rest filed in. Gale almost threw his cousin next to Daniel before he extended a hand for Lydia who was last to climb.
“We would appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone,” said Price, grinning as he squeezed himself between Simone and the wall of the carriage, practically pushing her against Daniel. Simone slapped him when he pushed harder. “Move, Sisi, I can’t fit.”
“You can fit just fine,” Simone gritted under her breath.
“Are you fine, Miss Priest?” asked Emmeline from where she sat between Gale and Lydia across the carriage.
“A little accident, that’s all,” Simone answered beside Daniel, eyes on Emmeline. He looked down, as if he could assess the extent of her injury through her skirts. He never thought it was that bad that it required many visits to the doctor.
“But you could have just taken a carriage,” Emmeline was saying.
“Oh, we told them we were going for a walk,” said Lydia. “We rarely go out with the curricle. It would have been suspicious if we bought one.”
“Oh, I see.”
“We’re glad you’re staying with us,” Lydia said.
There were more questions asked as they traveled the rest of the way to Abberton House, planning on the things they would love to do in the next two months, but Daniel could not focus on the conversation. Simone Priest refused to acknowledge his presence. In fact, she grew quiet, sitting beside him, their sides pressed close together while Price looked like he was lounging on a spacious chaise.
He had the instinct to clear his throat, but then he feared it would draw the attention to him. Instead, in a voice intended only for her, he asked, “What did the doctor say?”
He felt her stiffen beside him. “Hm?” Suddenly, the sound reminded him of that day she hit her head on her desk.
“Your leg,” he said, voice low and even. “What did the doctor say?”
She finally looked up and their eyes met. It took a moment for her to blink away. “No need for amputation.” Then she added, “It will get better.” Her smile was forced, and so was her answer.
He nodded and stayed silent until they reached their destination. Pushing open the door, he jumped down and extended a hand to help her out. She looked at him warily. For some reason, he found that he did not like the look of apprehension on her face. “Miss Priest,” he said with a movement of his hand. She looked at his hand and reached out. But she made certain to hold on to his wrist instead, avoiding skin. “Thank you,” she murmured, offering a soulless smile. He lost her touch the moment she reached ground.
Without another word, she walked away with a slight limp. As he watched, he took a deep breath. Then he looked up at the facade of the Abberton House. Gale and Price walked ahead, arm over the other’s shoulders, talking in hushed whispers. Emmeline and Lydia followed, chatting with excitement. From somewhere, Roxie or Freda were shrieking about shortcakes being tall. From another side of the manor, there were sounds of chicken and a barking dog.
His eyes returned to Simone who was now crossing the courtyard.
Two months. Would he even survive it?
14. the dressmaker
The morning after their arrival, Daniel walked down from the west wing and found himself lost. The stairway did not lead to the hall as he expected. Following the sound of footsteps, he eventually found himself in the courtyard. With a frown, he looked back from where he came from. He had been to many households, some bigger than this one, but he had never come down a set of stairs and emerge in a courtyard.
And just as he heard from the stories, it was indeed an odd courtyard. There were at least a dozen ducks crossing the yard and not one soul sitting around batted an eye. There were six people there: Roxie and Freda lying on their stomachs, chins on their hands, reading a book open on the ground. A dog was lying next to them. Lydia was in a chair in front of a canvas, painting the two girls. Price and Gale were in one corner in their riding clothes, under a tree, drinking tea and reading the morning post. Two horses were tethered to a nearby tree, their presence dwarfing the courtyard. Simone was reading, her beautiful light brown waves clasped halfway with a small black ribbon.
The sight was quite odd, but at the same time, it looked…normal. For the first time, he could see them as what they should be. No accidents, no theatrics. No blood, no flying feathers.
“Good morning! Good morning!” Daniel flinched in alarm as a green parrot flew past him and settled on the bench beside Simone.
At the parrot’s words, everyone turned in his direction.
Lydia was the first to stand. “Your Grace! Good morning!”
Simone stood as well, but only to offer a small curtsy. Gale and Price came over and asked if he had breakfast. They were just out riding, was actually considering inviting him earlier. “But we go out quite early. Mayhap tomorrow if you wish to join us, you can.”
“You must have lost your way to the breakfast room,” Gale said, leading him toward another wing across the courtyard. “Once you get used to the layout, you’ll realize things are closer than they actually are.”
As they passed, Simone bowed her head and sat back down beside the parrot.
“I hope you don’t find us strange,” Price said with a laugh. “Many people do.”
“You have a talking parrot.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“He thinks we’re odd,” Gale told Price.
Daniel shook his head with a smile. “It’s actually quite interesting.”
“We act humans most of the time,” Gale promised. “It’s just that you seem to always find us in our worst. This way, Your Grace. From this day on, you’ll realize that we don’t always walk on fours.”
His lips twitched just as Price cried out, “Ladies! Breakfast! And leave the parrot, Roxie, for God’s sake!”
The breakfast room was bright. Large windows opened directly into the garden. And beyond that, the vast field and the edge of the woods. And even farther beyond that, he could see the mountains. It was a painting. But so was the breakfast room.
The table was round, which was not common. Everyone sat around it, with no proper distinction of which each one should seat. “You can take that seat, young man,” the earl said. He was already sitting, his plate half-full. Daniel took the chair across from the earl and watched the Stratfords file into the room one at a time.
The two youngest, Roxie and Freda, sat next to their grandfather. They grinned at him while Price and Gale took their seats. “If Emmeline marries Harry, will they live here?” Roxie asked their grandfather.
“Of course,” said Freda. “He’s the heir.”
“And when he’s earl, they may want us gone,” said Roxie.
“No, of course not,” said Harry, striding into the room.
“A house is not a house without nasty rodents,” said Gale as Price guffawed. The two girls scowled, then just as quickly turned their attention to Daniel again. Roxie, her curly dark brown hair all over the place, said, “Maybe you can marry one of our cousins, too, Your Grace.”
“Interesting,” said Price, looking at him. “Are you looking for a wife, Your Grace?”
“Stop it,” said Web, walking into the room, already dressed for the day. “Daniel is here for a vacation. Let’s not make it a circus.”
“If we are, then maybe Gale and Price should leave the table,” Freda said. “Monkeys, you see.”
The earl laughed, patting Freda’s hand. “That’s a good one.”
“I’ve always wondered if I’d ever get the chance to say that one,” Freda proudly said.
Price said something, but Daniel was no longer listening. His attention was drawn to the two women walking arm in arm into the room. Simone and Lydia looked like they had been laughing just before they stepped inside. And in a fluid motion they must have done so many times in the past, they disengaged from each other and walked to their respective seats—Lydia beside Freda, and Simone beside Web.
“Where’s Emmeline?” asked Lydia.
Someone answered, but their voice was muffled in his ears. He could not focus, his attention fully on Simone who was now talking. And even that he could not hear. It was just her and how she moved, the way her mouth smiled as she spoke to Web. And then, just as he realized what he was doing, her eyes accidentally landed on him and just as when he thought she would look away and ignore him like she did yesterday and earlier, she smiled at him, acknowledging him all of a sudden. Daniel was quite convinced it was a mocking smile.
Emmeline finally arrived and immediately became the focus of everyone’s attention. They inquired how her night was. Did she sleep well? What did she want to do today?
There were too many activities. The list seemed endless, most of them absurd, if not tiresome. Suddenly, Daniel had a full day. Riding with Web, a trek in the woods with Price and Gale. Maybe some shooting if the gamekeeper could spare them some time. And a trip to the river or the nearby lake. Or they could camp in the woods, in one of the cabins the Stratfords built.
“It’s also harvest time. You may be interested to look around the plantation,” Harry added before breakfast was over.
Interestingly, Daniel noted that Simone had not said yes to all the activities Lydia planned with Emmeline. Did she have other plans?
Simone realized something during breakfast. She did not have to ignore the man. She did not have to act like a heartbroken fool because she was not. It wasn’t his fault that he could not give their past the value she wanted. Nor was it her fault to think that he did—or hope that he did.
It was all in the past now.
And she should move on. And honestly, it was quite refreshing and exciting. No more thoughts of Daniel Cavendish, the exciting actor. There was just Daniel Cavendish, the boring duke. Surely, it would be easier to focus her energy on something more worthwhile.
But first, she had to survive the wager. With nearly all the household staff in on it, the next two months would be a challenge. She could already picture herself avoiding the attempts of the other team to get her together with the duke and she was already tired. Of course, she had the opposing team to help her, but it was only bound to end in trouble. She had to find a way to get around this because there was much at stake. For one, her pride. She would loathe for Daniel Cavendish to think she wanted the matchmaking. Oh, that would just be embarrassing! And two, she wagered two-hundred in favor for her not getting an engagement with the duke. She had to win. But she had to win against Price’s strategy. Her brother was the most cunning man when it came to useless things.
The first step she should take is to act as though she was not in distress. That evening, she dressed and joined her cousins and Price on the deck, all the while acting like she was completely oblivious that they were planning something behind her back. It was their time on the deck at that hour, and they brought wine, cheese, and blankets.
Like many nights, they lay on their backs to watch the moon, Lydia and Simone in the center, Price and Gale on both sides.
“Sometimes, do you ever think if they’re still here?” Lydia asked.
“Who?”
“You know, our parents,” she said. Simone felt a pang in her chest, but like always, she suffered the pain alone. Because each of them was also enduring their own. “I believe in spirits. Don’t you?”
“Well, maybe,” said Price. “Do you reckon they float?”
“Can you imagine your father floating?” Gale asked.
Lydia chuckled, and as the four of them imagined Dexter Matson, a giant of a man with the weight of a mountain, floating in the air and looking down at them.
“If he’s here,” Price said, “he’d jest and tell us he caused the bloody ship to sink.”
For a second or two, no one said anything. And then they all burst out in another fit of laughter.
“I can imagine Aunt Dorothy’s tiny scowl,” Lydia said. “That was a horrible joke, Price. Your mother would have disapproved.”
“My mother was an angel. She could never even manage a scowl,” Price loyally said.
“That was my mother’s expertise, thank you,” said Gale, chuckling.
Price sat up and drank straight from the wine bottle. He looked down at Simone with a grin, saying, “I can already hear Aunt Antonia’s screams of delight if you become a duchess.”
Lydia laughed. “I can picture Mama doing just that.”
Simone snorted. “And I can see Mama restraining her.”
A quiet reigned around them. There was nothing but the sound of crickets and the soft rustle of the trees. Gale let out a sigh. “I miss them. The manor will be a bit loud at this time of night, all of them playing cards and shouting at each other in the courtyard.”
“And laughing,” Simone added, eyes watering. After the accident, the courtyard was left empty for months. It just didn’t feel right for them to be there because the courtyard had always been their parents’ before it was theirs.
“While we sneak into the kitchen,” Price said.
Lydia chuckled. “Remember that time Harry, Web, and Damon snuck out in the middle of the night?”
“They always used to sneak out, Lydia. Which one are you talking about?”
“The one that rose the entire village,” Simone supplied, already shaking in silent laughter, a tear rolling down the side of her face.
“Oh, that,” said Price, laughing. “Uncle Raymond was quite mad, wasn’t he?”
“They raised the entire village awake thinking there was an abduction,” Gale said. “If I remember correctly, they fought as to whose son was more valuable.”
“Uncle Hilton said his sons were abducted because they were Priests.”
“Uncle Raymond thought they were abducted because Harry is future earl.”
“Even the vicar joined the search.”
Simone laughed harder. “Found them in the next village foxed and dancing.”
Price laid back down beside Simone. “They were not even invited to that party.”
“They had the audacity to claim they got lost, the bastards,” laughed Lydia.
Another quiet as the four of them pictured that night. “It was a storm,” said Gale. “I don’t think we’re ever brave enough as the three of them.”
“Roxie and Freda are,” said Simone. “It’s scary to think of what those two devils are capable of.”
Gale turned to his side and wrapped his arm and leg over Lydia. “I’m sleepy.”
Lydia sighed. “I’d push you off the deck if I haven’t had enough wine.”
“When you get married, Lydia,” said Gale, “I’ll pay for all the wine.”
Price pulled Simone into an embrace, too. “When you get married, Sisi, I’ll name all your children.”
“I strip you of the privilege, brother,” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist, pressing her face in his chest, inhaling his familiar and comforting scent. Not soon after, she was silently crying. But like always, she kept it to herself. Maybe they were crying, too, so she did not raise her head to see. Price absently caressed her hair as if he knew. No one uttered a word.
“Get off, the lot of you,” Damon’s voice said from the roof. The four of them looked up and sighed. Harry and Web were standing there as well. “It’s our time on the deck.”
“Not fair,” said Lydia, pushing away from Gale. “When are you getting married so we can have this deck to ourselves?”
“Get moving,” said Harry, pulling Gale to his feet. “Let’s not be rude to our guest.”
Simone snapped her head to the right and found Daniel Cavendish standing behind Web. She groaned and rolled her eyes, scrambling to her feet.
“Leave the wine,” ordered Web when Price picked up the bottle. “And the cheese.”
“And no walking into the woods,” said Harry.
Simone prepared herself to greet their guest by hastily wiping her damp face. It was dark, and her tears may not show, but still she felt no one should see them. She forced a smile on her face and said, “Good evening, Your Grace. Be careful with these three. They’re worse than us.”
Web helped her out of the deck. “Careful,” her brother said before he kissed the top of her head. “Straight to bed, my little dressmaker.”
She kissed his cheek. “Good night, brother.” Then she turned to Damon with the sweetest smile she could muster. “Don’t drink too much. Last time, we found you sleeping on the deck.”
He just gently patted her cheek and murmured good night. As she passed Daniel, she made a small and awkward curtsy. It was not easy to do on a roof with an injured foot. “Good night, Your Grace.”
He nodded, stepping aside to let her pass. As she did, he murmured, “Good night, Miss Priest.”
As Harry, Web, and Damon spread out their blankets on the deck, Daniel looked around. It was just as she had said in her letters. The silhouette of the mountains looked like a woman lying on her side. The moon looked bigger. And the wind was mild.
The deck is like sitting by the fire with a cup of hot chocolate on a winter night. At least for me, of course. I hope you will one day see it for yourself, Daniel.
“Watch the woods, Web,” Harry said. “They might sneak out and transfer to one of the decks.”
“They won’t pass through that side if they would,” said Damon wryly. “They’d pass through that side,” he said, pointing somewhere west.
“They’re not going out tonight,” Web said matter-of-factly, picking up the wine bottle. “They emptied the wine.”
“You read them well,” Daniel noted.
Harry shrugged. “Price will stay up reading. Gale will go straight to sleep if Roxie and Freda don’t camp in his room. Lydia will probably paint until sunrise. Sisi will be sewing.”
“Sew?”
“Dresses,” Web supplied, patting the space next to him.
We’ll bring blankets because Roxie and Freda always carry mud when they get up there.
Mentally shaking her letters off his head, Daniel sat on the cloth-covered floor and accepted the decanter of brandy his friend offered. “She’s getting terribly good at it, I must add.”
The corner of his lips flinched. “She must be passionate about dresses.”
Someday, I’ll be making dresses everyone would want. Like you, Daniel, I’ll live my dream. Maybe I’ll also be sewing your costumes—for a fee, of course!
“The feathered dresses during the Hutchinson Ball were her idea,” Harry supplied.
“And she and Lydia looked like bloody geese walking around the ballroom,” Damon said with a sigh. “But you’ll soon see the women fashion something similar.”
“I’m sure they will.”
“We’ll have a flock of featherless winged creatures soon,” said Web. “She’s effective that way. She can make the most horrible dress—not that I’m saying they’re horrible—and everyone will just follow.”
Daniel made no comment. He looked ahead, at the shadows of the trees. They swayed with the wind and he soon became entranced, thinking of Simone behind a machine, sewing a dress.
“She’s making Charity Poppet’s dress, isn’t she?” asked Harry. “Ara told me.”
“Yes,” Web replied, explaining to Daniel, “A wedding dress.”
“She’s been sewing another one for years,” Damon said, before tipping his decanter. “A wedding dress.”
“I heard she’ll never finish it,” Harry said.
“If she finds a man, she will,” Web retorted wryly. “Sometimes I hope that never happens.”
Daniel frowned. “Why?”
Web shrugged. “She’s still twelve in my eyes.”
Damon only snorted. Harry just shook his head.
“But Price is right,” Web said with a sigh. “She needs to find a husband fast.”
He remained quiet until the conversation shifted to more adult things. Crops, business, and even women. The Stratfords told him about the time they chased a man who left a friend of theirs on the altar, the older sister of the woman whose wedding dress Simone was sewing.
“Harry practically dragged the Royal Watchers to where the man was bound in one of our ships,” Web said with a laugh.
“If you’ve seen Ara’s face when she realized the bastard was not showing up in that chapel, Web, you would have thrown Haskett off the ship while he was bound,” Harry said, tone acrid.
They stayed on the deck for more than an hour, talking and drinking brandy. After, Web invited him to walk around the courtyard to stretch their legs.
The three walls that surrounded the courtyard were lined with windows. Everything else in the household seemed asleep, but one window was still lit. He was about to ask when he noticed her bent over something. She was sewing, he gathered. When he looked away, he saw Web looking at him.
He smiled because what else was he to do? His friend just caught him staring up at his sister’s window. “What?” he asked with a nervous chuckle.
Web tilted his head to the side, considering him with curiosity. “You’re different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that you don’t smile as easily anymore. Can you even laugh?”
He did laugh. “Of course. What now? Can’t a man change? Do you expect me to be the same as I was years ago?”
“Yes, in fact, I did.”
“We’ve seen each other over the years, Web. You know I’m still the same man.”
“We both know you’re not,” his friend said in a serious tone. “What do you plan to do after this?”
“After I’ve settled my sisters?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know. Wait?” he asked with a dry laugh. “Just as they’re waiting, I believe.”
“You’re not sure of that.”
“I like to think of the worst.”
“I wonder what your father would say to that,” Web said, turning to face him. “He would say you’re being bloody stupid.”
“I can imagine him saying that, yes.”
“You’re his son, Daniel. Of course he would say that.”
He smiled wanly. “He wanted me to be his son,” he corrected.
“And he made sure it stays that way in the eyes of many.”
Daniel sighed. “I’d rather not talk about this, Web.”
“Good. Because I’m not enjoying it.”
“You bastard,” he said.
“No, you are.” If it was someone else, Daniel might not have laughed. But this was Web, his one friend from Butler who knew his secrets. And kept it.
15. the wager
As it turned out, the entire household, save for Harry, Web, Damon, and the younger girls, was in on the wager. Most of the servants, particularly the ladies, placed their bets with Price and Gale in favor of a match between Simone and the duke. The men, including Lydia, who was loyal to Simone, did not believe a match was possible simply because they wanted to go against the women. A large amount of money was at stake now, and everyone was eager to win.
Simone had to find a solution. She would do anything to escape Price and Gale’s plans. With the lady servants on their side, they could easily execute any of Price’s ingenious strategies.
Leroy, a lanky footman with reliable ears second to Lydia’s, approached her one morning to murmur, “They’re planning to trap you in a room with the duke, Miss.”
That could be easily done, Simone thought. But that would not happen. She could be very careful, but then she would not want to always be wary whenever she was in the manor. She hated feeling trapped in her own home. And she would hate to suffer the embarrassment of their plans.
And so, on that same afternoon, before the men went out for a ride in the fields, Simone waited in the courtyard. Lydia was entertaining Emmeline in her painting studio, showing the woman her artworks. The two younger girls were in the garden, harvesting tomatoes. She was alone, and she jumped to her feet when she saw Daniel Cavendish emerge from his wing in his riding clothes.
“Your Grace, may I have a moment?” she rushed in a hushed tone. Looking over her shoulder, she added, “It’s important.”
“What is it?” His gaze was on her, and she stepped back, suddenly growing conscious.
“I will not take much of your time,” she began, twirling her fingers together. “But I would like you to know that something is brewing in this household.”
“Brewing?”
She nodded. “You see… Price and Gale, and a few other servants, are on a wager.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “A wager.”
“Yes. On you and I.”
“You and I?”
“A match,” she said, feeling her face flush. But in her desperation, she managed to step closer. “Fret not, I’m betting against it with the others.”
“You mean to tell me there is a wager going over us ?”
She nodded. “It’s silly. Don’t think too much of it. We constantly wager in this household. This place is a giant gaming hell, I tell you. We wager over a battle between bugs and—Well, you must know what I mean.”
He looked baffled, breaking his icy demeanor. “And you’re in on the wager. But you’re betting against a match between us.”
“Yes, of course,” she said with a scoff. “Because it is ridiculous, isn’t it?”
It took him a while to answer. In fact, he just stood there looking at her—no, scrutinizing her face—that she started to feel her heart racing against her ribcage. “Of course,” he said.
Simone forced a smile. “Then we agree they should not win.” Realizing what she said, she hastily added, “Not that I’m hoping they will because that’s just impossible. We, a match?” She forced a laugh, feeling stupid. “But of course, the fact remains that they will want to win. And it will be very taxing for both of us.”
“How so?”
She looked over her shoulder again to see if anyone was about. “They’ll do anything to bring us together. We don’t want that.” His brows rose. He said nothing. Simone gritted her teeth because it would really help if he said something. “So, I suggest you stay away from me and I’ll do that same. Trust me, it’s the best. It will not be long before they realize this childish wager will not be fruitful.” She stepped back, proud of herself for having conquered this feat. As days went by, and as their interactions grew in number, she realized she had been anxious for nothing. His presence was not as intimidating as she first thought. He was just a man. He was not even the Daniel Cavendish she knew. “I’m truly glad you’re taking this quite well.”
But it did not look like he completely understood. It did not even look like he believed her.
“Well, that’s all. Have a good day,” she said, starting to retreat. “And remember—stay away from me. Don’t ever let them lure you into any room. Or even the woods. Always suspect.”
As she turned to walk away, she heard him say, “Miss Priest,” and then he was in front of her, face unreadable. “I have an idea.”
“What?”
“I don’t think it would be easier if we are both watching over our shoulders at every turn.”
“Well, yes, but that’s the only way I’ll win the wager. And the only way you’ll survive a match with me. Don’t take this lightly, Your Grace. The last thing you would want is to be found in a compromising situation with me. They could easily orchestrate that. We would both be trapped and you would not want that.”
“Well, yes,” he said, and it brought a slight pang in her chest. “But what if we make it easier for them?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if we don’t stay away from each other?”
“Have you not understood anything? Why would we make it easier for them?”
“They will not put in much effort if we don’t resist their plans,” he explained. “It will be less taxing for both of us.” She frowned at him and he offered a small smile, this one a little familiar, more like the Daniel she knew. “If we don’t resist them, they will think they’re winning.”
Simone blinked, realizing what he’s saying. “Oh. You want us to pretend.”
“I would not go as far as pretend, of course. We’ll just let them think they’re winning so they would not resort to doing something more drastic.”
“Oh, I see.”
He nodded. “I believe it’s better.”
“But are you certain?”
“Of course. I don’t mind it.”
“What if you fall for me?” The question rolled out of her tongue before she knew it. His face had gone cold again. So, to compensate for her stupidity, she laughed. “I’m jesting, Your Grace. Very well, I accept your plan. But first, I need to make certain we are on the same side.”
“How?”
“You will also have to put in the money.”
“You mean join the wager?”
“Fret not, they will not know. I’ll tell them it’s mine. I’ll give you your winnings once this is over. The only important thing is that I’ll know where your stakes are. You might betray me, you know.”
“I would not.”
“I don’t know you enough to believe that, Your Grace.”
He sighed as if he found the entire thing tedious. “Very well.”
“You have to double my wager.”
“Very well.”
Her smile widened. “Then we have a deal.”
When Simone said the people on the other side of the wager would do anything, she meant it. She grew up with all of them, including the servants. They were just as passionate about anything that held their best interests, however dismal or pathetic. They would stoop low if they had to. They would lie and bribe. In most cases, these things were harmless, of course, but sometimes— sometimes —they just made things a tad difficult.
The first week was uneventful. But since Price was working with them, that was understandable. Simone presumed he would have been spending the time planning, weighing the options. In the second week, it was clear that they were ready.
Their first attempt was to lead Simone into the woods by giving her baskets of food for the workers fixing a nearby cabin. She knew there were no workers, and the cabins were in pristine condition. But she took the baskets anyway. And she picked up a shovel. Price and Gale easily lured the duke by inviting him to meet the gamekeeper, who was out for a few days visiting with his friends in Strait. Daniel did not know that, of course.
And just like that, they met just as Price and Gale planned it.
“Sisi, whatever are you doing here?” her brother asked, feigning surprise.
She was standing outside the cabin with two baskets, the shovel leaning against the wall. “Juliet said the workers need food. I don’t think they’re here,” she said.
“Well, they must be somewhere,” said Price, turning to the duke. “Your Grace, you can stay here with Simone while we find the gamekeeper.”
Daniel Cavendish was dressed for shooting. Handsome, of course, but his eyes lacked the spark she used to remember. “Of course,” was all he said.
Gale and Price grinned and walked away, loudly talking about finding Mr. Fallow, the gamekeeper. Now out of earshot, Simone sighed, studying Daniel’s outfit. “They did not even bring the rifles.”
His lips quirked. He looked at her baskets, hands behind him. “At least those are not empty.”
She set the baskets down on the ground and turned around to pick up the shovel. “They will be gone for long, Your Grace. You can stay in the cabin and wait.”
As she passed, he asked, “Where are you going? And with a shovel?”
She looked over her shoulder and grinned. “Traps.”
“Traps?”
“I don’t enjoy falling into one,” she said. “I’m not a good sport, see? I intend to take my revenge.”
“Do you mean for your accident?”
She realized he had followed her. “Yes.” She stopped in the middle of the path, biting the inside of her cheeks as she looked around. Then she looked up, squinting against the rays of sunlight. “Ah, perfect.”
Daniel followed her gaze. “What’s that?”
“One of our many decks,” she said. “I told you—I mean, Price had told you about them.” She cleared her throat and walked closer to the tree, planting the shovel on the ground. “If you would turn around, please,” she said, grabbing the rope ladder.
Realizing what she intended to do, he did as she asked. “Are you certain that’s safe?”
“Of course. I’ve done this many times,” she said with a heave as she climbed. The ladder swung as she did so, and she scoffed when he stole a wary glance at her as the deck above grunted. “I had never fallen before, Your Grace, fret not.”
“With your propensity for accidents, one is bound to fear that someday you will, Miss Priest.”
“Oh, you’ve only seen me in my most unfortunate moments, Your Grace. You don’t know what I’m really capable of,” she said, climbing higher.
“In fact, I do have an idea.”
She looked down at him. He still had his back turned and she could only see the top of his head. What did he mean by that?
“Are you on the deck?”
She shook her head and climbed faster until she reached the top. The deck circled the trunk of the tree and she walked around it, searching. “Yes.”
“Now, will you tell me what you’re doing?”
She grinned, finding the loop of rope hanging on a branch. She grabbed it and threw it over the railing and it landed just a few paces away from him. Looking over the railing, she said, “Price and Gale use those to swing from the branches.”
“And what do you plan for them now?”
She began to climb down, and he dutifully turned around. Landing on the ground, she went for the rope and dragged it to a smaller tree. He followed as she tied one end and then carried the other across the path.
“It is quite obvious,” he said, staring at the line of rope she made.
“That’s the point, Your Grace,” she said, walking away and picking up the shovel. She started to digging in front of the line of rope.
“They’ll think the rope is the trap.”
“Of course,” she said. “Now, please don’t engage me in a conversation. I might not have much time.”
“I would offer to help, but your motive is quite bothersome.”
She grinned at him. “I don’t expect your help. Please, help yourself with food from the basket.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She ignored him then, digging a hole just deep enough to trip her brother or Gale once they returned. Once that was done, she easily covered it with fallen twigs and leaves, and finally, dirt.
“Are you done?” he asked.
“No, of course, not,” she said, digging another hole after the first one. He did not ask more questions. Instead, he just stared at her, bewildered. Having dug countless of holes around the woods, Simone finished the second hole as fast as she did the first one.
Limping back to the cabin, she said, “Now, I’m hungry.”
She sat on a log and grabbed a pear. Daniel, however, remained standing near her traps. She scoffed. “Are you in a moral dilemma, Your Grace?” she asked.
He turned to her, frown on his face. “What if someone else falls into the trap?”
She sighed, swallowing her food. “And did you think the trap I fell into was intended solely for me?”
“No, but you made this one—”
“As a trap, hopefully for Gale and Price, yes, but it can also be for the others who also created their own traps along this trail.” When he just looked at her, she chuckled. “Fret not, Your Grace, it shall be fine. Unless, of course, you make the mistake of stepping into them.”
Shaking his head, he walked closer. Then he stopped a good paces away, looking down at her, a small curl of amusement in the corner of his mouth. The question that had been nagging her came to her again. She truly did not want to ask him because she had already decided not to delve into the past, but curiosity had always been her weakness.
“When you wrote to me,” she said, trying her best to sound nonchalant, even friendly. He, however, suddenly froze. “When you wrote to me,” she repeated, “Did you do it because you felt sorry?”
He frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“You knew I was terribly missing my brothers at that time,” she explained. “Perhaps you figured if you answered my letters, I would not be so lonely.” Her heart was hammering against her chest and she did what she only knew she could to control it. She took another bite from her pear, raising her brows, showing him she was expecting an answer as she chewed.
His frown had deepened. “No.”
She stopped chewing because that was not the answer she expected. Her heart went to her throat, wanting to soar, but she stopped it. That answer could mean anything. In fact, his reason could be worse than what she suggested.
“Wodyokertewexpain?” she asked against her full mouth.
“What?”
“Wodyokertewexpain?”
He leaned closer, looking more irritated with each passing second.
She hastily swallowed her pear, winced at the pain, and tried again. “Would you care to explain?” She took another big bite, feeling quite anxious.
“No,” he said, blinking away. “I don’t remember.”
“Idoubtit,” she said.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she managed, chewing faster.
“Miss Sisi!” a man’s voice came calling from the other end of the path. Simone jumped to her feet and found Leroy. The round-eyed footman was running toward her.
“Leroy,” she said, “What is it?”
“Oh, I’m glad I found you,” he said, panting. He bowed to Daniel and stepped closer to Simone to whisper, “Please forgive me, Miss Sisi. We were not able to stop them from leading you into this horrid situation.”
“It is fine, Leroy—”
“No, Miss,” Leroy indignantly said, stealing the duke a glance, smiling at the man, before murmuring, “It is paramount that you keep your distance from him. The less chance of a compromising situation, the higher chance of winning!”
Simone smiled. “Truly, Leroy, it is fine. Surely, we are not in a compromising situation.”
“But it could rain and you would be forced to enter the cabin with him,” the footman said. “And Master Price will most certainly find a way to make it look like a compromising situation. He would make sure you’re only rescued at a compromising hour and he would make certain there would be witnesses—”
“Leroy,” she said, holding the man by the shoulders. “That is not going to happen because I’m not stupid.”
The footman looked unconvinced, his face showing complete panic. Simone chuckled. “Very well, we will go back with you,” she said, looking over her shoulder at the duke. “Your Grace, I believe it is time to go back to the manor.”
“What about your brother and Gale?”
Leroy looked up at the sky. “It looks like it is going to rain, Your Grace.”
Later, as they walked away from the cabin, Leroy not far ahead, Daniel asked in a low voice, “It will not rain, will it?”
“No,” she said.
He looked over his shoulder. “But your trap—”
She cheekily chuckled. “Aren’t you curious if they’ll work?”
To her surprise, he scoffed without an answer. But he was smiling.
Very much later, Daniel was in the courtyard with Harry when Gale, looking sweaty, rushed past, asking, “Where’s Sisi?”
“Why?” Harry asked.
Ignoring the question, he trudged on. “Sisi! Come down this instant!”
From somewhere in the manor, Simone asked, “Why?”
“We’re going for a walk! Now!”
“What is that about?” Daniel asked.
Harry looked uninterested, saying, “Price must be injured.”
He blinked at the man. “Injured?” he asked, feigning ignorance. Before Harry could reply, Gale was retracing his steps, and half-running behind him was Simone, biting off a laugh as Gale was saying, “We thought you were still in the cabin when it happened…”
“A trap,” said Harry wryly. “They try hard to keep their injuries a secret.”
“Why?”
Harry shrugged. “They know they shouldn’t be doing it.”
“Aren’t you concerned that someday they might get into serious accidents?”
Harry thought about his question for a while. “Of course, but they are being careful because they know what they’re doing is going to get them in trouble. Do you understand the logic?”
“Maybe,” he said, walking to the end of the courtyard to peer outside.
“Are they using the wheelbarrow?”
“They’re wheeling it toward the woods.”
Harry stood and smiled at him. “Tea? Lydia should return with Emmeline anytime.”
He threw Simone and Gale one last look before he walked back into the courtyard, shaking his head with a secret smile.
16. the fiance
“It was your trap,” Price repeated in disbelief as they wheeled him by the side of the road. Among the Stratfords, Price was the least to fall into a trap. He always had a keen sense of where they were.
“Of course. Did you see the rope?”
“We did,” said Gale. “And he knew there was a hole after that.”
“But you didn’t see the second one,” she said, smiling proudly. It was not every day that she could outsmart her brother.
Price groaned. “I think I twisted an ankle.”
She patted his head, and he scowled at her. Laughing, they rolled him to Doctor Peters’ door, only to stop when they saw a carriage outside.
“You stay here,” Price told her, climbing out of the wheelbarrow. “If the doctor finds out you walked with your injured leg, we’ll both be in trouble.”
She obliged and waited as they knocked on the door. Not long after, two gentlemen walked out. One of them was familiar, and she greeted him. “Mr. Harvey!”
The man stopped in the middle of climbing his carriage, turning his blond head toward her. “Miss Priest! Good afternoon. Whatever are you doing here?”
“Oh, it’s Price,” she said. “How is Charity?”
He smiled. “Fine, as always. She has been complaining about your lack of visits.”
“We have guests, but please tell her Lydia and I will be coming over soon.” Her smile widened. “Well? I’m quite certain you’re excited about your wedding. Just one more week!”
He chuckled shyly, looking at his friend. “Oh, please, forgive me. This is Francis Skelton, a friend of mine from university. Francis, this is Miss Simone Priest. She’s Charity’s friend.”
Francis Skelton, a man with dark hair and pleasant smile, bowed to greet her. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Priest.”
“As it is mine,” she said with a small curtsy. “Are you sick, Mr. Harvey?”
Harvey blinked and smiled. “Y-Yes. A slight cold. I have been vacationing in Birth.”
“Of course. Charity told me.”
An awkward silence passed between them.
“Well, I would hate to keep you from a proper rest. You need to recuperate for the wedding,” she said, stepping back. “It was nice seeing you, Mr. Harvey.”
The two men bowed at her and said their goodbyes. As she watched their carriage ride away, she smiled. Charity found a good man in Mr. Harvey, she thought.
An hour later, as she was thinking about Charity’s wedding dress and how she should finish it on time, Price and Gale walked out, both oddly silent. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Price said, climbing on the wheelbarrow with a bandaged foot.
“I just saw Mr. Harvey and his friend. I hope you’re not visiting the doctor soon. I really need to finish Charity’s dress.” She stopped when she noticed Price and Gale share a look. “What is it?” She frowned when they kept their silence. “What is it?” she repeated.
“Nothing,” her brother murmured, clearing his throat.
She narrowed her eyes. “What is it?” Her gaze jumped from him to Gale and back. “What are you to up to?”
“Nothing.”
“Then is it your foot?” she asked Price. “Is it worse than we thought?”
Price laughed, completely changing the mood. “Don’t think you did such a great job, Sisi. The foot’s fine.”
“But—”
“We’re just tired,” he interjected. “Now, back to the lair!”
Gale picked up the wheelbarrow and rolled Price away, Simone shouting after them to be careful.
Two days later, Daniel emerged into the courtyard looking for his sister. It was almost a week now and yet he could not still find his way around the manor. After some multiple attempts, he found a servant and asked, “Have you seen my sister?”
The young woman smiled as she bowed. “Yes, Your Grace. I believe Lady Emmeline is with Miss Lydia in the library.”
He started to turn, then stopped. “And where’s the library?”
Immediately, the woman jumped and eagerly pointed to a set of stairs. “If you take that stair, Your Grace, you will find a corridor to your right. Go straight. The last door to the right should lead you to where you wish to be.”
He murmured a thank you and walked off, feeling the woman’s gaze following him to the stairs. With her instruction guiding him, he traversed the path to the library, wondering where the others were. He may not yet know every inch of Abberton House, but he had stayed long enough with the Stratfords to know that everyone was always somewhere doing anything. And now, he could not even find his own sister, he wryly thought.
Had she even been spending time with Harry?
Daniel doubted that. Emmeline seemed to be more drawn to the other Stratfords than her potential suitor. She was always with Lydia the most, the two of them always doing something, even out visiting friends and neighbors. Once, Emmeline secretly told him she and Lydia dug a trap in the woods. Every afternoon, she would join Roxie and Freda up on the deck. In fact, if he would not find her in the library, he was thinking of going up there at three, where she would most probably be.
He reached the door to the library, turned the knob, and opened the door.
And of course, it was not the library. He sighed, closing his eyes, seeing the eager look of the servant behind his lids. “Of course,” he murmured under his breath as he opened his eyes again and met Simone’s surprised ones.
The room was a mess, with fabrics piled in all corners, three mannequins standing on one side and one in the center of the room, all wearing unfinished dresses. Yet, amid all the mess…was her .
She was sitting behind her sewing machine, the afternoon light streaming through the open window that faced the courtyard, and spilling on to her glorious form. Her hair was tied at the nape, the curls at the side of her face glowing against the sunlight, illuminating her innocent, surprised face.
“I was told this is the library,” he said after he found his voice.
Her face broke into a smile when she realized what he meant, and her shoulders shook just the tiniest bit. “I’m afraid my shelves don’t have what you’re looking for, Your Grace.”
Indeed, there was a shelf on one side of the room. It stacked with baskets, all of which filled with threads of all colors, laces, ribbons, feathers, and much more.
He should leave, really. But he could not. Not when he had questions to ask. He should not even ask them. He should not be curious at all.
“Did you make the dress you wore in the Hutchinson Ball?” he asked, eyes on the two dresses strewn over a chair, one covered in black feathers, the other white. He was still standing in the doorway, hesitant to invade her space.
“Yes,” she proudly said. “Please, come in if you must.”
He should leave, a part of him thought.
He stepped forward, leaving the door open, hands behind him. He looked around the room again, her own words running in his mind.
Grandpapa is giving me free reign, Daniel. I get to say where everything goes. The shelves should face the window so I could easily see everything through the light that crosses the room. I
’ll fill them with threads of all kinds. Ribbons and laces! The machine will arrive from London in two fortnights and I could not wait. Should I place it in the center of the room?
His eyes landed on the machine and her and his own words came back to him.
Have you considered placing the machine by the window? Just like your desk in Picadilly?
He blinked away from her and smiled at the white dress in the center of the room. “And is this the wedding dress Web told me about? The one you’re making for a friend?”
“Charity, yes,” she enthusiastically said, standing to join him in front of the dress form. “It shall be the first wedding dress I’ve ever done. Will finish, that is,” she belatedly corrected.
“It is a beautiful dress, Miss Priest. I’m certain your friend will love it.”
“Thank you. The wedding is in a week and I’ve been making this dress for a month. She should love it.”
Her laughter was followed by an awkward silence. She moistened her lips and his eyes were drawn there. A big mistake. But since he was a man who had mastered his own body’s action and reaction, Daniel blinked away, stepped back, and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for the intrusion. I will try my best not to be tricked once more.”
As he turned, she called out, saying, “Your Grace, now that you’re here, I have something to tell you.” Her eyes flickered to the open doorway. “I know we agreed to go along with their plans, but I’m afraid my brother and Gale are planning something alarming.”
His brow furrowed. “Alarming how?”
“I heard they went to visit our friends, the Poppets, yesterday. They rarely do that. I believe, and so does Lydia, that they’re trying to employ the help of our friends for whatever they have in mind. And I believe it shall happen on Charity’s wedding day. I heard you and Emmeline accepted the invitation to the wedding.”
“Yes, we did.” He considered her theory. “That’s interesting.”
“No,” she said, “that’s alarming. And I’m warning you, please be alarmed. This is not a simple game. I hope you understand that. They are determined to find me a match.”
“They are?” He never truly considered that Price and Gale were serious. Simone had made it seem like one of the many odd activities the Stratfords engage in.
“For years.” She sighed, motioning her arms around. “I know they believe I’m wasting my time here.”
His frown deepened, looking more incredulous as he thought about her words. “From the young lady who was just drawing designs and learning from Mrs. Baker, you have gone a long way, Miss Priest,” he said sternly, like a master lecturing his apprentice. “You’ve been refining your craft since your first dress. This is not what I’d call wasting time. Never allow others to make you believe that your passion is a waste of time.” Turning to find her eyes, remembering her passionate words about fabrics and lines and colors, he added, “You’re making something uniquely your own.”
She looked stunned, her lips partly open as she stared at him. When he realized what he just said, Daniel silently cursed himself and stepped back. They both opened their mouths at the same time, both about to say something, when suddenly, a voice came through the doorway.
“Miss Sisi, good afternoon!” The same servant from the woods, Leroy, came rushing in with a tight smile on his face. The footman stiffly bowed at him, murmuring, “Your Grace, please forgive me for the intrusion, but you are wanted in the library.”
Daniel blinked. “I am?”
“Y-Yes,” Leroy said, stealing Simone a look.
Daniel nodded and turned to Simone. “Good afternoon, Miss Priest. I’ll see you at supper.”
She just nodded, seemingly still stunned by what he said earlier. He gritted his teeth as he forced a small smile and left the room with no intention of finding the library. Instead, he searched for the drawing room, needing a drink.
Simone was still staring at the empty doorway as Leroy said, “Forgive me, Miss Sisi. I will make it my mission to always be on high alert for when Juliet and the others make their move. Since you have doubled your wager, it is only right that we all win!”
“Yes, Leroy,” she absently replied. “Please, I’d like to return to work.”
“Of course, Miss Sisi,” he said, backing out of the room. “Would you like me to lock the door?”
“N-No,” she said, still motionless in the middle of the room. “Leave it open.”
“Of course, Miss Sisi.”
Leroy was gone now, and she was alone. Yet Daniel’s words still rang in her ears.
From the young lady who was just drawing designs and learning from Mrs. Baker, you have gone a long way, Miss Priest.
Confusion and joy bubbled in her chest.
You
’re making something uniquely your own.
She moistened her lips, blinking once, twice.
A scoff of disbelief escaped her. “He remembers.”
17. the river incident
Stars blanketed the night sky, the moon boasting with light. Simone, Lydia, and Emmeline lay on their backs, gazing at the wonder.
“It’s sad, isn’t it?” Simone asked between Lydia and Emmeline.
They rolled their heads to look at her. “What is?” her cousin asked.
“The stars. Here we are, seeing them all spread out in our sky, thinking they’re beautiful. But in truth, they are so far apart. The others are out of reach.” She sighed. “They glow alone.”
Emmeline turned her face skyward. “Oh, Simone, I may never see them the same way again. That’s just so sad.”
Lydia laughed. “Pay her no mind, Emmeline. She gets weird thoughts now and then.” She pointed with one finger. “Who says they don’t see each other? Maybe for them, we are the pitiful ones.”
“How so?”
Lydia shrugged. “We don’t glow as bright?”
They chuckled, and it naturally died. “I dream of being a farmer.”
Simone and Lydia rolled their heads toward Emmeline in surprise. “A farmer?”
“Yes. I want to grow things. Maybe in a place like Abberton, or somewhere at the foot of a mountain.”
Simone smiled. “You can most definitely do that.”
Emmeline met her gaze. “Of course, you would say so. You are already living it. You have been living an exciting life.” She held Simone’s hand. “And I do not mean it in a bad way. I truly am envious. I’ve heard so many stories about your family. Well, maybe except this deck.”
“You have?” Lydia asked.
The young woman nodded. “Daniel told me about the Stratfords. Whenever he would come home from Butler, he would share things Webster told him. And even after that, when he was on tour as an actor, he would still share things with us in his letters. And we have always been curious.” She chuckled. “I think he was deliberately enticing us. After all, he wants me to marry your cousin. Perhaps that’s why he wants me to be a part of your family. We do not have one like yours.”
“Tell us,” Simone said. “What was it like? Your family?”
“Oh, Mama and Papa were wonderful. They accepted us for what we are. All of us.” A bitter smile touched Emmeline’s lips. “I wish they are still with us.”
“Then why would you wish to have a family like ours? You had wonderful parents and clearly, you care for each other,” Lydia wondered.
“We do not have a big family. Well, we do, but we are not as close to our cousins as you are to each other.” Emmeline sighed. “Family drama—is that what they would call it?”
“Oh,” Simone and Lydia said, chuckling. “The Poppets suffer the same sometimes.”
A quiet fell between them, the crickets taking over.
“What happened to Mr. Peck?” Emmeline asked without warning.
Simone frowned. “Mr. Peck?”
“The robin. You have one with that name, don’t you?”
“Y-Yes. Who told you about Mr. Peck?”
“Daniel, of course.” Emmeline sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs. Staring down at the two Stratford women, she laughed. “And now I just remembered the story about Webster catching the two of you and Gale trespassing in one of his plays.”
Lydia laughed at the memory and proceeded to tell the entire story to Emmeline, starting with the series of bribery that started it all. All the while, Simone was lost in her own thoughts.
What else did he share with his sister?
And why would he do so?
Daniel was uncertain if he wanted to go for the picnic, but since everyone was coming, including the earl, he had no choice. The picnic was, of course, set in a much less formal setting. The earl walked with everyone, guided by Roxie and Freda, while everyone else carried something: baskets of food, wine, and fruits. Simone was hugging three folded blankets as she walked down the path with Lydia and Emmeline. Harry, Web, and Damon were up ahead, clearing the path of traps and fallen branches.
Price and Gale were not present, out to get the Poppet sisters, their parents, and the fiancé of one of the sisters. Well, as far as he could remember. There could be more people coming, of course, knowing the Stratfords and the number of people in the village who were friends with them.
He walked alone behind everyone else, carrying a folded wooden chair. Webster said so, saying he would not want to walk and fall into a trap. The trek was not far, but they had to stop from time to time to “Let the old man rest,” as Web would say.
When they finally reached a clearing, with the grassy field basking in midday sunlight, he realized the river was not as large as he imagined. It was narrow and shallow enough for the ladies to take off their shoes and dip their feet into the gentle waters. The moment they arrived, the Stratfords set out in motion.
Everyone knew what they needed to do. Daniel was suddenly reminded of the theater before a play. Everything was a systematic chaos. And then, it was just as they practiced: perfect. Simone and Lydia laid out the blankets; Roxie and Freda, the food and drinks from the baskets; and the men checked the premises for traces of wild animals.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” the earl shouted from where he sat in the only chair they brought. He motioned for Emmeline to join the ladies in the river.
His sister giggled excitedly and left his side to kick off her shoes, gather her skirts, and, with Simone to guide her, entered the river. Harry, Web, and Damon did the same. They pulled their boots off and their breeches higher.
Daniel remained on land, standing beside the earl.
“I used to take my children here,” the man said, smiling at the sight before them. The ladies were bent over one side, scooping tiny fishes. The men sat on the riverbank, resting their legs in the water. “And they took their children here as well.” Abraham Stratford sighed, leaning back against the chair. “I made sure to take them here as often as I could after the accident. But I’m getting ancient. Now, they take me.” He followed his statement with a chuckle. He turned his head to peer up at Daniel, his wrinkled eyes knowing. “If you marry into the family, boy, you will have to do the same.”
He blinked at the man. A hesitant chuckle escaped him. “As we agreed, my lord, I believe we are both hoping for my sister to marry into the family, not I.”
The earl waved his hand slowly to brush off his statement. “You and I both know my grandson and your sister are not into each other. Look at them,” he said with a gesture of his head. “They should be hiding somewhere in the woods by now.”
He did not comment because he did not know what to say. His eyes drifted to Harry who was talking to his male cousins, then to Emmeline, who was having a wonderful time without Harry. And his eyes landed on Simone. She was radiant under the bold sunlight, strands of her brown hair glowing as she moved, her hands cupped underwater.
A shout from the woods snapped him back to his senses. Everyone turned to look, and they moved to meet their guests.
“Charity!” shouted Lydia with glee. “Where’s Bridget?”
A woman with red hair was rushing toward the river. “She and Sheldon are visiting friends.”
Daniel’s gaze traveled from the woman to the others behind her. Another younger woman was walking forward, her red hair tied loosely at the nape, and she was smiling as she met Harry and Web, who had walked toward them upon their arrival. Price and Gale were already attacking the food as Harry introduced the Poppets to Daniel.
Mr. And Mrs. Poppet, the former with a bald head and the latter with red hair, were enthusiastic to meet him. They were excited to see him and Emmeline at Charity’s upcoming wedding. And, of course, they introduced their future son-in-law, Harvey Owen and his friend, Francis Skelton.
Everything came in a rush and everyone was soon spread out doing whatever caught their interest. Unsure of where to place himself, Daniel finally took off his boots and joined the men in the river as they discussed crops and business. He could relate, of course, owning a great number of lands that came with his title, but it was a conversation he was not keen to engage in if he could help it. His interests lay elsewhere, but they were interests his friends could not relate to.
The ladies, along with Charity and her older sister, Arabella, were laughing at whatever his sister was telling as they crossed the river to the other side. He watched from a distance, watching them move against the gentle rush of the water. Not far away, Roxie and Freda were with Gale, catching small fishes.
“I have something to show you, Harvey,” Price said, guiding the gentleman away from their group, leaving Francis Skelton with Damon to talk about the different species of birds in the woods. They passed by the earl and the elder Poppets who were in a deep conversation as well.
He felt quite lost, not entirely certain which group he should join. The feeling was quite familiar, having experienced it many times in the past. On such a nice day like this, with a company like the Stratfords who knew each other too well and welcomed strangers like they would the peddlers who walked through their courtyard, he should not feel alone.
Yet he did.
He felt different.
Lydia, Charity, and Arabella had already crossed the river, but Emmeline and Simone were still struggling. Considering who his sister was with, Daniel moved away from Harry and Web’s conversation about ships and cargos, saying, “Emmeline, be careful.”
And just as he said that, Simone yelped, arms flailing as she slipped. But as Daniel was quite aware, she did not have the same expertise over balance as Emmeline and many others. She twisted her body, perhaps to regain balance she barely had in the first place, and of course, she fell into the water. But that was not the end. Emmeline tried to catch her and, by doing so, lost her balance and fell right next to Simone.
He clucked his tongue and walked toward them with a frown.
“I knew you’re clumsy,” Emmeline laughingly said to Simone as she stood. “But I never thought you would be this clumsy!”
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” Lydia said from where she stood in the riverbank with the Poppet sisters.
Simone attempted to stand, but fell again. The laughter only stopped when Daniel reached down to grab her by the arm and help her to her feel, frowning at her.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she murmured, clearing her throat, then faced Emmeline. “Who told you I’m clumsy? Was it Harry? He should stop telling you embarrassing stories about us, especially me! We have other good attributes, if you must know.”
“Oh, no, Harry never told me about your clumsy nature,” said his sister. “Daniel did.”
Daniel froze, shooting a sharp look in his sister’s direction. But Emmeline did not see it. She was still laughing, trying to keep her balance. Simone, however, was looking at him with a curious frown. “Emmeline,” he began, but his sister was not done yet.
“He had not written to us for so long, but suddenly he did. And the first thing he wrote about was the accident in the play,” Emmeline said to Lydia.
“Oh, the play!” Lydia said, bursting into laughter. She turned to Charity and Arabella. “We told you about it. When Web caught us. Remember?”
Daniel’s jaw tightened as he saw the realization wash over Simone’s face. While the other ladies laughed while Lydia recalled the unforgettable story, Simone just stared at him.
He sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose, digging for ways to explain and how he could stop his sister from revealing more about the things he shared not just about the Stratfords but her , Simone.
Price, of course, seemed to have a better idea. He did something that changed the mood of the entire party. From behind, Harry suddenly shouted and everyone turned. The eldest of the Stratfords were rushing out of the water and across the field to where Price and Charity’s fiancé were struggling, throwing fist at each other.
“Bloody hell, Price!” Web shouted, also breaking into a run. Damon was also running, Francis Skelton not far behind him. Daniel did the same, but Arabella was faster. She reached the brawl before him and tried to stop the fight. Daniel slowed to a stop when Harry grabbed Arabella from behind to keep her away from the two struggling men on the ground. “Stay away, Ara,” he ordered before joining Web and Damon, the three of them tearing Price and Harvey away from each other.
“What in the bloody hell!” Web hissed, pulling his brother further away from Charity’s fiancé.
“Price!” Charity shouted as she rushed forward. “What did you do!” she demanded, brushing past Price to go to her fiancé. “Oh, goodness, Harvey, you’re bleeding!”
“What happened?” Simone asked, panting, eyes wide with disbelief.
Price, however, was not answering. His piercing gaze was on Harvey. The corner of his lips was bloodied, a sign of a future bruise on the apple of his right cheek. His straight brown hair was powdered with dust. “You know what to do,” he hissed at Owen, panting, pointing his finger at the man as he stumbled away from his brother’s hold. “You bloody know what to do.”
And without another word, he turned around walked back into the woods to the direction of the manor. Gale ran after him after leaving Roxie and Freda to stay with the earl. The elder Poppets started to come forward, but Arabella stopped them, saying everything was all right. The earl simply said, “Well, dunk your head in the river, boy, before the bruise gets worse!”
“What in the bloody hell happened?” Harry asked Harvey.
The man just shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, gently escaping Charity’s grip around his arm. “I’m fine, Charity.”
“But you’re—”
“I’m fine,” he repeated, smiling faintly at his fiancée before he, too, turned and left.
Francis Skelton awkwardly said goodbye and followed his friend.
Web, without a word, followed, saying he had to talk to Price. Daniel watched Simone turn to Damon with question in her eyes, but the man just sighed and told her not to worry. “Go get the old man,” Damon said.
The picnic was over. Their food barely touched, their thoughts filled with questions. Charity started crying and her sister could be heard trying to console her. Harry walked with them while the two elder Poppets walked with the earl up ahead.
As the other ladies followed behind the crying Charity, talking about the likely reason for the fight, Daniel, carrying the earl’s folded chair in one hand, turned his head and found Simone walking beside him, frowning and chewing her cheek. “Do you think he’s in love with her?” she whispered conspiratorially.
He blinked down at her. Good Lord, she looked beautiful. Like Emmeline, she was wrapped in one of the blankets. Her dress was wet and attracting dirt at the hems, her hair damp, the curls unruly at both sides of her face. And her eyes were just adorably too serious and curious for the situation. He cleared his throat, transferring the chair to his other hand so it did not hit her. “Who?”
“Price, of course!” she said in a whisper. “Do you think he’s in love with Charity?”
“I would not know,” he honestly said.
But then he realized she was only asking questions without expecting actual answers. “Because why else would he get into a fight with the man? They are friends. They’ve known each other from Butler. They never fought before. Why now?”
He blinked away because Simone Priest talking to herself, oblivious of her state, and the way her face glistened at the touch of sunlight, was just the distraction he could not entertain. “Men fight over simple things like children would.”
“Then have you fought with Web before?”
“Of course. Back in Butler.”
“And?”
“As you can see, we are still friends.”
She broke into a smile and it was even worse distraction. “Did you fight over a woman?”
“No. It was over a piece of muffin.”
She frowned, blinked a few times, looking preposterous. It took remarkable control to fight the urge to do something. “A muffin?”
His gaze flickered away from her lips, and he cleared his throat, quickening his pace. “Yes.”
She kept up, stumbling over her own feet and the hems and the blanket. He caught her arm before gravity took over and just as quickly let go. “Why? What happened?” she asked, ignorant of his silent struggle.
“He grabbed a bite.”
“So the muffin was yours?”
“No, it was someone else’s.”
“He stole someone else’s muffin, and you got angry?”
“I told him to return it to the plate he stole it from.”
“And you got angry because he didn’t?”
“No, he returned the muffin. I got angry over what he said.”
“And what did he say?”
His eyes found hers again. “He called me a nosy bastard.”
She stopped walking. He stopped walking. “That’s terrible of him.”
He shrugged and realized he should really put more distance between them. The bloody sunlight would not just leave her be. He turned away and for the first time, he was glad to see Leroy, the footman, running toward them from the direction of the manor to report that Web ordered him to tell Harry to escort the Poppets home because Price and Gale were currently indisposed.
Daniel walked on as Leroy rushed toward Simone, whispering something in her ear while stealing him a look. The footman guided Simone away, leaving Daniel behind to walk alone with the earl’s chair.
As his eyes followed her as she walked away cloaked in a blanket, her head inclined toward the still whispering Leroy, the hems of her damp dress dark with dirt, Daniel slowly drew in a deep breath.
Ah, bloody hell. He was in trouble.
18. the wedding dress
Rumors around the manor said that Price refused to give Web any explanation. The day after the brawl, everything seemed normal during breakfast. Everyone ate around the table, discussed their plans for the day as if Price did not struggle to eat with a swollen face. The moment Price walked out of the breakfast room with Gale, those around the table discussed the brawl, but it was only to wager on the reason. Even Simone placed her money on Price having affections for Charity.
After breaking fast, Daniel went to the fields with Harry, Web, and Damon. They discussed rent and poor harvest as they rode their horses. The three men even discussed Price and how odd it was for him to box a man he considered his friend. The matter was dropped as soon as Harry reminded them it was not their business. Daniel tried to ask Harry if he there was a chance that the man may have already found good reasons to suit his sister, but the future earl expertly diverted the conversation to Web’s struggles with their shipping lines. He did not try to push the matter again after that, telling himself that Harry may need more time. And Emmeline most definitely did not need the pressure. The only thing he had to do now was be patient and hopeful. And to endure the coming days as they grew more challenging.
He could not count the number of times she would suddenly come into his thoughts. Like a sudden attack of wind on a mild day. Her face would flash with a blink, and her voice with a simple mention of her name. He was certain he could manage to control these attacks as he did before, but it was not likely to happen in Abberton. Back home, he could do that for certain. But not here where everything in the estate reminded him of her, of the stories she shared, of her words and dreams.
When they arrived at the manor for luncheon, Mrs. Keating, the housekeeper, saw them as she crossed the courtyard to get from one side of the manor to the other. “Good. You’re back. Would you boys be kind to find Roxie and Freda? I’m sure they’re in the woods. I don’t want cold food on the table!” she ordered just as she disappeared.
It still surprised Daniel that even Harry, the future earl, would take orders from someone under his employ. He joined the three men into the woods to search for the two youngest Stratfords, careful to not fall into one of the traps.
“Do you even know where to find them?” he asked.
“They’re in the cabin,” Web replied, pulling him to the side, absently pointing at a potential trap.
“Which one?”
“That one,” Damon replied with a tilt of his chin. The cabin was off the path and deftly hidden from view. It looked like someone collected scraps of wood and nailed it together into a box.
“Roxie! Freda! It’s time for luncheon!” Web called out as they neared.
“We’ll be there!” Freda’s voice said from inside the cabin.
Harry sighed and entered, followed by Damon. “Pack up now.”
Daniel stepped into the tiny place after Web while Harry and Damon helped the two girls close a giant chest. He wondered why he did not know about this cabin. Simone never told him in her letters.
“Lydia calls it the treasure chest,” Web told him, sensing his curiosity. “It contains things that belonged to our parents. Old man’s idea.” His friend guided him out of the cabin as Roxie and Freda straightened and turned toward the door. “We’re sentimental that way, my friend,” Web said with a chuckle, playfully pushing Roxie and Freda out the door. “The two of you, straight to the manor.”
Damon fell behind as he locked the door, Harry walking up ahead to walk with the girls. “You picked anything that belonged to your parents and placed it in a chest?”
“Yes,” Web said with a sigh, digging his hands in his pockets. “You must know it was—is—our biggest loss. Six lives, Daniel. We lost six lives that day. Not counting the hundreds of others who perished with them.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t always have to say that every time the subject comes up,” his friend said. “We don’t really enjoy hearing those words.”
He smiled. “I can say the same.”
His friend threw him a gentle smile. “Then we agree.”
They walked in silence for a while until they emerged from the woods. “What did you put inside?”
“We never recovered their bodies, so we were only left with what they left behind. I threw in my father’s watch and my mother’s journals.”
He nodded, surprised at the wholesome practice. He had done the same, but he kept something different from his parents. He kept a promise.
As they reached the manor and entered the courtyard, they found Simone in a beautiful white dress, walking around with her hands on her hips and her head bent.
“What are you doing?” Web asked, leaving Daniel’s side.
“Is that Charity’s dress, Sisi?” Roxie asked, walking over to touch the outer skirt with her hand.
“No touching,” Simone warned, stepping back from both girls. “Go clean up first. It’s time for luncheon.”
The girls obliged, but not without saying the dress was beautiful and she did a good job.
“What do you think?” Simone asked, facing the gentlemen, face radiant and expectant.
“I think you should not be wearing it,” Harry commented.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m testing it.”
“Should it be white?” asked Damon, walking past his sister with no intent to wait for an answer.
“Charity wanted a white dress.”
“It’s beautiful if you keep it as it is,” Web said, following Damon. “Don’t add feathers, please.”
“I don’t intend to.”
“What do you think?” she asked Harry, who was passing by.
“I still think you should not be wearing it,” said the man, making Simone purse her lips. “And I think it’s beautiful.”
Daniel watched her face break into a beautiful smile. As he made his way across the courtyard, she smiled at him expectantly. “Well?” she asked. “What do you think, Your Grace?”
A flock of chickens clucked their way across the courtyard, and Daniel stepped back to let them pass, grabbing the chance to buy some time to think of a safe answer.
Certainly, he could not tell her she should not give it to her friend. It was made for her, he thought. The sheer sleeves glistened in the sunlight, making her glow. The light material of the outer skirt flowed with her movement, like a maiden in a waltz led by a perfect partner.
“It is exquisite,” he said. “Charity will be a beautiful bride.”
“I know,” she said, already stepping away. He did not want her to. She should stay in the courtyard where the light was. “Thank you for your kind words, Your Grace.”
He was about to say that he did not say the words simply to be courteous as expected of him, but he noted the sudden change in her face when her eyes landed on something behind him. Her smiling face morphed into a curious one. “Mr. Skelton.”
Daniel turned to find Harvey Owen’s friend standing awkwardly outside the arched threshold of the courtyard. He was dressed in a brown vest and jacket, dark pants, and high leather boots. His hands fiddled with his hat in front of him as he bowed. “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” he greeted, clearing his throat before he offered Simone a small smile. “Miss Priest.”
“What brings you here, Mr. Skelton?” Simone asked, gathering the skirts of the dress as she walked closer.
The man blinked at the sight of her. “I’m… well, I was—Are you wearing a wedding dress, Miss Priest?” Skelton asked, glancing in Daniel’s direction before returning his gazt to Simone.
Simone’s confusion showed on her face. She blinked at Francis Skelton a few times before her eyes rounded and her face flushed. “Oh, no!” She threw a look in Daniel’s direction before she broke into a laugh. “Well, yes, I’m wearing a dress,” she said, breaking her next statement with a laughter that was just uniquely hers—innocent, raw, and charming. “I’m sorry for laughing,” she tried again, clearing her throat, but another chuckle bubbled out of her lips before she finally mastered herself, squaring her shoulders. Daniel wondered then, if she truly found it laughable that someone would assume they were getting married. “I’m wearing a wedding dress, but it’s not mine,” Simone was saying, her face radiant and flushed with laughter while Francis Skelton smiled, face brightening as he took in Simone’s words. Was this man happy to learn he assumed wrongly?
“This is Charity’s,” Simone was explaining. “She asked me to make her dress for the wedding.”
At the mention of the wedding, the smile on Francis Skelton’s face disappeared. “I hope your family, most particularly the earl, can forgive my friend for what happened.”
“You are not the person to say that, Mr. Skelton. You should not feel sorry.” Simone stepped closer to the man and Daniel almost reached out to stop her. She did not know him well enough to break proper social distance. But he stopped himself before he could make a fool of himself. Of course, she would break social decorum. After all, she was a Stratford. “Please, would you care to tell me the purpose of your visit?”
“Y-Yes,” the man said, clearing his throat again. “I’m here to see one of your horses.”
“One of our horses?”
“Your brother, Mr. Damon, has asked that I look into his horse.”
“Is he selling Maple?” she asked, almost in disbelief.
“No, nothing of the sort. He suspects Maple has caught the flu.”
Simone frowned. “I’m sorry, Mr. Skelton, but what are you?”
Daniel bit back a smile at Simone’s question.
“I’m an animal doctor, Miss Priest,” Skelton replied.
“Oh!” Her eyes were round with amazement. “Interesting.”
Interesting?
“I’m sure Damon is waiting for you. Please, follow me,” she said, turning.
Skelton offered Daniel a slight bow before he dutifully caught up with Simone.
“And while you’re at it, would you care to check on my horse, Chestnut? I would like to know if we have an outbreak…”
Daniel watched them walk away, Simone in a wedding dress that was not hers, and Skelton eagerly listening to what she had to say, his gaze staying on the man. Francis Skelton was leaning too close, but who was he to be bothered?
Being twenty-five, Simone had learned a few things in life. For one, she should not let anything excite her if she did not want to get disappointed. Learning that Daniel Cavendish did not see her as just one of his many fans in the past was, of course, exciting. He remembered her and her letters. He remembered even the silly details about her. But as a woman almost on the shelf (although she feels far from being one), she should be graceful. That, of course, meant she had to respect his reasons for keeping secrets. If he wanted to make her believe she was just a thing of the past , then she would let him.
So, for now, she should learn more about Daniel Cavendish, the duke.
But that would have to wait because Charity’s wedding was happening in three days and that ought to be a priority. The dress had been carefully washed after she wore it the entire day to test if it was durable enough, to which Damon pointed out, saying, “You know that dress will have to be a little less durable, yes, Sisi? For what it has to face after the wedding?” Of course, she knew what he meant. And she knew he was merely exaggerating. Her dress was perfect, and it was ready to survive the wedding night.
“What are your plans for today?” she asked Lydia the next morning at breakfast. Everyone was around the table, save for Price and Gale, who had gone out for a ride and had not yet returned.
“Harry, Emmeline and I are joining Grandpapa for his monthly tea with Lord Rothsport. We would love if you could join us. Now that you’re done with the dress, you could spare some time.”
Simone shook her head. “I’m afraid I cannot. I have something to do. Perhaps next time.”
She looked around the table and met Daniel’s gaze. She smiled at him, telling herself he was not the best candidate. She turned to Roxie and Freda, but then stopped, remembering that they had lessons today. Price and Gale were not yet home, Web was preparing to leave for an urgent business in Birth, and Damon was expecting Francis Skelton again for a more thorough check on his horse.
Very well, she would just go on her own, she later thought as everyone went on their way. With Charity’s dress in a box she tied with blue ribbon, Simone emerged into the empty courtyard.
She was humming to herself, steps growing excited as she imagined Charity’s reaction to the dress. And he appeared before her.
She skidded to a stop and asked, “Are you lost again?”
Daniel shook his head and stared at the box. “Please, allow me to help you with that,” he said, already taking it from her.
“But I’m going to the Poppets.”
He turned and walked away. “I know.” Her eyes narrowed behind him. She was wondering why he was doing this when he added, “If you do not wish for Leroy to see us, we should hurry.”
There was so much she wanted to discuss from that one statement alone, but she chose not to. Instead, she hastened her steps to walk beside him, smiling to herself.
They crossed the wide driveway, the lawn, and walked down the street away from Abberton House. Trees lined both sides, their branches arching to the middle of the road, forming a tunnel of leaves and spots of sunlight. When they were younger, when they were bored, or if they were waiting for someone, Simone and her cousins would stay on the side of this very road. Most often, the Poppets would join them.
“How did you know I was going out?” she asked. His face was unreadable, but she also realized that he was less stiff. Maybe Abberton was rubbing off on him, slowly stripping him of his ducal mien. His hair was looser, tucked behind his ears. The shirt beneath his simple coat was tucked haphazardly, and his boots were speckled with mud. “Did the maids tell you?”
“I made the deduction during breakfast,” he simply said, face still a little stiff than she would have wanted it. Ah, but he might loosen up after he spent more time here in Abberton, she thought.
“Thank you,” she said, “but you did not have to.”
He met her gaze before he looked ahead again. “I know.” He cleared his throat. “I had nothing to do.”
“I will join Lydia and Emmeline more often from this day on, I believe,” she said. “Perhaps you should, too.”
“That will depend on Harry’s plans,” he said. “I would rather he spends more time with my sister.
“Of course.” She threw him a quick smile. “This walk must be boring for you.”
“No, not really.”
“Of course, it is,” she said, stopping. “Because it’s short,” she finished with a chuckle, pointing at the house to their right. “We’re here.”
He looked down the path they took and then at the house. “They practically live next door.”
Grinning, she said, “We should hurry, Your Grace. Before the rain comes.”
He looked up. “I don’t think it’s going to rain.”
“It is,” she said with certainty as she knocked on the door. “I can smell it in the air.”
The door opened and a young lady of fourteen, with the same red hair as her sisters, greeted them with a look of someone who had been dragged to church in the wee hours of the morning.
“Hello, Dorothy,” Simone greeted the youngest of the Poppet sisters. “I’m here to deliver Charity’s dress.”
“Who is it?” came Mrs. Poppet’s voice before she, too, appeared in the doorway, her face filled with concern. “Oh, Simone,” the woman said, reaching out to hold Simone’s hand.
“Mrs. Poppet,” she said, “What happened?”
“It’s Charity!” the woman sniffled, grip growing tighter.
Simone exchanged a frown with Daniel before facing Mrs. Poppet again. “What happened to Charity?”
“She no longer wishes to marry Harvey,” Dorothy wryly said, as if she found the entire situation boring. Unlike her mother, she looked perfectly calm.
The information did not travel fast enough, and when they did, the wrinkle between Simone’s eyes deepened. Charity was very much in love with Harvey. Why would she change her mind?
“Charity ran away,” Mrs. Poppet choked out.
“What?”
“No, she did not. Not really,” Dorothy said with a roll of her eyes.
“Where is she going?”
“We are hoping you could tell us.”
“Why?”
Dorothy shrugged. “She ran away with Price and Gale’s help.”
19. the suitors
The mystery was eating at everyone. Even Web postponed his departure to Birth to wait for Price and Gale. Harry and Damon wanted to search for the pair, but the earl told them to wait. “We could not let poor Charity’s reputation be marred by you lot asking every block if they had seen them.”
He rarely gave opinions, but whenever he did, everyone considered it law. And so they waited. No one left Abberton House. Even Damon did not question Mr. Skelton if he knew something. The man seemed clueless when he came by to check on the horses. Simone easily deduced that Harvey was just as clueless.
Charity did leave a letter, but it was only to let her family know that there was no wedding to come. She would go somewhere safe, she said. Price and Gale would take her there.
“She said she needs time,” Mrs. Poppet managed to say before she burst into tears that afternoon Simone and Daniel came by to deliver the dress. Mr. Poppet, to their surprise, was as calm as Dorothy. Arabella, however, was quiet, saying very little as she consoled her mother.
Bridget, on the other hand, had more to say. And she did just that three days after Charity, Price, and Gale left Abberton, the same day the wedding was due to happen. She called on Simone and Lydia in the courtyard.
“Papa went to Harvey,” Bridget told them, leaning close. “And I think I know why Charity left.”
“Why?” Simone and Lydia chorused.
“He told Papa he met another woman while in Birth and had fallen in love with her.”
Simone and Lydia gasped, scandalized.
“He never intended to pursue the woman, he said. In fact, he was intent on marrying Charity.” As the two Stratfords looked at her with disbelief, Bridget leaned even closer to add, “But the worst part is that he seemed angry when Papa told him Charity left and broke the engagement.” They frowned at their friend. “He’s blaming Price.”
“Why?” Lydia asked.
“Because he helped Charity run away?”
Bridget shook her head. “He would not say, but I believe he believes Price was the one who told Charity about the other woman.”
It took a moment to process, but when they finally pieced things together, they said, “Oh.”
“Is that why Price said, ‘You know what to do. You bloody know what to do’?” Lydia asked, assuming a deeper tone to mimic Price’s words from the river incident.
“He said that?” Bridget asked.
“Yes,” Simone replied to both questions, nodding her head, eyes rounding as she realized something. She gripped her cousin’s hand tightly. “That’s why he and Gale looked grim that day we took him to Doctor Peters!” She turned to Lydia. “That day, Harvey and Mr. Skelton were also there. They must have said something and Price and Gale must have heard it.”
“Then that must be it,” said Bridget, shaking her head. “I’m truly disappointed. Harvey should have known better. I agree with what Price must have been thinking. He should have told my sister.”
“But,” Lydia hesitantly said with a grimace, “considering what happened to Arabella before, I believe Harvey only wants to be honorable. He didn’t want Charity to suffer the same heartbreak as Arabella did.”
Simone sighed because that’s all she could do. Lydia made a good point.
“Then he must have been ignorant of Ara’s ability to survive said heartbreak. Did he think that if he told Charity the truth, my sister would spend her entire life moping?”
“Charity is strong. And she’s too kind. She would have given him freedom if he had only been honest,” Simone said.
Lydia turned to her. “Do you think we should ask Mr. Skelton? I’m certain he knew all along.”
“And what would we do?” Simone asked. “Condemn him for his friend’s false belief about honor?”
“He could have done something.”
“We don’t know the entire story, Lydia. And Mr. Skelton isn’t the person we should be attacking. The man is here for the horses. He’s working.”
Lydia sighed. “I wish they’re—Price!” Her cousin jumped to her feet, and so did Bridget.
Price and Gale had just entered the courtyard, looking tired. “Ah, here they are,” her brother wryly said to Gale. “Just as expected.”
Gale turned to Bridget and bowed. “Please forgive us for what we did, Bridget—” The rest of his statement flew with Bridget’s fist. She punched Gale’s shoulder, her face as red as her hair.
“You could have told us!”
“Bridget—Ow! Ow! Stop it!” Gale pleaded, backing away.
Their friend was heaving as tears flowed down her face. “You made us worry!”
“Charity is safe,” said Price, already blocking Bridget’s attack. “She’s with your Aunt Felomina in Strait!”
Bridget stopped, blinking at Price. “Aunt Fely?”
“Yes,” Price said, righting his coat. “She’s safe and sound. Just a bit sad, of course, but you know Charity. She even managed to laugh once or twice when we—” He stopped when Bridget started to fumed. “Now, if you don’t mind, Gale and I have to freshen up. We have people to go to.”
“My parents—”
“Your parents are the first we shall go to,” Price promised. “And you,” he added, pointing at Simone and Lydia, “Stop with the gossiping.”
“Did you discover Harvey’s secret when we went to Doctor Peters?” Simone asked.
“Yes.”
“I knew it!”
“Stop following us,” Gale ordered as they crossed the courtyard.
“But you have a lot of explaining to do!”
“Precisely!” Gale said over his shoulder. “To Mr. and Mrs. Poppet. To the old man. To Harry.”
“To me!” Bridget called after them.
“We’re terribly sorry, Bridget!” Price said. “But Charity made us promise. Now, if you could just let us be on our way, we’d be happy to accept your wrath. But be sure to send some to your sister as well because it was all her idea!”
“Oh, I’ll kill them,” Simone growled after the two men disappeared.
“I’ll kill Charity!” Bridget said, wiping her tears. “She could have just told me. We tell each other everything.”
“I’m sure she’ll explain everything,” Simone consoled.
“Come, Bridget,” said Lydia, taking the woman’s hand. “I’ll help you pack.”
“Pack?”
“Aren’t you going to go to Charity?”
“Well, yes, but I would still have to talk to my husband—”
“Then we must hurry,” Lydia said, tone laced with meaning.
Understanding, Bridget nodded and quickened her steps.
Simone frowned after the pair. “Are you going to help her pack because you want to be there for when Price and Gale come calling?”
“Yes!” Lydia and Bridget said over their shoulders.
“Then you may need an extra pair of hands,” she said, jogging after them.
Three days after Price and Gale arrived from Strait, the wedding was off. Officially, of course.
Harvey Owen was spared of the humiliation for telling the truth (as what Mr. Poppet said). The Poppets didn’t want to make matters worse, so they met with the Owens to agree on a story: that it was a mutual agreement from both families.
Of course, small place that it was, Abberton was immediately buzzing with gossip. Everyone wondered why the engagement was called off. And everyone knew the Stratfords knew why. Thus, the courtyard was especially full for a few days, with people nonchalantly passing by to deliver milk, share their freshly baked cookies to the good earl who lived there, sell goods, or even find their lost chickens.
But one Monday morning, Daniel, as he passed through the northern wing that overlooked the courtyard, noticed a few more additions to the constant gossipmongers. Three men, in fact, he noted as he stopped in front of one tall window to interrogate. And they were holding flowers, measuring each other as if they were in a competition.
“What is that?” He looked over his shoulder at Damon. The man joined him in the window and looked down. “Ah, the bloody persistent bastards.”
“Are they suitors?” Daniel asked.
Damon nodded. “Simone’s. Ah—There he is.”
Daniel’s eyes followed Damon’s gaze. Skelton had just entered the lawn just as Simone, dressed in a light yellow dress, walked in from the opposite side. The three men all jumped to their feet while Skelton came to a stop. Well, why would they not? She was gracing them in sunlight, the best place she could be in. Her hair was down, spread wide behind her, the upper half loosely tied in white ribbon.
She greeted her suitors, and although he could not hear her voice, he could imagine it. And then she spotted Skelton and approached him as well while her suitors waited with their flowers, looking annoyed to have her attention stolen away by someone else who came empty-handed.
“I should go down before they eat poor Skelton. Can’t lose my horse’s doctor.” Damon started to leave but stopped, remembering something, brows mimicking the curls of his dark brown hair. “We are going out for another picnic by the river. Would you like to join us? Web told me before he left that I should try my best to include you in our activities,” Damon said, smiling, although he appeared awkward by doing so. Unlike his sister, a smile did not become Damon Priest.
“This afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“I will join you.”
“Good. Breakfast is that way,” Damon said, pointing to his left as he went. “In case you’re lost.”
He faced the window again and frowned when he saw Simone touch Skelton’s arm, saying something. It was an uncommon gesture for a woman, and Daniel was glad that Skelton recognized that. The man stepped away and bowed slightly, saying something.
And that was when Damon walked in and called Skelton, ushering him toward the stables.
“Freda! Freda!” Lydia’s screaming made him whirl around. The woman rushed past him, looking quite enraged. “Where are my green slippers!”
He looked down and found prints of her bare feet disappearing from the surface of the wooden floor.
“You know I’m Sisi’s companion today! The suitors are here and I’m not even ready! Freda!”
A laughing Emmeline rushed past Daniel. “Isn’t it exciting?” his sister asked.
“The screaming?”
“What?” her sister asked incredulously, as if the screaming was now a normal part of her morning. “I meant the suitors! Lydia and I are going to serve as Sisi’s companions!”
He blinked. “You know about them?” he asked, following her following Lydia down the stairs.
“Yes, of course. Lydia told me so much about them. They’re quite interesting, you know. Would you like to join us?”
He considered it, but then he was sane enough to know his place. “No. I’d rather be breaking fast.”
As his sister rushed away to follow Lydia, who was still screaming for Freda, Daniel turned to the corridor that led to the courtyard. He stole a look, found Simone talking with her suitors, and then stopped himself. Shaking his head, he found a different route to the breakfast room.
This time, it was just Lydia, Emmeline, and Simone who joined the men by the river for a picnic. Roxie and Freda took their time on the deck with Dorothy, who rarely went out. It was Freda who called it a miracle when the youngest of the Poppets came calling with a basket of pies from her mother, a gesture of her gratitude for Price and Gale for delivering her daughter safely to Strait.
Emmeline and Harry were strolling not far away, chatting like old friends and nothing more, much to Daniel’s disappointment. At the very least, they were trying to know each other, he thought to himself. With Web gone, he was starting to regret the length of this vacation. The only person who understood him was gone, and the one person who made him question his plans was sitting beside him.
“Mayhap if I stay here longer, Price and Gale will leave me for the rest of the day,” Simone said under her breath. They were sitting on a cloth, tall grass behind them, shallow river ahead. Price and Gale were catching grasshoppers with Lydia, putting them in a jar to take back to Roxie and Freda because their tutors gave them an assignment to catch some for their lessons tomorrow. Damon was back in the woods to find the frog Roxie and Freda needed for a different lesson. Simone should entertain the duke, of course, as Price instructed.
“I do not mind the company,” he said, unable to keep himself from looking at her. And as he had long deduced, sunlight was made for her. She had not changed her dress for the picnic, as was customary, and she was still wearing the same yellow dress earlier that morning. Her hair was still as it was when she spent time with her suitors. He was looking at the same sight those gentlemen and Skelton saw. “What did Skelton tell you earlier?” he asked.
Her brows fused as she tried to think about his question. And then she smiled, as if the memory of her time with Skelton was more than pleasant. “Oh, he apologized again.”
“For what?”
“For what his friend did,” she said with a sigh, looking straight at the river. “He hopes that what happened between Charity and Harvey would not mar our newfound friendship.”
His brows arched. “Friendship?”
She frowned at her own word. “Yes, friendship. He said so.” Her head snapped toward him, amusement on her face. “Do you think he fancies me, Your Grace? I’m starting to believe he does. He stammers at my presence.”
He looked away, jaw tight. Without him knowing, his hand reached for a blade of grass and pulled. “I don’t know—” He stopped, frowning down at his hand holding the blade of glass.
“Goodness! You’re bleeding!” cried Simone, rising to her knees to take his hand. She lost her balance and would have fallen on her back if he did not catch her with his other hand.
“Careful,” he said, pulling her back. But she was no longer listening. She was bent over his bleeding hand. “It’s fine, Miss Priest,” he said, looking up to find her cousins coming closer, probably after they heard her cry of alarm. “It’s nothing—” he started to say, but Lydia’s words were faster and louder. “Should we run for Doctor Peters?”
“He’s not home,” said Price, stopping beside Simone to peer at the wound. “Heard Mrs. Keating was due to deliver her babe today. Doctor Peters must be attending.”
“It does not look deep,” said Gale, almost butting his head against Simone and Price.
“It’s bleeding,” Simone insisted, turning to face Daniel. If she did not look too serious, he would have laughed. “It might need stitches.”
“Oh, that’s not good,” Lydia said, fretful.
Daniel sighed when he saw Harry and Emmeline also starting to make their way back, seeing them all huddled together. “My hand is completely fine—”
“Mr. Skelton!” Simone said. “He should know what to do.”
“Yes!” Lydia seconded.
“The animal doctor?” Daniel nearly growled, pulling his hand from Simone’s. “No.”
“But—” Simone started over Gale’s words of, “Animal wound, human would—what’s the difference? It’s still wound.”
“What my wound needs is a good washing,” he said, grabbing a napkin from the basket and standing.
“Well, do what you wish then, Your Grace,” said Price.
“The human wound is not that deep, Sisi,” Gale called out when Simone followed Daniel to the river.
“Let them be,” Price said, turning back to where they left their jars. “We have grasshoppers to catch.”
“Please go back to the picnic, Miss Priest,” he said as he bent over the bank to wash his hands.
She ignored the request and sat beside him. “Let me see,” she said, tone still very much serious, her brow furrowed as she grabbed his hand to peer at his wound. He, on the other hand, was holding her by the arm with his free hand to keep her from falling into the river, which was bound to happen, considering she attracted gravity more than anyone.
“It’s not that deep,” he said, eyes on her as he said it. “It doesn’t even hurt,” he added, voice barely a whisper as he bent his head to peer down at her face, the brown strands of her curls white against the sunlight, almost brushing against his face. She smelled of fresh sunshine and roses.
“Give me that,” she murmured, snatching the napkin from his hand to dab it on the wound. “It is still bleeding.” When he just looked at her, she looked up. Their eyes met, locked for a few breathless seconds. And then she blinked, clearing her throat and moistening her lips. The worst innocent move she could have made, he thought. “But you don’t need stitches,” she added, eyes fluttering down.
Her hands were soft against his as they worked to wrap the napkin around his hand. And at that moment, he came to a realization. And it was not a good one.
His reaction to her was too strong, and he should not indulge. Web was not here to stop him from anything, he reminded himself. His friend trusted him enough to do nothing, especially his sister. He pulled his hand away from Simone and she looked at him in surprise. He steadied her before letting go of her arm. “It’s fine,” he said, trying not to sound as ducal as he should. Standing, he also guided her to her feet. “Thank you.”
He was walking away when he stopped. A part of him wanted to just leave, give himself some time to relax and forget about her, but another voice reminded him of why he came to Abberton. And that voice told him to face Simone again. He did, and said, “I think Mr. Skelton likes you. And I think the two of you would make a wonderful match, Miss Priest.”
20. the treasures
Simone paced around her studio, absently kicking scraps of fabric as she her mind went to different places. She and Mr. Skelton?
“I think the two of you would make a wonderful match, Miss Priest,” she repeated Daniel’s words aloud, tone mocking with a bitter taste in the end.
“Who said that?” Gale’s voice asked from the doorway.
She whirled toward him. He took a bite from his apple as he leaned against the frame.
“The duke,” she said, turning to sit behind her sewing machine. “He thinks Mr. Skelton and I will make a wonderful match.”
“But why not you and him ? Him, being the duke, of course.” He walked into the room and hitched his hip on the edge of her machine table. Apple in hand, he gestured to the window. “And definitely not one of those hopefuls.”
She craned her neck to look and sighed.
“They’re back with more flowers,” Gale said. “If you’re not planning to consider them, Sisi, please give us peace and tell them no.”
Simone, much to Gale’s surprise, smiled. “No,” she told him. “As a matter of fact, I’m going to seriously give them a chance to prove themselves.”
He followed her to the door when she jumped to her feet, and then to her bedroom. “You are? Why?”
“Because I’m almost past the marrying age—”
“You’re at the precipice, to be honest. Climbing your way up the top of the shelf.”
She looked at him dryly. “Thank you for the reminder, my kind cousin. As I was saying, I’m almost past the marrying age. I wish to have children—build a family. Perhaps one of those gentlemen is my match. Maybe even Mr. Skelton! Mayhap I’ve simply been too preoccupied to recognize that it could be one of them.”
“Hm,” Gale muttered, looking unconvinced as he chewed and swallowed. He took another bite from his apple. “Hm. Interesting for you to say that after what the duke told you.”
“Precisely,” she said, forcing a smile. “After considering his words, I realized I’ve been deliberately ignorant of my suitors. They must have good qualities and I’ve simply been blind to them because…” Her words faltered as she realized what she was saying. Because I
’ve been obsessed with letters that never came. “Because I’ve been setting my standards too high.”
“Then,” her cousin said, “we should expect you to be more active with your suitors?”
“Yes.”
“Hm.” Without another word, he turned around and walked away. “Funny, Sisi.”
Lydia and Emmeline were quite eager to be her companions as she spent time with her suitors that morning, which was quite fun, to be honest. They were too eager to please her, and they were kind enough to respect each other. In fact, it seemed as though they had become friends after spending countless moments waiting for her in the past.
By afternoon, Harry and the others went for a ride with Daniel to a nearby field to meet neighboring landlords. With Roxie and Freda having a heated argument with their tutor because they refused to kill their frogs to study their organs, Simone joined Lydia and Emmeline to accompany the earl for another visit to Lord Rothsport.
The Viscount of Rothsport was a tiny man compared to their grandfather. At eighty-three, Amos Foy was sharp, brutal, and very grumpy. In fact, his only friend was the earl, and it was entirely by choice. He did not trust anyone else to be close to him because they just wanted his money (his words). “And your grandfather should do the same!” he would often tell them whenever they came to his humongous mansion the silence was deafening. His only son had left to live with another woman after his first wife died. He remarried, but it not someone from Sutherland. To be precise, she was an American. The viscount, of course, stripped his only son of his rights to the title. “Banished forever,” Amos Foy had said once or twice.
His animosity toward his son, however, extended to everyone, including his grandson. But since he hated his other relatives more than his son’s only legitimate child from his first marriage, Amos Foy acknowledged his grandson as his heir.
“He’s coming home,” he told his friend, the earl, that afternoon. “Must be coming home to murder me.”
The earl merely laughed. “You don’t mean that. That boy is a charmer.”
Simone and Lydia both snorted and quickly covered it with a cough, simultaneously turning to Emmeline to inquire if she wanted to see the viscount’s amazing gardens.
“And who is this woman again?” Amos asked, scrutinizing Emmeline with his hooded olive green eyes.
“She’s Lady Emmeline, my lord,” said Simone.
“You met her last time the earl visited you, my lord. Remember? The sister of the Duke of Dafield,” Lydia reminded.
“Dafield?” asked Amos, frown deepening. “You’re his sister? Whose daughter are you?”
“Nathan Cavendish died years ago, Amos,” the earl said, nodding at the ladies to give them leave. “She’s his daughter,” they heard him say as they walked away.
“The eldest then.”
“No, the eldest is the current duke.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is this the way to the garden?” Emmeline asked, obviously trying to take their attention away from the old men’s conversation. Simone shared a look with Lydia. Her cousin made a gesture to stay behind, but Simone stopped her, urging her to move on.
It was not their place to eavesdrop on gossips that involved their new friend and her brother.
“Tell me why you both had that reaction,” Emmeline said while they strolled around the garden. Simone thought it lacked personality, although it was almost perfect, the flowers bright and strategically planted, the bushes trimmed with not a leaf out of place. The garden did not even look as menacing as the viscount. It was just as almost all rooms in the manor: empty and without soul.
“Because Quincy Foy is far from charming, that’s why,” said Lydia. “The rare times we had to spend time with him, he was just—I don’t know. He does not seem human. Harry can be quite strict and cold, but only when he’s doing business or if he thinks the situation begs for it. Quincy Foy, I truly and earnestly believe, was born to be worse than his grandfather.”
“But your grandfather said he is a charmer.”
Again, Simone and Lydia snorted, shaking their heads. “Grandpapa says that about everyone because everyone is a charming soul for that old man,” said Simone. “He’s an angel. Drag the devil in front of him and he’d invite him for supper. Damon said that once, and I agree.”
Emmeline laughed, nodding. “The earl is indeed an angel.”
“If Quincy is coming home, you will have to meet him,” said Lydia. “Then you’ll know what we mean.”
Emmeline smiled, but it slowly died. Simone could tell she was no longer thinking about Lydia’s worst enemy in Abberton. She had been fine earlier, but now she looked quite bothered. Was it because of the incomplete conversation they overheard?
When they returned home with their grandfather and Emmeline, with the old man bragging about winning three consecutive card games with the viscount, reminiscing the ugly look on his old friend’s face, Simone locked herself in her studio and faced her drawing pad.
She wanted to create something, but nothing came to her. Giving up, she sighed and looked out the window. Apart from two stray dogs lounging under the trees, it was empty. No vendors, no gossipmongering neighbors. Lydia and Emmeline were in the garden, harvesting carrots for the cook to bake. Simone blinked and looked around the room. The walls and the wooden cabinets were washed with the mellow colors of dusk. And from the corner, the one dress she could not finish stood silent, forever waiting.
It was a simple dress, one she had redone too many times. Once, it flowed with ribbons, twice with glitters. Now, it was just back to a simple white dress—plain with signs of wear after thousands of needles and threads poked through it over the years. She should give up on it. Perhaps she had been dreaming about it too much that it would never be perfect in her eyes.
Her eyes landed on the cabinet, at the rightmost drawer. She got up and pulled it open, took out the box there, and stared. Like the wedding dress, she had decorated it too many times. Now, it was just a plain box tied with a blue ribbon. Inside it were his letters. Hundreds of them she kept and read more than she should have. She remembered the times she was feeling down and uninspired. His passionate words kept her dreams alive. His travels and the colors he described gave her inspiration to create dresses—blue ribbons for the blue and white tent he slept in, velvet for the curtains, green for the meadow he visited in Dockerly, beige for the sands in Herst.
She tried all of those on the dress. All colors that brought him such joy. Then the letters stopped. The dress stopped evolving when she lost his stories. She relied too much on them… on him.
She carried the box away to read the contents one last time.
During supper, Daniel noticed Simone looked distracted. She was engaged, but her laughter—which was often loud like everyone around the table—sounded forced. When supper was done, he joined the ladies and the earl in the drawing room while Harry and Damon went out to the stables to check on the horses. Price and Gale were somewhere in the courtyard with Roxie and Freda to free the frogs they rescued from their tutor. While Lydia told everyone about the contents of Charity’s recent letter, Daniel caught Simone looking at him. She did not even look away because she did not notice. It was as if she was just staring blankly at him. But when she finally did, she blinked away as if she was ignorant about being caught. When their eyes met again, the smile she sent him seemed distracted. It lacked the usual Simone flair.
What could be bothering her?
He may never get the answer because she was the first to stand and leave the room, giving her grandfather a kiss goodnight, and him a slight curtsy.
“I heard from Gale that she’s thinking of giving her suitors a chance,” said the earl, his eyes on Daniel, who was still staring at the door she closed behind. “Anyone who wants her should make their best move,” the earl added, turning away just as Daniel veered his gaze to him. Looking at Lydia and Emmeline, the old man grunted. “You children should be married by now.”
Lydia dramatically sighed. “Please, grandpapa, no more season in Coulway for me. I’d rather find my match here in Abberton.”
The earl snorted. “Do you know how I met your grandmother? It was during a scandalous season in Coulway!”
As the earl began his tale, one he obviously told too many times in the past based on Lydia’s expression, the door opened again and a female servant walked in.
“Your Grace,” she said, giving everyone a slight nod of apology, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Lord Harry and Master Damon are waiting for you on the deck.”
He frowned, having no recollection of such meeting, but he stood nonetheless and excused himself from the room.
And just as he predicted, the deck was not empty. And just as he gathered from the smile of the servant earlier, Simone was sitting there, a plain box sitting beside her.
She turned at the sound of his footsteps against the roof. And then she sighed. “Who sent you here now?” she asked. “Let me guess. Juliet? I met her on my way here.”
He stepped onto the deck and stood beside her, looking around. “I heard you’re giving your suitors a chance,” he said, looking ahead at the dark silhouette of the woods, quite aware of her looking up at him.
“It’s about time,” she said with a sigh. “They’ve been quite persistent. I should be fair and try to give them a chance.”
“What about Mr. Skelton?” he asked, intending to sound teasing but ended with a bitter tone.
“He has not yet made his desire to suit known—if he truly does,” she said. “But Brett, Russel, Edwin had. For more than a year now, I believe.” He looked down at her and she smiled, her face bright but mellow in the moonlight. “Surely, I could not wait for someone who may not want me.”
His jaw tightened and his gaze landed on the box. “What is that?”
She shrugged. “Oh, just things,” she said, looking away and leaning back with her arms as support. “I’m saying goodbye to them.”
He frowned. “Why?’
“I don’t want to get stuck,” she vaguely murmured as she absently gazed at the woods. “I’ve been stuck for some time. More than necessary.” Then she chuckled, her shoulders shaking. And when she looked up at him. “I want to not be stuck again.”
“Where are you going?” he asked when she stood.
She picked up the box and smiled at him. “I’m done saying my goodbyes. Good night, Your Grace.”
He just nodded and watched her walk away with her box. Whatever they held, it seemed important. It had been important. Alone now, he looked around the peaceful night scene.
“Your Grace,” Leroy’s voice said behind him and he closed his eyes. “Was Miss Sisi here?”
“No, Leroy, she was not,” he lied without facing the servant.
“Oh, then good night, Your Grace.”
His lips pursed. It was insane how the entire household was so into this matchmaking wager.
He sat on the deck, thinking about many things. Staying there for a while, he stared blankly at the trees, as if they could tell him a secret, answer his questions. But they were mostly about her, why she was acting differently, or what she was thinking. He wanted to know, but he knew he could not. Why bother?
Just another month, he thought. He stood, and that’s when he saw a figure walking across the grounds below toward the woods. A figure of a woman carrying a box.
She had said goodbye to many things in the past. It should not be hard to do it again, Simone thought as she made her way to the cabin, her steps light, avoiding the traps with expertise.
The cabin was quiet when she arrived. She pulled out the chest from its hiding place and took a long breath as she opened it. Random things immediately confronted her. She smiled when she saw her aunt Antonia’s old apron. Lydia must have been here just recently. She looked down at the box on her lap and murmured a goodbye before she dug into the chest, making room at the bottom.
“There,” she said aloud. “You’ll be safe here.” They never touched one another’s treasures. That was the rule. Whatever they placed here was theirs and it should be respected.
She looked for her treasures next: her father’s pillowcase and her mother’s perfume. She took them out and sat cross-legged on the floor. Her father’s smell had faded over the years, but she would smell the pillowcase to get a hint of him. To remember. She never used her mother’s perfume. She would just sniff the tip so the memories of that one last morning would return to her. Dorothy Priest sprayed from this bottle as she prepared to leave, Simone standing beside her dresser table, whining to go with her.
She did not notice the tears until they fell on her hand. And just like always, it just took one drop before she would allow herself the luxury. She cried, but not as hard as she used to.
When she heard steps crumpling dried leaves and twigs outside, she hastily wiped her face and forced her tears to stop. And then the hiccups came just as Daniel Cavendish entered the cabin with a worried look on his face. She blinked at another hiccup as his face turned to relief upon seeing her. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
His eyes landed on her father’s pillowcase and the perfume in her hand, then it went to the chest. “I saw you walking into the woods.”
“So you stalked?” she asked, almost irritably. Another hiccup. She rose to her knees and carefully replaced her parent’s things into the chest. She tried to swallow, took a long breath and held it in to stop the hiccups, but it was no use.
“Are you all right?”
“Just hiccups,” she said, closing the chest and dragging it back into its hiding place. He tried to help, but she stopped him with a motion of her hand. Once she was done, she straightened and faced him. Another hiccup. And more tears. It was quite hard to stop both, so she focused on the thing that she was a master at—the stopping of tears.
She blinked rapidly and started for the door. “You can’t be here—” hiccup “—this is our secret place. It’s rather rude of you to walk in—”
“Simone,” he said, catching her arm as she passed. “What’s wrong?”
Another hiccup. “Nothing,” she said, gritting her teeth as a tear dropped straight to the ground. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
With another hiccup, she tried to pull at her arm. He stepped in front of her and bent down, peering at her face. “Stop staring,” she said, looking away, hastily wiping her face.
“I would not mind if you tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“That you’re sad.”
Ah, there it was again. The pity. “And then?” she asked, eyes darting toward him. A tear fell from her eyes and she wiped it away. “What will you do this time? The last time you felt sorry, you wrote me letters.”
“I never wrote to you because I felt sorry,” he said, tone frustrated.
“Then it must be because liked the feeling of receiving letters from a naive girl. Or maybe that’s why you stopped.”
He let go of her arm and stepped back. “Simone, that’s not—”
She stepped forward, almost like an attack, a hiccup as her armor. He stepped back. “Or maybe you did not know what to do when you started to realize you’re growing affections to the same naive girl,” she managed to finish with another hiccup. What was she doing? She should just leave, really. But she was tired of being around him and feeling quite giddy and disappointed at the same time. She should not have agreed to his crazy idea because whether or not she wanted it, they would win the wager, because it was clear he did not want to want her. But first, she had to make one thing clear. The arrested look on his face gave her more courage to say, “Maybe that’s why you’re pushing me away, even though it’s clear that you don’t want to.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m not pushing you away—”
“ I think the two of you would make a wonderful match, Miss Priest ,“ she mockingly repeated his words in between hiccups. She was no longer crying, thank God, because she could see the almost angry look on his face. “I’m not naïve, Your Grace. I know the look of someone who yearns.” Her eyes imprisoned his. “I see them in my suitors. You can’t fool me.”
He froze and she hiccuped. And as if something snapped, he stepped forward so fast and grabbed her by the arm. She thought he was going to kiss her. It was in the way his eyes lit with fire and the way his head bent toward her. But then he stopped. “I have my reasons.” His voice was barely a whisper.
If she had to be honest, she was quite distracted. His lips were too close that she almost felt it brush against hers when he spoke. It took a while for his words to come to her.
“Of course, you do,” she wryly and bravely retorted, refusing to step back, very much aware that he could also feel her breath against his lips. “I have long surmised that fact. Is that why you pretend to not remember my silly letters?”
His hand tightened around her arm. “They’re not silly.”
Hiccup. “That’s not my question.”
His face was so close, his gaze so intense. “I don’t think I can tell you.”
“Why don’t you try sharing a secret, Your Grace?” Hiccup. “Mayhap you can bear it as much as you can stand to share one breath with me.”
At her last statement, he broke. But he did not kiss her as she had expected. He smiled and then he laughed, resting his forehead on her shoulder as he did so. With a hiccup, she frowned. “What’s so funny?”
He could not even speak, the fool. He was just laughing.
“Are you laughing—” Hiccup “—at my expense? Is it the hiccups?”
“No,” he managed to say, clearing his throat and lifting his head to look down at her, the smile on his face quickly fading. “I’m laughing at myself.”
“But you’re not even funny.”
He snorted, eyes gazing down at her with the same yearning she knew too well. Maybe it was her who was rising to her toes to close the gap, or maybe it was him. Or maybe it was them. But no matter, it was happening.
The kiss.
She just knew it. She had kissed men before and was quite familiar of the feeling just before it happened.
“Miss Sisi!” They both jumped away from each other at the sound of Leroy’s voice coming from outside the cabin. She pushed him aside as she ran to the door, saying, “Return only after we’re gone.”
Outside, she met Leroy and assured the man she was alone when he asked.
“I saw him on the deck, Miss. You should return to your room at once before Juliet and the others can do something.”
“Of course, Leroy,” she absently said, giving the cabin one last glance.
She achieved nothing, really. She did not even get a kiss. In fact, their encounter merely caused her more confusion.
“Leroy, what would you do if we won this wager?”
“Why—buy myself a cow, of course. The wife wants more cows, see? And you, Miss Sisi?”
Another hiccup. “I’ll spend all my money making a wedding dress. It’s time I marry.”
“One of your suitors, I hope?”
She shrugged. Hiccup. “Maybe.”
21. the kiss
The found Simone talking with Skelton when they arrived in the stables after their morning ride. She looked fresh and beautiful, and she acted nonchalant when Daniel jumped to the ground with the others. He wondered again how she could manage it, acting as though the night in the cabin never happened. It had been a week and yet he could not keep it out of his mind.
“There they are,” she told Skelton. And to Damon, she said, “I was just telling him we named the horses after trees.”
“I already told him that,” said her brother, walking closer to a brown mare. “Is she doing well?”
“She’s getting better,” Skelton told them.
“I knew she would get the flu,” she told them, looking around.
“Of course you knew,” Price wryly said, leading his horse to its stable. “They all got the flu.”
She shrugged, smiling at Skelton. “You should have told me you already know about the names, Mr. Skelton.”
“I was about to,” the man said with a gentle smile.
Daniel walked past them to take his horse to another stable, ears in their conversation, when Gale spoke. “By the by, Sisi, the old man wants to have a word with your suitors when they arrive.”
“Why?”
Daniel turned and started walking back to the doors of the stables, pretending he was not waiting for Gale’s response.
“I don’t know. Maybe he wants to know who can play cards with him in the future,” Gale said, walking away. “Would you care for tea in the garden, Your Grace?” he asked Daniel.
Daniel’s gaze met Simone’s, and she glanced away, said goodbye to Skelton, and walked off, perhaps to meet her suitors.
The tea was served in the garden, but so were the suitors. The earl was already there, sitting in the gazebo, waiting for the men to be delivered. Daniel and the Stratford men were sitting nearby under a tree. Harry reading the Sutherland Post, Damon the Grimes, and Daniel, Price, and Gale holding their teacups as they watched the three young men walk up to the gazebo, looking rather pale. Not long after, Simone, Lydia, and Emmeline joined them, eyes on the gazebo.
“Brett looks like he’s about to faint,” Price said.
“Oh, poor them,” Lydia murmured with a worried look. “Look at Edwin. He would kiss the old man’s feet, including his chair, if he’s asked to.”
“Stop it,” Simone told them, looking fretful. She looked down at Price and grabbed her brother’s tea, sipping from the cup. “Why am I nervous?”
“Because there’s a possibility that we’ll have to dig three graves in the woods,” Gale said, laughing at his own joke. “Look at them. They’re about to die.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say,” Emmeline told him.
“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Harry said, closing the paper. He stood and smiled at Emmeline. “It’s time for breakfast.”
At his words, everyone else around the small table stood and filed away from the garden. Simone hooked an arm around Lydia and they, too, walked off. Emmeline stayed behind, giving him a knowing smile.
“Have you told her?”
“Told who what?”
“You know what and who I mean, brother,” Emmeline said, hooking her arm around his as he stood. She shot the gazebo another look. “I think she wouldn’t mind.”
Daniel let out a sigh. “Emmeline—”
“To be honest, you’re the only one who minds, Daniel. I’ve told you many times before.” She looked up at him as he led her back into the courtyard. “You should tell her and see what she thinks.”
“Why would I even bother?”
His sister scoffed. “Because you look at her suitors like you’re planning three murders. Make that four for the animal doctor.”
He would have said something to reprimand her, but he found he lacked the energy. He had a pleasant ride with the Stratfords, didn’t want to ruin breakfast, and they had to go to church after. So, instead, he just narrowed his eyes at his sister and she laughed, shaking her head. “You’ve been through many regrets in the past, brother. I just don’t want you to go through more after we leave.”
“I can live with that.”
“Maybe, but I doubt you can live longer by depriving yourself of what you want.”
“I want my sisters settled.”
“That’s the promise you gave Papa.”
“And I want to fulfill it.”
“But you also promised Mama something else.”
“Emmeline—”
“She wanted you to be happy, Daniel. So did Papa. And we, your sisters, want nothing else.”
He gently patted her hand, silently asking her to stop. She did, but her words kept ringing in her ears until after breakfast.
Sundays were not for the Stratfords. Not that they hated the teachings of the church, or God or the saints. No, their strife was not with God, but with His perfect devotees. Too perfect they were that they often saw something to comment on whenever the Stratford cousins arrived for service. It was the curious gaze they would throw that often made them want to do something quite abnormal. Like Simone and her ribbon hats, Roxie and Freda with their bugs, Price and Gale with their boisterous laughter, and many others.
That’s why Harry, Web, or Damon, always made sure they accompanied their cousins whenever they were in Abberton. The earl seemed to be the only exception to the ogling. He was well-liked by everyone and was immediately ushered to his spot when they arrived.
The younger Stratfords, of course, lingered outside to chat with friends, as was customary to people their age. Simone was talking with the Poppets, listening to Bridget who had just returned home from Strait with her husband.
“Charity’s feeling quite better,” said Bridget, looking around. “And I’m glad Harvey is not here today. I don’t think I can pray for his soul if he is.”
As Lydia asked more questions, Simone’s eyes wandered. Not far away, people surrounded Daniel, all inquiring about his stay in Abberton. And then she spotted Geneva Withers, a beautiful young woman with black hair, walking up to Roxie and Freda. Her two cousins were talking to Dorothy when Geneva inserted herself into their little circle to separate the two youngest Stratfords from their friend. And before Simone knew it, Roxie and Freda were looking pale. And in less than a minute, they were crying.
She instinctively jumped and started walking away. “Sisi? What’s wrong?” Lydia asked, following her.
“Geneva Withers,” she murmured, eyes on her target.
Price and Gale were quicker. They were suddenly walking in front of them and reached Geneva Withers. Roxie and Freda ran to Gale, telling him they wanted to go home. Just as Simone and Lydia arrived, Geneva Withers was saying her last words to Price and Gale. “…and I will not permit such horrible attitude from anyone, even the Stratfords.”
The woman made a sharp turn and almost crashed against Simone and Lydia before stiffly walking away.
“What happened?” Simone asked with a frown.
Lydia approached Freda, who hugged her tightly. “Freda, what happened? What did you do this time?”
“Nothing. We were just picking flowers in the back garden. She says we saw something we shouldn’t, but we didn’t. We swear we didn’t! We don’t know what she’s talking about.”
“She won’t believe us,” Roxie said, sniffing against Gale’s chest.
“Roxie, my coat,” Gale said, patting his sister’s head. “Good Lord. What could she have told you to make you cry like this? You don’t even cry.”
Price, on the other hand, was already walking away. Simone stopped him. “Price, it’s done. Let it rest. Don’t make a scene.”
“Oh, I’m not,” he said, pulling away from her hold. “But I know someone who can make that woman stop treating everyone like sinners apart from her.”
And then he went to Damon. Simone groaned, closing her eyes as her brothers talked.
“Oh, this is not good,” Lydia said beside Simone.
She opened her eyes and found Damon, frown as dangerous as his footsteps, walking into the church where Geneva Withers entered.
“Go to Harry,” Gale told his sister the same time Lydia whispered to Freda, “Go to Harry.” And then the three of them joined Price to the door.
“What did you do?” she hissed at her brother.
“Nothing. I just told him to talk to the woman,” Price said, eyes on Damon and Geneva. Simone and Lydia gripped each other in alarm when they saw Damon’s hand wrap around the woman. “Oh, God,” they groaned.
“He’s dragging her,” Simone said.
“Relax, Sisi, they’re just walking away,” Price told her.
“And she’s unwilling!” Simone hissed. “We should stop him.”
“What’s happening? Roxie and Lydia are crying,” Daniel’s voice asked behind them. They ignored him and pursued Damon and Geneva to the side door that led to the small chapel. They stumbled outside and found that the chapel door was closed.
“What’s going on—” Daniel started, but Simone whirled around to “Shh!” as they all walked up the closed door, but not before she stumbled on her own foot and he caught her. “Thank you,” she murmured as Lydia pressed her ear against the door. Simone absently fixed her cousin’s hair while Price and Gale walked in opposite directions to keep watch. All the while, Daniel stood there, looking baffled.
She made a gesture of her lips to send him another soundless “Shh!”.
“All of you,” Harry’s voice said from behind Daniel, “step back at once.” They all jumped to face him, including Daniel. He stepped out the side door of the church, beside him Arabella, looking at them with amused curiosity. And behind them were some other churchgoers who must have sensed something was amiss.
The contained fury was clear on Harry’s face as his gaze jumped from one Stratford to the next.
“Get inside. Now.”
They all jumped and rushed away.
“And pray dearly for your souls,” Harry said behind them.
“What did he mean?” Daniel asked Simone.
“What?”
“Pray dearly for our souls?”
“Oh,” she said, swallowing. “That we’ll be punished.”
“For what? Eavesdropping?”
“No, for having a witness to said eavesdropping,” she guiltily said as they all filed back into the church. “And for inadvertently exposing that Damon is inside that chapel with Geneva Withers.”
“What happened? Roxie and Freda are crying and I think the earl and I will have to take them home,” Emmeline said when she met them at the door.
“Perfect,” said Gale. “I’ll escort you all back home.”
“No, you stay,” came Harry’s voice. “Lady Emmeline will go with the old man and the girls.” He gestured toward the pews with his head while the same churchgoers filed in, shaking their heads with disapproval.
The service went on forever, in Simone’s opinion. But it was enough for the rest of them to plan their escape. Damon, on the other hand, had not returned. Neither did Geneva Withers. Lydia was squirming with curiosity, but agreed with Price that they had to first survive Harry.
If there was anything Harry disliked most about them, it was their propensity to eavesdrop. He, Harry, had gotten into trouble too many times with Web and Damon because of it. For one, it was Price, Gale, Lydia, and Simone who told about their plans to escape to another town to get foxed. But they only did that when the entire household woke nearly everyone in the village to look for the three young men. But if there was anything Harry disliked more than their eavesdropping, it was probably being the center of dreadful gossips in church. This time, they did both. Which meant he must be furious now.
As soon as it was over, they all flee. Lydia, who had managed to squeeze herself between Mr. and Mrs. Poppet earlier, also went with them, gesturing for Simone to hurry. Price and Gale had disappeared somewhere within the last five minutes of the service. Simone, on the other hand, was left with Daniel at the back of the church because she knew there would be not enough room for her in the Poppets’ curricle. Harry was lingering, greeting neighbors and sweeping the church with his gaze, looking all scarier as he realized his brother and cousins were nowhere about.
“I should really go,” she told Daniel. “If he asks, tell him I’m with the Poppets.”
But as she rushed out of the church, she realized she did not know where to go. “Let’s go,” Daniel said, grabbing her hand as he passed, taking her with him. “He’s leaving.”
He led her back to the direction of the chapel. The door was open and they walked inside. She blinked at him in confusion as he closed the door and peeked through the window.
“Why are you helping me?”
“Because I think you’ll do something sillier than this if I don’t,” he said, turning around to face her. He had long released her hand, but she could still feel his touch. And that made her aware of the fact that she was alone with him again.
Then she chuckled. “It’s silly, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“That we’re all running away from one man whom we know would not hurt us.”
He smiled at her. “Exactly. I wonder why you even do it.”
She shrugged. “It’s not the consequences we’re afraid of. I can’t explain it. We know we’re in trouble, and we know that the most we will get is a long lecture, but we still.. I don’t know. It’s the children in us. Surely you must understand it. The fear of an adult.”
He slowly nodded. “The fear because you know you’re guilty.”
“Yes, exactly.” She laughed. “It’s absurd. Maybe I should just face it.”
It took him awhile to say, “Maybe you should.”
“But not now. I’d rather find out what punishment he’ll give the others first.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “So you’ll hide here until when?”
“No, not here. They close everything after service.”
Ten minutes later, they were on foot, traveling three miles back to Abberton.
“Do you think this is worth it?” Daniel asked her.
“No,” she said. “I know I’m just buying myself time for the inevitable.”
He looked down at her. “But?”
“But my mind needs time to prepare for Harry’s lecture. And he also needs time to be by himself to reflect.”
“Reflect on what?”
“On his anger. That it’s too early to release it after church service.”
To her surprise, he laughed. “I don’t think Harry is the type to get angry less with time. And the sermon was about repentance, Miss Priest, not anger management.”
She groaned. “Oh, this day is not starting out so well,” she said. “And it’s about to rain.”
He sniffed. “You said you can smell it.”
She nodded. “We should hurry.”
When they passed by the Poppets’ house, she considered staying. But she did not want to invite him because it would make the Poppets uncomfortable. And she did not want to leave him alone to go home because that would be rude. But as they reached the road with the arched trees, it drizzled. They both ran, fearing for a heavy downpour.
“Go straight home,” she told him as she made a sudden sharp turn toward the woods.
“What in the bloody hell are you doing?” he called after her.
“I’m buying time!” she said, chuckling at her own silliness. She should go home, but then she knew Harry would be there. And she was certain Price, Gale, and Lydia were not. She would not want to take the first blow.
“Where are you going?”
“There’s a cabin near here,” she said as they emerged into the woods. The trees dampened the rain so she slowed down, catching her breath. “You should go home, Your Grace.”
“Simone, this is crazy,” he said behind her, ignoring her last statement.
“I know,” she chuckled. She looked down at her green dress. It was not wet, neither was it dry. Not bad, she thought. And as if the heavens heard her, it poured harder.
She squealed, jumping and running toward the nearest cabin. He heard him laughing behind her as well, saying she was crazy and this was insane. When they finally reached the balcony of the cabin, finally safe from rain, they were both breathless.
She brushed off the curls stuck to her face as she laughed. A gush of wind came through the trees and blew her a few feet. He caught her by the arm and pulled before she fell. “You have the worst agility when you’re still, but the most precise footing when you’re running. Do you know that?”
She playfully pushed away, wiping rain off her sleeves and arms. “I know. Sometimes it’s a wonder I’m still alive,” she said, chuckling as she lifted her head to look at him, quite surprised to see him also laughing.
She did not trip, nor did she slip, but his hand caught her arm again and pulled. And in the most spontaneous of ways, his other hand cupped her face and his mouth followed.
One thing she noted before her eyes instinctively closed was that his smile was still there when his lips landed on hers. And it was overwhelming. Because she could not ask for any other way to be kissed by Daniel Cavendish.
He was kissing her with laughter, deepening it with a smile, and it was just as she dreamed.
22. the bastard
It felt right. The rain chilled the air; the wind blew fine droplets around them. But it still felt right. They were engulfed in a fire, one quite different from a passionate night spent with a lover. It was a kindling that warmed. That did not burn. But it was definitely one that had the potential to surge.
Carefully, Daniel sought with his lips, then his tongue. And innocent that she was, Simone knew what to do. Her mouth opened and explored as eagerly as his. And soon, there was nothing but the moment, the need for more, but also the fear for too much.
His hands cupped both sides of her face and hesitantly ended the kiss, his lips hovering a hairsbreadth from hers, his forehead pressed against hers, his eyes closed. He knew he should regret this, but he felt nothing but relief. For once, since he returned home to assume his responsibilities to his family, he allowed himself something he truly wanted. He had not felt this for so long; had forgotten just how an act of carelessness could make the world seem fine and exciting.
When he finally opened his eyes, hers were already staring at him with the familiar charming curiosity he always loved. What came out of her mouth, however, made him laugh. “Are you a bastard?”
“What?” he laughingly asked, brows arched in both amazement and surprise. The only other person to have asked him that question so bluntly was Web.
“Is that the reason you’re so distant?”
His laughter died slowly, replaced by a small smile. He took the moment to tuck her curls behind her ears, kissed her lightly on the lips again before saying, “It is not a big secret, but yes, I am.”
She looked at him with a bewildered frown. “You don’t think you deserve your title?”
He nodded, kissing the tip of her nose. “Because it’s not quite fair. My father’s mistress gave birth to me before he was married to the duchess who, in turn, took me in as her son when she learned that my birth mother died. I’m not hers, but she treated me as her own. I only gained the title because my father wanted it and because my sisters were born with a different anatomy.”
“Or maybe because you deserve it.”
He chuckled. “As my father said, I should stop whining about it.” He tipped her head to he could kiss her again, this time lingering, murmuring against her lips, “We should get back to the manor.” She leaned away gently and narrowed her eyes at him. Daniel smiled, although deep inside his heart was a beast against his chest. “Are you bothered? That I’m a bastard?”
One eye squinted, as if it hurt for her to think hard. “It bothers me that I still feel your bastardy is not your major concern.”
He stole another kiss before he finally stepped away to take a deep breath. He let it out and smiled at her. “You’re too smart—”
“Miss Sisi!” Leroy’s distant voice came calling, and they both groaned and stepped further away from each other. As they waited for Leroy to find them, she leaned against the door of the cabin and he on the railings of the balcony.
She cleared her throat and she looked beautiful just like that—damp with frizzy hair, chin lifted high as she tried to act not too concerned. “Whatever it is, that’s what’s stopping you, isn’t it?”
“Stopping me from what?” he asked, smiling as her face flushed.
“From being…” She waved her hand in frustration. “From being the Daniel I knew. The actor. The man who loved acting and adored being on stage.”
He bent his head to study his wet leather shoes, their footprints on the wooden planks—his and hers facing in a kiss. He did not want to end this moment with a confused Simone. She did not deserve it after what he had done to her years ago.
“Miss Sisi!” Leroy’s voice was nearer. By the footman’s searching ability, they were bound to be found soon.
Daniel lifted his head and met her gaze. “I have matters to think about before I can be honest with anyone.”
“Think about what?” Brave. That’s what she was, he thought. She was never afraid to ask the questions that even he would not ask if he were in her shoes.
He forced a smile. “I have amends to make,” he said. “I’ve hurt people years ago.”
It was clear that she did not understand and he could not blame her. Perhaps in time, he would tell her, but not now when they were running out of time. His story would need a very dry and well-rested Simone. And also an understanding one. Maybe a forgiving one.
If Emmeline was here, she would tell him he was being silly. That it was all in his head. But he knew better. He knew the people he hurt and he knew it would not have happened if it was not for him. It was because of his desire to keep living his dreams that it all happened.
It was all because of him.
“And after? Once you’ve thought about it? Will you tell me?”
He shrugged. “If you want to know.”
“Of course.” No shame, no hesitation. And he had always loved that about her.
He pushed away from the railing, intending to reach for her, but she stopped him, saying, “You stay back, Your Grace.” She looked around before giving him a stern look, although there was laughter in her pursed lips and mirth in her brown eyes. “We still have a wager to win.”
A wager to win. Was she serious?
The question nagged at him even three days later. Everyone was trapped in the manor for two reasons: first, Harry had imposed his authority and everyone who were caught eavesdropping outside the chapel last Sunday was forbidden to leave the household after getting an hour of additional sermon (as Gale would put it) each; and second, the drizzle had blossomed into a storm.
One would think the mild punishment by Harry and the raging storm would have been the best recipes to get more opportunities to be alone with her, but Daniel soon found out that the Stratfords had as much things to do within the household as they did outside. There were always random activities for entertainment, their favorite of all was the game of charade; and it surprised him to know that they had other hobbies that did not include shovels and animals. They read, they sang, they played instruments, they would cook, and most of all, they took care of the old man.
It had not been apparent to him before that the Stratfords had a schedule for giving the man a massage, read him stories, and even play cards with him until he witnessed it.
Simone was as busy as she was before the punishment and the storm. She was always with Lydia, always with the cook, in her studio… She was everywhere but in a room where there were just that two of them.
“I’m bored,” Price whined that afternoon while they gathered in the drawing room after luncheon. He was chewing his cheek while Roxie sat on the floor, leaning against his one leg as she read.
Daniel was in one corner, reading the last page of the Sutherland Post, ignoring the man because Price always said the same thing every day after luncheon since the first day. Gale was lying on the chaise, resting his head on his arms, looking straight at the ceiling. “Are you certain you did not hear anything, Roxie?” he asked his sister.
“No,” Roxie replied, turning a page.
And before he could ask her, Freda said, “No,” from the hearth where she was knitting a hat for her cat.
“We swear we did not hear a word or witnessed anything,” Roxie said. “We did not even see her. Geneva Withers was just making up stories. She always does because she likes to play victim.”
“I asked Damon and he said he’ll send me to Birth if I ask again,” Price said. “I’m currently considering because it’s utterly boring here. I’d rather follow Web around the port than sit around like this.”
Lydia burst into the room with Emmeline, looking excited. “Do you know that Quincy Foy has returned?”
Price and Gale straightened in their seats, looking excited. “And how did you know that when you’re trapped here?” Price asked.
She shrugged. “His grandfather sent me a letter, and he included the information.”
“Why would the viscount be sending you a letter?”
“He’s asking if I could paint his portrait,” Lydia said, eyes glinting with pride. “And that’s the exciting news. Not Quincy, of course.”
Gale shot Price a look. “How long did you say we’re trapped here?”
“Five days,” Price said. “I’m sure Quincy will come by to deliver the books I asked for.”
Emmeline sashayed toward an empty chair. “I’m excited to meet this Quincy Foy. Lydia told me quite some interesting things about him.”
Gale snorted, lying back on the chaise. “Lydia would tell you the worst of the man.”
“She has a crush on him,” Price said, sneering at his cousin. “A long time ago,” he added when Lydia’s slipper flew across the room. “Before she discovered he’s worse than Gale and I.” He followed it with a laugh, blocking another slipper.
“He’s the worst and you’ll know it soon,” Lydia said to Emmeline.
“You’re friends with him?” Emmeline asked Price and Gale.
“Before we learned how to walk,” Gale replied.
“Where’s Harry?” Lydia asked.
“In the library. You’re welcome to join him if you want additional sermon,” Price sleepily replied. “Damon’s with him.”
“And Sisi?”
“With the old man. His legs are quite pesky today.”
Daniel stood, folding the copy of the post, and announced, “I’ll be joining Harry and Damon in the library. Who wants additional sermon?”
The Stratfords just threw him a wry look, and he chuckled. As he walked out of the drawing room, he turned in the direction of the library, then found his way into the courtyard, into another wing of the manor, and up the stairs that would lead him to the earl’s bedchamber.
He waited outside, leaning against the opposite wall, then crossing the distance beside the door, feeling like a bloody fool. Instead of finding the library and do the mentally sound thing, he went to find her as soon as he found out where she was. Just as he did for three straight days now. He would always situate himself in the same room as hers. Often at mealtimes, he had to master himself because, as his sister hinted, it was getting quite apparent that he was giving someone a different kind of attention.
He listened to the muffled sounds from inside the bedchamber and smiled when he heard her laughter. The earl was telling her a story, and Daniel took a step further away so he could not hear. He placed his hands inside the pockets of his trousers, absently gazing at the floor, slowly getting lost in his own thoughts.
Just days ago, he was intent on getting his sister married and leave Abberton as soon as he could. Now, he did not know. Now, he was actually afraid. And he was also excited, like a young man who had just had his first kiss and could not wait for another.
At night, he would lie awake, imagining himself talking to her, telling her everything. Often, it would lead to a reaction that he feared the most. But on one occasion, he allowed himself to imagine her accepting everything; her face bright like sunshine, her words warm and consoling.
But just last night, he realized he had been delaying the matter too long. Years, in fact. When he ended his correspondence with her, he thought it was for the best. It was selfish of him to think it did not affect her. It was only when they met again and he realized he had hurt her.
He sighed, nodding slowly to accept the unknown. She deserved to know why his letters stopped. And hopefully, she could accept his truth.
He could not tell how long he waited in the corridor, but he would always remember how he lost his breath at the look on her face when she slipped out of the earl’s room, her eyes filled with innocent laughter, her mouth stretched in a smile. The curls on both sides of her face were golden as she moved, then stilled when she saw him.
She carefully closed the door behind her, eyes narrowing at him knowingly. “What are you doing here, Your Grace?” she asked.
He could never forgive himself if she’d ever lose this brightness.
“Miss Sisi!” Leroy’s voice said from behind Simone. She smiled when Daniel growled under his breath as the breathless footman approached. “You have visitors, Miss.”
Simone’s gaze lingered on Daniel as she asked, “I’m not allowed to take visitors, Leroy. I’m currently under house arrest.”
“But Lord Harry said you may entertain them in the parlor.”
“And who are they?”
“Why—your suitors, of course,” Leroy said, grinning at Daniel.
Simone’s brows rose, her smile growing wider as Daniel’s lips pressed tightly.
“I’ll escort you downstairs, Miss,” Leroy said, stepping back to give way for Simone.
She gave Daniel a taunting curtsy. “Have a wonderful day, Your Grace.”
He blinked after her and the footman, who whispered something in her ear as they walked away, stealing Daniel with another look.
He scoffed in disbelief after they were out of sight. Then he made a sharp turn and found his way to the library. “Simone’s suitors are in the parlor,” he said nonchalantly as he poured himself a drink. Harry and Damon looked up from the books they were reading. He stole them a look and explained, “I thought she is being punished like everyone else.” Facing them, he downed his drink and smiled. “I was just thinking the others may find it unfair. I know because I have three sisters.”
Harry continued reading. “They are inside the manor. As I remember correctly, I only forbade them to go out. They can entertain guests if they like so long as they stay indoors.”
“Is that even a punishment?” he asked.
Damon turned to Harry. “I said the same thing. You’re too lenient.”
“They’re adults, not children. They only need to be reminded how to act like one,” Harry murmured. “You wanted to make them stand with their ears pressed against the wall for six hours. That’s not punishment. That’s torture.”
Damon just uttered, “Hm,” before he, too, continued reading.
Daniel sighed and blindly picked a book. An hour later, and with no understanding of his chosen material, he stood and excused himself from the room. Both Stratfords just murmured a good day as he left. He felt more agitated than the storm outside. Passing the drawing room, he heard laughter from the children, his sister being the loudest. When he walked into the parlor, she was alone, arranging flowers in a vase. The maid standing beside her jumped to her feet and said, “Oh, I forgot to get water,” with a meaningful smile as she left, completely shutting the door closed.
“Are those from your suitors?” he carefully asked Simone.
“Yes,” she said. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
Rain splattered the wide glass window from the outside, muting the view of the fields.
“Why are you still entertaining them?” he could not help but ask.
The same taunting smile was on her lips. “I don’t have any reason not to.”
“Of course you do,” he said through his teeth.
She scoffed. “Why? Because we shared a kiss?” Once again, she surprised him with her bluntness. “If that’s reason for one to stop entertaining suitors, then I should have been banned from all men years ago.”
And with that, he blurted out the most stupid question. “You’ve kissed before?”
“Of course!”
“You never wrote about it.”
She faced him, dropping her hands to her sides. “Maybe because I didn’t want you to know.”
“Why?” He thought she told him everything.
“The same reason you never told me things.”
He stilled. Then he let out a sigh. “Simone…”
“I’m not saying you have to tell me, of course. I was just pointing out that I respect your secrets.”
A knock came to the door, followed by, “Miss Sisi?” Something snapped within him and Daniel whirled around to stalk to the door, pulling it open to glare down at Leroy. “Stay here, Leroy, and don’t make a bloody sound,” before he closed the door to return to Simone.
Her eyes were round with amusement and surprise, but so was her mouth when he cupped her face and kissed her, this time quite thoroughly with every intent to make her forget the men that were in the room earlier. “Meet me tonight,” he said against her mouth, swallowing hard. “Your studio.”
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you.” His hands shook at the thought, fear crawling at his skin. “And when I do, please be honest, like you always are.”
“Honest about what?” she whispered.
He kissed her again. “About what you’ll think of me after. Can you do that?”
She nodded, and he closed his eyes, summoning courage for later.
His mouth claimed hers again as if it was the last. And maybe it would be because what he would tell her could push her away indefinitely. “I’ll tell you everything,” he promised as he stepped back.
“You don’t have to—”
“You deserve it,” he said with a forced smile. “I’ll need you to be honest tonight, Sisi.”
She blinked and nodded.
Leroy was still standing outside when he swung the door open and rushed out without a word.
23. the secret
Daniel was alone in the library, staring blankly at the wall. Supper was over and the Stratford custom of having tea and music in the drawing room had just ended. The household had quieted down as everyone retired to their rooms. He wished he could do the same—get in bed and forget everything in sleep. As he stared at the wood paneling before him, at the faint markings of paints Harry said Lydia had painted there when she was ten, Daniel found himself too anxious to even notice his sister slip into the room.
It was only when she settled in a chair directly in front of him, blocking his view of the wall with her knowing smile, did he realize he was no longer alone.
“What bothers you?” she asked.
He did not reply, but she knew him too well to know what his sigh meant.
“You look like a man who is about to be crucified. And also, a man who is willing because he’s in love.” Emmeline studied him with a gentle smile, her eyes filled with understanding and mild concern. “Have you told her?”
He took a sip from his glass. “Tonight.”
“Oh, my,” Emmeline said, face morphing into pity. “I hope you survive it.”
“You’re mocking.”
She shrugged. “Because I believe that you’re bothered by nothing. She will understand and she will accept you.”
“That’s not precisely what I’m most concerned about,” he said, looking away. It was bigger than having Simone’s understanding. “I have to settle many things. I can’t put myself first.”
“Daniel, we can worry about our future later,” she said.
“And what of her future, Emmie?”
His sister’s face turned serious. “I understand your worries, Daniel. But I just know that you can’t let this go a second time. It may be your last chance.” He shook his head. “What if she expresses the desire to be with you?”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”
Emmeline’s eyes glistened with tears. “Oh, Daniel. I wish I can take your place and relieve you of all this. You have sacrificed so much of your dreams for us.”
“Because I love you all as much as I loved what I had to give up,” he said, setting his drink down to stand. He approached his sister and cupped her face. Looking down at her, he smiled. “Never blame yourself for what I’m going through. I chose this.”
“No, you did not. You wanted something different, and it pains me to know you don’t have them.”
He bent down and kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry about me. I told you, didn’t I? I have plans.”
As he turned to leave, she asked, “And what about her? What do you plant to do with her?”
“I don’t know, Emmie. I just know that I have to tell her the truth. And hopefully, it would be enough for her to give me a few more chances.”
“I heard Leroy talking with Manuel and Haywood earlier,” Lydia whispered.
“What about?”
“He’s quite frustrated,” her cousin said, stepping closer. “He’s starting to think that you and the duke are growing fond of each other.”
“He does?” Simone asked, biting a smile. “Leroy has a wild imagination, Lydia.”
“Of course he does. He’s worried about losing the wager. They’re all blaming the female servants, saying they’re outnumbered, what with Price and Gale on the opposing side.”
“Oh, fret not,” Simone said with a wave of her hand.
Lydia stepped back and scrutinized her. “Is it true? About you and the duke?”
Simone rolled her eyes. “Even if it is, we’ll still win the wager. Fret not.”
Her cousin gasped. “I knew it! Well, you’ve always looked at him like you’d rather attend to him than mass on Sundays, but the way he looks at you… Now, that’s something quite different. I knew it from the very first day. I knew it!”
“Lydia—”
“But did you say you intend to win the wager? How so? If the two of you are—”
“The wager is for us to be a match within the time he and Emmeline are here,” Simone said conspiratorially. “It didn’t say anything about us becoming a match after .”
It took a few seconds for Lydia to blink and her to say, “Oh.” Then her cousin grasped her hands and squeezed it with the tiniest squeal. “Oh, Sisi, you’re a genius! Price should have known better!”
“He should have. I learned from him,” Simone said with a smug look on her face. “Now, off you go. I need to finish this dress,” she said, facing her sewing machine.
“A duke, Sisi,” Lydia squealed. “A duke. You’ll land yourself a duke! Can you believe it?”
“Let’s not go that far, Lydia,” she said, containing her own excitement. Whatever Daniel told her tonight, she knew she’d understand. But she also had to keep in mind that he was just going to tell her the truth. That it would not be a promise of something. And whatever it would be, it had affected him greatly.
When she was finally alone, waiting for him to come to her, she reminded herself of her own promise. She had to be honest with him.
Daniel lightly knocked on the door, his own heart beating fast against his chest. He clenched and unclenched his hands as he heard faint footsteps from the other side, and the door opened.
The lamp washed the room inside yellow. Even at night, she was glowing in sunlight, he thought as he forced himself to smile. She looked as nervous as him as she pulled the door wider to let him in.
He heard her lock it behind him, and suddenly he did not know what to do. He stopped in the center of the room, looking around, but nothing was registering in his brain. There was just the fear of what she would think, of how she would react.
“I hope I’m not keeping you from anything,” he said, watching her approach her sewing table, leaning against it, hands on the edge.
Her taunting smile returned. “You’re nervous, Your Grace.”
“Bloody hell, I am,” he murmured under his breath.
“You can start talking if you want,” she said, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “Or you can go on with the small talk if that makes you a little less tense.”
He scoffed, smiling at her. “You seem to always say the right things. Do you know that?”
Her eyes rolled. “If you must know, the things I say usually make me feel embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?” he asked, brows arching in disbelief. “You, Simone Priest?”
She chuckled. “Of course. I make a fool of myself around people.” She grinned. “Especially you. From the very first letter.”
At her words, he was bombarded by many memories again. The mere mention of her letters brought to him the best moments of his life. And also the worst. His smile slowly died, and he caught her eyes. “I remember everything. I never forgot about your letters.” When she just smiled at him, he added, “I want you to know that. I don’t want you to think that what we had was just…”
“A thing of the past?” she asked, voice etched with soft bitterness.
“It wasn’t,” he sternly retorted. “It’s—” He brushed his fingers through his hair. “I should not have said that. Please forgive me. I did not mean to reduce our correspondence to something unremarkable because it was not. They— you— were one of the most remarkable moments of my life.”
She slowly nodded, and he could only hope she believed him. He held her gaze for a moment, carving in his mind this image of her before she learned his darkest secret. Like everything else about her, from the moment he met her across his window in Picadilly, to the undetermined moment years after when he realized she meant more than just a friend, when her letters brought him comfort and laughter, he wanted to remember this Simone Priest.
“I honestly don’t want to do this,” he said with a scoff, laughing at himself for being a coward. She waited, just standing there, leaning against her table with a gentle smile on her lips. “I stopped writing to you because of selfish reasons,” he began. “I was no longer in the theater, no longer living my dreams. I didn’t want to tell you about being a duke, being a bastard, and I didn’t want to tell you about what happened that day when I never showed up for my play.” He pushed his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath. “I wanted to spare myself of the trouble.” A wan smile curled the corner of his lips. “You can say I only wanted to tell you the good things.”
She tilted her head to the left, but she remained quiet, patiently waiting.
“That day, I believe, changed everything for me. My time was running out, you see. I knew my father’s men were coming for me and I wanted to disappear once again. I didn’t want anything to happen that may delay our last play in Coulway.”
“When I met you, you were a runaway?” she asked, innocent brown eyes wide.
He smiled. “Yes. After Butler, I took off to pursue a life in the theater. Since then, my father had been trying to find me.”
“Did Web know about it?”
“I assume he had an inkling.”
“Did your father’s men get to you that day? Was that why you never made it to the play?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. He did not know how to best tell her, so he just blurted it out. “I killed a man that day.”
She was stunned. Her eyes rounded even more, and he could tell she had stopped breathing. The questions were there in her eyes, but she did not speak. Perhaps she was too stricken, or maybe she was waiting. Nevertheless, he took the time to explain.
“One of the workers in the theater, the one I told you about in my letters, the one who was always making excuses for not doing his job on time, complained that he was not feeling well.” He cleared his throat and craned his neck to both sides to ease the tension there. “His name was Ellis Craig and he had always been a liar. He dragged his feet all the time. I never liked him. That day, he said he could not finish securing the beams above the stage for one of our stunts. Everyone else was fine without the act where the stunt was supposed to happen, but I wanted that night to be perfect. I told the director that I would not get on the stage if I could not do the stunt because of Craig’s incompetence.
“The director, in turn, told him he had to finish the beams or he would lose his job.” He met her eyes, his own moist with tears of guilt. “It turned out that he was not lying that day. While working on the beams hours before the play, he fell. We were rehearsing our lines then. We rushed him to Sinclair, but he was dead before the doctor came to see him. It was concluded that his heart failed while he was working.”
“Daniel…” Simone started, but she was too speechless to say more.
“Perhaps you would say it was not my fault, but it was,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Maybe it was,” she said, surprising him. “It would not have happened if you did not insist he continue his work.” His breath caught in his chest as she stared at him with a frown. “It would have happened while he was in his sleep. Or while he was crossing the street. Our previous vicar suffered the same heart condition. He died while reading the bible in front of the fireplace.”
He shook his head. “Sisi…”
“I understand your guilt. I truly do,” she said. “And I can only imagine what I would have felt. I knew it would have broken me if I were in your shoes. But I also know you only wanted to do your best in that play.”
“I was only thinking of myself.”
“You had a moment of selfishness, yes,” she said, eyes welling with tears. “I’m quite sure many other people told you the same thing. That it could have happened to anyone, that it was not your fault. But your guilt is true to you. It’s hard not to blame yourself.” He could tell she had more to say, but she was stopping herself. As she said, others had already told him the same things she did. “Is that your secret? Is there more you want to tell me?”
“I tried to return to the theater weeks after the incident. I tried to pretend that everything was still the same. I received your letters, wrote back to you, but I could no longer make myself write about my life in the theater. Somehow, even if I didn’t have to tell you, I still felt I was lying whenever I attempted to share how successful my plays were. As days went by, I felt suffocated. I made attempts to go to Craig’s family—his wife and five daughters—but I was too much of a coward. So much so that I tried to escape Sutherland when it became too much to handle. I was on one of your ships when my father’s men finally found me and brought me back before it sailed.” He took a lungful of air and let it out forcefully. “I decided it was the end for the actor.”
“And you stopped writing.”
“I eventually did,” he said, nodding. “I was home in Dafield when I still wrote my last few letters. The valet in Picadilly would send your letters to me.” He offered her a sad smile. “He sent everything, including the last one.”
She was crying, and she sniffled, wiping her tears with her hands.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, approaching her, cupping her face and wiping the tears.
“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s sad.” Her lips and shoulders shook as she looked up at him. “He had a wife and five children, Daniel. I wish you went to them. Even if I believe it wasn’t your fault, still, you should have shown yourself to them. Maybe if you did, you would not be this miserable. And they would have had closure. Do they even know how he died?”
Head bent, he nodded. “I don’t know if they knew about me.”
Her hands came up to cup his face, and she forced him to look at her. His hands came to hold her wrists, partly thankful that she could still stomach to touch him, and somehow also desperate that she would still feel the same tomorrow. He kissed her palm, but she sternly said, “Look at me,” urging him to turn to her. “Is this what you meant when you said you had amends to make?”
Again, he nodded.
“Then do it,” she said. “They deserve to watch you grovel. They deserve to make demands.”
As he closed his eyes, the tears flowed. “I’ve been anonymously sending them money.”
“They must think someone is being generous to them, but that’s not the case, Daniel. In a way, you’ve been lying to them and it’s not fair.”
He rested his forehead against hers, mastering his tears and failing miserably. And all the while, she waited as he cried, kissing his cheeks and his tears. When he finally calmed down, she leaned back and wiped his face with the pads of her fingers. When a gentle smile, she leaned upward to plant a soft kiss on his mouth. “Your fear was misplaced when you told me the truth. Your battle is not with me because I’m the most understanding person there is. I’d always fool myself when it comes to you, Daniel Cavendish.”
“Never do that.”
“I know,” she said with a smile. “I shouldn’t. But I could not help it because I’ve seen and read about your best moments, and you had inspired me to want to live my dreams. One act of selfishness would not be enough to make me push you away.” She kissed him again. “But I think I’ll push you away because a life with me in a life you have now is not what you want.”
A soft groan escaped him as he buried his face in her neck, pulling her away from the table and into his arms. And then he murmured, “I never wanted to be a duke. I never wanted this life.”
“That is quite obvious.” She rose to her toes and wrapped her arms around him. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to go to the Craigs and grovel at their feet. I want to be relieved of the guilt.” He leaned back just enough to kiss her jaw. “I want the stage. I want what I lost.”
“And me?” she asked, tone teasing.
His arms tightened around her. “Good Lord, I never thought I would, but I do.”
She turned and sought his mouth, and this time the kiss was deeper, more consuming. His hands traveled up and down her sides and he pulled her by the waist, as if he could press her deeper into himself. He wanted her naked in bed, but he also wanted her clothed under the sunlight, golden eyes laughing, brown waves flying in the wind.
He groaned when she stopped and pulled away, biting her lower lip. Her eyes mirrored the flame within him, but she was the stronger one between them because not only did she push away, she also managed to push him away and say, “Find your way back to the life you dream of. But know that it doesn’t have to be the same as before. Nothing is always the same after a tragedy. But we learn how to build a new world around it. What you did, however, was build another tragedy. Out of your fear and guilt. But then, again,” she said, stealing another kiss, “you get to try again. And this time, please do it right, Daniel.”
“Thank you,” was all he could say. “For being honest.”
She dramatically sighed. “Honestly, Your Grace, if I’m being honest, I would have suggested we marry and I’ll help you find yourself again.” He chuckled as she smiled. “But I realize we have to win this wager.” His laughter rumbled in his chest. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to do it all alone,” she added.
Cupping her face, he kissed her forehead. “You’ve always had the talent to make me laugh.”
“I don’t have the talent. You just have a very shallow humor.”
His laughter slowly died and they allowed the quiet to linger a little longer. He took her hand, watched it in his, and whispered, “Do you think you can wait for me?”
“When are you planning to return?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“A year? Two?” she asked, slowly scowling. “I may have to think about this if it’s longer.”
“I’m planning to start at Coulway. If Emmeline wishes to go, she can come with me for the remaining of the social season. I don’t think there’s a match between her and Harry.”
“Good,” she said, nodding her head. “Your sister has dreams, you know, and it’s not to live with a Stratford.”
“Of course. Her dream is to live like the Stratfords.”
She snorted. “Well, yes, somewhat.”
He nodded, loosely wrapping his arms around her. “And while in Coulway, I’ll go to the Craigs.”
“And after? Are you going to give up your title?”
He playfully narrowed his eyes at her. “I sense that you’ll be disappointed if I do.”
“I quite like the idea of being a duchess.”
He laughed. “My father’s brother is looking for a way to prove that I’m not my father’s son.”
“Oh, what a horrible man.”
“He thinks my mother had another lover when she conceived.”
“He does not deserve to be a duke if he can think badly about your mother or any woman, for that matter.”
Through his laughter, he said, “I agree. Which is why I cling to the title as long as I could. I promised my father I would.”
“Oh. Good.” She smiled up at him. “Then perhaps, after you settle matters with the Craigs, you can build your own theater.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m not as strong as you, Sisi. I cannot think of another battle while on the march to another.”
She patted his shoulder. “Very well. At your own pace.”
24. the goodbye
Simone sashayed into the breakfast room with a bright smile.
“Is it Christmas?” Gale asked, staring her up and down.
“Why?” she asked, looking down at her dress. It was white with lace ruffles around the neckline. Her hair was tied in a blue lace ribbon, the tail reaching the middle of her back.
“Which present box did you climb out of?” Price asked, his food halfway to his mouth.
“I like the ribbon, Sisi,” Roxie said, reaching for the ribbon as Simone settled beside her.
“Beautiful as always, darling,” the earl said.
“But you look a little too dressed up, don’t you think?” Damon asked with a frown.
“Is it for your suitors?” Freda asked. “Has someone finally grabbed your interest?”
Everyone was looking at her, including Daniel. Perhaps she had overdone it, she thought. But then, this was not the first time. She had done this many times before whenever she finished a dress. “I just think it’s a very beautiful day.”
“But it’s still raining,” said Gale.
She rolled her eyes. “I like the rain.”
“Since when?” Harry asked.
“Since I woke up and heard the pitter-patter in my windows! Now, please, spare me. My ribbons feel insulted.”
“Give them no mind,” Lydia said, forking her eggs. “What do you plan to do today? We’re finally being discharged from prison.”
Simone stole Daniel a look, and he, in turn, smiled and bent his head and pretended to continue eating.
“Lydia is going to Viscount Rothsport.”
“Was it today?” Simone asked Lydia. “Do you need help with your painting articles?”
“Emmeline will be enough, but you can come with us,” Lydia said.
“We’ll come,” said Gale. “It’s about time we call on Quincy.”
“Can we borrow a carriage?” Price asked Harry.
The eldest Stratford just nodded, wiping the corner of his mouth. “Be careful, the lot of you,” he said. “No more accidents.” To Roxie and Freda, he said, “And no trip to the deck until the roof is dry.”
“We’re going to call on Dorothy,” Roxie said. “Can we take Mr. Mewl with us?”
“No,” Damon retorted. “The cow stays.”
“What about you, Your Grace?” asked Price. “Plans?”
Simone stared at Daniel. He smiled at Price and said, “I’m planning to borrow Harry’s study to pen missives to some correspondence.”
“Remind me to give you the papers to take to Web.”
Simone frowned. “Take to Web?” she asked, confused.
“If you were not so busy tying ribbons on your hair, you would have been here just in time to hear the duke’s announcement.”
“What announcement?” she asked, looking at Daniel.
“Emmeline and I have decided to cut our vacation short. I have urgent matters to attend to in Coulway.”
“Too soon?” she asked before she could stop herself. She turned to Emmeline, adding, “But I was just starting to spend more time with you.”
“I’m certain we’ll have more in the future,” Emmeline said. “We’re not leaving today, of course.”
“When?” she asked, seeing Daniel look at her from the corner of her eyes.
“In three days,” replied the earl. “Took you quite a bit of time to figure out you can’t marry my grandson,” he added to Emmeline.
“Grandpapa…” Harry gently said as he stood, tone laced with warning. “We gave your suggestion a try. Emmeline and I have decided we’re best matched as friends.”
Emmeline’s laughter rang in the room when the earl grumbled under his breath. Simone, on the other hand, was still in shock. She knew he would eventually go, but she did not expect it to be too soon!
It was Sunday again, and everyone was in their best behavior. Geneva Withers was still in attendance, the incident a couple of Sundays ago seemingly forgotten. Roxie’s head was lolling and Gale was nonchalantly holding her by the sleeves so she did not fall forward. Freda was staring absently at something on the altar. Lydia and Emmeline whispered to each other while Price sat with Damon by the only open doorway at the back, obliged to make certain that no one would make any attempt to escape. Harry sat with the earl in front, supporting the sleeping old man.
Simone was beside Lydia and beside her the duke. They had not had any chance to be alone, partly because Simone was hesitant to risk it. Daniel, however, seemed baffled why.
“It’s the wager,” she murmured under her breath when he asked.
“Are you serious?” he asked. “About the wager?”
“Of course. Now, let’s not talk about it. We’re in the house of the God.”
“Then you mean you’ll refuse to be alone with me until the two months is over?”
“Yes. You’re leaving on the morrow for Coulway, cutting your vacation short of two weeks.” She grinned, staring at the altar. “And once you leave, it’s a sure win.” When he made no comment, she rolled her eyes to the side. “You’re staying in Coulway for more than a fortnight, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll send you your winnings once we win.”
The vicar spoke louder, eyes on the Stratfords, and Simone shut her mouth and tried to listen to his words until they floated without sense in her mind. Staring at Roxie’s lolling head made her sleepy as well.
“Sisi,” Daniel murmured beside her.
“Yes?”
“Are you not planning to say goodbye to me?”
“Of course,” she said. “I already penned a letter.”
This time, he moved, his head snapping down at her. “A letter?” he whispered in disbelief.
She nodded. “Stop staring. Price is at the back. Let’s not give him ideas, please.”
“I’m starting to think we should.” His voice sounded like a growl.
“You would dare not. I want to win this wager.”
He shook his head and faced the altar. After a while, he whispered, “Meet me in the woods.”
“What?”
“The same cabin,” he said.
“Which one?”
He surreptitiously shifted his hands over his lap so his little finger brushed against hers. “You know which one.”
She swallowed and cleared her throat. “I might be busy after this.”
“Once the after-dinner tea,” he added, ignoring her statement.
She bit her lower lip. “I have to catch up on some sewing.”
“Sisi…” he said with warning.
Letting out a dramatic sigh, she pulled her hand away from his touch. “You can wait, of course, but I can’t promise anything.”
She let her eyes wander to the opposite pew and caught Mr. Skelton’s gaze. “Oh, look, there’s dear Mr. Skelton,” she said with a small wave of her hand. The man merely nodded with a small smile before looking away. When she stole a look at Daniel, a throaty chuckle escaped her. When she realized what she had done, she covered her mouth with her gloved hand and pretended to cough.
“Are you all right, Sisi?” Lydia asked.
She nodded, stealing Daniel another look as she bent over to let out a few soft coughs. He shook his head and sighed, staring at the vicar. By the time the mass was over, Simone was uncertain if he took her seriously. If so, would he still wait for her in the cabin? Mayhap she should have not toyed with him.
When Daniel went to the cabin, he was sure Simone would follow, but as the crickets and the soft rustling of the trees continued to dominate, he began to question his own instincts. Perhaps she was not jesting earlier.
He started pacing back and forth on the deck of the cabin, hands in his pockets, thoughts wandering to what he would be facing once he reached Coulway. He feared that he may get cold feet again, like many times in the past, and go back to Dafield without achieving anything.
“You look mad,” Simone’s voice said from below the deck.
He turned and smiled. Her light yellow dress was almost white under the moonlight, her hair swept to the side, tied with a blue ribbon. “Quite,” he said, walking over to the landing of the deck to meet her, watching her steps, ready to make a rescue if she stumbled. “I was beginning to think you were serious.”
“I may not enjoy Sunday service as much as Geneva Withers, but I try my best not to lie inside a church.”
He chuckled, taking her hand and leading her toward the end of the balcony. It was not wise to enter the cabin, he thought, as he leaned back against the railing, elbows supporting his weight. She was facing the trees, arms on the railing, moonlight painted on her face.
He turned his head to the side to look at her.
“What are you smiling about, Your Grace?” she asked, stealing a look.
“I just realized you’re two years older than my age when I met you.”
She frowned. “And?”
“And you’re the same age I was when I started to realize you meant more than just a friend.”
Her face was flushed, but she turned her head to look at him anyway. Her round brown eyes blinked at him in disbelief. “You never told me.”
He shrugged. “I did not think it was the right time.”
“Why?”
“You just debuted.”
“So you thought it was fine that I take my first kiss from someone else?”
He laughed. “I never thought of that, but I wanted you to relish your youth.”
A dramatic sigh escaped her. “And look where I am now. Almost a spinster.”
Daniel leaned to the side and bent to plant a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “What happened to being a duchess?”
He felt her smile against his lips. “Don’t think I’ve been waiting for you, Your Grace,” she said, leaning away to sternly look at him. “I have been busy relishing my youth that I forgot time was moving.”
His laughter echoed around them and he straightened. “Did you bring the letter you wrote me?”
“I’ll give it to you upon your departure.” A serious look transformed on her face as she looked at him. “Are you scared?”
His lips curled in a sad smile. “I’ve always been scared.”
He understood now why he wrote to her many years ago and why he felt devastated when he stopped. Talking to her now, hearing her honest thoughts and questions, felt liberating. It made him believe he could live his dreams because she was the one person who was genuinely happy to witness him live it. And her own stories gave him more dreams—of wanting to be a part of her wonderful world here in Abberton, to belong to her family. Her openness and innocence were refreshing, even today. He thought, even always.
“You don’t look scared.”
The smile on his lips stretched wider. “I’m not as scared as I was before I came here.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she nudged him with her shoulder. “Why? Because of me?”
Instead of saying yes, he bent again and, this time, his kiss gave her the answer. “Will you wait for me?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said, facing the moonlit view. “With my suitors. And Mr. Skelton.”
“I am not the jealous kind,” he told her, turning around to also share the view, elbows on the railings, one hand reaching for hers.
“Of course, you’re not. You’re a duke. You’re too high to be intimidated by the lower class.”
He rolled his eyes to the side. She was teasing him again. He sighed. “You can do whatever you wish while I’m away.”
“Thank you.”
“And while you do so, please be careful. No accidents.”
“Fret not, Mr. Skelton shall attend to my injuries.”
He tightened his hand around hers. “Of course.”
She chuckled. “Write to me.”
He smiled, feeling oddly excited to have something to look forward to while he was away.
An hour later, they walked back to the manor, hand in hand under the moonlight. But before they entered the courtyard, they could hear Leroy asking someone if they had seen Simone.
“Someday, I’ll have a word with that man,” Daniel said under his breath.
Simone laughed and pulled away from his hold. She walked backward, cheeks puffing at her wide smile. “Good night, Your Grace.”
Before he could offer a reply, she turned and entered the courtyard.
“Miss Sisi! Where have you been? Were you alone?” he heard Leroy ask as he sighed and leaned against the wall to wait. Hands in his pockets, his head dropped and he started to silently chuckle as Simone told Leroy she was out in the woods making traps.
25. the wife
Daniel had nothing on his mind during the duration of their journey to Coulway. Nothing but the urge to stop and turn back.
And go back to Abberton.
And forget this nonsense.
Why would he even do this? He was a duke. He did nothing wrong.
That’s what his father said. That’s what he had tried to tell himself. And as his sisters said, that was his second mistake. First, he ran. Second, he lied. Mostly to himself more than anyone else.
Emmeline wanted to be with him, but he told her he had to do it alone. And alone he waited inside his carriage across the street from the Craig residence while she stayed in his villa in Picadilly Street. It felt familiar because he had been here before. He had waited for hours, just sitting and watching the villa, jumping in his seat whenever the doors opened. He would slide lower in his seat like a coward.
But today, he felt something he had never felt in his previous attempts. He felt tired. Of the fear and guilt. A man could only carry something like this for too long, after all. And he had been with this burden far longer than he had lived his dreams. And he just wanted to go back to the time before it all changed. He wanted to be free.
He was not ready now. Not ever , he thought as he forced himself to open the carriage door. He would never be ready if his fears would have the last say.
And so, with shaking limbs, and heart pounding hard up his throat, he crossed the street and walked up the doors. It was red, like its neighbors. A decent home for Mrs. Craig and her two remaining unmarried daughters.
He knocked, stepped back, and waited with hands clasped behind him. He knocked again when no one answered. At that point, his mind almost managed to convince him that no one was home and that he should just return some other day. But he knew he would not return if he left now. He was about to knock again when he heard faint footsteps behind the door. He jumped back, his feet almost ready to turn and run away. He stopped and forced himself to stay.
Mrs. Craig had graying hair at both temples, her face bright with a lingering smile from a conversation she must have left behind to answer the door. And her eyes were kind as she took sight of him. “How may I help you, Sir?” she asked.
It was a surprise that he even managed to find his voice. “Mrs. Craig,” he said, clearing his throat. “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon,” she replied, curiously looking at him.
“My name is Daniel Cavendish.” He stepped forward. “I once worked with your husband.”
It was quite obvious she did not know him. But at the mention of her husband, Mrs. Craig’s face brightened and, without further question, welcomed him into her home. He looked beyond the threshold when she stepped aside, thinking he did not deserve to step into her home.
“Please do come in, Mr. Cavendish,” she said. “My daughter, Isabel just made fresh biscuits and tea.”
The first ounce of relief came to him when he took the first step, then the next. He finally did it. He managed to go farther than across the street. His eyes roamed around the tiny villa, at the narrow corridors and the bright parlor. It was not lavish, but it was welcoming and clean and…innocent.
The portraits on the wall were not painted by great and expensive artists, but they nonetheless pictured the kind of family the Craigs had. There were children smiling with their pets, women and men sitting side by side. But no Ellis Craig. His portrait was framed alone at the center of the others.
“I hope you can tell me more about him,” said Mrs. Craig moments later when she and her daughter, Isabel, entered the room with a tray of biscuits and fresh tea. Isabel greeted him shyly after Mrs. Craig introduced her as her youngest daughter. She left to join her two other sisters in the nearby fair. “He did not tell us much about his time in the theater.”
Daniel just nodded and accepted the teacup she offered. He took a sip, then placed it on the table. As he was doing so, he felt her gaze on him. “I hope I’m not keeping you away from the fair. You must have been planning to go with your daughters.”
“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I have no energy for such.” Her smile slowly died as she continued to look at him. “I guess you are not one of the carpenters. You don’t look like the kind to be doing such a menial job.”
He forced a smile. “I was one of the actors.”
Interest flashed on her face. “Oh.” Then confusion.
Before she could ask her question, Daniel spoke and said, “I’m not here because I was his friend.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and clasped his hands tightly together. “I’m here because I wish to tell you what happened that day he had his accident.”
Mrs. Craig’s bright face froze. Then a frown followed. “Whatever do you mean?”
Daniel closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. “It was my fault.”
“What do you mean? He fell because he suffered a bad heart. That’s what the people in Sinclair said.”
He nodded, opening his eyes to meet hers. “Yes, that’s what happened. But…” he looked away to the window, mastering himself with a few breaths. Facing the confused woman, he almost broke down. Behind her was the wall of portraits of her husband and their family. “That day… That day he wanted to go home and rest. He…” Daniel’s eyes blinked a few times so his tears would not blur the image of the woman who would soon hate him. “He was not feeling well.” A shiver ran through him as her face slowly cleared and gave way to pain. “But I was desperate to make the play perfect. I threatened the director that if Ellis could not finish his job, I would not go on the stage.” The pain slowly and very clearly changed into anger. Her lips clamped shut, her eyes shook. “The director told him he’d lose his job if he…if he did not finish his task.”
Now that he was here, and now that he started talking, he could not stop himself. Nor could he control the moisture in his eyes. He clumsily came to his knees, head bowed. A tear fell straight on his hand. “It was my fault.”
The room was still, the silence deafening, drowning the sound of passing carriages outside as Daniel continued to stare at the carpet, his hands balled on his thighs.
“Was it you?” The gentle and laughing voice was gone, replaced by something cold. “All those money. Were they from you?”
He nodded, another tear falling on the carpet. “I…” He wanted to tell her he tried to come to them for years, but what good would that do? He had no right to give reasons. In front of her, he was no one. He was just a man who did something wrong, stripped of his rights and privileges. That’s how she should see him. “I’m not asking that you forgive me.”
“If you let him go home that night, it would not have happened. He could have lived another day. Another week. A year. If you had let him go home that night, he would have died in bed, in his home—with us.”
His shoulders bunched, as if preparing for a strike, but it did not come. Yet the anguish in her voice was just as powerful and painful as any physical harm. It clenched at his chest, it pressed at his lungs.
“Leave.”
The word vibrated in his entire being.
“I said I want you to leave, Mr. Cavendish.”
He looked up and saw her tear-stained face. The years of raising her children alone were suddenly visible through the lines around her eyes. Those years she suffered without her husband reflected in the pain and anger in her eyes.
She stood and looked down at him. “Please see yourself to the door. I need to be alone for now.”
He nodded and slowly rose to his feet.
Emmeline had been waiting for him in the villa and was fast to give him comfort when he arrived, looking like a worn-out soldier. She asked nothing, just sat there as he stared blankly at the fire. They had supper, and she tried to entertain him with stories of her day: She delivered letters sent by Simone and Lydia to their friends and told him how surprising it was to discover they had a lot of friends. “I know I should not be surprised,” she said, laughing, “but I am.” Her smile slowly gentled as she stared at him. “How do you feel?”
He sighed, leaning back against his chair, his food half-empty. “Relieved,” he said. “But it’s not the end.”
“Of course, it isn’t. You should return.”
He nodded. “I intend to.”
Emmeline’s smile reached him across the table. “It takes time, Daniel.”
He nodded, then took a deep breath. Then he groaned. “I should have done this a long time ago.”
“A long time ago, you were scared. Then you grew comfortable with the guilt. It was only until you spent time in Abberton that you realized you will never enjoy anything unless you’re free of the past.”
He bit his lower lip and nodded. “Perhaps.”
“Not that I’m saying it’s all because of her, of course,” her sister said with a teasing wave of her hand.
“Of course.”
“But I’m certain that seeing her again made you realize that your decisions also caused pain to others you did not realize, including her.”
He scoffed, shaking his head at his sister. “I hate that you’re right.”
Emmeline laughed. “I am.”
When supper was over and Emmeline retired to her room, Daniel climbed up to his and was greeted by the familiar smell. Along with it was a pang of pain. In this room, he had imagined and lived his dreams. He had friends and lovers here. And in those moments, he forgot who and what he was. Here, he was just Daniel Cavendish, the actor.
His eyes wandered to the window. He opened it and looked out at the window across from him. It was shut, the curtains drawn. Then he remembered how he first met her. She was so young then. He chuckled at the memory of her first ever letter. Her innocence and grace had amused him.
He reached inside his coat pocket and took out the letter she gave him before he climbed the carriage out of Abberton days ago. He had not read it because she made him promise he only would after his visit to the Craigs.
Hitching one leg on the windowsill, he opened Simone’s letter.
Dearest Daniel,
I can only imagine what it must feel like, but I hope you are feeling well. It must be hard and I wish I can be there with you to offer you comfort. Will you write to me how it went? If you cannot for some reason, I understand. However, I would still appreciate if you write. Simply tell me about your day.
Whatever you are feeling now, however challenging it may be, I want you to know that you shall survive it. If you have survived through the guilt, surely you can survive through the redemption, for that is what you are doing now, Daniel. You are fighting for redemption.
And now that you have taken the first step, I hope that you can start showing more of yourself. You may feel lost after this because that often comes after a battle. You would ask yourself where to go next or what to do after.
If you think you need more time to find yourself, then I hope you succeed. One day, I want to meet Daniel Cavendish again. To hear his stories. Not just about the theater, but about the silly ones such as his boring life as a duke, his challenges, his little mishaps.
I shall not make this letter long. Always know that you can write to Abberton if you think the battle is not yet over, or if it
’s too tough, or even if it’s surprisingly easy. If you want to run away again. Or rest.
Very truly yours,
Simone
Finishing her letter, Daniel realized he was crying. He blinked it away to stare out the window. It had been so long ago since she stood at the other side, afraid to die from a nosebleed.
His respect for her grew more as he re-read her letter. This woman, who was younger than him, who only knew the small world she had in Abberton, possessed more wisdom than most women he met. She was kind and caring, understanding and brave. But he also knew that she slew monsters behind her smiles. She, too, had been through a far greater grief than most at a young age. Yet she survived because she had something he did not have. She may hide things from others, but one thing Daniel knew about Simone was that she was honest with herself . About her feelings, her thoughts, and her opinions.
With a shaky breath, he walked to his desk and pulled at the drawer. He picked up the silver hairpin he stole from her seven years ago. He did not know why he only returned the pearl and not this.
A bitter smile crossed his lips. If the accident did not happen, she would have this pin now. He would have returned it with a jewel as beautiful as she was that last afternoon they saw each other.
He drew in a long breath as he tucked her letter into the pin and pocketed them.
He shall return to Mrs. Craig tomorrow. And then the day after.
He would not be begging for her forgiveness.
He just wanted to get the fury he deserved.
And then perhaps he could start forgiving himself.
26. the threat
Dearest Simone,
The second visit was worse than the first because. It seems her animosity toward me reached a different kind of height. It
’s palpable. I was sent back to my carriage before I could even step through her doors.
However, I must say that I
’m not losing hope. Her youngest daughters found out about the purpose of my visits and invited me into their home on the third day. The youngest is by far the most understanding. Yesterday, I helped Mrs. Craig with one of her broken windows, but I’m afraid I only made matters worse. I had to order for a carpenter to finish the job and fix what I broke. It still baffles me that the Craigs served me tea. Do you think that could be considered progress? I could not tell because the tea tasted like sawdust. And before I went home, Mrs. Craig grudgingly gave me fresh biscuits to take home to Emmeline.
What of your day? I hope nothing untoward happened. It rained here yesterday and I
’m wondering if it also did in Abberton. Don’t venture out if that were so. The grounds are soft and not ideal for someone with your unbelievably graceful footing.
Emmeline changed the curtains in my villa. They
’re now white, which made a big difference in the parlor. It allowed the scant sunlight we get here in Coulway this season. The cobbled streets are constantly wet here, the sky gloomy. The only life we get are the numerous parties, which I don’t particularly enjoy, as I still prefer the attention I get on stage over the one I have to endure as a duke. Emmeline, however, enjoys the balls we’re invited to.
Another week and we
’ll win the wager, yes? I think I will stay here a little longer, then. But be certain to keep my winnings for I will most certainly go back for them.
Web is in town and has invited me for drinks. I will tell you more in my next letter.
I miss you, Sisi. When I see your window across from mine, when I walk down the same path we walked in the rain and that afternoon your pearls flew out of your hair, I miss you.
Yours then and always,
Daniel
After he sent his letter, which would arrive in Abberton in three days, Daniel came by Mrs. Craig, surprised when she walked out the door with luggage. Her eldest daughter was due to give birth any day soon and she would stay there for weeks to help her daughter recuperate.
“I’ll take you there. Please allow me.”
She took a moment to consider his offer before she huffed and said, “If you insist.”
Their ride was quiet and awkward despite the festive mood from the fair they passed by. He did not know what to do, nor say, so he fiddled his thumb, biting the inside of his cheek. If she was staying with her daughter, did that mean he could not bother her? Was this why she was going there in the first place?
He should stop his thoughts, he told himself. He was beginning to sound like a bloody stalker.
“Do you have a wife?” she asked, breaking her silence.
“N-No.”
She scoffed. “That explains how you find the time to pester me.”
His mouth broke into a smile. “I have someone who is kind enough to wait for me.”
“Wait for you?” Her almost-angry face broke into a frown, and then a scowl. “You dare make her wait?”
He nodded. “I have other things to do first.”
Understanding crossed Mrs. Craig’s face and it fell quiet again. They rode for a few blocks before she seriously said, “I don’t know why you think you deserve forgiveness from me. You don’t.”
He stopped breathing at her words, and he felt his world slowly collapse beneath him.
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
“I wronged your husband.”
“Maybe,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe I should blame you for your great love for your craft and the lack of empathy for others like my husband because of it. But how could I? You were not friends, your relationship strictly professional. You had a job to do and he had his. The only difference was that you were healthy and he wasn’t.” Her eyes were stern as she stonily repeated, “There’s nothing to forgive.”
She looked away while all he could do was stare at her, lost for words. He had always thought he did not need her forgiveness, but after what she just said, he realized he had been lying to himself. He wanted her forgiveness, after all. But if she thought there was nothing to forgive, what was there for him to do?
“But you cannot blame me for being angry,” she said, pulling him back inside the carriage, in the present moment. “I see you and I’m reminded of my late husband and how he must have felt when he was forced to continue his work. I remember the pain and the suffering we had to go through after his death.” She scoffed, shaking her head, still refusing to look at him. “And I feel guilty because I used your money. I spent it to provide a comfortable life for myself and my daughters.” Her eyes skittered to him and back to the view outside the window. “I did not even bother to find out where the money comes from because I was afraid to know it was all a mistake and they’d stop coming, or worse, we’d be forced to pay back everything we’ve received. I allowed myself to be comfortable with the ignorance and it bothers me that I’m still glad I was left in the dark.”
His jaw tightened. “Mrs. Craig—”
“This anger shall pass, so be free of your guilt. You have more than paid for it.” She looked at him. “If you want your money back, I will find a way—”
“No. It was all I could do.”
She nodded, more like assuring herself. “I will shamelessly accept your generosity. But please stop sending them.”
He meant to disagree, but he recognized the shattered pride in her eyes. So, he nodded.
Two hours later, Daniel walked through the doors of his gentleman’s club, Stark’s, where he found Web already waiting. His friend slid the glass of brandy across the table with a look of concern that bordered on amusement. “I came as soon as I heard you left Abberton earlier than planned.”
Daniel hissed at the effect of the drink and gave his friend a smile of gratitude. “How kind of you to think I’ll be needing your comforting presence.”
Web leaned back, wavy light brown hair falling over his forehead as he shook his head at Daniel with a pitiful smile. “I also heard you have been fixing windows.”
“Window. Just one,” he corrected. Then he frowned. “How did you know?”
“Has anyone ever told you that the walls in Picadilly are too thin? And also, my valet presses his ears against the walls when he’s bored. Add the fact that your servants can be a little too loud when they’re in a panic to find the best carpenter in Coulway, one who could fix something broken after already being broken.”
Daniel’s laughter rang around the almost empty room. “Ah, yes, the walls.” Shaking his head, a grin pasted on his face, he asked, “Are your servants from Abberton?”
His friend proudly replied, “Bred and trained, Your Grace.”
Over their laughter, Daniel managed to utter, “Understandable.”
An easy silence passed between them. Web’s smile gentled as he regarded Daniel, a certain kind of understanding passing between them. Daniel realized that, as it always had been between them, he did not have to say much.
“I can sense you’re feeling a little better,” Web noted.
“Much, I believe,” he said, drawing a long breath with a smile.
Slowly, Web nodded, then sighed. “Well, I’m glad you are. You look like someone who finally found solid ground after two months on a ship getting seasick.”
He smiled, looking around the club, acknowledging the subtle greetings from a few gentlemen in the room, before he returned his attention to his friend. “How long will you be staying in Coulway?”
“Not long. I’m only here for some business and to be a shoulder to cry on.” Web dramatically sighed. “But all you want is brandy.”
Again, Daniel laughed, and they continued on to talk about business and then jumped to reliving stories from their years in Butler. They discussed other friends and even joined a quick game of cards when more members arrived.
Later, as they settled back to brandies and stories, Daniel changed the subject, asking, “When are you returning to Abberton?”
Web threw him a curious look. “Why do you ask?”
“Your sister misses you.”
Web’s brows arched in surprise. “Sisi?”
He nodded. “I do not wish to meddle, but I think she gets lonely when you’re away.”
“One never gets lonely in Abberton.”
He nodded, carefully choosing his next words. “One can be in a room full of people and still long for those who are not present. As an older brother to another, I suggest you write to her now and then.”
“But I do.”
He cocked a brow. “Truly?”
Web’s eyes narrowed. “Of course! In fact, I also write to the others. Sisi may not tell me everything, but I know almost everything she’s up to. Do you remember Francis Skelton?”
“The animal doctor?”
“The very one, yes. He’s now courting my sister.”
Daniel went cold. “She is still entertaining suitors?”
“Damon’s letter from last week certainly says so.” Web paused in the act of drinking. “What made you think otherwise?”
His jaw clenched as he blinked away. “Nothing,” he murmured. “I thought she had no interest in the three suitors. Emmeline told me.” The last part was a lie, the first a hopeful thought.
“Well, let’s hope Skelton changes that. Sisi should easily find him interesting, don’t you agree? That she loves animals and he an expert on them is a good enough start.” Daniel watched his friend empty his glass, knowing Web had more to say. “As a matter-of-fact, I heard there’s a wager on their match.”
Daniel nearly choked on his drink. He coughed and scowled. “A wager?”
“Yes. And as I heard, the stakes are higher than the one they had with you.”
He picked up his drink and gulped hard, looking around the room as he drew in a long, angry breath. To his frustration, nothing in the club offered the reassurance he needed. There was nothing but the strong reminder that he was days away from Abberton while Skelton was possibly just a mile away from Simone at the moment. Or even closer if he was in the courtyard with a bunch of flowers.
So suddenly, he was overwhelmed with a sense of panic. It might have been the drink, but he was certain it wasn’t.
“Where are you going?” Web asked and Daniel realized he had jumped to his feet.
“I forgot I need to escort Emmeline to a ball this evening,” he said, movements edgy. “I’ll see you soon.”
How long had it been since he left Abberton? A week? And he was planning to stay here longer? Was he crazy?
Not long after he left Web at Stark’s, he was jumping out of his carriage and running up the steps of his villa in Picadilly. Knowing where to find her, he swung the door to the parlor open. Emmeline yelped in surprise. “Daniel! Good God, you startled me! What happened?”
“Pack your bags,” he breathlessly said, his body barely in the room. “We’re leaving.”
“But where—”
“Abberton.”
27. the winners
“He doesn’t believe you’ll finish the painting in time?” Simone asked to Lydia as they walked back to Abberton House.
“He told me I’ve spent a week painting the vase in the background that I’ll never get to paint the viscount’s eyes by the time I get to them because then he’d already be dead and his eyes would be closed!” Lydia growled under her breath, then scowled when Simone laughed. “It’s not funny, Sisi!”
“But it is!” She shook her head. Quincy Foy had the ability to be annoying in an odd way. There was always the possibility that he meant what he was saying, but also that he was merely jesting. They did not even know why he was friends with Gale and Price. Most days, he was simply arrogant. “It’s even funnier because I can picture him saying that with a straight face.”
Lydia frowned, looking forlorn. “He said I never finish anything.”
“Of course, you do—” She stopped, realizing it might be true.
“He’s right. I never finish anything.” Lydia sniffled and harshly wiped the tears from her eyes. “And I hate that he’s right.” She kicked a stone, which landed in a puddle of rain.
Simone took her cousin’s hand and squeezed. “You finished that flower.”
“Which one?”
“The one on the wall in the library,” she said, snorting.
Lydia laughed through her tears. “You’re worse than Quincy Foy.”
“Let’s forget about Quincy Foy.” They entered the courtyard. She sniffed. “It smells like rain, so we might as well stay indoors.”
“Miss Sisi! A letter has arrived for you!” Haywood, the footman, announced.
Simone ran for the letter and excitedly faced Lydia who was already shaking her head with a knowing smile. “I’ll go see the old man. Maybe even ask him to pose so I could finish his portrait.”
“I’ll join you in a while.”
Lydia looked at her dryly. “Just read your letter.”
Simone grinned and locked herself in her studio. Breathless, she carefully tore the letter free and squealed when she saw his name at the bottom. Catching herself, she bit her lips and looked scanned the room just to be sure she was alone. She paced, stepping over fabrics and laces, grinning like a fool as she read.
And then she was crying in happiness and relief. He did it. And she could never be so proud.
“Sisi!” Roxie’s voice called behind the door, followed by a knock.
“What?” she absently asked.
“Price called for you,” Freda replied.
She hastily folded the letter and locked it in a drawer. When she opened the door, Freda and Roxie were leaning against the wall, kicking the hems of their dress. “He’s in the stables,” Roxie said, looping her arm around Freda’s as they followed Sisi down the corridor. “He called Mr. Skelton here to check on the horses. He thinks Chestnut caught the virus again.”
“What?” she asked in disbelief. “But I rode her yesterday and she seemed fine.” She hastened her steps and the two girls caught up with her. “Where’s Damon?”
“Oh, he went out.”
“Where?”
“Leroy saw him with Geneva Withers.”
“Who?” Gale asked, appearing from another corridor. “Why? Who’s killing who?”
“We don’t know,” replied Roxie. The four of them continued down the stairs, all wondering how and why Damon was with Geneva Withers.
“Was one of them bound or gagged?” Gale prodded.
Freda rolled her eyes. “No. They were headed out of town.”
Simone stopped at the foot of the stairs and waited until Freda and Roxie walked away to the courtyard. Grabbing Gale by the arm, she whispered, “Do you think the two of them are—”
Gale scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.” His face had crumpled with incredulity. “Geneva Withers is the last woman any Stratford would get involved with. Leroy’s eyes must have fooled him. But if it’s true, then Damon must have finally snapped and went out to get rid of the woman.” Walking away backwards with a laugh, he added, “Our Sundays will be glorious without her.”
“That’s mean, Gale!”
“Wait until you hear Price talk about her, Sisi! You’ll think I’m an angel.”
Shaking her head, she continued toward the stables. She found Mr. Skelton frowning at Chestnut. “Mr. Skelton,” she said, looking around. “Where’s Price?”
He stiffly faced her. “Miss Priest. Good afternoon.”
She nodded, throwing Chestnut a worried look. “Is she fine?”
“Yes, of course,” Skelton said, brow furrowed in a frown. “I was told she had been weak since last night.”
Simone blinked a few times in confusion. “But she was fine yesterday.” Her eyes slowly narrowed, her head tilting to the side as realization crept in. “Who told you Chestnut is sick, Mr. Skelton?”
“One of your footmen. He said he was ordered to immediately take me here to see to your horse.”
She stepped back, lips pursed. “Leroy?”
Mr. Skelton nodded. “Yes, the very same.”
With a tight smile, Simone squared her shoulders. “Well, I apologize for having wasted your time, Mr. Skelton. Chestnut is as healthy as she was yesterday when we went out for a ride. Would you like some tea? I’m quite certain Price will be very pleased.”
Mr. Skelton awkwardly smiled and nodded. She escorted him to the parlor for tea, where Price later found them. “Ah, there he is,” Simone said, giving her brother a tight smile.
Price had a satisfied look on his face as he sauntered into the room, hands behind him. “Lovely to see you both having such a pleasant time,” he said, eyes on Skelton. “Did you see Chestnut, Mr. Skelton?”
The man nodded. “She—”
“Chestnut is perfectly fine. You must have had a lapse of judgment, brother.” Simone glared at him over the rim of her teacup before she set it down and stood to her feet. “Now that you’re here, I suddenly remember I have matters to attend to. I apologize once again, Mr. Skelton. Please let Price give you a ride home.”
“What?” Price asked.
“Since you’ve so graciously asked Leroy to take Mr. Skelton here, it’s only right that you take him back.”
Price’s eyes skittered to the windows. “But it’s too early. Don’t you think, Mr. Skelton? Please join us for dinner. It’s the least I can do for having wasted your time.”
Simone turned toward the door with a roll of her eyes.
“Sisi—”
“Good day, brother.”
“Sisi!” Lydia’s voice said from upstairs. “Did you know Emmeline sent letters?”
“No, but let me read!”
“She met Pauline and the two of them have become fast friends! I told you they’ll like each other!”
Lydia met her halfway up the stairs, holding out Emmeline’s letter. “Aren’t you painting the old man?”
“He’s sleeping,” said Lydia. “His eyes are closed and I can’t—” Lydia shuddered. “It reminds of what Quincy said about the viscount’s closed eyes and—Well, no matter. I can’t paint him now.”
The two of them sat on the steps and bent over Emmeline’s letter, giggling at the woman’s impression of Pauline Baker. “Oh, I can’t wait to see Pauline. I miss her terribly,” Lydia said. “We should come to Coulway soon.”
“That’s a perfect idea.”
“And maybe,” Lydia whispered, “you can spend time with the duke and—”
“Hush.” She looked around and cleared her throat. “Let’s not get too excited. We still have a wager to win.”
“And when we do, I’ll buy more paints.”
“I’ll buy more fabrics.” They grabbed each other’s hand and shared a secret squeal of excitement. “Three more days and it will be over.”
Just as they reached Abberton, it started raining. Daniel cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, biting the side of his finger as he glared at the dark and dreary scene outside. He could feel Emmeline’s amused gaze from across the carriage.
Traveling for three days had not eased his mind. It was not about Skelton courting Simone that made him skittish. It was the fact that the entire household was betting on another match. They would do anything— anything . Skelton may take the opportunity, or grow weak in Simone’s presence. Or worse, they may be caught in a trap and cause a scandal.
He could not take that chance.
He shifted in his seat again, ignoring his sister’s laughing face. Then he straightened when the carriage slowed, finally reaching Abberton House. Despite his impatience and slight panic, and despite the rain and dark clouds, entering the Abberton House driveway felt like coming home.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Daniel, it’s raining!” Emmeline laughingly said when he pushed the door open and jumped out as soon as the carriage stopped. “You’ll get wet!”
He entered the courtyard and strode across it, almost crashing against one female servant whose eyes went wide upon seeing him. “Your Grace!”
“Please escort Lady Emmeline out of the carriage,” he ordered, looking around the hall.
“Daniel?” Price’s voice asked.
He turned and found the young man walking out of the parlor. “Price,” he said.
“What are you doing here?”
“I—“Yes, indeed. What was he doing here? He knew why, but he could not tell the man. “Emmeline and I were on our way to Dafield and she’s quite tired. We were hoping to seek refuge from the rain.”
Price blinked a few times, then smiled. “Why, of course! You should join us for dinner. Mr. Skelton is also—”
“Skelton?”
Price blinked at him and smiled. “Yes, Skelton. He’s joining us as well.”
His jaw tightened. Emmeline arrived, laughing with the servant. “I’m indeed back in Abberton. Not five minutes and I’m running in the rain!”
“Lady Emmeline,” Price greeted with a bow. “This is a pleasant surprise. Juliet, would you be kind to inform Lydia that we have guests? I’m sure she’ll be delighted.”
“Just Lydia?” Emmeline asked, throwing Daniel a knowing look. “Why? Where’s Sisi?” He would have knelt in praise in front of his sister if they were alone, but he contented himself with a smile of gratitude.
“I don’t know,” said Price. “Perhaps upstairs in her studio. I heard her telling Mr. Skelton about Mr. Peck.”
“Mr. Peck the robin?” Daniel incredulously asked.
“Yes, the one. He landed on her windowsill just last night but has been refusing to fly away. I heard and Skelton is kind enough to check on the poor thing. Could be broken wings.” Price started walking away. “For the meantime, please allow Leroy to escort you to your rooms. I’ll tell the old man that we have additional guests. Damon has not returned from his trip out of town, but I’m sure he’ll be back in time for dinner.”
Leroy, as if on cue, appeared from one of the many corridors and bowed at Daniel. “This way, Your Grace.”
“I’ll find my way, Leroy,” he said, brushing damp hair off his forehead.
“I insist, Your Grace,” said Leroy with a tight smile.
He shot Emmeline a helpless look, but her sister only shrugged and asked Juliet where she could find Lydia.
Climbing up the stairs, he considered his options. Now that he was here, he felt foolish. But since he was here , he might as well be a fool. Clearing his throat, he told Leroy, “I can find my way to my chambers, Leroy. Supposing you’re leading me to the one I was given before, of course.”
“You’re correct, Your Grace,” Leroy said, stopping at the landing with a tight smile, raising a stiff arm toward the corridor that led away from Simone’s studio. “This way, Your Grace. You may think you know the way, but I know you often get lost here. Your luggage should also be on the way. I’ll order for a hot bath, if you wish. I’m sorry if Clark, the butler, cannot attend to you. We’re all quite surprised by your arrival.”
“It’s not a bother,” he murmured, throwing the corridor behind him a look. Later, he told himself. He had to get rid of Leroy first.
And it was so that he found himself back in the same bedchamber, accepted the hot bath prepared for him, and changed into dry clothes. He regretted not bringing his valet with him. The man could be of essential help. He let out a sigh of relief when, finally, Leroy bowed and left, saying dinner shall be ready soon.
Alone in the room, he counted in his head as he paced, hands on his hips. When he reached a hundred, he rushed to the door, down the corridor, cursed at a wrong turn, and cursed again at another, until finally, he found her corridor.
When he reached the door to her studio, she was laughing. Laughing!
Stiffly, he knocked, trying his best not to break the bloody door. The laughter inside the room died, and he heard footsteps. To his utter horror, the face that greeted him was no other than Leroy himself. How in bloody hell could this man be in many places in a short span of time?
“Your Grace!” Leroy hissed, looking over his shoulder.
“Who is that, Leroy?” Simone asked. “Don’t tell me it’s Price again. I’m done playing your games, brother—” She came to a stop behind Leroy, dressed in a light yellow dress, her hair down, glorious in the warm light of the room. Her beautiful eyes widened in surprise and her mouth dropped open. “Daniel!”
“What are you doing here?” Simone, Leroy, and Daniel asked in unison. Simone addressed him, Daniel Leroy, and Leroy him.
The servant blinked a few times, then said, “Miss Sisi is sewing a dress for my mother, Your Grace. I’m a customer, you see.” The servant moved to block the opening. “And you, Your Grace? This is not the dining room. You cannot be here.”
Sisi was biting her lips behind the footman, but Daniel read the anticipation in her eyes clearly enough. Without a word, he sighed and stepped aside, telling Leroy, “Please step out of the room, Leroy. I have something to discuss with Miss Priest.”
Leroy shook his head. “No, I cannot, Your Grace—”
Losing patience, Daniel grabbed the man by the arm and pulled, reversing their position. Looking scandalized, Leroy gasped. “Your Grace! You cannot—”
“I say you keep quiet and guard the door,” he murmured through his teeth. “If you wish to win this bloody wager.”
“B-But—”
“Not one bloody word, Leroy,” he ordered, closing the door only to discover resistance from the other side. “Leroy, I’m warning you.”
“Your Grace, please reconsider. This is not an ideal time or place for—”
“Back off!” he hissed, giving the door another push. As soon as it closed, he reached for the lock.
“Your Grace!” he heard Leroy’s muffled plea outside. Breathless and still facing the door, he shook his head, feeling utterly incredulous. As he turned, he said, “Should you ever wish to shame me in the future, remind me of this moment—”
A flurry of yellow and long arms met him. He caught her and buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent and laughing at himself.
She leaned her head back to look at him. “Whatever are you doing here?” she whispered, laughter in her eyes.
“It’s foolish,” he said, shaking his head. “Impeccably embarrassing.”
Her throaty laugh echoed between them. “Embarrass yourself further. Tell me.”
“I found out Skelton’s courting you.”
She frowned. “Mr. Skelton? But he isn’t.”
He blinked in confusion. “Web told me—” He looked around the room, then stepped away just enough to look down at her. “Where’s Skelton? Price said he is with you.”
“I don’t know. He was here earlier to check on Chestnut, but—” Her eyes widened and she gasped. “Oh, no.”
“What?” he asked.
“This is a trap,” she groaned, stepping away from him. “They’re all in on it.”
“Who?”
“Web, Price…” Her face hardened and her eyes narrowed into slits. “Leroy!” She whirled around, hands balled to the side. “Oh, I’m going to kill them. I’m going to kill them, for sure!” As she fumed and stalked to the door, Daniel caught her hand and pulled her toward him.
Hands on her arms, he said, “Darling, I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“The wager! They’re all in on it!” She stepped away from his hold. “I’ll kill Leroy, that traitor!”
“But Leroy is—”
“This is all part of their plan! Don’t you see?” Simone asked. “I should have known. Price is the mastermind of all this.”
He caught her hand again, this time with a laugh.
“This is not a laughing matter, Daniel. And let go of me,” she said, stepping away. “We can’t lose.”
He sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “I’m still quite lost.”
“They’re doing this on purpose. They created two groups, see? One is the obvious group responsible for bringing us together at every chance. The other is the secret one that keeps us away from each other so we…so we long for each other’s presence. It’s a mind game. Don’t you see it? They bring us together, then they cut it short so we long for more.”
When she finally stopped talking, he smiled at her with amusement. She was genuinely furious. “Sisi, it’s just a game.”
“Oh, no, it’s not. Nothing’s just a game here.”
He nodded. “I can see that now.” He threw the door a look. “Do you think they’re outside?”
“I’m certain of it,” she groaned. “Do you think you can climb out the window?”
“No.”
She nodded, eyes focused as she bit her lower lip. “Then we tell them you came to deliver a letter from Pauline Baker.”
He did not think that was convincing, but he nodded nonetheless. “And we’ll pretend there was nothing to all of this.”
Letting out a sigh, he shook his head. “Sisi…”
“Just three more days, Daniel,” she said, nodding, willing him to agree. “Now, remember. Pauline Baker.”
He just stared at her wryly and watched her go to the door, scratching his head. As she swung it open, everyone was outside. Well, not everyone. There were just Leroy, Price, and Gale who was scratching his ear. “I’m not as good as Lydia, but I think I heard enough.”
Price had a contented look on his face—like the mastermind that he was. Leroy, the traitor, must already be counting his winnings.
“What are you talking about?” Simone asked, voice sounding terribly defeated.
Gale turned to Price. “We have letters to send to Web, cousin. Man’s been quite eager to get his winnings.”
“Let’s keep him waiting. I’m not yet ready to hear him gloat about his part in all this,” Price wryly said, smiling at both Simone and Daniel, wrapping an arm around Leroy. “I told you, Leroy, didn’t I? I never fail.”
Daniel saw Simone’s shoulders tighten. He did not know how he sensed it, but he knew she was just seconds away from making an attack. To save her and everyone the trouble, he took the remaining steps to the door, grabbed the handle with one hand and her arm with the other. “Congratulations, gentlemen. You won.”
“You traitor,” Simone growled at Leroy just as Daniel closed the door.
“I’m sorry, Miss Sisi! I’ll pay for my mother’s dress!”
She tried to reach for the handle when Daniel locked it, but he guided her away with a laugh, saying, “Good God, Sisi, you’re a bad sport.”
“Well, only if they play dirty!” she retorted, then growled when they heard the collective victorious laughter from the other side.
“I’m afraid this is my fault,” he said, wrapping an around her waist, walking her farther from the exit.
“I was waiting for you to say that,” she snapped, slapping his arm.
His shoulders shook with laughter. “I should have waited.”
“Three days, Your Grace. Three days! But you didn’t because you thought I’d be naïve enough to entertain suitors!”
“I know,” he said, sighing in defeat. “I was fooled.”
“Web is a dangerous player. You should know that. You should have been careful!”
“I’ll try to be in the future,” he said, bending his head. “So… There is no wager for a match between you and Skelton.”
“No,” she said, her lips brushing against his. A slow smile stretched her mouth. “You fool.”
He grinned as he pressed for a kiss. “I know.” He pulled her closer. “Now, give me a proper welcome.”
With a chuckle, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I missed you.”
He kissed her once, then twice. “I’ll have to bring a wife to Coulway when I return.”
She laughed against another kiss. “Do you think Mrs. Craig will like me?”
“Can you fix windows?”
“Better than how I break them, Your Grace,” she retorted.
A knock came at the door. “Sisi, that’s enough. Come out now,” Price’s laughing voice said from outside. When they both ignored it, lost in a kiss, her brother knocked again. “Sisi, don’t make me break this bloody door.” This time, his tone was serious.
“We have to go out,” Daniel murmured.
Simone shook her head. “Later.”
“There might not be a wedding if we irk your brother.”
“Price will win this wager no matter what. Trust me, there will be a wedding.”
“Leroy, get the keys. Sisi, I’m counting to ten.”
Simone broke the kiss and lovingly looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “I think I’ll grow to love losing this wager.”
Daniel buried his face in her neck with a soft laugh, wrapped in warmth and rushing waves of love. Outside, the rain was steady, the sky dark. But here in her arms, it felt like summer. “This must be what it feels like.”
“What?”
He tightened his arms around her. “To embrace sunlight.”
28. the reinvented dreams
The engagement ball was just as how the Earl of Abberton wanted it to be: grand and exhaustingly long.
The five-day long party was indeed interesting for Daniel, Emmeline, and their two younger sisters, Eliza and Elizabeth, twenty-one and nineteen of age, respectively, who did not take long to adapt to the Stratfords and their way of life.
Abberton House was filled with guests. Even the Poppets (yes, with Charity who would not miss the chance to celebrate the occasion for the world), who lived just a short distance away, were given rooms to stay in for the duration of the party, along with Pauline and Mrs. Baker who came from Coulway just for the occasion.
All Stratford grandchildren celebrated in their own chaotic way, with the men organizing riding parties, hunting afternoons, and, of course, gaming rooms at night.
The ladies, together with the Cavendish sisters who had not just adapted but embraced the Stratfords and their wonderful home, went on picnics, walks, and even painting sessions with Lydia.
Roxie and Freda, however, held the most successful activities. Given the liberty of setting up their own little theater in one of the drawing rooms, they showed their creative talent in storytelling, acting, and persuasion. The actors comprised servants (anyone they could spare), the guests (anyone willing), and their cousins (obliged by blood and tears), and stuffed animals (to play the animals if the real ones were a little wider than the doorway).
They divided the story of a prince’s adventure in the woods in five parts, which effectively garnered everyone’s attention and avid interest. By the end of the second night, everyone was talking about the story over breakfast and tea. Some guests even found some of the actor servants to ask how the story shall end, to which the said servants merely replied that they were only given their lines hours before the play and that they had no inkling of how the story shall progress. And no, they were quite certain that the prince and the talking frog were not one and the same, and that the princess he was forced to search for was not trapped in a tower sewing dresses “because that story has been told too many times to be original for our talented Roxie and Freda,” as Leroy said.
Learning Daniel was once an actor, Roxie and Freda approached him and asked if he could act as one of their characters. Gracefully refusing, he offered to help them direct their succeeding plays instead and did a remarkable job in incorporating mystery that enticed more audience. So much so that Price and Gale suggested they sell tickets to control the number of guests who would all squeeze into the drawing room for a chance to see the play every night. That did not sit well with Simone, so the theater was moved to the courtyard to accommodate everyone.
Daniel understood when Simone was a little fretful over his involvement in the said play, but he laughingly assured her he was having fun with Roxie and Freda more than the hunting trips with Web and the others.
“Then will you tell me where the princess is?” she had asked, obviously trying to be nonchalant.
He had laughed and playfully pinched her nose. “No.”
“Very well,” she had replied, turning away from him. “I must have you know that I’m auditioning for the role.”
Everyone in the party knew that Roxie and Freda were looking for someone to play the adult princess for the final day of the play.
“You are?”
“Yes.”
He grinned. “I heard I’ll be the one to pick the actor.”
Simone gave him a stern look. “I should have you know, Your Grace, that I would not condone biases. You cannot pick me simply because I am to be your wife.”
“What a relief.”
The night before the final day, however, Daniel found out that his future wife was indeed a bad sport. She was a terrible actress, and he had to make the painful decision to choose Geneva Withers instead. The woman, to his utter surprise, was a natural.
“I’m quite certain he only chose her because Damon is playing the prince,” said Lydia the morning of the last showing. They were in the secret western parlor where they, the Stratfords and those closest to them, escaped to whenever they needed some quiet.
Simone frowned. “But I thought Damon became the prince after Geneva was chosen.”
“Well, now that you mentioned it,” Lydia said, eyes narrowing with curiosity, “it’s interesting.”
Price threw a biscuit into his mouth and asked, “Did we invite Geneva Withers because of what Roxie and Freda allegedly did to her?”
“Which allegation are you talking about? The frog, the bunny, or the bug? And let’s not forget the donkey!” Gale asked with a laugh.
Simone was about to add something when the door opened and Daniel walked in. Her smile instantly disappeared and she picked up her tea, aware that he was walking toward her. She scooted to the right where he intended to sit, clearing her throat and throwing him a sharp look when he just chuckled.
“I thought you said I should not have biases?” he asked, bending down to plant a kiss on her cheek. “I’m sorry. I had to make certain the play ends perfectly as your cousins intend it to be. And you said you needed more time to finish your wedding dress.”
“And how is that going?” Price asked, laughing when Simone threw him a look. The dress was still in the same state it was in for years. Daniel said it could stay that way and he would not mind, but she wanted it to be perfect. “And maybe it already is,” Lydia had said two days ago, looking at all the marks where she once sewn ribbons, laces, and other ornaments. “It shows the traces of the years you’ve been waiting for him.”
She rolled her eyes at her brother’s taunt and sighed when Daniel squeezed himself between her and the arm of the chaise.
“Does Damon know?” Lydia asked Daniel. “That Geneva is going to be the princess?”
“He should know by now,” replied Daniel. “I just spotted them walking to a room to rehearse their lines.” When Price, Gale, Lydia, and Simone became alert, he blinked and asked, “What?”
Lydia was the first to jump to her feet, followed by Simone who placed her tea on the table. “Where?” she asked him.
As Price and Gale walked to the door, Daniel suspiciously narrowed his eyes. “The eastern library—Where are you going?” He stood and followed the quartet out the door. He caught up with his fiancée, grabbed her hand, and asked, “Should we go for a walk?”
“You go ahead,” Simone absently replied, pulling away from him to loop her arm around Lydia’s. Up ahead, Price and Gale walked, head turning left and right to check the premises.
“Oh, Lord,” he groaned under his breath as he followed them to the eastern library.
It still amazed him how they worked as one unit. Price and Gale stood at the end of the corridor, nonchalantly talking, elbows on the balustrade that overlooked the hall below, while Lydia and Simone continued down the corridor, Simone pulling at the ribbon on Lydia’s hair, saying, “Oh, your ribbon, Lydia!” in a terrible act.
“You’re all insane,” Daniel said to Price and Gale before he aimlessly turned, scratching his head, unsure of what to do. Over his shoulder, he saw Lydia already pressing her ears against the library door, Simone tying the ribbon around her hair from behind. And just as he turned, he saw Harry and Web walking together, talking to Arabella Poppet.
He whirled around just in time to disappear into the corridor, leaving Price and Gale who both jumped to distract the newcomers. “What are you two doing here? Luncheon is being served downstairs,” Harry was saying as Daniel rushed toward Simone and Lydia, whose eyes were wide as she listened to the conversation behind the door.
“Sisi,” he whispered to Simone. “Harry and Web are here.”
The two women did not seem to hear him, so he cupped Simone’s cheek and forced her to face him. “Harry’s here.”
Finally hearing him, Lydia threw herself to the opposite wall while Daniel caught Simone just before her face landed on the floor. Looking up, he saw Harry and Web at the end of the corridor, staring at them with a frown. Gale tried to distract Harry, but the man entered the corridor with a suspicious look on his face. “You’ll have to pay me for this later,” he murmured to Simone before he turned to the library door and knocked. “Damon?” he called and waited, sending Harry a smile as the man approached.
Footsteps on the other side. Then the door opened. Damon’s eyes jumped to his sister, then Lydia, then back to Daniel. “What is it?”
Daniel’s hand tightened around Simone’s in warning when she craned her neck to look over her brother’s shoulder.
“Luncheon is being served downstairs,” Daniel said with a smile. “You and Miss Withers may continue your rehearsal after.”
“We’ll be done in a while,” the man said with a suspicious look at his sister.
“Go,” Daniel ordered Simone and Lydia when the door firmly closed.
“What was that?” Harry asked when they met him midway.
“We were on our way down, but Daniel remembered Damon and Miss Withers are rehearsing in the library. We stopped by to remind them it’s time for luncheon,” Simone replied, hooking her hand around Daniel’s arm. Up ahead, Lydia looped arms with Price and Gale, engaging Arabella Poppet in an innocent conversation about tonight’s final play.
As they all made their way to luncheon, Daniel looked down at Simone and found her already grinning up at him. “Would you like to take a walk in the woods?”
He rolled his eyes. “Why?”
She slowed down and urged him to do the same. As the distance between them and the rest of the group widened, she leaned closer and whispered, “Damon and Geneva Withers were talking about a house just on the other side of the woods and it sounded a bit mysterious—”
“No.”
“But—”
“Sisi,” he sternly said, eyes narrowed.
She let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, well.”
He frowned. “Does that mean you will not go, or you will go without me?”
She laughed. “We can go there some other time,” she said, laughing once more when he stopped and gave her a wry look. “I’m jesting, Your Grace. Lydia and I are planning to go next week.”
He could not help but snort and chuckle. Taking her hand, he squeezed and leaned down to plant a kiss on her head. “You’re getting married next week.”
“Ah, all the more exciting.”
Roxie and Freda’s play ended in splendid success and surprise. Not only did Geneva Withers make everyone drop their mouths in awe of her beauty—dressed in white with a flower crown around her head—she also made them cry. As a princess lost in the woods for years, who had been longing for someone to find her and rescue her from the endless circle the witch cursed her in, Geneva played the part perfectly and delivered her lines so effectively that even Damon, the unwilling prince who finally found her, was left speechless for a few breathless seconds.
The earl could never be so proud of his two youngest grandchildren, being the first to stand and cheer when finally, the prince pulled the princess atop his horse (Damon’s real horse by the name of Maple) and rode off into the night. Everyone who had been part of the five-day play was close to tears when Roxie and Freda walked up the stage built for their show and bowed.
“This will not be their last,” Price said matter-of-factly as he looked at their youngest cousins with a pained look on his face. And he was right. The earl soon announced that his two little angels were working on another play for the Abberton Christmas Ball.
“I won’t be home for Christmas,” Gale said with dread. “I will not even be in Sutherland for the occasion.”
“But they’ll need another tree for their next play, Gale,” said Lydia, laughing. “You were an effective pine tree three days ago, remember? You’ll be just as excellent with a star on top of your head!”
“At the very least, he would be a finished Christmas tree,” a voice said behind Lydia.
Simone and the others turned to find Quincy Foy and his grandfather standing behind them. With black hair and olive green eyes, the man looked a bit striking in Simone’s eyes. But there was just something about him, and the way his mouth curled in a condescending kind of way that made him so reasonably unlikable, like his grandfather. Again, she wondered how he was even friends with her brother and cousin and why, if they seemed to be so much alike in many ways, did he and the viscount seem to despise each other?
The viscount looked at Lydia and like his grandson, whom he hated in most occasion except on rare moments like this one where he agreed (apparently) with the young man, he narrowed his eyes at Lydia and said, “How long will you get to the part where you actually paint my face, young lady?”
Lydia allowed a very fake smile toward Quincy Foy and then a slightly genuine one at the older man, saying, “When I figure out how your brows work, my lord.”
Price laughed and slapped Quincy on the shoulder in greeting, saying, “You’re late.”
“Someone was a little slow tonight,” Quincy said, motioning toward his grandfather.
The viscount grumbled under his breath and turned away, shouting for everyone else to step aside, then adding, in an oddly sweet voice, “Ah, there you are, my dear Roxie and Freda! Great show! Great show!”
Simone turned to look at Daniel. “Did he just ignore you?”
“He once ignored the king, Sisi,” said Gale with a laugh.
Daniel just smiled and shrugged. He could not care more about what others thought about his birthright.
“He is simply arrogant,” Quincy said, already turning away to join Price and Gale inside the manor.
“Takes one to know one, I assume,” Lydia retorted, also turning away with a tight smile to rush after Pauline and Emmeline, who were in one corner with the Poppets, helping Leroy out of his tree costume.
Daniel took Simone’s hand in his and guided her out of the courtyard. They walked at an easy pace, taking the opposite direction from the ballroom where music was already playing to welcome back the guests.
“Finally, the last day,” she said with a sigh.
He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Another day closer to the wedding.”
They did not have to talk to know where they were headed. They simply found their way to the woods, stepping over traps (most of them exposed after guests fell into them), his hand firm around her arm in case she tripped.
“I have something for you,” he said, fishing something out of his coat pocket. He stopped and faced her with a shy smile as he opened his hand. “Please forgive me. I stole this from you.”
She frowned down at it, taking a moment to recognize what it was under the moonlight. And when she finally did realize what it was, her head snapped up to him, eyes wide. “No, you didn’t.”
“I did,” he said with a chuckle.
“But was it not pe—”
“Pearl, yes,” he said, pinning the silver into her hair. “I think emerald suits you best.” He leaned back to study his work. A meadow resting on sunlight , he thought with a silly smile. “I’m glad I kept it.”
“After you stole it!” she said in disbelief.
His shoulders shook with laughter. “Yes,” he replied, stealing a kiss.
He took her hand, and they continued walking. “Someday, our children should consider this piece a treasure,” she said. “It’s the one thing from me they’ll keep in their treasure chest.”
He laughed. “And of me?”
“They can keep my letters,” she said, chin high in confidence. “I’m quite certain you kept them.”
Another round of laughter rumbled in his chest and he swooped down to steal another kiss from her mouth. “I love you, Simone Priest,” he whispered, smiling lips brushing against hers.
“I’m quite certain about that, too,” she said, kissing him. “I love you, too, Daniel Cavendish.”
He straightened, realizing she was leading him to the same cabin where the Stratfords kept their treasures. When they entered it moments later, the laughter in her eyes slowly clouded with sadness.
Turning to him, Simone asked, “Will you help me?” He nodded, his throat tight seeing the sorrow in her eyes. Perhaps this place, this one little cabin, would always be the loneliest place in the woods for the Stratfords. They could build traps and have fun adventures all over, but this spot here would always have a heavy mist of grief around it.
They hauled the chest out of its hiding place and he stepped back when she sat on the floor in her light blue dress, and revealed their painful treasures. Pulling out a pillowcase and a bottle of perfume, she motioned for him to join her. He hesitated, but then he also wanted to share this moment with her. “Scents tell us many things, don’t you think?” she asked as he settled beside her.
He smiled at her gently, awed that he was discovering more sides of her. Tonight, it was her weakness. Her sorrow. “Like the rain?” he quietly asked.
She nodded, a tear dropping free from her eyes. She lifted the pillowcase to her nose with a pained smile. “He smelled like this. Always,” she murmured, sniffling as she lifted her face with a smile. “And she sprayed this on the day she left,” she added, turning the bottle in her hand. She looked up at him, her smile fading, melting into tight regret and sadness. “There are portraits of them. I’m quite sure you know their faces,” she said. “But these items are the closest you can get to actually knowing what it would have been like to be in their presence.”
Daniel’s heart felt like it was being crushed, for he understood the grief and pain and longing. He suffered the same, still suffering the same over the loss of his own parents. He reached out to wipe her cheeks and leaned down to kiss both. “I’m glad to meet them through you. I’m certain you have so much of them in you,” he whispered. He did not have to pick them up and sniff, because the scent from the pillowcase and the perfume bottle enclosed them. Musk and lavender. As he wrapped his arms around Simone, he ached for her even more. Someday, their scent would fade and there would be nothing to hold on to.
“They would have loved you,” Simone murmured in his chest. “They would have been very proud of you.”
“Sisi,” he said, voice cracking as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, their shared grief a comfort on its own. He wanted to say many things at once. He wanted to tell her he wanted her pain as much as he wanted everything else. She could show her grief and he would do the same. But words seemed lacking at that moment. None could be more powerful than the memories of the past and the sorrow of the moment.
Presence. That’s all he could offer for now.
And so they stayed like so for quite some time, crying and telling tales, laughing and smelling scents. Through the grief, they repeated the process. They cried, they talked, then laughed and sniffed. And they would do it all over again because as much as there was pain here, there was also overwhelming love.
Very much later, they walked back to the manor, hand in hand.
“Once we marry, we should return to Coulway. I wish to meet Mrs. Craig.”
“She may like you more than she likes me,” he said, chuckling.
A peaceful quiet fell between them. Their week had been exhausting, and this night had been especially emotionally draining. Perhaps he should get used to it. With the Stratfords, something was always happening. Ideas were always running around before one began.
“Let’s live in the woods,” she said suddenly, tone excited, eyes puffy from tears.
“Let’s build a theater,” he added with a grin.
“And a dress shop,” she replied.
“Or a bazaar,” he said. “You can make clothes for men, too. And, of course, children.”
“Or a school! Let’s build a school!” she said with a laugh.
Daniel squeezed her hand and laughed because it all seemed silly. But then, with Simone Priest, silly was reality wrapped in fun undertakings.
He paused and tucked her locks behind her ear and smiled at the white feather earrings she was wearing. “Tell me more,” he said with a smile. “What else do you want?”
Her cheeks puffed as her smile stretched. “How about more reinvented dreams?”
His eyes watered as he saw endless rays of sunshine in her eyes. “Reinvented dreams,” he smiled as he bent down to plant his lips on hers. “Well, why not?”
-end-
Author’s Note
Thank you so much for checking out this story! If you’ve reached this far, I can only hope that the story has given you as much joy as I had while writing it. It has been quite some time since I’ve written something like this, and I forgot how I can just enjoy writing without thinking too much about complicated plots, conspiracies, and mysteries. I hope to enjoy more of this kind of writing experience with the rest of the Abberton Series.
Do you have any guess as to who will be next? The next story shall be up next month! By then, you are free to comment your fave upcoming ships!
See you in the next Abberton story, my dear lovely readers!
Very Truly Yours,
J.D. Ruiz (greenwriter)
