Always Mine Page 8

  Rebecca shook her head. “No, I couldn’t see.”

  The musicians struck up another tune, and as she and Mr. Melville continued to watch, Mr. Shawcross escorted Millicent into the line of dancers and joined in the fun. He was graceful and regal, and Millicent appeared charmed and thrilled to have been singled out.

  Rebecca felt sick to her stomach. Poor Mr. Melville looked ill too. He observed Millicent for a bit as she twirled and strutted, then he sighed with what sounded like resignation.

  “Would you excuse me, Miss Rebecca?” he ultimately said. “I’m not feeling all that well. I believe I’ll sneak out while everyone is busy.”

  “Must you go?”

  He smiled a tight smile. “I’m afraid I must.”

  “Millicent is a dedicated flirt, Mr. Melville,” Rebecca pointed out, “and she’s very young. Don’t read anything into this situation that isn’t there.”

  He stared at Millicent forever, his expression incredibly glum. “I’m not reading anything into it. I’m just tired. Thank you for the lovely party. Please give my regards to Mrs. Carter.”

  “I will.”

  He slinked away, and she was left alone, standing with the other wallflowers, gaping at the man of her dreams as he danced with her cousin. She’d like to leave too, but Beatrice would expect her to stay until the bitter end, so she would stay—even if it killed her.

  * * * *

  Rebecca stood on the verandah. It was too cold to tarry outside, but she was overheated and hoping the chilly evening air might cool her down. She’d retrieved a wool shawl before stepping out of the manor, and it provided some protection from the frigid breeze, but not much.

  Through the windows, she could see into the parlors where the festivities were winding down. The musicians had packed up their instruments, and the dancing was over. Millicent had gone to bed, Beatrice too. The neighbors had departed, so it was mostly Clayton’s London guests who remained.

  They had removed their coats, rolled up their sleeves, and were preparing to play cards and, Rebecca was certain, engage in some vigorous gambling.

  Beatrice would have been aghast if she knew, but it was Clayton’s house. If he wanted to wager with his friends, who was there to tell him he couldn’t?

  She remembered how drunk he’d been the prior night, how he’d accosted her in the hall. If Alex hadn’t come to check on her, there was no predicting what might have happened.

  She’d avoided Clayton all day, so she had no idea if he recalled the incident or not. She’d yearned to confront him, but it would have been futile. If she’d scolded him, he’d have pretended he didn’t recollect the event, then he’d have found a way to retaliate later on.

  She hadn’t told anyone about the encounter, but she had five very distinct fingertip bruises on her arm from when he’d grabbed her. With her gown having shortened sleeves, they’d been visible during the soiree, but no one paid enough attention to her to notice them, so she hadn’t had to explain their origin.

  She smelled smoke from a cheroot, and she glanced down the balustrade to discover Mr. Shawcross’s brother, Lucas, was there. She’d been introduced to him inside, but they hadn’t had a chance to chat, and she hadn’t minded.

  He and his brother had seized control of the party, dancing with the ladies and conversing with the men. People had been fascinated by their good looks, charisma, and stories. They were so handsome and dashing, so obviously wealthy and well-connected, that it seemed as if a pair of kings had dropped by.

  Both of them had spent an inordinate amount of time with Millicent, and her cousin had been bowled over by their interest. Rebecca was glad Mr. Melville had fled so he hadn’t had to witness the depressing scene. She’d have been ecstatic to not have witnessed it either.

  Through it all, Raven Shawcross hadn’t approached her, and she couldn’t decide why he’d ignored her. Had she been so insignificant to him that he didn’t feel the need to say hello? Was he worried she might reveal his fake identity? Was he afraid she might divulge facts he didn’t care to have exposed?

  He needn’t have fretted. The last thing she would ever do was quarrel in public.

  It was evident he had mischief brewing, and she was concerned over what it was. Mr. Melville didn’t even think his real surname was Shawcross. What was Rebecca to make of it?

  The whole day, she’d been despondent over how she assumed he’d crept off without a goodbye. Now she simply wished he’d never arrived in the first place. There was some type of peril swirling over all of them that she couldn’t quite discern.

  What would it be? What route would it take? When it was over, what would become of them?

  She wondered if Lucas Shawcross had seen her, and she considered sneaking away without greeting him, but the opportunity vanished when he said, “Miss Carter? Is that you lurking in the shadows?”

  “Yes, hello, Mr. Shawcross,” she replied.

  He sauntered over and rested a hip on the balustrade. “You shouldn’t be outside in such cold weather, and you’re definitely not dressed for it. You’ll probably catch an influenza.”

  “I’ll try not to.” She sounded snippy, which she never was, so she added, “It’s so hot and stuffy in the house. I thought I’d cool down before I call it a night. How about you? Will you gamble with the men or are you as weary as I am? Are you about to head off to your bed?”

  “I gamble plenty in town,” he said, “so I’ve arranged an amorous assignation instead.”

  It was a brash comment, and she couldn’t guess if he was telling the truth or not. Candles glowed in the parlor windows, and they provided enough illumination for her to study his eyes. They were twinkling with merriment.

  “You’re having an assignation?” Her tone was skeptical.

  “Yes. It should be much more entertaining than winning money from a bunch of London idiots. I spend nearly all my time with dolts like them. I’d much rather flirt with a pretty girl.”

  She tsked with annoyance. “I don’t know you, so I can’t judge if you’re being candid or if you’re teasing me.”

  He grinned a scoundrel’s grin, and she suspected he had a habit of breaking hearts.

  “I might be pulling your leg.” His grin widened. “Or I might not be.”

  Her mood was incredibly dour, and she might have pleaded fatigue and hurried off, but she was so intrigued by him and his despicable sibling. If she asked him some questions, would he supply any believable answers?

  “I have to confess, Mr. Shawcross,” she tentatively started, “that I’m terribly curious about you and your brother.”

  “Well, we’re curious fellows.”

  “You brought Clayton’s horses, didn’t you? The ones he purchased in town? You slept in the hay loft and pretended to be horse traders.”

  “Yes. That would be us.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  He assessed her, pondering his response, his behavior making her suppose he was a deceptive wastrel—perhaps even dangerous too.

  “We wanted to arrive quietly,” he said. “When my brother’s status is disclosed, there’s too much of a fuss.”

  “Why would you need to arrive quietly? He was invited, and we were expecting him. Why not show up like a normal person?”

  “What fun would that have been? Besides, we were eager to learn as many details as we could about all of you. We knew if we loafed in the stables for a bit, the servants would gossip incessantly.”

  “What was it you hoped to find out from them?”

  He smirked. “I’ll let it be a surprise.”

  “Should I be humored or alarmed by your remark?”

  “You should be…ready for anything, I guess.”

  “Whatever can you mean?”

  “You seem very nice. Just watch out in the coming days and weeks.”

  “Watch out for what?”

  “I’ll let that be a surprise too.”

  A shiver slid down her
spine. “You appear to like my cousin, Millicent.”

  “I’m always tantalized by a fetching female. I can’t help myself, and it drives my brother mad with frustration.”

  “She has a beau.”

  “Not much of a one, from what I’m told. She’s not promised, is she? The footmen claim there’s no betrothal—and there probably won’t ever be. She’s too spoiled and picky for the poor oaf.”

  “The footmen said that to you? I’ll have to have a stern talk with them. You’re a stranger to us, and they were being entirely too indiscreet.”

  “You’d be amazed by what we’ve discovered.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. You’re too cheeky by half.”

  “I am,” he agreed.

  “I only mentioned Millicent’s beau because—when your brother initially strolled into the party—he thought they might have gone to school together as boys.”

  He shrugged. “It’s possible.”

  “He swore your brother’s name is Raven Stone.”

  He paused forever, then grinned again. “Isn’t that interesting?”

  “Is your surname Stone? There’s something dodgy about the two of you, which is why I’m inquiring.”

  “Dodgy?” He considered the word. “I wouldn’t think the term should apply to me. With me, what you see is what you get, but you definitely ought to be wary of my brother. He can be an absolute terror when he’s riled.”

  “Why would he be riled with any of us?”

  He leaned nearer and whispered, “It’s a secret.”

  “I’ve never liked secrets.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll learn what it is very soon.”

  “You haven’t reassured me in the least.”

  “Keep your head down. That’s my advice to you.”

  His insolent attitude was infuriating, and she’d like to order him to mind his manners, but she had no right to boss him.

  Her temper was flaring though. Clearly, the devious pair had a scheme in the works that would be hideous and shocking when it was revealed. She imagined—with their having involved themselves with Clayton—it might be any sordid business.

  First thing in the morning, she had to sit Beatrice down and have a blunt discussion. The woman had to be warned about problems developing, but Rebecca couldn’t clarify what they might turn out to be.

  “Your brother is a famous explorer.” Her snippy tone was back. “What are you?” It was a rude query, but she posed it anyway.

  “I’m a nuisance and a troublemaker. Can’t you tell?”

  “Oh, yes, I can tell.”

  Movement out in the garden caught his eye, and he raised a brow. “My assignation is about to commence. It’s been lovely chatting, but you’ll have to excuse me.”

  “Who are you meeting?” she asked, as she rolled through the list of maids who might have been coerced into a scandalous tryst.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he cockily retorted.

  He winked at her—as his brother had during the party—then he whirled away and strutted down into the garden. She watched him until he was swallowed up by the shadows.

  She yearned to chase after him, to march right up to the girl who was risking everything for him, and drag her back to the house. Or maybe she should storm inside, grab his brother, and demand he fetch her back.

  Or maybe—just maybe—she should stay out of it. She’d had about all of the Shawcross siblings she could stand, and she hoped that the foolish ninny breathlessly waiting on the beach wouldn’t be too heartbroken when handsome, rich Lucas Shawcross returned to London and never thought of her again.

  Rebecca whipped away and hurried to the servant’s door so she could sneak up the rear stairs to her dark, quiet room, and the depressing night would end once and for all.

  * * * *

  Millicent stood on the dark beach, wondering if she might have gone insane. What was she doing?

  Her brother’s party had been the greatest event of her life. He’d repeatedly boasted that one of Sir Sidney’s explorers would attend, but he was a braggart and a liar, and she hadn’t believed him. No one had.

  But Raven Shawcross had actually arrived. He’d charmed their mother—who was impossible to charm. He’d befriended Clayton who wasn’t worth befriending. And he’d given Millicent a pair of diamond earrings, with the gemstones being from his very own African diamond mine.

  She had no idea why he’d present her with such a spectacular and inappropriate gift. Was he signaling that he’d like to marry her? What else was she to think?

  She was rippling with anticipation, obsessing over what it would be like to be courted by him. What if they wed? What if he swept her away from boring, dull Carter Crossing and took her to London?

  He was so rich! He could furnish her with the exact sort of luxurious existence she’d always thought she deserved to have.

  She’d spent the night dancing. Mr. Shawcross had partnered with her several times, which everyone had noticed, but on the fringe of all that socializing, his brother had been lurking on the edge of her vision.

  Toward the end of the evening as the guests were beginning to depart, he’d casually whispered in her ear that she should announce she was tired, pretend to head to her bedchamber, then meet him on the beach.

  She’d told him she absolutely wouldn’t, but despite her protestations, she was anxiously waiting for him. He’d invited her the prior day, and after sufficient mental scolding, she’d managed to keep herself from joining him, but his second invitation had been too enticing to resist.

  She couldn’t figure out what game the two brothers were playing. They’d waltzed in as horse traders, had slept in the barn and acted like laborers, then they’d promenaded in the front door, dressed like wealthy princes.

  What was she to make of such furtive, peculiar behavior? Nothing exciting ever happened at Carter Crossing, but something was definitely happening now.

  The weather was chilly and windy, and she’d just decided she shouldn’t have come, when Lucas Shawcross emerged from the trees. The moon was up, clouds blowing by, so she had a perfect view of his handsome features, his expensive clothes, his lanky, masculine physique.

  He was, by far and away, the most striking man she’d ever seen. Her pulse raced just from looking at him. What might he want? What might he do?

  Oh, but she was mad to have obliged him!

  “I doubted you’d show up,” he said as he sauntered over. “I was convinced your courage would fail you—as it did last night.”

  “You were here?”

  “Of course. Where were you?”

  She’d never admit to being a coward, so she said, “I’m freezing, so I’m heading back to the house.”

  “Why would you leave?”

  “I shouldn’t be alone with you.”

  “That’s what girls always say when they first sneak off with me, but I change their minds. Will I be able to change your mind?”

  “You’re so vain, which I hate.”

  “Well, you’re spoiled and fussy, which I hate too.”

  “I don’t have to stand here and be insulted by you.”

  “You’re free to go whenever you like.”

  He stared blandly, as if he didn’t care one way or the other, and his nonchalance was so annoying. He was daring her to stay, but certain she’d never be brave enough. Clearly, he didn’t comprehend how lucky he was that she’d joined him.

  She was the prettiest girl in the whole Frinton area, and her family was very rich. Probably not nearly as rich as his, but still!

  If she was spoiled, it was for a reason: She’d been raised like a princess and considered herself to be one. She would never let him best her, would never let him assume he had the upper hand.

  “I’m not leaving,” she said, “but I’m awfully cold. I should have guessed you’d pick such an unpleasant spot for a clandestine rendezvous.”

  “I could have snuck to
your room.”

  “My room!” It was a shocking comment, and her jaw dropped with astonishment.

  “I didn’t know where it was though,” he said, “and I didn’t think I should inquire of the footmen.”

  “You’d better not!”

  He grinned. “Will you tell me where it is?”

  “No!”

  “We could go there now. We’d be much more comfortable.”

  “It’s right across the hall from my mother!”

  “Then we could go to mine. It’s on the floor above hers. The other guests are lodged there though. We might be observed tiptoeing in, and if we were, you’re not worth the trouble it would cause me.”

  She tsked with offense. “I can’t decide it you’re serious or not. Do you really bring females to your bedchamber? Do you really sneak into theirs?”

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  “Twenty.”

  “You truly are an innocent country mouse, aren’t you?”

  There was no remark he could have uttered that would have irked her more.

  She detested that she was trapped at Carter Crossing. Her mother hadn’t even let her attend boarding school, insisting there was no need. A governess had been hired instead, and of course, Millicent had begged for years for a Season in town.

  She’d never understood why her mother had constantly refused, but she’d once heard two housemaids gossiping. They’d claimed there was no money for a Season, that Clayton had spent it all, so Millicent was left to scrape by on pennies. But with their being so wealthy, she couldn’t believe they were correct.

  “I’m not an innocent,” she fumed, “and I’m not a mouse. If you just plan to tease me, I’m going inside.”

  “I told you it doesn’t matter to me. You’re terribly young anyway. I shouldn’t trifle with you.”

  He pulled a flask from his coat and sipped what she assumed would be liquor. He held it out to her, offering her some, and she asked, “What’s in it? Hard spirits?”

  “Yes, whiskey.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not allowed to imbibe of alcoholic beverages. My mother wouldn’t like it.”