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Authors: Wareeze Woodson

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BOOK: A Lady's Vanishing Choices
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Royce straightened. “I hesitate to alarm you, but it appeared the driver headed straight for you—deliberately.” Grimly, he eyed Bethany. “Were you able to catch a glimpse of the driver?”

Bethany gave a shaky laugh. “All I saw was a huge beast charging straight at me. He knocked me down.”

“Perhaps a good thing, else the gig would have driven directly over you.” Royce’s lips tightened. “I witnessed the entire incident. However, I was too far away to give chase.”

The world tilted for Bethany.
The man in the woods has found me, and he wants to silence me.
Cold terror gripped her, but she managed to squeak out in a faint voice, “A murderer tried to run me down.”

Royce’s expression instantly filled with watchful intensity. “A murderer? So you do know who is responsible.”

“No. I only saw the horse with his wild eyes and flaring nostrils. Nothing more. I merely assumed—”

Her uncle erupted into the room. “What’s this? Playing the victim again, I see.” A fierce scowl marred his brow. Glancing around, he offered a rough greeting. “Milord.” He acknowledged Royce with a nod.

Bethany took a quick breath. Her uncle’s arrival swamped her with dread. She couldn’t mention the murder. Not now that her uncle stood glaring at her. Certainly not to the earl, since he held her in such low esteem. Perhaps it wasn’t a murder after all, but some other skullduggery. Still, there was a reason he wanted her to remain quiet—forever.

Royce stiffened before he returned Arthur Littleton’s nod.

“You must excuse my niece. She takes advantage of every opportunity to call attention to herself.”

Royce’s brows shot up.

A grim smile curled Arthur’s lip. “Indeed, she has done so for years.”

Bethany cringed while humiliation flooded over her. She’d expected no less from her uncle. Nevertheless, his attitude inflicted yet another wound, pricking her pride.

In cool tones, Royce said, “Someone deliberately tried to run her down.”

“To be sure.” Arthur waved a dismissive hand. “She’s always in an inappropriate place at the exact moment of a mishap, fluttering about like a hysterical old maid. Happens all the time. Accident prone, pure carelessness to plague me.”

“I did say deliberately,” Royce said with a thin thread of annoyance in his voice.

Arthur eyed him with a speculative glance. “It’s like her to have one of her friends enact such a scene for your benefit.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Damsel in distress and all of that.”

“And how would she be aware of my movements and exactly where I would be at that moment?” Royce demanded with a scowl.

Arthur’s lips went tight, but he ignored the question. “If it was deliberate, I’d imagine he is long gone by now.” He lifted his brows. “She’ll watch what she’s about in future. ‘Tis home for you, girl, and right quickly.”

Before anyone could say another word, the vicar insisted, “She must remain until the doctor arrives. You may safely leave her in my care, milord.”

Arthur’s face turned red and he barked, “Are you hurt, girl?”

“A little.” She winced when she shrugged.

The vicar straightened to his full height. “I insist, milord. I’ll see her home personally.”

For a long moment, the men stared at one another. “Don’t forget to whom you owe your living.”

The vicar nodded his head. “Indeed, milord.” He immediately glanced at Royce Carrington, the earl of Rivton.

“I believe I’m the one that holds your living,” Royce interjected.

With that, Arthur Littleton glared and stomped out of the house. Royce, along with the others, watched his progress and grimaced when he slammed the door behind him.

“If you’ll forgive me, I must take my leave as well.” Royce gazed at Bethany before transferring his regard to the vicar. With a slight bow he exited.

Chapter 9

Royce questioned the few curious people who had gathered in the roadway, but no one had seen a helpful thing. Deep in thought, he climbed into his curricle and drove away. Obviously, he could question her until his voice failed, and he was certain the lady would not answer a single question in her uncle’s presence. He had noticed the spear of fear, hatred, or something of both, she flashed at her uncle before she glanced down, shielding her gaze.

Still, someone had certainly tried to run her down. What could Lord Littleton’s niece have done to place herself in such danger? Was she in league with or connected in any way to the traitor? The thought brought him up short.
What am I thinking?
A pretty face had never come between him and his duty before, and this time would be no exception.

Caught up in his thoughts of her, he tried to analyze his own reaction. The first time she’d nearly run him off the road, the second at Eleanor’s, and now this. His blood pounded and his body had hardened on all occasions. He gritted his teeth against the slight throbbing of his loins that still lingered.

Yes, she is more than attractive
. Her sable hair drawn up into a knot on top of her head exposed an exquisite face and those eyes—huge, thickly lashed, and alluring. Her soft lips had been slightly parted in pain. The luminous quality of her eyes caught him off guard. This sort of bold attraction was dangerous, the kind that drew emotions.
Not good.
That shocked him. He wanted no part of love. Love hurt, and love demanded total commitment, something he refused to contemplate.

A damn shame she wasn’t a more experienced lady. What he wouldn’t pay to wrap her in silks and establish her in a more worthy setting? He drew a deep breath. As a gently bred lady, regardless of her less than attractive garments, she was certainly off limits. After all, as a gentleman and a lord of the realm, he was above such things.

The tremendous attraction drawing him toward this young lady presented danger to his peace of mind, because he couldn’t simply walk away as he longed to do. He must still discover what undercurrents lurked beneath her serene expression. It was obviously a ploy she used to guard her true self and her fear of something or someone. What had frightened her so badly? He intended to assign that chore to Hopkins. For his own sake, Royce needed to keep his distance.

He spurted out a savage oath.
Exactly what I need—more complications
. Royce whipped up the reins and hurried toward Stroter Hall. He leapt down from his curricle and strolled into the stable. The familiar smells of horse, grain, and leather greeted him. “Hopkins.”

Hopkins, an older man of medium height with a thick trunk and a weathered complexion, emerged from the shadows of the stable. “Milord.”

Royce removed his gloves. “I have a task for you.”

Hopkins squinted up at him. “Wot’s the bother now?”

Royce hesitated while he gathered his thoughts.
How do I put this delicately?
“There is a lady.”

“A nother one?”

Royce grinned. “Keep your tongue between your teeth until I’ve finished.” He shrugged. “This one is in danger for whatever reason. Someone tried to run her down today. I don’t know if she is somehow involved with treason or not.”

Hopkins gave a low whistle. “Is she pretty, too?”

Royce hesitated. “A beauty, I dare say. If she were dressed as befits her station, a man might lose his breath when she entered the room.”

“Ye smitten then?”

“Certainly not. I want nothing to do with love. Attracted. What man wouldn’t be? But more than that, no.

“And ye want me to spy on her, see wot’s wot?”

“Exactly so.” Royce cleared his throat. “She’s cousin to the lady I hope to court, so I’m in a difficult situation.”

A gleam of amusement appeared in Hopkin’s eyes. “Glad to sniff around some.”

Royce added, “On all the occasions when I’ve encountered her, she’s been terrified. I must find out why.”

“Sure thing, gov’n. I’ll set to it right away.”

A few hours later, before dusk melted into darkness, a coach barreled down the Stroter Hall lane. Royce turned from his attempt to gain his front door at the sound. His cousin’s traveling coach drew to a halt, and John jumped down without the benefit of lowered steps.

He sported a handsome traveling cloak over his togs, which he flung back in order to assist his petite wife from the carriage. Dressed in the latest fashion, the lady straightened her bonnet on her curls, shook out her skirts, and surveyed her surroundings.

Certain she could discern very little in the near darkness hiding all but the outline of the two-story house, Royce inhaled a deep breath and reluctantly descended the steps once more. A sliver of dread, mixed with a very small dose of excitement, ran through him. Although he hated to embark on the path to spying again, he welcomed his cousin and his wife with open arms.

“John.” Royce clapped the newcomer on the back. “Now it starts, but welcome all the same.”

John chuckled. “Indeed. The soonest is best.”

Sara reached up and encircled Royce’s neck in a swift embrace. “I shall steal a little kiss.” She brushed her lips across his cheek.

Royce returned her embrace. “Welcome.”

“I am so grateful to be out of that carriage. I still haven’t stopped rolling even now.” Sara started up the steps, but halted to wait on the gentlemen.

John grinned. “Well met, old chap.” His face beamed with pride. “Wait until you hear. We are increasing,” he boasted with a laugh.

Royce examined John from head to toe with a wicked grin. “That’s really something. Are both of you going to deliver at the same time?” He burst into a chortle.

“Highly amusing,” John growled, then grinned sheepishly.

Royce’s laughter faded to a grin. “Beg pardon, old chap. I couldn’t resist knocking that cocky smirk off your face, but congratulations are indeed in order.” With a wave of his hand, he invited the couple to enter. “Let’s go inside.”

“Where is that young scamp, Perry?” John asked.

Royce’s stomach knotted before he quickly smiled to hide his discomfort.
“At this moment, I don’t know.”
I hope he isn’t pursuing Bethany. “
However, he knows of your impending arrival. He promised to return.”

Odsworth, the butler, stood at attention inside the hall. He opened the door to the parlor before receiving the cloaks and other gear from the travelers.

“A light tea, Odsworth,” Royce ordered and followed his cousins.

Sara stepped into the parlor and sank into the nearest chair. “Thankfully, it’s not moving.” She gazed about. “Quite lovely. I like the striped wall coverings. That cream on ivory is very effective. And your sofa and chairs are all beautiful in that green damask. The dark cherry wood is perfect as well.”

With a sense of pride, Royce said, “Thank you, Sara. I’m delighted to gain your approval.”

“Of course, I approve.” She laughed and mischief seemed to dance in her eyes. “I might suggest a few changes, a different arrangement of the furniture, perhaps. And that marvelous fire surround of white marble could use a cherry wood mantle to match the furniture. That sort of thing.”

“Ah. I knew there would be a catch.”

She raised her brows. “No such thing. However, I dare say this room cries for a woman’s touch.”

The tea tray arrived in time to save Royce from a reply. He forced back a sigh. Nosey little madam. Although she had a point.

“I’m to play mummy, I suppose. I still say you have need of a wife.” Sara poured the tea and passed the cups around.

The rattle of china rang in the tense silence for a moment. Royce swallowed a mouthful of hot tea. “Strange you should mention such a subject. I was thinking along those lines myself.”

Sara beamed at him while she stirred her tea. “Since you are no longer at war, and are a lord of the realm, you must secure your position.”

With a thread of mockery, John intervened, “Indeed, especially since he is almost at his last prayers. Give over, Sara.”

Her eyes filled with amusement. “Shall I look about for eligible partners for you?”

“You dare,” Royce hissed between his teeth. “I have someone in mind. Eleanor Littleton.” He bit back a curse. Now why had he allowed Sara to goad him into a declaration? Her family hadn’t yet been cleared of treason. First things first. He glanced at John, certain his cousin would consider his declaration part of the scheme. For the moment, he wished his assertion to remain a measure of the plot. The deeper he reluctantly plunged into this traitor situation, the deeper his doubts grew about marriage to a Littleton.

“Littleton. That name sounds familiar.” Sara shook her head. “I cannot recall. I’ve lost touch since John and I have been out of the country for so long.”

“Birdelwood Manor and the Littleton family are my nearest neighbors. Perhaps your memory will return at the soirée I’m giving three days hence.” Laughter threaded his voice. “I’d be pleased above half if you were to assist my secretary with the arrangements.”

John chuckled. “That should keep you busy and out of trouble for the next few days.”

She made a face at him and turned to Royce. “Exactly how large a party are you planning?”

He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Not above ten couples. There will be dancing, of course. Perhaps we can set up the parlor for a game or two of loo. Not silver loo, however. This is a small party for a few neighbors and whatever gentry we can entice with an invitation.” He glanced at John. “The ball for the entire area will follow in a fortnight. That should give us time to arrange everything.”

John nodded and sipped at his tea. “When the others arrive, there will be need of a Venation breakfast, perhaps, and there must be fowling.”

Annoyed, Royce frowned and allowed sarcasm to drip from his tone. “Do you have any other suggestions?”

“Not at the moment.” John turned to his wife. “Will all the arrangements be too burdensome for you, Sara?”

She smiled and stood. “I’ll be fine. It’s all that traveling. I need to retire until dinner.”

After Royce rang the bell, a mature woman, neat in appearance, bustled into the room and curtsied.

“If you require anything, anything at all, please let my housekeeper, Mrs. Tackler, know.”

Sara caught his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.” She grinned at both men. “I know when the two of you are together, you want to be private. I’ll take myself off.” With that statement she trailed Mrs. Tackler out.

“At least this room meets somewhat with Sara’s approval.” Royce glanced at his cousin before he poured a measure of whiskey into his tea. “Want a dash of spirits to liven your tea?”

John extended his cup. “Yes, please.” He moved to the edge of his chair. “What trouble is the young pup in now?”

Royce grinned. “You know me well.” Pouring a little whiskey into John’s cup, he swallowed a mouthful of his own drink. “Perhaps I’m worrying for nothing. It seems Perry has developed a completely inappropriate
tendre
for Bethany Littleton. Such an alliance will never do. For all I can uncover, she could possibly be at the center of the treason. I shan’t allow him to step into that sort of danger.”

John raised his brows in question. “Is that mere speculation or firm fact?”

Royce held his teacup in one hand without taking another swallow, finally placing the china on a nearby table. “Nothing is set in stone, of course. Tension fairly fills the air when she is about. She’s terrified of something or someone.” With a studied, casual glance, he added, “Someone tried to run her over with a gig.”

He wanted John’s reaction.
Am I more involved than I would wish?
The horror of watching her as the gig nearly ran her down directly in front of his eyes still made his palms sweat.
Perhaps that influences my opinion, rather than looking at the incident with a clear view.

“Does that prove she is somehow involved?”

“Certainly not, but it is suspicious.”
Am I being too cautious where she is concerned?

John shrugged. “She could be afraid of her uncle or some such thing. Are you certain someone deliberately tried to kill her?”

Royce gave him a level stare. “I witnessed the entire incident. He tried to run her down on purpose.”

“That is certainly strange and must be taken into account. But if this accusation proves groundless, what shall you do?” John’s expression mirrored his skepticism.

Royce gritted his teeth. How could he explain his hesitation without revealing his own attraction to her? He didn’t want her to be guilty. That went without saying, but he didn’t wish to be attracted to her either. She didn’t fit into the pattern card he held for a lady.

“You seem overly concerned for a disinterested party.”

“I assure you, I’m interested in catching a traitor.” The curst, probing curiosity of his cousin ate at Royce’s last nerve. Perhaps being attracted to her had led him down the wrong path. Why couldn’t John leave it alone?

Annoyed that he must explain, he ground out, “She is a poor relation without social graces, threadbare and downtrodden by her family. She could never cope with the sort of social life Perry enjoys. Sitting at home and bearing children is not the role my brother shall require of a wife. Perry and Bethany won’t suit.”

“Perhaps you shall have no choice.”

“There is always a choice.” Royce firmed his jaw. “I shall never accept her as my sister-in-law.”

For several soul-searching moments, the two men probed deeply into each other’s eyes before John broke the silence. “It’s like that is it? Two brothers in love with the same woman.”

Blister it.
How had John discerned so much in a single glance? Not that it was true, but still
.
“Nonsense. My aim is in an entirely different direction. But a problem remains even with that. The Littletons are under suspicion. The entire family must be cleared before else may be considered.”

“I agree. Perry should not try to fix his interest with the lady until after the traitor is caught.”

BOOK: A Lady's Vanishing Choices
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